Monday, July 23, 2012

Tossing and Turning


I'm officially home from the Haltermaker weekend, by way of a one-day stop in Ohio and sloppy joes at church camp.

I'm just gonna put this out there: For all the smack I got about "stalking" Jen Hatmaker, Ryan and Jon made short work of stalking the living heck out of Brandon. I am vindicated.

(Call me, Jen!)


Tonight I'm in one of those not-so-rare forms where I feel myself turning inside-out. And not just because the van's AC went out 30 minutes into our drive home and I was stuck with 3 kids, one teddy bear and eighteen Beanie Babies in 97 degree heat for four hours.

(I rolled all of the windows up and said, "We have to put all the windows down. There will be no radio and I will not be able to hear a word you're saying to me. It's the only way we'll survive." Cue windows down, at which point I had to stuff my left ear with balled-up tissue in an effort to thwart certain eardrum rupture due to an over-abundance of wind.)


Most of my inside-outness is connected to my weekend. There was so much goodness. So many thoughts provoked. So many heart piercings.

I was reminded again of how lucky I am to be on this strange path. I'm lucky to have a handful of people on it with me. I'm lucky to have Cory, who will spend the better part of a 3 hour drive brainstorming impossibilities with me.

Here are two of my favorite quotes from the weekend:

"A call to love the orphan is a call to suffer with the orphan." - Brandon Hatmaker on adoption (Y''all, I totally busted into immediate ugly cry when he said this. Suffering seems easier when you know that you're not alone and when you're reminded it serves a purpose.)

"Evangelism is less about going at someone and more about backing up so they can come to you."
- Hugh Halter on not being a jerk-face Christian

(If you're want to hear some gut-level truth from Mr. Hatmaker, (a phenomenal speaker, so full of grace and humility) go here and cue it up to about 24:40)

I walked away just a little more changed. I'm not there yet, I won't ever be. I'm still that piece of sea glass that Jesus keeps tossing back in, allowing life to tumble me up a bit more.

My sharp edges are many and sometimes I feel like I might drown.

But this trip we're on feels like a firecracker. Turns out I've always wanted a firecracker life.

(This? No words.)