No Graven Image by Elizabeth Elliott

“Over the ocean, millions I see, fettered in bondage, beckoning me. Crushed beneath sorrows too heavy to bear–gladly I answer, Lord, send me there.”

Heard this on a radio program last night, (yeah I still listen to the radio while I drive!) and I think I REALLY need to get this book.

Missing Miah – a thought dump

9.36 on Tuesday morning. I had 4 hours of poor sleep last night. 3 hours of poorer sleep the night before. That is excuse enough for being tired & emotional, but the greater problem is that I haven’t slept in 2 weeks & have had a headache for nearly that long.

I woke up on the morning of Sunday the 31st to an inbox full of messages that my friend Miah Morris was in critical condition after suffering a heat stroke while running an intense obstacle course/marathon. That night started the sleeplessness.

I called, sent messages, raised prayer, fasted, did my best to stay up to date on the details, prayed for a speedy recovery, & never considered it truly possible that he would die. Monday evening brought the “come now” phone call. I rushed home to take care of things in the office to prepare for my being gone for some days, slept for 40 minutes and drove to the airport with little more than a backpack & not even sure what I’d thrown in it.

Walking onto my first flight the messages began to come in that after 2.5 days of intense fighting for his life, my friend had slipped into eternity. That first flight was when the headache started. But I sat down in faith, flew home in faith, met with family & friends in faith continuing to believe that he could be raised.  Because one of these days, one of us is going to be filled with power from on high, & one of these days we’re going to see the dead raised. I  earnestly asked that it would be my friend & I couldn’t think of life without Miah.

Most of the time we do not stop to think of how someone is affecting our day-to-day life until they are suddenly taken from it. But Miah was one of those friends that left you always aware of just how much he affected your life. You couldn’t hep but be dramatically affected by him, because he is crazy! He loved to get you outside of your box, to do something bizarre & before you could blink you were caught up in the madness, a part of the craziness with him. He made you look at life differently, he made you live it.

Now I’m not talking wisdom, because most of the time whatever he was doing meant you were going to get into trouble if you were anywhere near him. But you couldn’t help but love him for it. Miah looked life in the face & laughed at it. He did everything “x7″, as his best friend Jason puts it.

He made me be his friend. Just went after me until I trusted him & let him be a brother to me, & then spent the next 5 years being one of the most dependable & intentional friends that I’ve ever had.

That week brought many things too personal to share, moments with the Lord that need to stay sacred. But I’ll say that it wasn’t until the middle of the memorial service that I realized he wasn’t coming back. He was with the Lord and he WANTED to stay there. Never have I cried so hard at a memorial service, never have I laughed so hard at one either. And NEVER before had I sung ‘Happy Birthday at a funeral (it was held on his 29th birthday). Totally - Weird.We spent the next few hours  laughing ourselves into side-aches & tears as the ridiculous stories just came one after another. Anyone who didn’t know him well would think that their one crazy Miah story an isolated incident, and have no clue that he just LIVED crazy! Jason said it really well,

They say that when someone dies they take a piece of you with them & you’re left feeling like something is missing, but I feel like he’s with us. With Miah, it’s like he always left a piece of himself with you instead of the other way around. But man I’m gonna miss him, like on those day’s when I just need to go do something crazy, that’s when I’m really gonna miss him.

Three days later I boarded another plane & headed East with many tears, feeling as if the whole week had been one terrible dream. The fact is, as Christians, believer’s in Jesus Christ, it is REAL that we do not grieve as those who have no hope. My friend is living life way more than just “x7″ RIGHT NOW, fully alive, fully at peace, fully in the presence of the living God. Christ will come & all of the dead in Christ will rise, & we will be reunited with our loved ones who have gone before us who have loved Him.

But the fact is that I can’t imagine the next 70+ years of my life, should the Lord tarry and should I live that long, without the presence of that friend in my life, without his voice, his laugh being a part of who I am. He has a facebook page, & daily people leave him messages as though he can read them & might even respond.  His phone service is still on. I admit I’ve called many times  just to hear his voice on the message, trying to etch it in my brain so to not  forget. But he won’t respond to those facebook messages, & someday soon I’m going to call that number and his voice won’t be there anymore.

At the end of the service Jason hugged me and reminded me that Miah really loved me, then another of his good friend’s Ben did the same saying ” I don’t know if he ever really told you all that your friendship meant to him….” but he did. I always knew he was truly my brother and loved me. He lived well & he loved well. And though he is alive, though I will see him again & then be with him forever, for now I grieve. For now, I miss Miah and all that he has meant in my life, & the thought that real time will pass before I can enjoy his friendship again hurts.

The vapor of this life, the pain of being in the dream is still very real, even for the believer. And until Christ returns it has to, because things are NOT ok. Because the pain is the constant throbbing reminder that we will NOT be ok until He comes and makes it all right again.

*Sigh* And here’s the problem with a Thought Dump – there is no end. No way to wrap up, no conclusion. The conclusion to this one is…..waiting. Praying. Living for the day when we see the return of our Saviour, fixing our eyes on things above, holding onto His divine love and not letting go,and aching until that day when the mist clears, when the vapor fades forever. Until then, tell my friend that we miss him. Oh that You would come quickly Lord.

old enough…. or not

The last few days I’ve been soberingly considering the fact that I’m nearly 25 years old. I’ve always been ‘the youngest’ and always FELT ‘the youngest’ and in the last few days I’m staring to simply not feel…. the youngest? A strange idea but there’s no way else to describe it.

The encouraging thing is that tonight I remembered that you can never be too old to use a well placed, ‘Your mom…’ joke.

Truth.

“Late have I loved You”

11.30pm,

Gungor is playing in the background. A hot cup of Chamomile Nights tea is cooling on the table next to me as I sit on the floor in the entryway to my apartment wrapping presents for a friend’s birthday. Late tonight she’ll be getting back home & I plan to roll out of bed & drive to her house to greet her with presents, prophecy & her favorite flowers.

“You called and You shouted, You broke through my deafness. You flashed and You shone, dispelled all my blindness & You breathed Your fragrance on me”

Friend. Home.

It’s nearing July, and the 6 month mark of my move. Move, I am finally starting to be able to say that I ‘moved’. I have moved. I live here. 6 months later. I am finally starting to be able to say that I have friends. Friends, comrades, companions. 6 months later. I am finally starting to say ‘home’ referencing …. here. I still call KC home, still call Iowa/Nebraska home. But at 6 months I’m accidentally calling Virginia home as well. A week ago I sat in the prayer room in Fredericksburg & realized that it felt like mine, like home to me, for the first time.

Normalcy is setting in, just in time to face another big change around the corner, but thus is my life, it’s the one that I’ve chosen & I’d not exchange it for anything. Not for any stability that meant less adventure, less leaning onto the arm of the Lord.

The night before leaving KC a friend dropped by to say goodbye, I opened the door, threw myself into a big hug & came out sobbing. Thru tears he handed me a leather canteen and said “You’re going into a wilderness, but it’s ok, the Lord said you’re going to come out leaning. You’re going to come out.” I didn’t have a clue what he meant then, but 6 months later I can agree with that. It’s been a dry, painful, lonely, tearful season.

“It was there that I searched for You, and it was there that You found me.”

We talk much of being Rooted & Grounded. We talk, pray & sing Psalm 1, that tree that does not wither, we sing it “Let my roots grow down deep” but do we ever stop to think of the THIRST that makes a tree send down deep roots? I’ve spent these months, deeply thirsting. And I’ve spent these months being deeply filled. Long, late nights crying over a guitar, singing at the top of my lungs & being filled to overflowing in this little basement apartment.

“You breathed Your fragrance on me”

6 months, and I think I’m coming out. Leaning for sure, but I’m coming out. And no that does not mean that I’m moving back to Kansas City. Quite the contrary. I’m starting to believe in myself, believe in my heart, believe in the dreams that stirred me to leave behind all the safety & love that meant home & drop myself in this place of feeling so alone in so much unfamiliarity.

6 months & I feel like I’ve finally got my legs beneath me, and in 6 weeks everything changes again. I’ll need to find a new place to live, which means finding new finances, aka, a part-time job so that I can stay serving 2 different houses of prayer in 2 different cities, and continue to pursue the crazy dreams that led me out here in the first place.

“Late have I loved you”

What an honor, to love & walk with the Son of God. What an honor, to be His friend & give to Him our adoration. Tis so sweet to trust in You Jesus, and oh for grace to trust You more.

Twinnies

This morning on the train ride into DC I received this picture from Grandma B:

Talk about killer. How I love those little faces! Nothing makes me miss home quite as much as pictures of the twinnies. Ok that’s not true, pretty much everything makes me miss home but ESPECIALLY pictures of the twinnies!

The day was productive, we made the walk from the metro to the JHOP and spent the morning in the payer room before walking to the Court for the Noon siege.  As the school year draws to a close more and more schools are visiting on field trips and we’re having so many opportunities to speak to young hearts about God’s dream that He knits together in the womb. I’m mostly content to pray while Matt speaks, and it hits my heart in a powerful way every time I hear him say “And God has a dream for your lives to. Did you all know that? God has a dream and a plan for every single one of you, none of you are without purpose.”

After an important errand (I’ll go there another time) and more prayer room time I found myself back on the train receiving a text from Kelsey that read, ” Questions of the day: ‘Where’s Christina?” “Does Christina love me?” “Does Jesus love me?” wow! You rank up there with Jesus!”

I couldn’t love these girls more if they actually were my little sisters. That’s the power of adoption I guess. If I didn’t love my name so much I’d probably starting going by ‘Bohlender’. Maybe I should change that. If I didn’t love my name so much & if Randy & Kelsey were significantly older, I’d probably start going by ‘Bohlender’. *Now I can rest easy knowing Randy won’t beat me for saying he’s old enough to actually be my dad*

After the drive home I headed out for a jog to enjoy the quickly fading yet still beautiful weather. I dislike jogging so much more without Honey. Last August when I first tried to get her to run with me she would lay down in the middle of the road in complete refusal. By October she’d be begging to go again as soon as we’d get back from an hour run. Crazy dog.

So much missing. Oh but Jesus you’re worth it all.

Remember

It’s late and I am far too tired to be blogging.

Tired enough that I’ll probably sleep on my couch instead of getting up to walk into my room & go to bed. Tired enough to drink the nasty tea that’s brewing because it’s good for me & I’m not awake enough to refuse. Tired enough to be emotional about the fact that my sister is  in Spain on her honey moon & I’m sleeping on my couch & drinking gross tea…. but I digress.

Jeremiah 2 has long been one of my favorite passages in the Bible. I find such humanity, something so familiar & trustworthy about the emotion revealed in the gentle lamentation “I remember you”. My heart is suddenly strengthened to hold on to the dreams & promises that I’ve long kept, the things that break me in secret knowing that He too remembers them.

“The love of your betrothal, when you went after Me in the wilderness” He remembers the days of young, zealous devotion. Dramatic prayers whispered in corners from hearts longing for something to offer. He holds them near, nearer than we do.

I’ve been reminded lately, of the days of the devotion of my youth & of the love of my betrothal.

Last week I sat  in the Dean & Deluca parking lot with Annie, tears streaming down both our cheeks as we whispered about the Nations. (Whispering not out of reverence but because my voice was gone.) Encouraging one another in the practicality of daily faithfulness, but confessing the pain of longing that sneak upon us late at night.

Today I spent some hours with a visiting Bound4LIFE Chapter Leader. Roughly my age, in full-time ministry, stepping into an adventure she’s been dreaming about but made nervous by the unknowns, she drilled me with probing questions about ministry, life & Godliness & I somehow continued to answer while each question served as a reminder.

Later while walking her through Capitol Hill she spoke of the need for a ‘rhema’ word rather than a ‘go’ word, so that in the times of trouble & doubt she would have a promise to cling to. And I remembered some promises, and right there on 1st street my heart was strengthened.

I’m glad for the account that Jesus keeps because I know the tendency of my weak heart to become so wrapped in the moment & quickly forget the important. And I’m glad that I can share with Him the deep things that my heart clings to so desperately knowing that He doesn’t need a reminder.

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

And I heard my voice respond.. “Yes. But I’m writing a book…”

You remember my book.

Last night in my dream a man who’s details were blurry handed me a sheet of paper with hand-stitched words on it that read “I am a Bridegroom”. And this morning I woke remembering Your love for me.

You don’t send us to fight battles that You intend to lose. And every trip that we think so off track is leading us straight into the perfect plan that You have for us. Today I’ll remember that, and today I choose to tell You that all that You do with me is good God. And I ask you to remember the dreams of tomorrow.

The gladness of his heart

That’s what Josh tweeted this morning.

This is the day of the gladness of the gladness of my heart

It was crazy, it was crazy.

And it was beautiful. Having a hand to play in the creation of the decorations I was dang proud.

She was beautiful. Having a hand to play in the choosing of the wedding dress I was glad and satisfied.

The bridesmaids were beautiful, the groomsmen looked great, and I was so thankful for the love shown by so many who slaved and helped to make this day so magical.

Today my sister was a beautiful princess. She held my hand, frantically txted me over hair & makeup & missing car keys, I did my best to alleviate her stress & solve the numerous emergencies which would have been an impossibility without the Bohlenders, Annie, Joanna Eitel, my dad & aunt.

Today I gave my princess away, to a man who was stunned by her beauty and upon kissing her for the first time at the end of the ceremony declared ‘I think I’m going to faint.’

The day of the gladness of his heart.

I go to bed, as always, too late. Grateful, satisfied, joyful for them. Tomorrow I take my princess to the airport & send her & her new husband off for two weeks in Spain. Considering the last few vaca’s Kat & I have had together she’ll probably spend the whole first week sleeping.

Somehow we’d developed quite the reputation. The Styles girls. And I go to bed, mourning. Grieving the separation that comes with cleaving. Grieving my life forever changed along with her name.

But this morning I woke early enough to grab coffee with Bob Falkner before the madness began. He stared deep into my eyes and told me like he has hundreds of times, to work hard, accomplish much, cry freely and do hard things.

Getting in the car on Saturday morning to head back to VA will be a hard thing. The last two crazy weeks have been wonderful none the less due the presence of my tribe. Annie, The B’s, Jacob & Kyle, Kat. My constants, my faithful ones. But by the grace of God I go back to the un-known, unsettled, unfamiliar and press on for the grace of knowing Christ and loving Him as He loves.  All unto a day, the gladness of His heart.

There’s gonna be a wedding. It’s the sole reason why we live, to love like Him, to love Him like He loves. Fill us up Jesus, with the gladness of your heart.

Fuzzy Lines

The last week has been one lone wedding preparation blur. Between the chaos & constant changing of the schedule I’m trying to eat at least once a day & a week after my plane landed am still looking for a coffee pot.

Today was spent in a salon, stitching circles together for the alter piece while the stylist decided how to do Kat’s hair for her wedding. He finished, she asked for my opinion, I gave suggestions based off of previous conversations, he altered the style, I went back to stitching. Glancing up to answer a question I caught a look in her eye & time froze for just a moment. A wave of something washed over her face, expectancy, maybe trembling, an excitement I’ve never seen there before & one that I have never known. She is preparing herself for a bridegroom.

And for just a moment we were little girls in the basement of a tiny ranch style home in Omaha Nebraska, swimming in wedding dresses bought at different estate sales. White gloves pushed up nearly to our arm pits, heels the size only a giant could wear, twirling before a cracked mirror & dreaming of something we couldn’t possibly understand. Memories grow fuzzy through the trials of each day that pass, and I’ve so committed myself to living out each day that the lines have blurred, but just for a moment I could see us.

Today is Tuesday April 26 2011 & it is Kat’s 27th birthday. We have lived together for 22 of those years & shared a room for 20 of them. Some times I took it for granted, some times I fought to remember what a gift it was to be so near to my sister. Never did I imagine that it could change for more than the few months that we lived apart in different seasons. Never could I have seen this week.

Thursday is Kat’s wedding day & I just can’t fathom where the years have gone, or how she went from that tiny little girl in a giant antique wedding gown to the gorgeous woman that she is today, waiting to wear the dress that hangs in my closet. I’m so thankful to have lived these years as her little sister, her fighter, and her friend. Thursday everything changes, even her name. As of Thursday she will never be my roommate again, and my current adventure will become a little more stark, a little more real.

Dear Sister, it has been my honor to serve you these years. To bring you icepacks & medicine through your constant headaches, to hold your hair as you puked through countless migraines, to listen while you cried, to fight for your beauty, to fight for your heart, to make you laugh and hold your hand when you didn’t have words & neither did I. It has been my joy to be your friend, to listen to music far too loud, sing songs for years that bring you smiles, to order your food so you don’t have to talk to strangers, to pump your gas in the winter & shovel the sidewalk because you hate the cold, to mow the lawn & plant you flowers & come to visit you at work. I have been your champion as best I could until Thursday. And it will be my honor on that day to give your hand to the champion that your Father has prepared for you.

Oh these moments when the lines become clear, so painful and yet drastically beautiful.

Dreaming of Home

I woke up yesterday with a migraine.

And I ended yesterday with a migraine.

During a late night trip to walmart with Jenny I could feel the pressure rising & my vision blurring and decided to call it a day. A few minutes later I was in the kitchen grabbing Excedrin which I chugged with some coconut water for the elctrolites & promptly jumped in a steaming shower. This is my only migraine back up plan, and it didn’t work. 60 minutes later & like so many nights, I’m curled up in the dark wishing my mom were here to bring me an ice pack. I’ll get married some day if for nothing else than to have SOMEONE to bring me an icepack!

Half an hour later, I woke up. WIIIIIIDE awake from the caffeine in the Excedrin. Back up plan fail. After many attempts at sleep I decided to get up and…… do some accounting. *Sigh* I guess that’s the downside to sharing a basement with the office. Somewhere in the middle of that I found myself daydreaming about the Arabian’s we had when I was a teenager. Sassy died five years ago. I drove home to be with my parents for a few days who they said that losing the horse was the worst thing they’d ever gone through. Soon after that they gave Cressy to a BoyScout camp & I never saw him again.

That is until he popped up in my dreams this week. It was one of the nights that pain kept me awake until after 4, and somewhere before the alarm went off at 9 I found myself in Iowa, surrounded by rolling hills of rich, black soil, in the riding arena with the giant mulberry tree in the middle, and he and I went round and round in circles until his strong will finally caved & he would let me take him through rounds. It was a sunny spring day, the kind of perfect weather that bathe’s Iowa in glory all through the Spring, and in the dream my grandfather Carol was sitting strong & straight on the top rail of the fence. With no oxygen tank & that beautiful smile spread across his face as he watched me determinedly fight the proud Arabian spirit. It’s amazing what dreams can do, the effect that they have. I woke exhausted, again, and breathless from the heart-pain.

Some hours later I stole away to the old horse farm where Jen & Jeremy live. Pain still racked my body as I walked through the forest and empty riding rings before settling in the top of the empty barn, aching for relief & aching for home. Home. Where the heart is, where loved ones are, where rest resides. But my heart is split, torn into so many pieces with those who I love, and peoples that I pray for all over the earth. Those whom I love live so far away from each other, and rest always seems to stay just out of my reach. And as I sat up in that window I ached for the home that never changes, where loved ones never die, where love always reigns victorious. Home.

We’re only at home where You are Jesus.

Rustling Leaves

• You know what’s a bummer? Sending an email to your database that includes a “click here” link….. & forgetting to insert the link.
• A chorus we sang in the prayer room last night has been in my head all day. “If all that I attain is just to be a sheep following Your way, then I lack nothing” I might need to write a song about it.
• Every time I climb inside my beat up, rusty, hail damaged, $800 ’97 Geo Metro I smile & thank the Lord for it. But today when I climbed in it, it was hot. And driving with the windows down didn’t make it any cooler. And I realized that living on the east coast, driving the 45 mins-2 hour commute to DC once a week in a car without air conditioning is probably going to make me very sad. It might be time to start praying for a new car.
• Last week my Columbia Switchback jacket came in the mail. It is a windproof – water proof – light jacket. The hood is folded in the collar making it pop (sassy +2), and the whole thing can easily zip up into one of the jackets making a tiny square that can be tucked away into any bag (easy to carry +3). It retains heat real well which is awesome since I’m ALWAYS cold, & has vents to keep you from overheating at the same time. Overall I am REAL happy with it.
• Humility, really I don’t think you can learn it any easy way. It has to be ground slowly & painfully into your soul.
• In 4 days I will be falling asleep under my room, in Kansas City, in a room with my sister, snuggled up with my kitty. My lonely, ill, homesick heart is so…….so happy to know this. In the middle of the night Kita will get mad that I am in my bed and he will wake up and bite me. And my lonely, ill, homesick self will kick him out of the room, all the while loving it.
• In 14 days my sister will be married. Un-believable.
• Andrew Murray’s book Absolute Surrender is totally kicking my tail right now.