Dear Me: A Letter to a Younger... Me!

Dear younger, awkward-er, self:

You don’t remember this, but Mom told the story to you today, recalling it as if it was yesterday. You were just 4 years old, at a good friend of the family’s house. Her young relatives were there, but they were older than you. They did  NOT want to play with a little four year old. You cried and cried, wanting to know why people acted this way. Mom just told you simply, that if you excluded others, it would make them cry and feel the same. 

You won't look like this forever, I promise!
You'll grow into your ears(a little!) and you'll realize
white stockings just don't work for you.

You do remember being in First Grade, with your favorite teacher, and playing outside by the old tire playground. That girl, nobody wanted her to play, but you saw the look in your teacher’s eyes and felt the thumping in your heart and knew what Jesus wanted you to do. You marched your itty-bitty-First-grade-self over to her, and asked her if she wanted to play. Your friends were a little upset, but they got over it. And you all played together.

Remember when you were eight years old and all you wanted was to help in the Sunday School class for kids with mental disabilities? Remember how your family thought you were kidding?

Well, you weren’t. And the day you turned nine Mom said she’d let you try it. But she HAD to come with you. The kids in that classroom were all older and bigger than you, but it didn’t matter; you had found your spot.

You would join the little circle, as the teacher prayed for the students, and the little boy with Autism, who couldn’t even use the toilet by himself, would put his hand on yours. You would just about cry as you thought, God, you are so in this moment.

Little did you know that God was creating a place in your heart for the people that no one has a place for. 

Little did you know that a decade later, you’d still be loving those children, and preparing yourself to teach them.

Self, I’m looking at your life, and all the events that have happened, and all I keep coming up with, is beauty. Not beauty because you’re perfect and always say the right thing and never get angry (ha, yeah right!), but because God is loving you like He always has. Because God is showing you compassion over and over and over. He’s pouring out His blessings- so many you can’t even count.

You’ll really learn about that compassion business when that preschooler cries for the Nicaragua-girls. You’ll tell this preschooler about the poverty, the no-shoes-no-toys-girls. You’ll see that four-year-old cry, deep and heavy compassion-tears, as her heart is literally broken for children in need. And it’ll break your heart. 

But don’t worry, in the broken heart, the things of self will drain out, and God will fill it, fill it up  with compassion.

You will find yourself amazed.

Please, do not ever stop believing that God is a good God, who cares for you and knows you by name. He has a plan, a job for you that no one else on this earth can do. He is all you need.

Keep serving. Keep loving. 

Keep writing.

And keep reading, you’ll discover some pretty amazing-inspiring books. (Grace For the Good Girl, One Thousand Gifts, and Cold Tangerines- just to name a few!) But more importantly, keep reading HIS Word. 

Keep learning, keep growing. Don’t ever stop. 

You’re never done growing in God.

XO,

A slightly taller, 19 year old version of YOU

Walk the Walk: On a Volcano in Nicaragua

Two roads diverged, not in a yellow wood, but in my spiritual journey. 

There are two paths, it’s really true!

One of these trails is taking you downhill, which doesn’t seem too bad. 

It’s seems like an easy walk on your tired knees. 

You can feel the wind whipping by you as your pace quickens. 

Watch out though! 

If you go too fast, you’ll tumble forward. 

Bruised and broken, you’ll be down in the dumps- both literally and figuratively. 

The other trail is uphill and it’s steep. It looks challenging 

and your chest gets tight just thinking about it. 

Your calves begin to burn as you push onward. 

You probably get tired and feel like stopping. Maybe you’re afraid 

if you stand up too straight, you’ll fall over backwards. And every few steps, 

off to the left or right, are mini-trails. They linger, tempting you to take an easier, 

but less direct course. Exhausted, but strengthened, you reach the top. 

And waiting for you is a breathtaking view.

Can I tell you that it’s the steep path you should be on? 

It’s the way to go, the trail to follow. 

It’s tough and seems more like a curse than a blessing, 

but your reward is waiting on top of that mountain.

It’s a reward that no man can buy or place value on. This gift? 

It’s life, Life everlasting. Peace and assurance. Hope. Trust. 

It’s relaxation in the Consistent Father. It’s blessings. 

It’s love, more deeply than you have ever felt. 

It’s happiness, the ear-to-ear-kind-of-smile. 

It’s jump-up-and-down-joy. 

It’s take-your-sweet-time-patience. 

It’s heaven and it is perfect.

Choose the steep hill, challenges and all, and you’ll find God at the top. 

He’s calling us, saying, “Choose life in Me, my children, and then come home.”

~~~

I wrote those words a few months before my Senior missions trip to Nicaragua. On one of our last days there, we had a “leisure day.” I put that in quotes because my leisure day consisted of hiking up a volcano. 

No, I’m not kidding. And no, I didn’t bring my good sneakers.

Nevertheless, as I’m climbing this steep volcano with a crazy incline, it hit me. I literally stopped walking and felt like I would fall over backwards. I was speechless. God was so funny to open my eyes to this steep-hill-theory and then make me walk the walk.

I laughed aloud. I kept climbing. Calves definitely burning and chest quite tight. However, as I reached the top, the view was indeed spectacular. The group could see lakes and whole cities from where we stood. We saw the beauty and could appreciate it better with our new perspective.

Yup, I took this picture:)

When the time came to walk back down, I was a little fearful. Didn’t I say how going downhill was the dangerous one?!

Some group members held hands, some angled their feet funny, and some fell down. My friend’s sister fell like 4 times. And to make us sound like bigger wimps, local construction workers were carrying (by hand) heavy blocks to be laid as a walkway. They carried these blocks up and down the volcano.

I noticed though, that no one was falling up the volcano. Sounds stupid, right? But when you serve God and are chasing after Him, He has your back. He’s helping you, supporting you, sustaining you. But when you turn your back on Him and deliberately do your own thing, why should God support your sinful actions? Don’t get me wrong, He still loves you and is calling you to return to Him... But if you aren’t for God, then you’re against Him. No one can serve two masters. (Matthew 6:24) I don't want to be against God. So I'm going to climb the steep hill, no matter how hard, for my reward is up there.

I took this one too! So breathtaking...

I lived it. On an old volcano in Nicaragua, I practiced what I preached. It was one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences I ever had. And I’m thankful. I’m thankful that God choose to reveal to us glimpses of His goodness and helps us climb the steep hill.

Compassion-tears

I went on a missions trip to Nicaragua, which I could talk about for hours.. but months later a preschooler asked to see some pictures. She was so curious. So I brought a few pictures in and a few other girls gathered. I explained each picture briefly and generalized quite a bit too. While there are clean cities, clean running water, and kids with shoes and toys- I emphasized the lack of these things.  According to the U.S. Department of State, Nicaragua is the second poorest country on the Western side of the world. Almost half (46%) live below the national poverty line. And 16% live on less than $1.25 a day! With a population of 5.89 million, this leaves millions of people living in poverty. (These statistics were just to show that I didn't exaggerate the truth!)

The children were fascinated. We decided to all pray for the girls in one of the pictures I had, who were dirty and didn’t have many toys and whose families had very little money.

My preschoolers were getting antsy, and with the “Amen” in unison, they dispersed. However, one little girl stayed. She was crying. I thought that maybe she got bumped when the kids all ran to go play, so I asked her if she was hurt. She responded, “Yes, Sister Vanessa. My heart hurts.” She continued to cry, deep and heavy, real tears. I put her on my lap.

Now I was faced with a challenge. I had to try to explain to her that the feeling in her heart, though painful, is good. I had to explain that God wants us to care for others. So I began to do just that. As simply as I could think, I began to tell her that she is feeling compassion in her heart. I told her that compassion is when we care for others and want to help them. “Man #3” in my modern version of “The Good Samaritan” had showed compassion, which is a story I told some of the kiddies a few weeks prior. I told her that she was showing compassion just like Man #3. I told her that these were compassion-tears, and they were good. I told her that this was showing me that she was growing up.

She cried those compassion-tears for more than fifteen minutes. I cut out the picture, which she was holding and was now tear-stained. I wrote a little note to this preschooler on the back, reminding her that compassion-tears are good and that she should pray for these girls whenever she thinks of them.

Well, it had been a few weeks and the children gathered around me, wanting to hear the Man #3 story again. This time, when I got to the good part, the compassion part, the kids explained compassion to me! Other preschoolers gladly told me that their friend had compassion for the girls in Nicaragua. To which the little girl said, “Yes. Those girls have nothing. So I have compassion inside.”

No prodding. No bait. They knew. That little girl, and all her friends, they know compassion now. She gets it. And I get it too. I see the importance of teaching a child something worth learning.

The teacher in me loves these moments, where I can impact a little life. One of those kids may grow up to be a missionary, showing compassion every moment. Maybe not. Maybe they’ll be a teacher and tell this story to their students. Maybe not. Maybe they’ll be an amazing parent, instilling compassion into their children. Maybe not. (Of course I hope and pray that they do!)

But by teaching them about compassion, I learned. And that counts for something.

The 3 little girls are sisters in Nicaragua.
Their hands and faces were dirty, but they were so happy.
When I remember my trip to Nicaragua, it's these 3 faces that I see.