chapter four, in which megan explains why she is not moving back to kansas city yet

This is real.

I have a new job. And it's my dream job - I think? I think I'm too young to have my dream job.

Maybe, probably, I will have new dreams in two or five or ten years, and that's fine, but for now, it is, in fact, my dream job.

I'm so thankful. And at the same time, my thankfulness over the last few months has been laced with discontentment. I keep asking God if I can move back to Kansas City. I want to pick up my little sister for lunch dates and be a respite caregiver for the Peery House and play on the playground with UCA's inaugural kindergarten class and go to my dad's shows and plan a Camp CUMCITO Teen Girls retreat and let my friend Kyla chauffeur me around with her shiny new driver's license and become friends with the man who's dating my best friend. There are so many good things going on there that I would love to be a part of, and so many people who I want to live daily life with.

And I feel like God doesn't get it, because I keep hearing "Not yet." I forget my dream job and the dearly loved family I nanny for and the healthiest church that I've ever been a part of and the community that has truly become my West Seattle family and the sunset over the mountains over the ocean and I start daydreaming and wishing and whining to God, and then I get angry, because he's not letting me live every good story that I want to live all at the same time.

He's been so patient with me. He has not yet raised his voice with me. But he has said in loving firmness, "Do you really think that your story is better than mine? Do you really think that it is all about you getting everything you want (which is too much for you to cram into your mouth anyway)? Infinitely greater and more beautiful things are at stake."

This morning I was reading an excerpt from the writings of Saint John of the Cross, and the editor of the book advised an assignment: "Be patient with God this week. John of the Cross consistently counsels us not to fuss or fret and take our spiritual lives into our own hands, but simply to receive what God would have us receive, no more, no less. Learn the discipline of gratitude for the small things." The Holy Spirit whispered to me, "Even though you think you're missing out on so many things in Kansas City, stop fussing and fretting. Trust your God's guidance. Trust that he knows what he's doing. He has opened doors for you here and now that you should not walk away from because you are greedy or discontent, but should keep walking through because they are good and because you are his. You are not your own. You have been bought with a price. It is not about your desires, but about his glory. He is writing a better story. And in the end, you will not regret following him instead of following your own wisdom."

I don't know how to communicate that to all of the people who I feel like I'm disappointing by my decision to stay here, but maybe they'll read this post.

There are deeply wounded and out-of-place men and women here who I get to intentionally and practically love full-time through smiles and individually tailored English worksheets and caring about them as human beings and being excited that they're here and crying out in prayer over the waves of difficulty that threaten to crash down over them. There is a thirteen year old boy who is asking big questions about who Jesus is and listening to my answers. There is a church who is pouring itself out to make God look as good as he is in the avenues and alleyways of Seattle. These are the doors that I'm going to follow God through. God, help me not just walk, but run.

new characters in my story

I just looked through my pictures, and these are the only exciting ones from the last few weeks:

two cool (maybe...) girls I've been lucky enough to get to know a bit lately, Toni & Ty



I almost put up a picture of this really cool shiny green and orange bug I found on one of my plants, but then I was afraid you'd think that Ty and Toni are on the same level as the bug in terms of how much interest they add to my life, which is not at all true. So just know that the bug was insane.

I've started working at an elementary school doing the before and after school program. I have twenty first-graders to plan activities for every day, and while their favorite things include tattletaling, crying, silly-bands, screaming, tugging on my shirt, and throwing their snack wrappers across the table at each other when they think I'm not looking, they also love giving hugs, holding my hand, and playing four-square, and so I think they're awesome. My favorite moment recently came from one of my girls who grabbed my hand during snack time, when they're all supposed to be sitting down, and asked if she could go get something out of her backpack. I said "What?" She said "Something." I said "What?" She, growing more impatient, said "Something!" I said "What?" She clenched her fists in frustration, and then, with her face grave and her eyes wide, tried to make me understand the urgency of the matter: "This is a serious silly-band situation!"

We had our first meeting last night for my new small group at my church, Redeemer Fellowship. Meeting people for the first time can be awfully fun to me because you get to create your first impression according to your whimsy. I wore Meredith's trendy bracelet to help me feel hip. (: It was beautiful. Our leaders are authentically warm and welcoming. There's a great mix of four married couples, four singles, and four freaking cute kids. I met people who share some of my passions. The atmosphere was free and embracing. I can't wait to get to know this group of people more closely.

Fall retreat is this weekend for camp, so I'll have some sweet photos after that.

In closing, what do you think of this?
"Christ died for men precisely because men are not worth dying for;
to make them worth it."

sultry summer, shooting stars, sinking sand

I haven't blogged in a long time. I've probably lost all my faithful readers. There's just not a lot exciting going on in my life right now.

That's not exactly true. I've spent some beautiful (if oppressively hot) days at camp. I've been calling all my freshmen mentees and getting to know them. I've been making homemade ice cream and watching meteor showers with my little sisters. All of which has been great.

Other breaking news:
- It's hot as Hades here in Kansas. I ate ice cream for lunch today.
- I ordered all of my textbooks for this fall and only spent $68.54. Oh, the benefits of being a political science major.
- I saw thirty-five shooting stars last night. They were magnificent. Number 24 was the most incredible one I've ever seen: the fire trail in the atmosphere stayed glowing for a good fifteen seconds.
- I get to move back in with my beautiful roommate in five days.

There are a few things coming up that I'm super excited about, and a few things that I'm terrified about, but I've been reminded in recent days that "My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness." That is where I'm standing. It's the only place I can stand; everything else is pretty shaky right now: relationships, plans, achievements. Yet Christ has proven himself faithful and I cling to that once again.

My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus' blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
but wholly lean on Jesus' name.

When darkness veils his lovely face,
I rest on his unchanging grace;
in every high and stormy gale
my anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, his covenant, his blood
support me in the whelming flood;
when every earthly prop gives way,
he then is all my hope and stay.

When he shall come with trumpet sound,
oh, may I then in him be found,
dressed in his righteousness alone,
faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ the solid rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.

All other ground is sinking sand.

life after

Transition is dumb. I hate it. And yes, 'dumb' is the exact correct word to reflect the emotion that transition brings over me: a childish resentment of something I dislike. The adult Megan embraces transition for the 'bloomabilities' it offers. But the childish side of Megan resents the disruption of the comfortableness and happiness she has finally established in her world. Er, I mean, my world.

Transition makes me feel like that though: like I have to withdraw outside of myself and manipulate myself, manipulate Megan, like a puppeteer to morph her to the situation.

Transition is sticky and messy and involves a lot of social ceremonies and repetitive conversations and weakness.

Transition seems to throw away what you've built and it won't even let you just rebuild, it demands that you construct something creative and new.

To sum it up, it's dumb.

But moving on to the present... what a week. Oh man.

Teen Girls Camp 2010.
Kelley got married. To Russ.
Slumber party of the decade.

It was sweet. Check it out.

Mis chicas bonitas:

Oh-livia:

Becs:


J:


Aimee:


Darion:


Rowdy good times at Teen Girls:











I hardly had time to feel sad when my wonderful girls left, because that evening was the wedding of the year!! My wickedawesome dorm resident director for two years, Kelley, got married to her lucky pastor man, Russ.









And then so many of my favorite girls crowded into Luce's apartment for an epic slumber party. Yes please.

My blessings are pressed down, shaken together, and running over.

ps- This is my 100th blog post! Happy birthday little blog! How much can happen in 100 posts...