I Won't Take the Credit

If these kids turn out to be geniuses, I will not take the credit.

After all, I did just have to google the correct plural of "genious" only to find out that genius is indeed spelt without an "o."

So clearly, I can't be taking credit.

I mean, it's not like we sit around and discuss stocks and bonds.

The principles of sound investment.

Mortgages.

Interest.

We don't discuss the value of smart business decisions.

I am not refining them into honest rule-followers and strategicians.

(and I do not make up words like "strategician" to make myself sound like an intellectual nanny of the refined variety)

We don't count and exchange money.

No, no. My encouraging these things in them while we sip afternoon tea, munch scones, ponder politics and philosophy certainly will have nothing to do with their genius. Or genious.

Besides, they probably won't end up geniuses given that their solar system painting tells them lies on a daily basis.

They are much more likely to be great warriors.

And if they do end up geniuses? Well, it seems that day may be a ways away.

So for now we'll only act like intellectuals for a few pictures. Then just goof off, because that is more fun.

I'm willing to give up my credit in their brilliant future for a few fart jokes and some nerf gun wars.

Balancing monopoly on your head is so much more exhilarating than entertaining thoughts of mortgages.

Which is what their mother does for a living, so I'll let her teach them her own brilliance.

I'm just around for kicks.

So if they grow up happy, I'll take a VERY miniscule amount of credit for that.

She

She is 10. I am 20.

She has parents who are deaf and unable to afford her. I have parents to listen to me and shower me with gifts.

She and I have identical birthmarks on our left hand.

She and I like to clap together-- but mostly because we bonded over the hand thing.

She is timid and shy. I get where she's coming from.

She and I were friends.

She is in her country, and I am in mine.

She is loved. As am I.

She is Heidi and I am Sadie.

We sat there clapping along to J.C.'s beautiful rendition of "Hosanna" and I cried. I pressed my nose to her hair and took a breath. We were making a joyful noise for the Lord, the two of us. From very different worlds, we praised.

I'll never know what it's like to be on her end. Or she, mine.

She didn't smell of Dove body wash like me. She smelled a lot like the bathrooms we kept making fun of all week.

She is a sweet aroma to Christ.

She may struggle with a lot in life, but I'll struggle all my life to match the richness of her humble, serving spirit. She has grown up with a forced detachment from things I've spent a lifetime attaching myself to.

She and I may never know why the gap between our lots exists. But we both have this:

¹⁵For this reason, ever since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints, ¹⁶I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers.¹⁷I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. ¹⁸I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, ¹⁹and his incomparably great power for us who believe. (Ephesians 1:15-19)

And it's what we both have, she and I, that I'm interested in.

What we share? Well, it's all we need.

Him. He.

I prayed the words into her ear as a whisper while J.C.'s voice filled the room boldly.

Heal my heart and make it clean

Open up my eyes to the things unseen

Show me how to love like you have loved me

Break my heart for what breaks yours

Everything I am for your kingdoms cause

And I sang them again the night we said goodbye. Just she and I, in a corner, amidst chaos she knows well by now.

Praising He who is able.

Home sick

We left Dulles at around 4 a.m.

That is, July 3.

Home from a gloriously exhausting trip. The team and I had to ride for an hour or so back to Fredericksburg, and many ended up snoozing.

I did plenty of that in contorted positions all over Kori mostly on the flights from Lima to San Salvador and from there to DC. So I was good on that front.

Instead I flipped through old pictures on my iPhone. Things like pictures Katie took of me whilst ill during exam week and Noelle helping "fix" Katie's bed as I tried to study despite myself. Others like going skating with Emily or a sweet "I love you, babe" note Luke wrote to Steph on their new refrigerator that I stole a shot of for my memory. There are a few pictures of Deirdre playing airplane with Peterso while Dina laughs on. A favorite of mine is mom cracking up with Dad at IHop because he just introduced her to the "smack talk" application. (It's exactly what it sounds like-- just picture a dog mocking your every word). I like the one of Claire making Amadeus wear the scary cat mask. I have some great shots of my coworkers and of various children.

There are 700 in total.

Because, you see, I like this life.

Staci sat beside me on the bus trip and, knowing that I still had another 36 hours or so before I got to be back home, she asked, "are you just trying to make yourself homesick?"

I'm fairly certain it was a nice way of asking me to turn the friggin' bright screen light off and go to sleep already. But my response was, "I'm trying to make myself not Peru sick." The people and places and memories in the pictures were my way of convincing myself that I wanted it all back. I love home.

Both of them.

And they were worth getting back to. I have 100 more pictures on my iPhone since returning to speak to that sentiment. After all, Noelle came for a visit and I had a great camp to get to and HELLO?! Truett is coming! A year of school is inevitably upon me, which means graduation will be approximately tomorrow and thus the pressure mounts to find an acceptable answer to the "what will you do after you graduate?" question (Is it me, or is there more and more emphasis on the "will," as in "what will you do," as the real world nears?). There are loans to pay off, people. Turns out dreams cost.

But.

They (you're familiar?) assure me it costs more not to. I bet they had excellent scholarships and aced their hyper-AP courses (or whatever the highest rank of classes are these days).

All of this is to say that I got home to Virginia and then went on home to Arkansas and I accept, fake bitterness aside, the responsibility involved in honoring the commitments I've made to academia. I do my best not to take for granted a family that supports me, even loves to have me home, while I do.

(as an aside: I used to always watch those trauma shows that wrapped the story up in a bow at the end with the accident victim talking about how they have a totally new appreciation for life and won't take another day for granted and began to wonder why I needed to wait for a car crash to be grateful but I guess it's true that you can't fully appreciate what you have in life until a trauma threatens to take it away. I'll do my best given my trauma-free life, I suppose. But I'm often missing the mark on expressing appreciation).

When I'm away from home (either of them), there is plenty to be sick for. Mom's TLC, Dad's stupid (albeit identical to mine) humor, the company of my siblings (all of them) or Noelle's completely different but similarly quirky family, my apartments hilarities, the glorious day-to-day college living, and my church home there.

Still, when I am home (either of them), there is little to be sick for.

Get it? There is a dilemma for me in there somewhere. It's this daily, average life where little upsets me except for that which upsets me. So limited and me. And so many days that pass when I'm hardly aware just how many days are passing that are so limited and me. I don't do much to change it and, given my commitment to paying off my school and living independently, there is a lot of me doing what I have to do coming up in the near future.

Beyond then, though, I'm going to be putting a lot of thought towards where my commitments are made and how much of that will be about myself again. The truth is that it is me making my life about myself and only me that can make it any different. Well, me and the One who gives the motivation to make it any different in the first place.

I went to Peru in His name. But my life at home is in His name, too. Limited and me is not what God's about. I can proclaim His name to Peruvians all I want. For fun, I can do it at home, too. But plenty of people do plenty of different things for fun.

Drinking is the drunkards thing. Sex is the harlots thing. Being gay is the homosexuals' thing. Partying is the college students' thing. Studying is the "serious" students thing. Proclaiming Jesus and the sin of the world is the Christians' thing (if we can even say that's fun for us, because, if you're like me when I'm being honest with myself, it's pretty uncomfortable to up and start a conversation about faith, which makes me feel pretty lame).

But a good deal of the aforementioned people believe we sit around and think about or talk about their sin for fun and then make Jesus and our extreme devotion to him the explained reason for our safety, wealth and comfort.

In many ways it is absolutely true that, in an eternal sense, Jesus provides for us those three things. Isn't that the reason to abandon these things in a temporary sense? In order to love people for fun rather than condemn. Wouldn't that be real devotion to Jesus?

For me it comes down to the fact that I can preach the name of Jesus in a foreign country all summer long. But if my home life, the day to day slip away, preaches "limited" and "me"-- even if it reads "safe, rich, and comfortable"-- I am hardly preaching Jesus himself.

And to find that out for myself, about myself makes me sick.

I am home sick.

I am sick for the opportunities that seemed to come much freer and abundantly in a country with a poverty level of 34%. In a country with a history of government corruption that meant no one or their way of life was safe. In a country where the people still live with the consequences of that mindset. Where beggars really can't just "go get a job." They just really aren't there.

I'm sick over the fact that there were too many poor street vendors to buy from, but that when I did I haggled the price down "because you can." Sick that I was a part of a group that treated them like a nuisance, when I was there to treat them with hope. Sick that I really believe I saw a trafficked girl and wouldn't know what to do to help her mostly because I never come across such a brutal reality at home.

And I am committing myself to pray for ways to commit myself more in that direction next go 'round. With a little less home and a little more sick.

Not because it's the right thing to do or to get all high and mighty and in peoples face about complacency but because God got all high and mighty and in my face about complacency. Which is His place and certainly not mine. Not to prove myself better than anyone else, but to prove Jesus better with the life that I have in whatever home He'll give me.

By the by, when I say God got all up in my face, I should clarify that I do not mean in the angry, cocky way you might expect of, say, a person like me. He went the nicer route you might expect of a God who gave His Son on a cross to die for us-- He got up in my face with the gentle, humble (sometimes energetic!) faces of these people:

Searching

First of all, I am sorry if the following words, or amount therein, reflect this month-long blogging absence. Given that I've had three references from other people regarding the length of my typical post, I guess those of you still here are used to it by now.

Where have I been?

Well, Peru, for starters. Also, Paron, Arkansas. I know, world traveler. I'm VIP like that.

Actually, a good deal of my time finds itself devoted to making me feel not so important.

In my teenage days (i.e. a year ago) I would've taken those thoughts in for a tea party and we'd sing songs and I'd be so proud of myself that I-- seemingly far before my peers-- was no longer wrapped up in my own importance. I was humble, if you will. (shakes head "no")

Over time, though, the pride would fill my heart and move on to my lungs without having become good buddies with selflessness back at the tea party. My words, even those joking prods, carried with them such self importance. By the time I really heard them coming out of my mouth, I'd be mortified.

Why?

Because in the depths of my heart (where sometimes there is only the darkest of corners reserved for Jesus) I hate selfishness. I hate being inconsiderate. I hate feeling important.

Really.

What I'm finding is that there is some amount of humility involved in that sentiment. But it is lost on the pride that eventually makes it's way to the power of my words. And those words could be making their escape because Jesus has only a dark corner reserved in my lungs, as well. I end up hearing what I'm saying and how it must be affecting hearing ears and then I beat myself up, convinced once again that I should never allow myself to feel important. And the cycle begins again.

If you're exhausted, join the club.

So sure, there is some good coming from the mindset that says "what I want isn't that important." But done in the spirit of being a hero or feeling not in the least bit useful is contrary to what Jesus taught his difference-making disciples who were, by themselves, unimportant.

Jesus will whisper something to that effect to me from His corners. But the message comes across much clearer when I have Him to the sunroom for tea.

I'm learning to not let feelings of inadequacy or even total selflessness take His spot. They are not always helpful and they do not put me leagues above my peers, as my pride tries to convince me of. If I let myself feel unimportant, I am ill prepared to believe God to make a difference in and then through me. What a terrible thing to miss, given that to love God and to love people is the purpose of my existence.

I've spent the past month searching for the words to write about Peru. I felt, though, that in order to properly report, I'd need to be able to share exactly how the trip changes my approach to my future. I'd need to be able to say how I'm changed. And that, to be honest, remains to be seen.

The stories I encountered were amazing, the children so loving, the opportunities amazing. Don't get me wrong. But I can't get on here and say that it changed my life without any examples.

I can say for certain that Peru gave me a desire to make a difference. While there, I heard the Whisper from the depths that said I've got to see in myself the potential that God already sees. I have to believe Him to make a difference and, in that, find my importance. I'm finding that my struggle all along has been feeling so terribly unimportant while carrying a burning desire to live a life of importance. The former tends to smother the latter when one loses confidence in (or sight of or time with) the One who makes the difference.

So I'm done searching for the words to say about where I've been.

And this day, for starters, will be about seeking where to go from here.

This girl with a shy heart is doing her best to dream big in hopes (and there is hope) of discovering a bigger, more able, more important God. Of course, He will not have changed. But my view of Him will have.

I crave that. For my future. For the future of my relationships. I want to know that gradual transformation for the sake of making a difference in the lives of Peruvian and Arkansan kids alike.

It worked once before, the dream big thing, with the college era. But I want it deeper still. The opportunity for that knocks as the era comes to an end.

Timid-to-dream me is reading titles like "Cure for the Common Life" and "Captivating" and "You Matter More Than You Think", believing now that there is a very dangerous aspect of feeling not at all important. It has much to do with having very little faith in the ability of God to make dreams come true for His glory.

In Peru, dreams came true for me. And I believe God was glorified through our time and work there. It's time, now, that He be glorified by the future I pursue given the dreams He made come true then. Given that He once again proved Himself faithful.

Across 3500 miles.

The stake no longer sits at 1000.

Lord, show me how to meet you where the stakes are higher. My feeling unimportant reflects a laziness to pursue the important difference you want to make in my life. Be the difference, God, as I count the cost.

Our Favorite Girl

Okay, so having just spent two and a half hours "e-chatting" Dell to fix my computer and an hour trying to get the pictures and video onto the blog and then having the blog deny me, I'm done trying to be fancy! I had these great pictures of Sadie over the past 3 years (not many, mind you, since she's the photographer, but still a few) and the blog hates me and won't let me publish them so I'm emailing the original post to her and seeing if she can work her magic once she returns. Instead, I'll just post the last section for you:

Junior Year: Sades names our house La Petite Maison Blanche, and at times Link could be found chillin on our front porch. She was also a vital part of catching the mouse after naming him Victor and protecting Dina and I from his destructive jaws.

Sadie taught me the importance of a good prank and how to successfully pull them off. For my junior ring week prank, I came home to find the entire upstairs hallway full of cups, each complete with either a live goldfish or a goldfish cracker. One bathroom which is on the first floor meant that I had to carry each cup downstairs to empty it without spilling water everywhere which proved to be quite a comical challenge!

Sophomore Year: The Office. Enough said.

Freshman Year: One of our first weekends, we had a girls’ night out which then lead to the infamous call to Papa Smith and went something like “uh dad, I just spent all of my month’s allowance in one evening!” At least she got sweet toenails and flip flops out of it!

Baybay no pants, without the Baybay in the picture, literally. I think he’s still out of the picture…or not? it's an on-again, off-again, on-again with another Baybay, off-again with both, on-again with both type of relationship...whichever way, it’s a made up relationship, so you don't need to hound her about it when she returns :D

Sadie has good taste, huh?! Little did she know that she’d inherit half of my wardrobe in the coming years!

Ever the optimist, I believe her remark during this was “well, at least it’ll make a funny picture!” Classic Custis, classic Spades.

So, it's now time to brag on Sadie for a bit because Lord knows she won't do it herself! I love the fact that she'll watch Hey Arnold episodes online and take three hour naps with you just because she wants to be around you. I love that her tongue looks like that of a whale when she laughs (and she does too, I'm sure of it). I love that she will eat anything when dared (shout out to Luke who I still need to meet) and that she'll kidnap you to do so-much-fun things with her. More importantly, though, I love and admire her dedication to both work and play, to both friends and family, to both God and man. I love that 'wasting' time with her is never really a waste. Yes, it's sure to be a blast, but more importantly, it's sure to allow you a glimpse at how to walk each and every moment in the footsteps of Christ.

Keep shining that Light, baby.




p.s. Sorry I didn't post more, but this lack of internet at my house/computer going crazy/lack of ways to get places thing have been working against me! Excuses, I know, but please take pity. If I think of things I want to share with ya'll, I'll email Sadie for her to post. Does that sound good? I do hope so. I'm off to our semi-annual family reunion on Saturday in Cleveland, and by then you'll have Large Dance back woohooooo I'm sure she'll need to catch up on sleep but she'll be back in action very soon. Enjoy the day.