destination and the journey.

If I hunger for the destination, may I still enjoy the journey? There is such great beauty in both.

Today I was reminded of the value of gathering soul snapshots of the fleeting moments. The impression of the day may be just as precious the clarity of the instant.

French van. Personalized. We are His hands. 

Late summer bounty. Oh taste and see.

Romanian forest. His ways are life.

Today I was reminded of the value of savoring the breathtaking destination given me. The value of being still after the fleeting moments, of the beautiful collision of impression and clarity.

Sunset. Surduc, Romania.

Shout it, go on and scream it from the mountains. Go on and tell it to the masses. He is God. ~All the Poor and Powerless (All Sons and Daughters)

Pondering the Definition of Discarded.

It’s been a week since I returned from my journey to Romania. I’ve drunk countless cups of caffeine at planning meetings about a worship conference in Russia and weekend church services here in Austin and mission trips in Guatemala.

Left: My sweet students bake cookies for others. Right: Cupcakes and brownies baked by NomNom Global for a special event. The proceeds go to help orphan care efforts in Guatemala.

I’ve baked cookies with my 10th grade bible study girls, made tarts and brownies and delicate mint marshmallows dusted in cocoa for a special event at Austin Christian Fellowship, and cooked dinner for my sweet husband. There has been good food savored with my family, good work done with my best friend, and good time communing with the Lord. Work and grad school and life are all swirling together in a common paisley pattern.

It feels normal. But I don’t.


It would appear Romania still has a tight grip on my internal clock as I try to adjust to a life that differs by 8 time zones. Then again, perhaps the struggle makes sense – she also still has a tight grip on my heart as I think about the country and her people.

I knew so little about Romania prior to July 2010. Yes, I had worked at a nonprofit which had at one time served the country’s orphan population, and had heard stories from those who had both travelled and lived there – but I didn’t fully understand the country’s plight. A request to attend a meeting with several Texas ministers in Abilene changed everything. It was in that west Texas town I was introduced to both the challenges facing the people of rural Romania, and to the individuals and churches with a passion for providing life-changing assistance in 31 villages in the westernmost region of the country. I learned about the House of Joy, the vision of pastor Ovidiu Petric and his wife, Adina - a facility in Susani, Romania, that will serve the villages with sports camps, after-school programs, life skills training, and the Gospel.

And it was in that town Red Page Ministries was first given life.

Now I’ve been there. I’ve seen the cities, visited the countryside, seen the poetic contrast between Romania and her western European neighbors. There is a gallery of faces brilliantly displayed in my mind,  story after story painted in my heart, and a fire inside me to affect change in a country that is beautiful in such a rough-hewn way.
80% of those living in rural areas in Romania are classified poor. Unemployment is high. Residents who rely on agriculture eke out livings doing seasonal labor while storing up for long, harsh winters that render fields useless. Parents who want a better life for their families are sometimes forced to live apart from them as they work in larger cities. And it is common to find rural teens living alone or with strangers in larger communities, in the hopes of having greater access to higher education once they graduate from high school. While the country is now part of the EU, little has yet been done to provide improvements in systems and processes for those living outside major cities. Romania isn’t considered a developing country, yet clean, safe drinking water is a need in her villages. She’s not on the priority list of most nonprofits or foundations, yet her needs are as significant as her neighbors to the east or west. Her people may not be “third-world,” but they still struggle in a world that looks the other way.

Is it possible the term “discarded” could apply to not just people, but a place?

Ovidiu Petric shares construction details of the House of Joy. The facility is being funded by individuals and churches.

A week ago, I stood in the snow as the sun rose over a maze of red brick walls. I closed my eyes and imagined the sounds of children laughing, imagined the aroma of soup cooking, imagined the lives that would be impacted when the House of Joy becomes more than a construction site. I imagined the teens I had met at WinterCamp serving others there - teaching, playing games, leading sports camps, talking about what it really means to be a Christ-follower. I imagined teams of people dedicated to caring for communities in need of a brighter future. I imagined hope taking root, and love growing - and the word “discarded” being destroyed in Romania.

A week later, I still imagine it. I believe it will happen, with the help of people who see Romania and her people as precious and beloved. I long to be there when it does.

5+5+5+5

The following formula is true, at least for today.

5 am + 5 minutes + 5 tram rides + 5 smiles = better than before

The city of Budapest glows on the Danube.

Walking on the Common Ground

“You are the highway I travel, because I watched You carve streets out of sand and gravel. I gave you brokenness – You gave me innocence, and now this road leads to glory. You are my deepest longing, and so I see You everywhere; it’s You I’m chasing after. I’m captivated by who You are and how You move. I’ll follow You forever.” ~Audrey Assad, For Love of You

Iosif (Joseph)

An impromptu sermon in the hotel hallway.

Iosif (Joseph) has the rugged look of an athlete, and a deep voice that is easily recognized in each worship service and prayer time at WinterCamp. He clings to every word spoken, every song sung, with passion and conviction. Iosif graduated from high school years ago, and even spent six months working in Australia. But now, at the age of 23, he has returned to his home town of Faget (Fah-jhet), one of the small villages in Western Romania that will be served by the House of Joy.

Joy and Cold Feet.

My feet are cold, and my slightly frizzy hair is in pure rebellion against the blow-dryer that feels more comfortable on the warm setting. The internet has decided it would rather sleep on this snowy evening in Romania, so there will be no uploading pictures or answering emails. A dog is barking outside, and another freight train is sure to pass soon.

And I’m filled with complete joy.

Learning to Listen

It was getting late.

Early morning departure.

Between the Foreign and the Familiar

It’s very early here in the small village of Susani, Romania. I’m wrapped in a warm wool blanket, reading and writing, on the sofa of the living room of Ovidiu and Adina Petric, a kind couple who works daily to serve the people here. Our 22-hour journey by plane and van brought us here last night, to this home filled perfumed with the fragrance of homemade chicken soup and sarmale (cabbage rolls served with sour cream).

Chicken soup with handmade noodles. And a pepper. Divine.

Building House(s) of Joy.

You might call it a ritual. I’m snuggled in bed with my laptop, my pup, and a cup of coffee. I’ve read scripture and journaled my confessions and hopes and dreams. Outside of the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard and the birdsong outside, it’s quiet. So very quiet.

There are suitcases to be packed and itineraries to be printed and reminders to be emailed. But right now, in this moment before the moments, I simply ponder what it will be like to dance with orphans again.

Finding Bliss (but not at Blissdom).

There is a place I'd love to be right now. Blissdom. No, it's not a state of mind - it's a conference for women who write. There are women there I know, women there I follow on Twitter, and women there who I know would inspire me and challenge me. But I'm not there. I'm here.

Living room. Austin, Texas. NOT Blissdom.

It feels strange to blog about blogging while wishing to be at a conference about blogging. But given my love of words and phrases and the quirky, lovely journeys this life has to offer, I guess it makes sense in a strange way. From writing about my personal journey (and the never-to-be-finished recipography) here to writing about the beautiful faces of orphans with my friend Courtney at Wordpainters, or even keeping my daily diary of inspirations at 365thousand, words are my friend. And from time to time, my words have their place in the care and feeding of others. That makes me smile.

So what am I doing that's keeping me from Blissdom?  Today, it's flying.

Sweet hubby, cheering me on via Starbucks.

(my head just got a little light thinking about this) I've got trapeze lessons at 4. Me. Trapeze. Me. Trapeze. Dang. 

If I survive, I'm then packing my bags and flying to Romania to work with RedPage Ministries. It will be my first time in the country, and having the opportunity to meet and fall in love with new friends is amazing. I'll be posting the stories of the journey, so please join me.

So, to you ladies of Blissdom, please share the cool things you learn. I promise to share things I learn too. If you haven't met me yet, here's a little something that might give you insight into the way I see things.

UPDATE: Sigh. It happened. I have proof. I was a wimp. I may have cried. And there's definitely a lessson in this.

She flies through the air. But there is no ease.

My best work. Just hanging. Not swinging. 

The Reluctant Witness.

I leave for Romania in just over a week, to serve with a wonderful new ministry called Red Page. I’m humbled to be on the Executive Board for an organization so committed to caring for the discarded in that country, and have been inspired by the churches already on board because of of their love for her people. They are amazing.

And I feel so ill-equipped. I don’t know the language, don’t know anyone I’m traveling with, don’t even really know what my day-to-day is going to look like there. It’s a youth camp, and I’m 51. It’s a sports camp, and I’ve got the coordination of a slug. And it’s all about Jesus – and now for some reason I’m even concerned I’m going to suddenly forget everything I know about Him.