(Live & Active) Culture Shock.

If you've ever been away from your homeland for a while, and come back, you get it.

Every day new layers of realization.

Remembering cold, and the delight of snuggling up next to a toasty fire.

Being in a roomful of people who love me so much it hurts.

Loving a roomful of people so much it hurts.

and still missing a faraway sunshine land- so much, it hurts.

The smooth, grippy (Faux) leather of my steering wheel.

the British-y new car smell that never seems to go away.

But the moment that America really hit me in all it's starred and striped glory- was in the refrigerator aisle of the supermarket. Pausing in awe in front of the gleaming yogurt case at Trader Joes. Talking with Natalie on the phone about pausing in awe in front of the yogurt case as I beheld it's splendor. Selecting yogurt like a child grabbing too many shells on the beach- soccer moms smiled at me as they pushed past, amused. Talking with Nat- about yogurt, in the same country. Like- if the cows that gave the milk to make this yogurt could talk, it would be in English. Getting to the car, eager to tear into one of the aforementioned yogurts- and missing Chiang Mai when I realized there was no little plastic spoon in the bag. Oh Thai 7-11! You’ve ruined me for silver spoons.

Carry On.

Yesterday, I began unpacking my heart. I put some thoughts in drawers and filed some memories in the little wooden slats in my desk. I was reluctant. It was scary. I have spent most of the last 2 years living out of suitcases, happily nomadic. I’ve had my grab and go on for so long, but now I'm learning a new trick- I’m learning to “stay.”

It's surprising when moving forward means...not moving. For now.

Not that I wouldn't love an adventure- (my passport still has empty, hungry pages.) But I'm waiting for this:

Exodus 33:14 -15

"And he said, "My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest." And he said to him, "If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here."

And so we set up camp. Somehow the ritual of it all helps to anchor me down to the here. Kind of like- when Mr. Rodgers came home and he changed sweaters and shoes. I think he wanted to get the message across that he was going to stay a while. My heart is rocking the Santa Rosa sweater right now. Although, the no-shoes inside-ness of Asia lives on :)

Please- don't forget me.

she grabbed my hands in her own- pleading with her eyes, her gripping fingers, her broken English and her solemn smile. "Please. Don't forget me."

I remember you. I'm sorry to say, that the correct pronunciation of your name has faded like my Chiang Mai tan. I'm four months whiter under American clouds, and four months duller in the fog of western daily life. I miss your sun.

But I know your name.

"And they shall be called The Holy People,
The Redeemed of the LORD;
and you shall be called Sought Out,
A City Not Forsaken."

Isaiah 62:12

He calls to the ends of the earth. Remembering.

Language Learning

(from November 2010)...

So I’m learning to translate this message from God. It looks like this:

Cactus thorn deep in my heel

being in stuck in bed with an energy-sapping fever

losing my voice

going to write something down and discovering the entire inside of my pen is mysteriously missing? what?

ok- so here’s what I’m getting-

Dear Hollie,

Stop. Sit down. Shut up. Listen to me.

Love,

God.

Joyfully Overwhelmed

It's long overdue. All I have to say is:

To our Awesome God for grabbing my hand and taking me on one adventure after the other. For tenderly breaking my heart and stretching it beyond what I could have imagined to show me more of Himself. For allowing me to take part in His heart, longing for His children to come home. For showing me the joy we get to have in Him.

To all of you who have been faithfully praying throughout this whole crazy year- you know who you are. Guess what? It works. Boy are there stories to tell :) But first: Thank you.