As some may know, attempting to sum a year into numbers, lists, what I did and didn’t do has never pleased me. My fear of failure has always exceeded my desire to look back and meditate on the blessings I’ve enjoyed the past year. However, this year’s arrival, unlike any other, has found me with a grateful heart and a peaceful soul; characteristics of what I’ve heard to be referred as contentment. Furthermore, I believe it is joy beyond all understanding. This year I am grateful for my shortcomings and my victories and hope God’s glory can be seen in both.

Allow me to present to you a list, which I’ll more gladly call a monument, in token of God’s faithfulness in twenty-eleven.

11 blessings I am grateful for in 2011:

-A long, long overdue high school graduation.
-The surprise (and honor) of being named Valedictorian.
-The new job in an incredibly familiar setting, teaching an incredibly challenging subject.
-An unexpected trip to Canada in which I got a closer look at the God of all, gentiles and jews.
-A second job, this time in a secular environment (which I had asked for in prayer [!]), that already feels like home.
-Having no time to breathe in the first half of the year and having way too much time in the second half.
-My family and their (extreme) support for me and trust in God.
-My friends: some new who have come, filling my heart with joy and some old who have gone, filling my heart with sadness.
-My dog Vera, who makes me sound like a loony everytime I mention the extreme joy it is to have her.
-The courage to apply to a prestigious university and the rejection letter that followed.
-The ever fluctuating answer to the question “What are your college plans?”. The answer I know to be in God’s heart and will soon be in mine.

I pray goodness and mercy follow you all 366 days to come.

Upon leaving they had to sing a swan song and I’ve been haunted by their farewell for the past weeks. In my opinion their farewell song was flawless.

Isn’t't it?

I liked it because it’s exactly what a loss by a group of very talented singers should look like: it was a showcase of talent.

Every person in this earth will someday lose or miss out on something. If you are lucky enough your wins will outweigh your losses. Even then, learning how to lose is as important as being able to succeed.

Here’s how this a capella group lost well:

• They didn’t almost cry because they missed their one shot.
• They celebrate because they believe in their talents, they believe in their music and they know it’s not the end.
• They sing gladly and confidently because they want us to know they’ll be back.
• They celebrate the opportunity The Sing Off was.
• They celebrate getting to showcase their music to the world.
• They celebrate being one step further on the road.
• They celebrate because the world is watching them do what they do best and love. A girl in the Dominican is blogging about them and you are reading.

If you believe in what you do enough to know that losing once (or twice, or thrice, or seventy-seven times) is not the end, you’ve got reason enough to celebrate.

And that, friends, is how you go out in style.

“What are YOU doing here?!!! How could you possibly return to this place?” If I had a dollar for every time a high school student has asked me those questions… I’d have… I’d have many dollars.

I smile and secretly hope they don’t really expect an answer. I know why I’m here… “It’s where God wants me to be.” I repeat it and repeat it until they finally believe it, until I believe it.

In truth, I believed myself to be a rebel. The right kind of rebel, the kind that doesn’t conform to society’s standards, that doesn’t play it safe, that dares to be bold, different.

“Yet, you are still here… at the same place you grew up in. The school where you spent fifteen years of your life. Aren’t you tired of this place? When I leave I’m never setting foot here again.”

Yes, here I am. I could say I’m playing it safe, staying close to home, close to everything I know way too well. I could say so because every now and then the thought crosses my mind and i dare to believe it. Frustration comes, as I meet the stares of my friends, they read “You were different. What happened? You weren’t returning.”. Deep down they’ve begun to pity me for not leaving my comfort zone. They have begun to see me as a sad story,  those that begin with she could’ve and she should’ve.

Hear me out. Doesn’t doing the opposite of what I am expected to do make me different? Could I, in a context where the norm is having a plan or working towards a college degree right after high school, could I be the deviation? Is it possible that by doing all that I should’ve never done (according to everyone else) I have become a rebel?

The right kind of rebel will sometimes choose to stay and “play it safe” when the norm is to run away and never look back.

If you really want to know, that is why I’m here. Along with the fact that I get payed to be here and I truly believe this is where God wants me.

Three weeks ago I emailed my friend and ex-teacher (once a teacher,always a teacher) Shannon with a life update. In it I mentioned that I was turning down a job offer and was waiting for whatever was next in my life.

Her response was: why don’t you come to Canada for 2 weeks? You could help in our youth camp.

My response? Thanks but I can’t financially take that on right now.

The next  day I accepted another job offer from the employer I had previously declined.

She wrote back to me (not knowing I had accepted a job) saying: How about I get you here, anyways? 

(What? Get me there as in fly me to Canada even though I can’t afford it? Yes.)

But, I had just gotten a job. Actually, I had only had that job for one day when I got her email. I couldn’t even think of going to Canada. The timing was so off.

But God has a strange way of sorting things out and I’d be stupid to put limits when he’s set on tearing down walls. 

So… I’ve packed my bags to go to Canada on Thursday. Now, there’s a twist to this statement. I need a Canadian visa, which I don’t yet have. So technically I might be going to Canada on Thursday. That is, if I get my visa. I’m not worried though, I know God will do exactly as he pleases (it’s better like that).

Still, packing my bags seems silly when I don’t know if I’m going or not.

It’s silly to invest time and energy into a project/relationship/career/…. that may or may not work out.
It’s silly because it’s uncertain; it requires faith.

Go ahead, pack your bags even if you might not get to go. Get changed even if you might get stood up. Start writing even if no one starts reading.

Have some good ol’ blind faith; some trust amid uncertainty.

It’s what makes our messy lives worth living.

Do you agree? 

Have you heard that John Mayer song “Heartbreak Warfare”?

I don’t care if we don’t sleep at all tonight
Let’s just fix this whole thing now

That’s me, every.single.day.of.my.life. Don’t believe me? ask any of my two sisters.

I say the reason why I love talking things through is because I am a talker and a listener, but deep down I know it’s mainly because I love winning arguments. I’m not a bad loser; I’m just a far better winner.

So, I plan each conversation carefully. I know exactly what I’m going to say. I imagine the ways in which the other person could respond. I envision myself listening to the other party, getting my arguments across, being understood, winning the discussion, and getting major points for being the one who tried to solve the problem in the first place.

In a parallel universe, God would be proud of me doing all the right things for all the wrong reasons. But, in this universe, I see that at the core of my amazing problem solving abilities is pride.

Pride is…
Making sure I’m not treated unfairly.
Always wanting the last word.
Winning each and every argument.
Defending my stance to death.

 Mark 14: 60-61a:
 [After many false witnesses had spoken against Jesus]  Then the high priest stood up before the others and asked Jesus, “Well, aren’t you going to answer these charges? What do you have to say for yourself?”  But Jesus was silent and made no reply.

 What? Why didn’t he say anything? He knew he was right. He should’ve proved his point!
He had the exact opposite reaction to how I’d react. He was silent, he didn’t  defend his pride.
He knew he was right and that in the end justice would win.

I should learn from him.

Are you like me? Is your favorite sentence also “I’m right, you’re wrong.” ?
or… Are you annoyed by people like me? 

Why else do you think Jesus kept silent when he could’ve spoken up? 

Come to me now
And lay your hands over me
Will you find me tonight
Say it will be alright
And I shall believe

I’m broken in two
And I know you’re on to me
That I only come home
When I’m so all alone
But I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
It seems like every time I try to make it right
It all comes down on me
Please say honestly you won’t give up on me
And I shall believe
And I shall believe

Open the door
And show me your face tonight
I know it’s true
No one heals me like you
And you hold the key

Never again
will I turn away from you
I’m so heavy tonight
But your love is alright
And I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
It seems like every time I try to make it right
It all comes down on me
Please say honestly
You won’t give up on me
And I shall believe
I shall believe

Ayer me decidí a revivir los viejos tiempos, aquellos sin redes sociales, y leer un libro. Al leer la primera línea me encontré con una palabra que no conocía. Deje de leer y tome un lápiz para subrayarla. Entonces me doy cuenta de que no tengo agua en mi vaso. Voy a buscarla, no quiero interrumpir mi casi proceso de lectura a causa de la sed. También me doy cuenta de lo mucho que me encanta leer. Me tomo el tiempo de escribirlo en mi lista de tareas pendientes, así no se me olvidara hacerlo. Por último, pero no menos importante, le digo a mi hermana que voy a estar leyendo. No quiero que ella interrumpa la experiencia.

Ya me doy cuenta de lo que estoy haciendo y me pongo a escribir esta entrada.

Lo que estoy haciendo es preparandome para leer en lugar de leer.

Lo hago todo el tiempo … Investigo como estudiar efectivamente, pero nunca lo hago. Veo vídeos sobre cómo trotar apropiadamente, pero nunca salgo a trotar.

Soy buena engañandome pensando que la preparación para hacer algo es igual a hacer ese algo.

Quizas el escenario no es perfecto, quizas tengas que coger una sabana en el medio de tu lectura porque hace frío. Bueno, sí … pero asegúrate de comenzar.

En vez de prepararte para correr, comienza a correr. Resuelvelo en el camino. (Por  cierto, esto se aplica a mucho más que a la lectura.)

¿Qué dices? ¿Lo probamos? ¿O prefieres no comenzar que comenzar desprevenido?

Por cierto, mi hermana escribió una entrada similar sobre este tema: Solo hazlo!

The past weeks have been emotionally intense.

Since the last few months I’ve been thinking and arrived at the conclusion that god is absolutely out of MY reach. My life since then became an inaudible cry for what everybody else had, for the holiness and honesty in everyone else’s spiritual life. Every Christian around me seems so close to God, so near but that’s something I have NEVER experienced. I kept asking God to be near but he wasn’t, at least  not the way I expected him to be. In my eyes he became a politician, making promises that he couldn’t keep.

He wasn’t all that near. He wasn’t all that inclined to my cries.

So over the Christmas break I decided to stop beating myself over my relationship (or lack thereof) with God. This was in the midst of reading A Severe Mercy, a book about a couple‘s pagan (hedonistic) love. The first part of the book describes the author’s pagan lifestyle and the second half, his conversion to Christianity. I, of couse, had only read the first half of the book and was enchanted by the glorious depictions in it. How could that couple and so many others be SO happy while ignoring God?

I would find out. I sat in my room and quietly, but decidedly determined to become a pagan of sorts, more of an agnostic. I decided to live like there was no God, not in lawlessness but free of the awareness of a divine intervention in humanity. I was miserable, but the holidays were good at keeping me numb. The frivolous lifestyle that comes with the season kept me busy.

I’ve been raised a christian, and my background haunted me. I knew that rejecting God would mean living a lie, but I chose this lie.

I was reading of the supposed joy in paganism but at the turn of a page I knew emptiness would creep in. I’d only have to reach the second part of the story.

Through all this, in the back of my mind, I still ask God to be near.  I pray to a God I half believe in.

I don’t know what this “faith thing” is supposed to be like. It’s hard to admit that I know so much theology and doctrines but I don’t know God. I look into different eyes, everything make sense to everyone else. It is real but not for me, this “faith thing” doesn’t ring true in me.

A few days or weeks after I wrote this down, I heard a song:
Mumford & Sons- Hold on to what you believe

I ran away
I could not take the burden of both me and you
It was too fast
Casting love on me as if it were a spell I could not break
When it was a promise I could not make
But what if I was wrong?

But hold on to what you believed in the light
When the darkness has robbed you of all your sight

And now this land
Means less and less to me without you breathing through its trees
At every turn
The water runs away from me and the halo disappears
I’m not whole when you’re not near

So what if I was wrong?

But hold on to what you believed in the light
When the darkness has robbed you of all your sight

So hold on to what you believed in the light

In late January I thought those lyrics through. I sat in my room and quietly, but decidedly determined to believe in God. I prayed my version of  Mark 9:24: “God, I know you’re the truth, help me believe it”.

He is not far from any of us. -Acts 17:27

Las últimas semanas han sido emocionalmente intensas. 
Desde los últimos meses he estado pensando y llegue a la conclusión de que Dios esta absolutamente fuera de mi alcance. Desde entonces mi vida se conviritio en un grito inaudible por lo que los demás tenían, por la santidad y honestidad en la vida espiritual de los demas.Todos los cristianos a mi alrededor parecen tan apegados a Dios, tan cerca, pero eso es algo que yo nunca he experimentado. Yo le pedía a Dios que estuviera cerca, pero él no lo estaba, al menos no como yo esperaba el lo estuviera. En mis ojos el se convirtió en un político, haciendo promesas que no podía mantener. 

El no estaba tan cerca. El no estaba tan inclinado a mi clamor. 

Por eso, durante las vacaciones de Navidad decidí dejar de castigarme por mi relación (o falta de ella) con Dios. Esto fue mientras leia el libro Misericordia Severa (A Severe Mercy), un libro sobre el amor pagano (hedonista) de una pareja. La primera parte del libro describe el estilo de vida pagano del autor y la segunda mitad, su conversión al cristianismo. Yo, por supuesto, sólo había leído la primera mitad del libro y estaba encantada con sus gloriosas descripciones. ¿Cómo podía esta pareja y tantas otras ser tan feliz sin tener en cuenta a Dios? 

Yo lo averiguaria. Me senté en mi habitación y en silencio, pero decididamente, decidi convertirme en una especie de pagana, más bien una agnóstica. Decidí vivir como si no hubiera Dios, no en anarquía, si no libre del conocimiento de una intervención divina en la humanidad. Fui miserable, pero las festividades me mantenian insensible. El estilo de vida frivolo que viene con la temporada me mantuvo ocupada. 

He sido criada como cristiana, y esto me perseguia. Yo sabía que rechazar a Dios significaria vivir una mentira, pero elegí esa mentira. 

Estaba leyendo de la supuesta alegría en el paganismo, pero al tornar la página sabía que el vacío llegaria. Yo sólo tenía que llegar a la segunda parte de la historia. 

A través de todo esto, en el fondo de mi mente, yo todavía le pido a Dios que este cerca. Le ruego a un Dios en quien creo a medias. 

No sé como debe ser “esto de la fe”. Es difícil admitir que conozco tanta teología y doctrina, pero no conozco a Dios. Miro a distinitos ojos, todo esto tiene sentido para todos los demás. Es real, pero no para mí, “esto de la fe” no es real en mí. 

A los pocos días o semanas después de escribir esto, escuché una canción:
Mumford & Sons- Aferrate a lo que crees (Hold on to what you believe)

Hui
No pude soportar el peso tuyo y mio
Fue demasiado abrupto
Arrojando amor en mí como si se tratara de un hechizo que no podía romper
Cuando era una promesa que yo no podía hacer
Pero ¿y si me he equivocado?

Pero aferrate a lo que creiste en la luz
Cuando la oscuridad te robe tu vison

Y ahora esta tierra
Significa cada vez menos para mí sin ti respirando a través de sus árboles
A cada paso
El agua se me escapa y desaparece mi aureola
No estoy completo cuando no estás cerca

¿Y qué si me he equivocado?

Pero aferrate a lo que creiste en la luz
Cuando la oscuridad te robe tu vision

Asi que aferrate a lo que creiste en la luz

A finales de enero analize esas letras. Me senté en mi habitación y en silencio, pero decididamente, decidi creer en Dios. Oré mi versión de Marcos 9:24: “Dios, sé que eres la verdad, ayudame a creerlo”

El no está lejos de ninguno de nosotros.
-Hechos 17:27