Lately...

• Lately, I returned home from this fabulous adventure in the mountains with some pretty incredible teenagers. We had five glorious days in God's beautiful creation. We were on the trail the entire time, and yes, we carried all of our stuff with us and drank water from mountain streams. If you ever want to go on a backpacking trip in Colorado, I highly recommend Noah's Ark. They're one of the most amazing organizations with which I've worked, have some quality folks on their staff and are located next to the Arkansas river in Buena Vista, Colorado. You can't get a better combination than that! Pardon the crocked picture - the camera was balanced on my pack.

• Lately, I'm still reading the Psalms. Still learning a lot. Resting in 119 for a while. It's a long one.

• Lately, I've realized how great it is to be at a church for a long time. Not that I've been here forever, but I've been here long enough to truly form relationships with families, to be invited into lives and to be a part of the stories that their teenagers will tell years from now when they talk about their faith and youth group - it's not because of who I am, but it's the position I hold. Yikes! That's humbling.

• Lately, I've been again reminded that my job is more fun than your job.

• Lately, I've started running again. Not just the short, precisely timed pathetic-wanna-be runs...but real runs. I still have to walk for 2 minutes every so often, but yesterday, I ran the entire route that used to be a daily event. It's the first time that's happened since I hurt my knee, which was just over a year ago.

• Lately, I've been lame when it comes to looking for a road bike. I've talked a lot about it, but I am overwhelmed and have no idea where to start. It's made me a little scared to go to the bike shop alone. I need to just go and test ride some bikes. And yes, I know that it's the components that make the difference, but it's all in a foreign language to me.

• Lately, I've been reminded to go to God first. I tend to share with close friends before praying about things. It's made me feel all secretive inside, but I know that it's what I'm supposed to do and has already been an encouraging blessing.

• Lately, I went with some friends to the musical in Zilker Park: The Music Man. The former children's ministry intern at my church was in it. Until I arrived, I had no idea that he had the lead! I love taking advantage of free things like this in the summer. It's not just because I'm cheap. It actually is always a pretty phenomenal performance.

• Lately, I've been reminded of God's blessing in my life and the difference between what I need and what I want. That gap can be frustrating, but when I think more about what I want and less about what I need and have been given, it simply steals away what God has intended for me. Jesus came so that we "may have life, and have it abundantly" (John 10:10). And so that's what I'm seeking. Each day I've started to pray more for that day and that day alone. I'm not ignoring the future or the bigger things of life, but I'm reminded that God has been faithful in yesterday, God is faithful today and God will be faithful tomorrow.

The Psalms

True Confessions: I never really liked the Psalms. When reading through the Bible, I'd look for reasons to skip the longest book it has. In Bible studies, I'd redirect peers (or students) who answered "The Psalms" when we asked what to study. I avoided quoting them and referencing them in talks.

It's not that I thought they were boring or bad or not as important. I'm just not a huge poetry person. It always felt like I was stealing someone else's thoughts and prayers from some other time that really had nothing to do with me and my life today. Sure, there were the verses I'd memorized in high school that got me to trust God with decisions, and there was even that one passage that a friend sent me in college when I was going through a tearful breakup...so I'm not saying that I never read them, but they weren't the book to which I'd turn often.

Until now.

I'm reading through the Bible again (it's a slow process!) and came to the Psalms. My first thought was to skip them, but they're part of the Holy Word of God and, therefore, who am I to judge whether or not they are wroth my time? They are just as important as any other Scripture. So I started reading through the Psalms. Sometimes one a day. Sometimes a few each morning. There's no rhyme or reason to how I go through this big book; I just read some every day, and when I get to the end, I start over. Sometimes, it's several chapters, and sometimes, it's not even several verses. I read. I journal. I make notes. I look for what I can learn about God's story and how it interacts with and should change my story.

And God's story has taught me a lot. In the Psalms.

I already made it through all the books of the Bible that talk about kings and the Egyptians, Joseph, the Flood, etc.- all those big felt-board stories we learn about in elementary school. I had seen God rescue the Israelites a few times, learned about kings that honored the Lord and also saw some leaders that didn't seem to realize how important He was. These stories are major events in world history - specifically in Israel's history. And I thought that the coverage stopped there; I was wrong.

Remember. Remember Moses. And Joseph. And Aaron. Remember what God did with the Egyptians. Remember the manna. Remember the water from the rock. And the stars at night. Remember the good kings. Remember how He spared David's life. Remember the consequence of sin and what happened to that guy. Remember how God blessed the Israelites with land. Remember how He spared them when they didn't deserve it. And worship Him for it.

Remember. Worship.

It seems so easy, right? Just remember.

But apparently, it's easy to forget. All these Psalms - prayers and praises and heart cries - written by people 2000 years ago helped them and others remember. When you're lonely and out in the desert, claim God's truths, worship him for what He's done...and trust that He will rescue you. When you go to celebrate, retell the story of God's great faithfulness, remember His majestic power and unfailing grace...and you can't help but be drawn into worship.

It's hard, sometimes, in our busy lives to remember to worship God. We can easily be emotionally driven with a dynamic band or motivating speaker, but how often do we take tim to remember who God is and what He has done...and worship?

For me, the other big take away is being reminded that I can trust God with what is to come because He has been faithful in the past. Sure, I've never been exiled from my home or thrown into slavery, but there have been times that have felt that lonely or that suffocated. It's part of my story. And in each of those times, God worked. It may not have made sense...it may never make sense. It may have seemed or even still is seeming confusing. It may be all taken care of and tied off neatly with a little bow. Whatever. Point being...God worked. He was faithful. I prayed for truth, truth was revealed. I prayed for provision, God provided. I prayed for a change of heart...and one day at a time (sometimes it was more like one hour or one minute at a time!), God changed my heart. God has been faithful.

When I read the Psalms and pray about the things on my heart today, I am reminded of this faithfulness. It makes me want to worship. It makes me look at His creation and the beauty of what He has done and is doing and leaves me in awe. It gives me confidence to trust that even though today's concerns may seem overwhelming and frustrating, there's no reason to doubt God's great love and faithfulness. I've remembered how to remember. And I am thankful...for the Psalms, these prayers, of people thousands of years ago. They took time to remember.

Happy Fireworks Day!

The 4th of July and New Year's Eve are my two least favorite holidays. There's all this artificial social pressure to go out and have the best time ever, and so when it's just normal fun, it seems as if it's not good enough. Lame, I know. But they're still not my favorite.

But this year, I was happily surprised. Not having any concrete plans before the weekend, I decided to go to a lake party with my roommate at her friend's house. Neither of us really knew what to expect. It started at noon and said that fireworks would be included, so showing up at about 6 o'clock didn't seem too "late."

It ended up being quite possibly one of the most perfect summer nights. Ever.

We arrived to a sea of mostly unfamiliar faces. Making new friends was easy. There was good food, music and a shady cool breeze off the lake. The boat was full, for the time being, so we ventured out on the kayaks, heading almost all the way to Mansfield Damn and then letting the current drag us back to the dock, almost falling asleep and drifting away.

We got a ride on the boat. Heather, my roommate, tried wake boarding, but I wasn't allowed one week before a backpacking trip with my knee. Aggravating it now would be no bueno.

We then just sat on the dock. For hours. Chatting. Sitting. Listening. Eating. Laughing. Being.

People unintentionally and generously shared their private fireworks display with this little place on the lake that has no public access. For at least a couple of hours, we watched one magnificent show after another light up the night sky.

There was a non-stop Dominos game that had many different participants throughout the night. It just kept going, only pausing so folks could get drinks out of the coolers that were doubling for game chairs.

A couple of guys pulled out guitars. I found a comfy chair and curled up to just be. It was awesome. We sat on the boat some more. Talked some more.

And on the way home I was so tired that I fell asleep in the car.

Here are some pictures. My roommate's camera battery died, and I forgot mine. We managed to get a few with my phone.

Moo

I was like a middle school girl at a Hannah Montana concert. Excited, giddy, camera in hand. Reba sat next to me in the car, probably embarrassed for me...yet also a little entertained at my enthusiasm. We drove out 183, way south of the airport, which is as far as I had gone in the past.

She was taking me to her family farm. A farm! A real-life farm...with cows!

Yes, in all my life, I had never been on a farm. Not one that was owned by a family and had animals on it. And this one had cows. No barns or horses or those big tall things for grain, the names of which are escaping me at the moment, but still, it was a farm.

Reba's family has owned this gorgeous property on the Guadalupe River for years, and many times, she had invited me to to go with her to sit in the river on a plastic lawn chair reading a book. Yes, in the river. On plastic chairs. Next to the cows.

For my friends who know me from Chicago, you know how we grew up. We took field trips to Lamb's Farm - the little place in the suburbs by Great America and O'Hare Airport that had some animals. It taught us suburb kids that milk didn't just magically appear in the refrigerator section at the Jewell. We got an ice cream cone at the end and climbed on the yellow school to fight rush hour traffic back to Elmhurst.

In Elmhurst, we had Salt Creek. This tiny stream of water running through town smelled worse than the sulfur springs at Yellowstone. I'd never seen it clearly through to the bottom, even though it's only feet (or inches?!) deep in some places. I'd be afraid that if a small animal fell in, it would slither up and die. We didn't run around jumping in rivers or having rope swings. We rode our bikes on the Prairie Path to the local pools in the summer. We had block parties, but the city had to first come close off the street. Our neighbors were feet from our front door, and our playground was measured by driveways. Backyards became campgrounds and soccer fields and lands to explore. People in Chicago escaped - slowly on 294! - up to Wisconsin to lakes houses on weekends and in the summers. No one I knew had a ranch. Daily adventures took us over neighbors fences and across busy streets, not through the woods hoping to avoid snakes. It's a very different world out there...more like Ferris Bueller's Day Off than The Adventures of Huck Finn.

And I loved it. If I could wish one thing for anyone in the world, it would be to grow up with my childhood. It was fabulous. Ballet lessons and climbing trees in the same day. Dirt bikes - mine was pink, with a dolly basket! - and Barbies...I had it all. Swim team and soccer. Pony tails with bows and skinned knees from jumping out of those trees we climbed. I loved it!

But there were no farms or ranches or open flat spaces. I met a girl from a farm at orchestra camp when I was 14-years-old. [Note: Orchestra Camp is only slightly cooler than band camp. We were orchestra snobs, not band nerds.] She was really good at the violin. I told my friend it was because she had nothing else to do besides practice if she lived on a farm. We wondered, together and outloud, if they even had TV?

Friday was a totally new experience for me. Sure, I'd been around cows before, but not on a farm. We saw them at the Missouri State Fair in college when we went to the Tim McGraw concert and the Austin Rodeo about a year ago. But these were farm cows, which made it a little more entertaining.

I had my camera on the way but accidentally left it back at the house where Reba's parents live when we ventured down to the farm. They're a few miles apart from each other. I wish I had all kinds of pictures to post of the gorgeous pecan trees, tire swing and the wandering cows...especially when one of them decided to come join us in the river. We were slightly down stream, and Reba's sister warned, "If her tail goes up, run!" Fortunately, she just got a drink and didn't get too curious with all our stuff sitting on the bank. Hopefully, Rachel and Reba will post their pictures on Facebook. What would we do without Facebook?

Nonetheless, here are a few pictures from our hour-long trip out to the farm. We stopped for some world famous BBQ in Lockhart - yum! - and I learned all about the watermelon fest and county courthouses. All in all, it was a good day. If you ever get invited to go sit in the river at Reba's family farm, say YES...it's pretty fabulous!

Florence, Italy

Markets of Florence