November Psalm

for every highest high
and all the deepest lows
I drift far away
so to Your anchor I'll hold

lead me home
let me feel mercy again 

When I walk through the valley
I hunger and thirst and find no peace
Through every cracked lipped breath
Through the dust I march on

lead me home
let me feel mercy again

High King of Heaven
Lord of Hosts
I only have fingertips
To reach for You
I only have a feeble mind
To offer to You
I only have a heart of stone
To love some of You

lead me home
let me feel mercy again 

Blessed are those who know they are weak
Blessed are those who see their inabilities
Blessed are those who weep watching the 5 o'clock news
Blessed are those who feel the weight of the world
Blessed are those who never stop questioning
Blessed are those who don't settle for cheap explanaitions
Blessed are those who don't settle for cheap love

You will find rest in God

lead me home
let me feel mercy again  

Confessions Deux

 Confessions of a confused American traveler ::

Part Two::

I never used to cry. I was never one of those particularly emotional women who lost it during every rom-com or every commercial involving a puppy or engagements. I didn't even cry when my parents told me they were getting a divorce... I DID break down in tears after finishing the last Harry Potter book because my childhood had basically ended and I hadn't slept for three days. But other than those rare instances, water works simply weren't my thing for the majority of my life.

However, that all has changed this past year. Now, I'm a big ol' crier. I cry at the most unexpected odd times... it's honestly a bit laughable. Sometimes, I'm so HAPPY that I start crying. Sometimes, I freaking wake up crying! My eyes are well moistened, folks.

This past week, a random show of tears made a guest appearance when I was trying to get on Spotify. It wouldn't let me listen to any music because it kept insisting that I was in America on vacation and that I could use the site once I'd returned "home" to the UK. I was in the middle of a coffee shop and hot, angry tears just began to spill over my cheeks as I furiously clicked the "help" button like it was my job.

No, I'm not in Nottingham, you stupid faced interwebs!!! Thank you for rubbing it in. You are evil and probably demon possessed and make me wanna scream and now my mascara is running and that barista is looking at me weird and I can't believe the internet is blaming me for coming back to America and tears taste kind of funny don't you think and WHY THE HELL WON'T YOU WORK SPOTIFY!?!?!?!?! .....I want a Klondike bar.

This situation slightly epitomizes how drastic things can be at times since I've been home. In my last post, confessions of an ex-patriot, I explored a few of the life changing and unforgettable effects of living in England this summer. So I promised in partie deux (fancy ass French woohoo) I would discuss the question where do I go from here? That is the kicker isn't it? Our journey and the bravery to face the unknown ahead.

Some days are nothing but these randomly induced crying fests. And I'm overwhelmed with restlessness and discontentment and obsession with "when, where, how" future focused thoughts. Some days are nothing but bliss and excitement. And I'm so happy to be spending time in school so that I can re-fuel and frolic around Chicago with my dear friends and laugh often and dream silly dreams. Some days are nothing but fear and soul crushing disbelief. And I'm dreading the idea of going back overseas because then I'll have to be serious in my relationships, completely honest about who I am, become the worst missionary EVER, actually trust God again, work really really hard, and get used to washing my hair in a bathtub for a year.

At the end of the day, none of our emotions remain black and white. No relationships remain stagnant. No mental state remains constant.

From here, I have to choose to be present in the situation God has placed me in. In theater training, we say "BE IN THE MOMENT." People can tell when you're pondering your next line--they can see it in your eyes when your emotions are detached from your words. I need to stop being so obsessed and fretful and longing for the future. Honestly, who cries on their couch over situations that haven't even happened yet, for goodness sake!?!? Well, I do, my friends... I do those foolish things. Winner of the stupidest girl award?.. THIS LADY. Thank God for His patience and new mercies He gives us everyday.

From here, I have to choose to not fear what is unknown. If we knew every single step of our future, we would be crippled by fear... or maybe we would be paralyzed with surprise at how God is going to work? I'm not sure which. Either way, nothing is hopeless. No matter how blissful or how difficult, we are not without hope. Fear stems from a lack of hope. God is perfect love, and there is simply no room for fear within that perfect love (1 John 4). Sometimes I get so consumed with the journey ahead that I forget the dark valley He has already brought me through.

From here, I have to choose to wake up every morning and cling to the knowledge that I am not alone. My mental state might be off the charts or it might be a smooth sailing sea. My emotions might be all kinds of confuddled crazy or calm as English breakfast tea. My relationships might be close and hot like the Sun or disconnected and frail like an empty drum. ANY WHICH WAY, GOD STAYS THE SAME.

From here, I can choose to live in Christ and give myself up to His plan daily.

All my plans seem bull in light of that...

Photos courtesy of Kelly Kuritar

Sunday Prayer

 

Sitting in the cafe, my thoughts turn and churn
Not in the upset way
Like a choppy Alaskan sea
But the sort of mulling that makes you happy
Content in the fact that you are alive and thoughtful

The sun is high and a fall breeze tingles the hair on my left arm that sits in the shade

The sun is high and a fall breeze lifts wisps of waify blond curls slung messily over my shoulder

The sun is high and a fall breeze pushes my jean skirt as if to remind me I'm in the windy city

And God...can I just say, I love You?
This sort of afternoon reminds me
Of all the goodness You have done

Happiness isn't dependent on French cafes
Or on tiny cute lattes
Or on pretty dresses
Or on curly blond hair
Or on gorgeous fall weather

Happiness is a gift from You
Thank You for being so good to give it 

I can finally breathe
Not just because the air is crisp
But because You are Healer

Please be with all who are in the valley right now
Please be with all who don't remember the breath of life
Please be with all who have forgotten sunshine and warm skin
Please be with all who cannot see past their pride
Please be with all who hate You or hate themselves
Please be with all who don't see they are loved

And God...can I just say again, I love You?
This sort of afternoon reminds me
I was foolish once to believe I was alone

*This song is in my mind all of my walk and all of my praying :)

The Lepers

I can't be a silent observer any longer concerning the phenomena spreading across my college campus.... Part two of being back in the USA is just going to have to wait.

It all began when I noticed the odd turning of heads in my direction on my afternoon walk to my favorite park. It was furthered by the seemingly necessary Noah's-Ark-esque walking of two by twos in every possible situation. It was pushed a bit over the edge by the sympathetic glances turned my way at the cafe. It moved from mild annoyance to sheer satirical anger after over-hearing the sentimental dreams of an underclassmen seeking her "MRS" degree.

What, might you ask, is this antagonist undertone creeping across my campus and much of Western evangelical circles? The ideal that single women who are happy being alone or maintain any spirit of independence are our modern day lepers.

This isn't some embittered "I should have received my ring by spring" rant. I'm reacting to this spirit of shunning and pity and disenfranchisement extended towards single women within Christian circles. However, in all likelihood, even outside the church every girl has experienced the forlorn "when will I get grandchildren?" looks from their mothers or "well what will you do after you graduate?" questions from their great aunts who can't seem to cope with a professional timeline not involving an engagement ring. So whether you are Catholic or conservative or don't give a shit--if you are a single woman, you can probably relate to these situations.

What is most disturbing to me, is that single men do not seem to experience such a lepers treatment. If you see a single man walking to class on his own, there's not a second thought given. Any young man could sit at a coffeeshop and read a book and people would find him intellectual; in fact, even MORE attractive or appealing. A single man can cruise through life for many years before the compassionate and confused looks are cast his way. Furthermore, most young men don't switch in the dramatic opposite realm and create intense co-dependent relationships with their other male friends. They are genuinely happy being alone and society does not cast any black duckling shadow on them for it. In fact, a spirit of independence (without turning into pride) and self-sufficiency (without turning into arrogance) is often perceived as the positive sign that they're now mature enough to enter into a romantic relationship.

Now, let's turn the tables and view these things from a single woman's perspective. Whenever I walk to lunch or to class or to even my freaking mail box, I'm one of the only people happily walking by myself. It is not a necessity in my mind to bring a friend or a guy or a pet little dog when I want to go get a snack from the gas station; however, people give you the weirdest glances for daring to venture out on your own. I can happily sit and have my lunch in the coffeeshop and read my book without your pitying "where's her date? where's her friend? is she really by herself?" eyes, Mrs-married-and-has-two-kids-at-23.

The saddest part of this fiasco is that most single women seem to flail themselves in the extreme opposite direction and create co-dependency with their other single girl friends. I don't know if this is a "we're both dying as cat ladies so might as well get used to being stuck with me" mindset or what, but rather than a woman finding her own spirit and independence apart from a romantic relationship, she instead dumps all that dependency on a friendship. Rather than walk to class on her own and arrive on time, she HAS to wait to walk with a friend. Rather than just going and getting that latte she's been craving all day, she HAS to wait for someone to be free to go with her. Rather than trying that new cute Cuban restaurant on her lunch break, she HAS to sit at home and eat to avoid the embarassment of being alone in public.

Single ladies, WHO GIVES A FRICK WHAT COUPLES THINK ABOUT YOU? Are they your Creator? Are they the One who loves you most? Are they the One who made you to crave Taco Bell at 3 in the morning or to really love terrible Katherine Heigl movies or to enjoy dancing to U2 after completing a giant exegetical paper?? NO. So by all means, feel free to do those things without their approval or their accompaniment.

Being single does not make you a leper.

Being single and quite content with that fact does not make you a bitter feminist.

Being single and having independence apart from your friendships makes you healthy and whole and a sure footed person.

Please do not feel the need to be one of these desperate twenty-something girls searching for who they are in emotional machine gun fire between all the wrong friendships and relationships.

And hey, if the Son of God can retreat into solitude apart from even His closest disciples, I'm preeeeetty sure I can enjoy the 20 minute walk through the sunshine to my favorite park without being some sort of freak for craving absolutely no one to be walking beside me in that moment.

Confessions

 Confessions of a practically ex-patriot American traveler :: 

Part one ::

Continuing with this rare thread of emotional honesty this summer has inspired, I've taken off almost a month from writing so that I could collect my thoughts and tears and smiles and shrugs before telling ya'll the results of my return home. I've explained my summer in so many ways ranging from the intimacy of hours sitting on the couch drinking tea with best friends to brief passerbyes who ask "how was England??" while expecting a short enough answer so they can get to class in 4 minutes to my six year old nephew who kept interrupting me to impersonate English accents (Harry Potter style, naturally) to random acquaintances who unveiled that they followed this blog and now understand me in a more profound way than before.

At any rate, here I am a month down the road and back in Chicago...a woman caught between two worlds and two sets of family and friends. Like a trans-continental pineapple upside down cake. And it all has left me begging the question: what really were the effects of these past three months? And more pressingly: where do I go from here?

-- CONFESSION NUMBER ONE -- While in Nottingham, I did not miss home. Not a lick.

I always felt guilty whenever some sweet church lady would ask me what I missed most about America. The first answer on my lips would always remain in the realm of red velvet cake and ranch dressing. Don't get me wrong, I was absolutely ecstatic when my family greeted me in the airport with giant "21st birthday" and "USA" and "welcome home" balloons and took me out for REAL Mexican food. I jumped up and down like a giddy school girl when I was reunited with my best friends. I made literal shrill noises both in the middle of a St. Matthew's parking lot and the Belmont train stop as I ran up to them. But my relationships are so deep with all these people that geographical location plays no part in how much we love one another and the connection based thereof. So did I ever feel homesick while in England? The answer is simply no. Did I ever want to magically teleport the people I love across the pond to be able to frolic around the UK with me? The answer is absolutely yes.

Thus, we stumble upon one of the greatest effects I've seen played out since being home. I don't have much of a long term attachment to Louisville or Chicago. I always knew I was a wandering soul and would only crave certain locations for a few years. Now I see that it's coming time to move on from these places. They were beautiful and good to me, but that season is done. It's really as simple as that. I will adore this last year in the city with all my beloved friends and then like a proverbial fairy godmother at the end of the story *poof* the tale will have ended. And that ending's really not such a dreadful thing. Do not let anyone look down on you because you are not one of these men or women born with an innate sense of "home" and who based on where they live dive roots into the ground that go so deep they're immovable. I remember thinking kids who cried at summer camp over homesickness were a bunch of weirdos. Why was their childhood happiness dependent on home life or roots or geography?? Mine was dependent on pretty stars and canoe trips and funny songs and good sloppy joes and catching fish and giggling after quiet hours.

-- CONFESSION NUMBER TWO -- I find American white evangelicism naueseating and nowhere near the biblical concerns of the heart of God.

Oh wait....that was already in mind before I left. This summer just manifested that ideal. Fo real.

-- CONFESSION NUMBER THREE -- I have no desire to live in the United States for the rest of my life.

I'm not drinking some sort of "it's nifty to be young and in Europe" cool-aid here, my friends. I have always had a slight international obsession since the wee years of my life. Maybe some of us are born slightly out of place with our decade or country or family or religion. At least, concerning the country aspect, I don't feel compelled to live in the beautiful red, white, n blue and have a white picket fence and soccer mom SUV and garbage disposal in the sink and giant deluxe refrigerator and 2.5 children. The idea of marrying at 21 and becoming a pastor's wife and moving to safe neighborhood in Nebraska makes me queasy. I can't do it, folks. I was lying to myself for so long to have believed in that future. I was betraying the very desires God gave me that course through my blood to lead me to far away places to see Him do extraordinary things. Many will brand me selfish and naive and feminist for saying such things. But do they have an interwebs platform to several hundred readers?? NOOO! Mwahahahaha.... any-who...

-- CONFESSION NUMBER FOUR -- For the first time in years, I know who I am and am beginning to believe who God says He is.

This may be the singular greatest gift I have realized since stepping foot again on these shores. In Heathrow airport, fear welled up in my chest that all my new found hope and independence and joy and sense of self and trust in a faithful God would vanish as soon as I arrived home. It hasn't! I have tasted what is good and true and there's simply no turning back. These past two years, my identity and my view of God were wrapped up in so many other people and their influences. I used to walk on a frail ledge teetering between emotional co-dependency or body numbing depression. Even through smiles and laughter, I only held happiness in my hands because someone else told me to be happy....or gave me permission is more like it. I'm not sure if now I have a "damn the torpedoes" kind of attitude or a "don't worry be happy" kind of contentment concerning finding my identity again. Both?? Maybe I can grip the passionate firecracker and Rastafarian peacemaker in each palm.


Those are all the confessions I can supply for now. In part two of this tirade, I'll try to explore the question of where I go from here. That is the kicker isn't it? Our journey and the bravery to face the unknown ahead.

I miss this woman lol

Kentucky sunshine, baby!

View from my favorite bridge over the Chicago River

Embarrassing aunts for life

I adore this lil nugget and her momma!

Love Letter

Today my heart is heavy, sinking in my chest. Today I have to leave Nottingham. I had absolutely no idea what this city and its people would do to transform me over these 3 months...so I've decided to write a love letter in parting.

Dear Nottingham,

You crept into my heart and made yourself a home, like some sort of illegal squatter. You aren't the prettiest Belle of the ball--there are many more cities in the UK that are bigger, older, more gorgeous, more adventurous, more wealthy, more stable. But you happened to be the one to win me over. God has a deep love for this city with all its cracks and crevices and quirks. I am the luckiest woman on the planet to have been given a glimpse of that love He has for you.

Did you know that God used you to heal me in the most miraculous, surprising ways? You did a much more deep healing than the frequently used one that takes broken pieces and pretends they're not there anymore, and fashions the brokenness into something totally different. Instead, you healed me by painstakingly and slowly gluing each broken piece back together. All the fragments and broken lines that make me up are now visible... However, I'm whole again. I have my scars and my past--but they've been renewed and restored.

I wasn't expecting to connect with so many people in this city. I have friendships that feel like they've lasted a lifetime. I have people who I've been able to confess things to in honesty that I would never dare have uttered back home. I have seen the love of God manifested in a church family with such genuine hearts that make my past church experiences seem almost fake and shallow. I have laughed till I've cried and cried till I've laughed. I have kissed in the rain and danced in the rain. I have found my voice was still strong, and that I can actually try to bless people with my music. I have made peace with God and man over some things that I never ever thought I'd be able to forgive. I have encountered the sort of true beauty that puts an unmovable fingerprint on your soul.

I have had the happiest days of my life here. I will never forget you. I can never replace you. I can never thank you enough.

Love,
Christina

Rosaries and Lying

Whelp, today I lied to a Catholic priest. If I were indeed Catholic, here would be my cue for a joke about going to hell haha...

While speaking with my mentor these past few weeks, I realized how I was all talk and no action when it came to prayer. I go on and on about wanting to be more like Christ, to live in a dramatic love for him and others, and to be totally sold on pursuing his way rather than my own. BUT do I actually make time for God to tell me how to do these things? When I pray, do I even really allow room for Him to dialogue back to me? I'm quite the chatty Cathy when it comes to prayer, and seem to narrow things down to a one way conversation more often than not...

THUS I decided to start using a rosary while I pray.

I can feel some born again evangelicals cringing in their seats. Well go ahead and squirm, silly people! Go read John Piper's blog for all I care!

Having physical objects--such as rosaries, holding crosses, stained glass, icons, etc--help me (and most of Christendom) focus on why I'm sitting there praying in the first place. This isn't a one way conversation. This isn't me and my thoughts. This isn't some personal reflection time on how "good" I've been lately....that almost turns prayer into a reversed time-out corner. The physical objects remind me WHO I'm praying to so that I'm vulnerable and available* for God to speak. When my fingertips are running along a crucifix, it's going to take that bee-like brain of mine away from myself and focus on the fact that "Yeah, God in the flesh came and died a gruesome criminal's death in order that I could be with him forever and ever and ever....oh wow....I should maybe freakin listen to him right now."

At any rate, here's the cue for where I lied to a sweet old Irish priest. After walking through town a bit, I stumbled upon a cathedral and went in to purchase said rosary. Half my family is Catholic, so I figured I could pretend easily enough without having to directly lie. A wedding was going on, and I narrowly avoided getting caught in the grand romantic exit pictures. But then the priest stepped outside, I was able to catch him and ask where was the church shop to purchase a rosary. He began to prattle on about how happy he was to meet an American and what time mass was every Sunday and why I hadn't come for the last three months. I could only sheepishly grin and say "It's soooo early!" Then he asked at point blank if I was Catholic. I thought my cover was blown.

So I did what every good Bible college student/church intern/worship leader would do....blatantly lied.

Though, not completely, cause we're all part of the catholic universal church, right? RIGHT?! Anywho, turns out he wasn't asking because my cover was blown or I had some sort of invisible PROTESTANT sign written on my forehead that only he could read. Instead, he was simply asking because he wanted to bless me and the rosary before I left. What a sweet man! I'm definitely going back to that cathedral to pray some time.

One of my first prayers on this rosary will be an apology for lying to kind Irish priests...


*"vulnerability and availability" is the prayer model used by the Northumbria Community

White Lace

There was a sale this week at Topshop...that's all you need to know haha.

Thank God it's been sunny all week! And nothing suits the warm weather better than white lace. Maybe it's just the Kentucky girl in me, but white lace and a mint julep (made with Woodford Reserve, of course) and some sun kissed skin sounds like the perfect evening to me.

TGIF!

Dress: Topshop

Earrings: random shop in Maryland...sorry that's not more helpful haha

Heels: Primark

These shorts were on sale as well...I'd be unpatriotic not to get a pair, right?!

Kate Moss

I haven't done a fashion post in a while...this is what happens when I do haha. But seriously, I miss creating these. It's refreshing and inspirational to see the creative, spunky side of people's dress. I adored this t-shirt as soon as I saw it in the window of a Liverpool thrift shop. I made my friend walk back 5 minutes through a downpour because I couldn't resist owning it!! Kate Moss is my favorite model. I know she's considered trashy and crazy by some--which is occasionally true--but I'm in love with how she mingles being this beautiful English rose turned rock n roll.

And c'mon: how could I not resist capturing a pic of this random boat that sits in our car park?? It makes me chuckle every time I come home.

Shirt: thrifted, Skirt: Primark

Shoes: Minnetonka moccasins

Kate Moss and the boat...good times

And I can't resist putting up a few pics of my stunning flatmate :) I'm so lucky to spend the summer with her.

Her beautiful soul matches this smile!