Everything Changes

Everything changes when you meet someone who has been sexually trafficked. When the stories of family members selling their middle schooler to the local John for a little extra cash become a real live, walking, breathing, and talking young girl, things start to change. The world becomes hazy, and the reality of what you have been advocating for (me personally from a laptop) smacks you in the face and you are left reeling, hoping someone will catch you in the midst of your fall. You cannot help but stare, not in a gawking, cynical kind of way, but in a way of reflection. How can this be possible? How can she be sitting there like her past is normal? How can I possibly help her live a normal life in this world, when all I can do is hope that she doesn’t see the tears streaming down my cheek? And then you realize, she is real. She is the story I’ve been reading about, retweeting, posting, and advocating for. And now she is sitting next to me, on a hard, plastic chair as she waves off the heat as we watch Chipper saunter up to bat.

I find myself looking bleary eyed at the computer screen from crying all the way home. I went to a Braves game tonight with some of the women from Wellspring Living, and had the distinct honor of talking with them, laughing with them, and just standing in sheer awe at the beauty that radiates from them. And it was real. For the first time, this day-to-day routine of a job became real because I saw directly whom it affected. And that changes everything for me.

I saw their smiles.

I heard their laughter.

I heard their struggles.

And I became very proud of the organization I work for.

This is what it’s about folks. Seeing the broken hearted and walking behind them trying to pick up the fallen pieces. In an instant everything I’ve done over the past month became a million times more worth it, because of a few short hours I spent with the results. And it’s worth it. It’s worth the fight, worth the battle, and worth the pain. Because in the end, the restoration experienced for these women far exceeds anything I could ever have hoped for. 

The Case of the Grumpies

Yesterday I woke up in a bad mood. Let’s rephrase that; I woke up choosing to let the fact that I was upset about something completely unrelated affect the rest of the day. It started with the dramatic comforter throw and exit out from my warm bed. Then the realization hit that I was cold and I had to change into gym shorts to work out. And then I realized that it’s 7:15 and I had to work out. Then the fact that I had to put gas in my car again.  And the list drones on and on, and could really be made of anything I saw as annoying on that particular morning. And then I started saying sentences like these:

Of course you would make this ONE mocha incorrectly. I can’t even enjoy the one thing I was looking forward to today.

Sure, perfect! I love how jammed 85S is. And the ‘Bert Show’ is on a commercial break! Figures.

Frick. I’m late. Everyone’s going to say, ‘Well done Jessica, you are late… AGAIN.’

Car, if you even so much as THINK about coming over to my lane, I will punch you. Don’t tempt me.

‘Yeah, mom, what? Oh, you’re leaving? Ok…bye. Oh, you wanted a hug? (hurump) Fine. I’m just kind of in a hurry, but whatever.’

Oh this is just amazing. Perfect really. I wanted to take the wrong exit so I could waste more gas and go even more out of my way. This is my favorite.

Man, writing these out really make me sound like a diva. And a child! The worst part is, while I’m saying all of these things, there generally is some deep, root issue that I am pissed about, but in my childish ways, I’m not willing to admit. So I pout. And like a child, I secretly wish someone would sit me down and make me say why I’m upset. It could very well be a simple case of the grumpies, but more times than not there is something that I am upset about and desperately need someone patient to pull it out of me. I am very good at getting other people to talk about what they are going through, and am a strong advocate for putting out your dirty laundry to dry, and be done with. But for myself, I prefer to hold onto everything, for the sake of my image. That’s brutal honesty. I’m too proud to admit that I need help and someone to process things with. So I pout.

This blog is for two people. It’s for the “outsiders;” the people noticing a change in mood of their friends and that those curt comments are not normal. Help the grumpy Jessicas. Pull and pry and poke until the root is revealed. It will be painful for the moment, but healing in the long run.

It is also for the “insiders;” the people cleverly masking their hurt through the excuse of ‘being grumpy’ or heavy traffic or a messed up latte and so on. I want to say that it’s ok to be broken. It’s healthy actually, and it gives you an opportunity to see how many people love you.

Those are my thoughts on the matter. Love to know if anyone ever feels this way. 

Growing Out of the Pudgy Pudge

                

I used to be pudgy. I mean really pudgy. (I enjoy using the word ‘pudgy’ to describe my former physical state of being, because I feel like it makes people feel uncomfortable. And that makes me laugh.) Pretty much from the time I was nine years old until I was 15, I was just a pudgy, unattractive and awkward girl. I think that is the plight of every preteen, and I thank God everyday that we grow out of it. Not to say that now I am in tip-top shape, of model-esk beauty and brilliantly sociable in any and all situations, but I am not the same pudgy teenager who used to think that cut-off shorts and Scooby-Doo© T-shirts were fashionable.

I used to be an opera fan. Today, I was walking around in the most magical place in the world, Barnes and Noble, when the idea to write this blog came into my head. I was toiling around in the classic movie section, when I heard an old favorite play over the loud speakers. It was Josh Groban, and he was singing an Italian song from his first album. I used to love that album. As a senior in high school, I would listen to it in the car every morning on the way to class. But today, as I walked through Barnes and Noble, I hated it. Well, I didn’t hate it, but I was thinking, “This is so boring. I can’t even really pronounce the words to sing along.” Hmm, interests have changed; this used to be one of my favorites and now I wouldn’t dream of picking it out of my ITunes library.

I used to be competitive. During youth camps in the summer, I would pretend I was all big and tough during sporting events, taking shots every chance I got, and trying to look fierce. I don’t know who I was trying to fool, I was not athletic. I mean, let’s be honest, I’m a performer. I sing and dance and show off; I don’t run around in a giant field chasing a ball. Don’t get me wrong, I hold anyone in high esteem who actually can do that, and do it well for that matter. For me, I’d rather do my workout in the morning, maybe do a little hike in the afternoon, and then sit back and enjoy a Braves game with some popcorn on the side. If either prospective team looses, I might a little bummed, but I'll get over it. It’s just a game.

None of these things that I ‘used to be’ have any sentimental value to me, except that I am telling you, and that I am simply not that way anymore. I’ve grown up. I’ve left the Marietta suburb and journeyed into the real world, where I’ve learned and experienced new things, big and little. I used to hate eggs, now I love them. I used to be a little on the heavy side, now I care about health and physical fitness. I used to like opera, now I like jazz and the Civil Wars. I used to be a people pleaser, now I stand up for what I believe in and welcome confrontation. Some things will never change; for instance, I will always have a special place in my heart for Justin Timberlake and his knack for blending hip-hop and unique harmonies. And I will fight anyone who argues against that statement.

              

I never thought I would say this, but I feel like I am cycling back to the pudgy, preteen years, minus the excess pudge and insecurity. I’m in my mid-twenties, and I am growing and changing; learning what’s important and what I want in life. On the other hand, isn’t that what our entire life is about? A continuous cycle of growth and change while dipping in and out of seasons? But that is the exciting part! You will never be the exact same person tomorrow that you are today. Besides foundational beliefs and values, your opinions and views will be continually changing as your surroundings, friends and occupations do. And that’s fine. Healthy actually. Nothing too deep, just a few thoughts from the day.

           
We all change. Hopefully for the better. Yes, yes, the girl on the bottom IS single. 

 

Saints of the Round Table

I know some really cool people. Seriously, some really. Cool. People. I don’t know how it’s possible, but everywhere I turn I feel like I’m looking at a jack in the box. The only thing is that there are 1,000 jacks in one box, all uniquely designed and manufactured, jumping out and surprising me with their tricks. They all have vibrant colored clothes, beautifully carved faces, brilliantly written theme songs and extravagant hats. They are dream chasers standing on mountains built upon faith, playing their own little tune on their handcrafted instruments. But they are truly just normal people, believing in an UN normal God.

I am telling you this because of dinner last night. Sunday night I found myself sitting on my flower-covered ottoman eating my mom’s homemade burgers with some of my favorite people. It was a reunion of sorts, mostly World Racers, some old friends, family members and missionaries from across the globe. Between bites of fudge brownies and sips of peach tea, each person managed to get out where they have been, and where God is currently taking them. I’d like to share a couple of their stories. Just a few stories about a few friends who don’t have a lot of money, or big connections, or tangible means to do what they do, but it just works. And it works because these people have decided to dream. They’ve decided that God-sized dreams still exist, and that they are worth pursuing. Their dreams have turned into actions, which have turned into realities. So here are a few stories. Only a FEW stories, because I know way too many people who have put their hope in the Lord and his promises to list every story. So I’ll showcase some of my favorites.

Debra Black

     If you had aches, pains, or the sniffles, you would go see her. She isn’t the doctor, but she is the one who tells the doctors who is coming, when they have to work, and when their checks will be in. She is an Internal Medicine Office Manager by day, Worship Leader by night. She started her own non-profit by the age of 21, called Worship on the Square, and it exists solely to bring churches together to be The Church and worship together in public squares. She sings, combines independent Christian artists into choirs, proclaims the name of Jesus in public places where His name normally isn’t spoken, and runs it all completely by faith and prayer. She works in an office doing payroll by day, and sings the name of Jesus over Centennial Park by night. She is now recording a CD, of which God has anointed.  

Alisha Fung

My World Race team and I met Alisha in China. She was a full time missionary from Vancouver, working in Hengyang, China, in a room with special needs children, holding and loving them as she watched most of them slowly starve to death. (Read my blog “Where It’s Not Safe” to learn why they are dying) I worked in that room for 3 weeks and it was all I could do to get up everyday and work without sobbing. And she worked there EVERYDAY. For three and a half months; during the coldest time of the year in China. She fell in love with those children, as well as the middle-aged special needs men she worked with. She is now going back to school for four more years to learn occupational therapy to hopefully one day go back. To China. She actually wants to go back to finish what God started when she was  there.

Blake C. Smith

Ok, I know he is my brother, but I am just too proud of him to not include him in this post. Blake is 16, but a mere 5-minute conversation will make you think you are talking to a 25-year-old mature adult. Blake gets it. His life was turned over when he went on a mission trip to Nicaragua, and he saw people truly in need of a Savior and realized how desperate we are for the Lord’s favor. Blake refers to everything he has or receives as a blessing from God, and turns everything right back to Him. What 16-year-old that you know does that? He doesn’t want to go to college right after high school, but wants to serve somewhere in Central America fighting human trafficking. Big Dreams. Big God.

Joshua Maisner

Joshua was my squad leader on the World Race. He loved his position squad leading, but he couldn’t wait to get home and be a ‘normal person’ again, being friends first with his peers instead of their authority. But God had different plans, and called him to lead the September squad, only a few short months after he got home from leading his squad. He will be traveling all over Asia, Africa, Central America and Europe leading a squad of 50 into the nations to be Jesus to the hurting. He will be teaching boys how to be Men of God and girls how to be Jesus’ Beloved. I’ve seen him do it once, and I know he will do it again; living solely off of support and out of a backpack (support him at joshuamaisner.theworldrace.org). He is a man of integrity, honor, and truth.

These are just a very few people who are making a difference in this world. They are everywhere, and they’re normal people like you and me, but they have said yes to God. They are saints, sitting at the Lord’s Table feasting on His goodness and constantly asking for more. What are the dreams in your life that you are afraid to chase? What is holding you back?