“This is it,” I told myself. I was about to leave everything i came to love the past three months behind. I can’t explain what it felt like walking down those stairs for the last time, because everything seemed like it was flooding in at the same moment. But I felt so ready. I felt accomplished. Like I did what God put on my heart the year before. I learned. And cried. And laughed. And prayed harder than I have ever prayed before.

When God told me to “go to Romania” for the very first time, I laughed it off. I called Him crazy and ignored the desire He put on my heart. I told myself to go to school, I need to get a degree, a job, than I will have adventures. I will travel after college, love after college, hug the orphan babies after college. Be who God wants me to be after I have found this sense of security that the world is constantly preaching.

The thing about this world is, we like security. And if you aren’t on track to have a job or degree that will get you one, you might even be called insane.  Not normal. And there i was having made this decision to take the year off from anything school related. I felt it. At first, it was going against the grain. Pretty much everything anyone was telling me to do. But i persisted and my stubborn “no way, not yet Lord” heart had changed slowly into a heart of “i’ll do anything for Him.”

Now i’m not saying going to school and getting your degree is ever a bad thing. By golly, I have plans to. I’m just saying at every moment, you need to be in tune with where God wants you & what he desires of you. If he tells you to go somewhere , go. If he tells you to quit your 9-5 job to be something bigger, do it. Without hesitation, without “what if..”, without “but” at the beginning of your prayers. I did it. It was hard, but I did what He desired of me for this season. I may have gotten some weird looks, but ultimately, Romania was one of the best decisions i’ve made in my entire life. And I want you all to know it was so so worth it.

All of it.

I saw hard things, and loved helpless children to death. I prayed over the hurt, and talked about Jesus with the children. I held poverties hand, and it was pretty cute. I cried over how selfish I realized I was being, and slowly my heart has been changing in so many ways I never thought possible.

I’ve had a peace in my heart lately. It’s calming, and kind, and I know it’s from the King of Kings. I know my time there was meant to be. I know now, this is what it feels like to hear those words “well done child” whispered in my ear.

-t

Meant to be

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the view from up here

the view from up here

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Hug me tighter

She said it without words.

But I could tell that’s what she meant when she pressed my rapped arms tighter around her small fragile body.

All she wanted was to be held. To be loved. To never be let go of.

Isn’t that what everyone wants? Someone to say, “you’re mine. Forever and always, and I love you.” To hold you through the night and walk with you hand in hand during the day. Someone that will never slip and fall. Someone that won’t let go, won’t disappoint, won’t make mistakes.

If you didn’t already know,

best friends slip and fall. Mothers and fathers slip and fall. Sisters slip and fall. Brothers slip and fall. Your pastor slips and falls. Husbands slip and fall.

We aren’t perfect. We fall short and fail in so many areas. We let go.

Truth is, there was ever only one man worthy of living up to this high a standard.

Jesus.

Never will he ever lose His grip on you.

He will never let go. He will never disappoint. He will never say hurtful things or step on your toes. He will never sleep on the couch. He will never ignore you. He will never make a mistake, turn His back, or reject.

He wants to hold you so tight. He wants to satisfy the heart of a love deprived child. He wants to wrap His arms around you and make you feel safe. He wants you.

My sisters and brothers, let Him have your everything. I promise that once you are held in the arms of the King, nothing else will ever satisfy.

Hold me Jesus.

-T

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my worth<His acceptance

I wrote “I am nothing” at the top of my journal page yesterday.

I didn’t think much of it after that. I can tell you I was wrestling with pride. I can also tell you my heart didn’t fully grasp the phrase “I am nothing” until 3AM this morning.

I didn’t wake up because of a stuffy nose or noisy street. I just woke up. So as I laid there, eyes wide open, I prayed. I prayed for the people closest to me, I prayed for friends I have never met, I prayed for me. And after a few minutes of whispers to my King, I picked up my i-pod and started to scroll. I tapped a blog post from a dear friend. It was about being a ‘nobody’. And as much as it was about the girl who wrote it, it was about me. Everything building up inside my very heart about pride and selfishness that I didn’t even know how to voice was written out in the most heartbreaking and beautiful way.

My heart, it dropped. This was why I was awake. Because with a ten hour time difference, my news feed would of looked a lot different in the morning.

I could tell you of the children here. The children I hold hands with, laugh with, play with. I’m surrounded by little faces that look up to me. I get to show them Jesus. I get to be a light in a dark place. And here, it’s easy for self to creep in. It’s easy for a ‘nobody’ to feel like they’ve become a ‘somebody’. For the enemy to say “you are good.”

Our mission as Christians isn’t that complicated. It’s simply to show people who Jesus is. To love the least of these, hug the heartbroken, and make Him famous while doing so.

But I fall short, all the time.

If I don’t have Jesus, I have nothing at all. But because I do have Jesus, and because He is so amazing, extravagant, and holy, I want to be nothing at all.

I want my heart to be filled with His love. I want my mouth to speak his words. I want all that I am to shine forth the King of Kings.

I am not worthy.

I never was and never will be. The only good in me is Him. Not even my best works on my best days measure up to anything. I could hold one million empty and abandoned hands, I could give a village of gypsy children school supplies, but all this is nothing & done in vain if He isn’t the reason.

I am nothing,

and He is everything.

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I want a heart

I want a heart that loves Jesus more than anything.

I want heart that is vulnerable.

I want a heart that is not afraid of uncomfortable places so that I might receive extraordinary grace.

I want a heart that loves every daughter and son of the King no matter how dirty or broken.

I want a heart for the church.

I want a heart that speaks the words “I love you” without having to say it aloud.

I want a heart inflamed with passion for the work of Jesus.

I want a heart that is willing.

I want a heart so in love with Christ that nothing else matters.

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I love them.

I love them.

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Like a gypsy

I arrived at a little school 45 minutes outside of Bistrita earlier this morning. Before I even could step a foot inside the classroom a rush of children came running out flooding us with hugs and smiles and hands waiting to be held.

This is love.

These children don’t care what you look like. They make you feel so loved, that you don’t care if you put mascara on before you left the house. You don’t care if you spent 30 minutes or 3 seconds doing your hair in the morning. They love you because you are there. Ready to love them. Ready to have little arms hug your waste and hold your hands like they never want to let go.

Today I was convicted.

Why is it on Sundays we hesitate to say hello or shake hands with the person sitting behind us? Why do we look down at our smart phones when we know that that one guy or one girl came to church alone? Why is it so hard for us to invite a family to dinner once a week or ask your neighbor if he needs help with his weed infested yard?

We are afraid of rejection, of what people think of us. We are afraid that are house is too messy and we’re embarrassed because, we’ll, did you see their car? We are on opposite sides of the spectrum. But do you know what else we are?

Proud.

Too proud to be hospitibal. To proud to say hello. Too proud to smile or shake hands or ask “what’s your name?”

There was never a moment I didn’t feel loved in that classroom today. As a church we should be this excited when someone new comes on Sunday. We should rush out the door to say “hello! I am so glad you’re here!” Give awkward hugs, invite people over to you messy house, say “hi” to your church family, they’re your family for a reason.

I want to bring the love that these children gave me back home.

I want to love like a child.

Like a little gypsy child.

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