Osaka Icarus (true story.)

I first saw it over my shoulder, out of the corner of my eye, through the greyly quiet buildings of Osaka, Japan. A rounded face of fire peeking between two sky scrapers, smiling at us.It’s brilliance melted a tear and prompted a reflexive utterance of awe: wow. Sights like this cause tired shoppers heading home to turn the car around; illegally, abruptly, wholeheartedly. Pointed westward we turned our gaze upon it for long stretches at stoplights, until our eyes burned and the dim light turned green. It drew us to itself, a warmly glowing peach, dangling ripely over the sea from invisible boughs. The dinner left uncooked was gladly and unanimously abandoned as we gave ourselves to this pursuit. We were much more hungry to make it to the shore.  

A dozen blocks stood between us and the sea, with train tracks that demanded stopping. Umbrellad pedestrians pushing strollers meandered at afternoon speeds, unaware of the show and with a “lack of urgency” that would cause my Marine-trained sous chef to take a slow breath and purse his lips into a tight line that terrifies me to action still. Each block left us more reckless. Tomomi hadn’t driven like this since her sense of urgency was caused by about a liter and a half of hoijicha tea. We drove towards that sunset like a carful of girls searching for a bathroom, and every time we slammed on the brakes it hurt as our hearts lurched forward, aching like bladders about to explode. 

Our conversation was like a song, little exclamations of awe in different accents and tones- It glowed with longing as we trekked on in delight. Looking down the stretch of road, I sized up the distance and wondered if we should hit the emergency flashers and make a run for it. I couldn’t think of a better emergency for which to make use of that triangle button. I could hear the water now, through the rolled down window, and I saw the bright beautiful golden globe glowing and I missed it. Now just two blocks away, I ached. The promise of green lights and the visible shore beckoned us come, and I felt sure I would soon be standing under its glow as it splashed into the horizon. 

How dare that cloud hide it, and how dare the light turn red. We waited forever at that light,and it felt cruel- to be so strongly drawn and then kept away. Where does this hopeful longing go, if not to the beach? Cool waves of disappointment and loneliness lapped up on our souls in that stopped car as the sun sank into the water, entirely hidden by clouds. 

I don’t get it. 

I turned toward Tomo and her face was still aglow, just from looking into the sun. I felt it’s warmth on my face, too. We went home in the dark, porcelain newly aware of our fragility, and without the relief of our cherished hopes realized. God, I don’t think I can live in this perpetual urgency, wanting, everlonging of the soul. It was just a moment- barely a moment- but so breathlessly beautiful I turned my heart inside out trying to get there in time. Silly girl, falling in love with a setting sun. 

Comfort reminded me that morning is on the other side of this night, that it won’t always be like this-dark. Hope reminded me of a place with no need for sun, and I longed for it more. And so I will live my days, in this longing. Compelled. I’m gonna turn the car sunward, and floor it until I reach the beach and the sun goes down. I’m gonna laugh and talk melodiously of it as our hearts are stirred, and we will run until our faces glow. I will encourage pedestrians along the Way to lay down their umbrellas and glance upward into the spectacular light over their shoulders. God- how I love that sunset! I smile at my freckles-sun kisses. I cherish them, but I’m homesick for the sunless glowing sky I’ve never seen. I blink, and that white spot is still burned into my vision-from staring into the sun. Everywhere I look, I see it still. And I get it.

 Like- I’m gonna get it, one dayless day. 

And by it, I mean You.  


"For from the rising of the sun to its setting my name will be great among the nations, and in every place incense will be offered to my name, and a pure offering. For my name will be great among the nations, says the LORD of hosts." -Malachi 1:11


"The sun shall be no more your light by day, nor for brightness shall the moon
    give you light;but the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory. Your sun shall no more go down,nor your moon withdraw itself;
for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of mourning shall be ended." -Isaiah 60:19-20 

Turn right here...left.

A friend recently asked me what it looks like when you feel God is calling you to do something and you make that choice to act on it in the moment. What goes on in our minds? What goes on in our hearts? I had no idea, and out of curiosity purposed to keep mental notes the next time I was aware of it happening, and track the process. It is not pretty. But it is real. Here is a novice attempt at recording the thoughts of my foolish mind and wicked heart when they were confronted by their Creator last week. If you respond to this by being paralyzed with fear of making a wrong decision, or flippantly enchanted by a fairytale God who sprinkles magic dust on all our purposeless wanderings- I have failed. My prayer is that all of our hearts would more quickly bow in awe before a sovereign God and follow His voice with uninhibited joy.

I never thought the familiar clicking of a turn signal could sound so much like a bomb ready to explode any second.

How did I get myself into this?

It all started that morning, and it was a Friday. One of those rare California days where it was chill enough to know it is winter, and sunny enough to remind you that it won't always be. I had the day off of work unexpectedly and I sat in my parked car, contemplating what to do with the suddenly empty day before me. I wish I could say that my thoughts were the easy, giddy ones that should come with the gift of a glorious day to use as one wishes. However, this gift came to me while I was still reeling from the last unexpected turn of events. I was weary from many days of what can only be described as grief- relentless waves of shock, sadness, loss, uncertainty, disappointment, doubt-and the nagging knowing in my gut that something is not right and there is nothing I can do about it.

I've been on "time out"- as I affectionately named this season of waiting God has chosen for my good this past year. It is not my favorite place. It is, however, an incredibly humbling place. It is a beautiful place, if you don't mind beauty with a healthy dose of agony on the side. In this season my Lord has lovingly chipped away at my pride by suspending my career and education endeavors, tamed my overly independent spirit through illness and humbled me by providing this year of living with my parents, and is teaching me His love through my own broken heart. Meanwhile, the enemy has taken every opportunity to rob God's glory in this by lying to me constantly. Like what? You are worthless. You are fading. You are lazy. You are wasting your life. You're getting rusty and will never be useful again. You are a big disappointment. God has forgotten you. You are in big trouble. You are unloveable. You are insincere. You're a joke.

Lies must be constantly fought against with Truth. Only, lately I have caught myself agreeing with the liar instead of killing the lies. Fragility of spirit will do that to you. Don't let it.

See, there is another voice that says "You are mine." Listen to this one- it never lies. It cries out from the depths of my soul, affirming who I am. (Romans 8:14-17)

These were the thoughts going through my mind as I contemplated how I'd spend my day. Usually it is not difficult for me to jump into many exciting and delightful activities, but creativity is one of the first casualties of grief. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and cried out to the One who has never left my side. "hey- I don't know what to do today. Surely there are things you want to accomplish in Santa Rosa today. Use me." And then I went to get gas.

Music blaring - (Lecrae- nothing like the spoken Word to pierce through the vague fog of lies) my heart began to warm and melt and dripped down my cheeks. Fear began to subside, and the deep longing of my soul grew louder as I sat in awe of the God who perpetually pursues me with His love. I pulled into the gas station. Pumped the gas. Pulled out and began to make a right hand turn. This street is one of the busiest in Santa Rosa, and it is nearly impossible to make a left. As I hit the brakes, I heard a small voice

Turn left.

What? No. That's a bad idea. That has to be my own voice. I am imagining things. I really need to sleep better at night. Seriously, God is not going to talk to me while I drive my car out of the gas station. Who do I think I am anyway?

Turn left.

It was not audible- but a knowing. It was familiar, insistent, and it was strong. That's just crazy. I reached out and flicked the blinker- left. And sat. I watched the traffic in front of me in an unending barrage. I waited. Even if I would have wanted to cut someone off, there wasn't even an opportunity for that. Cars began to pile up behind me. I waited. They became impatient.

Seriously, God. I'm going right. This was a bad idea. My heart lurched as it recognized this vulnerable situation. Still bruised and bleeding, it begged me to run and protect myself. Did I really believe that the voice of God had instructed me to make a left hand turn? Here I was, stepping out on a limb- utterly exposed, looking like a fool- waiting for something that was ridiculous to hope for-again. People in their cars behind me were probably not hearing the same instructions, and they wanted out. I half expected someone to walk up to my window and punch me in the face.

The right lane was beautifully open before me. I began to think of things to do on that right side. Silly things, things to pass time while I waited for God to tell me what to do with this day. Part of me didn't believe He ever would, that I'd be stuck in the Twilight Zone fog of frustrated uncertainty forever. I felt sorry for myself. I scolded myself for feeling sorry for myself. And I waited. It became uncomfortably long. I reached the end of my rope. I was certain something was going to break. I almost turned right.

But I didn't. Something held me there- wanting to believe even after I'd reached the end of myself. I felt like an absolute fool. And I waited.

And then I looked up, and right in front of me was a black car with my friend "Jane" in it. I have been praying for her for months, and somehow we kept missing each other. I honked. She waved excitedly. Windows rolled down, greetings were exchanged. Traffic began to move- "I'm going to Target! Follow me!"

and then there was a perfect gap in traffic, and I made a left hand turn.

I can't quite explain the meeting up of old friends that happened, the conversation walking the aisles at Target, and what exactly happened to my thought process and my heart with each step. Both of us had each other on the mind that day. She had just seen a car that looked like mine, but I wasn't in it. I had just been thinking about her, since she used to live across the street from the gas station. I also can't explain the other friend I ran into in the parking lot as I was texting her. We had lunch, another great conversation, and we prayed.

It could have just been fun conversations, casual girly stuff. But it wasn't. Within the space of that day, I got to see the fruit of years of prayer. I learned about a much longed for baby on the way that doctors bet couldn't happen. I saw stubborn hearts softened, and made up minds changed. One of them was mine. And it recognized the voice of its Maker, and followed.

As I lay in bed that night, contemplating a God so big coordinating all of these domino divine appointments in His perfect timing, I worshipped Him in awe. Who am I to doubt what He is working in my life through this season? Hadn't I been praying for Him to melt away pride, and to know His voice? To be quite honest, at one point during the day, the accuser showed up again, and my futile thinking cried out "I didn't accomplish anything today..." And then the voice of my God whispered back " I did." Wow. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I don't know how or when exactly it happened, but out of that day and through those conversations, my heart was stirred. I knew what is at the bottom of my heart, the depths of my soul- those longings that God created in me for Himself. I am His. Pure joy. And the accompanying longing for others to know this for themselves, too. Vision for how to practically live that out became clear. I don't "know what I'm going to do with my life" in an SAT essay format, but I know the voice of my God, and I am confident to follow it, no matter how long I wait with my blinker on, and how uncomfortable and foolish I feel. I want Him more.

See, I'm no hero. I'm in love. And you do crazy things when you're in love. I fail, I doubt, I wrestle with my own thoughts- He reveals truth and takes me back- every time. I weep, I laugh- am thankful to know Him and make Him known, and I look forward to these adventures everyday. I don't know what would have happened if I had turned right. And of this, I am glad.

Isaiah 30:21

"And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying 'This is the way, walk in it' when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left."

*if you have a minute, read Isaiah 30- what happens when we don't ask for directions- beautiful illustration of His mercy, restoration and justice to a rebellious people- Israel (us.)

(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.