The girl who Waited

Doctor Who is one of my favorite TV shows. Ever.

I am quite convinced that nothing will ever knock it out of its top spot in my list.

After pondering this for a while, it struck me that this is due in large part to the fantastic ginger representation. Props to you, ladies:

Karen Gillan - Amy Pond

Catherine Tate - Donna Noble

               

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

The Doctor himself even laments in Season 2 that he's never been ginger and has always wanted to be (well, duh, who wouldn't?). Perhaps this is why he surrounds himself with redheaded friends? It's a theory, anyway.

In Season 7, Amy Pond (played by Karen Gillan) wears a pair of quirky, round reading glasses. While shopping for a new pair of glasses the other day, I stumbled across a pair that look JUST LIKE THEM. Um, done. Sold.

They came in the mail last week, and I'm usually not in to the whole "cosplay" idea, but I couldn't pass the opportunity to dress up.

An[ne] Updo

Anne Shirley is one of my favorite people.

She’s spunky, imaginative, and has one of the best crops of red hair ever.

I was watching Anne of Avonlea a few weeks ago, and spent the entire 4 hour movie in a focused study of her head, mesmerized by her hairstyles. I regret nothing. She is my inspiration for all fashion pursuits. So, I tried to come up with something that would resemble the period fashion and be relatively easy to replicate. And here’s what I got:

Not bad. Easy to replicate – not necessarily. It looks a bit different each time I try, but it’s not actually hard to put together, so I’m okay with that.

And I’d like to tell you how I do it! So you may have big-hair bliss as well.

Pre-game step: Get this stuff together

Hairspray, bobby pins, teasing comb, jumbo clip. So fancy, I know. You can ignore everything else in the picture.

Step 1. Volumize

A lot of people have told me they love my hair – “It has so much volume!” – Sadly, this is not entirely its own doing. It is naturally thick, but the real voluminous secret is my teasing comb and a can of hairspray. One of my college roommates taught me the magical secret of hairspray, teasing combs, and the self-confidence it takes to rock that big hair style (Thanks, Mary. Love ya, girl.). She had a magnet on our refrigerator which read, “I’m only as strong as the coffee I drink and the hairspray I use.”

If that quote were in the Bible, it would be my life verse.

But seriously, I love big hair so much, I should have been a child of the 80s. Or least a time period where it was socially acceptable to appear in public looking like this:

Look at her hair. LOOK AT IT.

Gorgeous.

So, the key to this particular hairstyle is volume, ergo teasing.

Tease it, girl.

Tease that hair ‘til it’s full of secrets.

If you don’t know how to tease your hair, here’s a great tutorial on the least damaging way to do it.

Step 2. Pin it

After my hair looks like I stuck my finger in a socket or I’m an extra on the set of the music video for Thriller, I take two small sections from the front near my face and pin them back like I would for the kind of half-up style a girl depends on when she wants to wear it down, but her hair won’t stop falling in her face.

It doesn’t have to be much, just enough to add some poof in the front.

Step 3. Braid.

At this point, it just looks like I have a mullet. We’re advancing a decade at a time here, people. But that’s okay, cause it’s not finished yet.

Next, gather ALL of the rest of your hair and make like Willow Smith, but in one direction, not two. Whip yours upside down and separate the hopelessness into three sections, to braid with the help of gravity. It’s a bit awkward, but practice is good.

Step 4. Secure and spray.

Right yourself, and (still holding on to the end of the braid) secure the middle area of the braid with some bobby pins to the back of your head. I usually do this near the pins from the earlier step. Tuck the remainder of the braid underneath itself, randomly stick in some more bobby pins, and spray the whole contraption until your hair feels like a piece of plastic.

Voila! Success. Hopefully.

I know that this will probably be hard to follow without demonstration pictures, but aint nobody got time to take pictures of the process while it’s in process. Or enough hands.

Translation – I’m too lazy.

Have fun!

Of Marriages and Maids [part two]

The seestor is married!

Actually, the seestor was married about a month ago. So why am I just now getting around to writing about it? Simple. There is finally photographic evidence that this event did in fact occur and I was in fact a part of it. Evidence which I will share after some thoughts.

If I learned anything from that weekend, it would be this: weddings will not go according to plan. Rental chairs will not come on time, Christmas lights will uphold their reputation for being notoriously unreliable, everything will run behind schedule, and the bride will need to be sewn into her strapless dress when the 90 degree weather makes the double-stick tape obstinately refuse to do its job. However, while it might not be the wedding everyone had in mind, at the end of the reception when two of the people you love the most run away from the party in a tunnel of heart-shaped sparklers and a rising moon above, everyone will agree that it couldn't have been more perfect.

Em and Chad moved to Colorado about two weeks after the wedding, and they are now happily settling themselves before he starts doctoral classes at the end of the month. I can't wait to visit them as soon as I can afford a plane ticket there! As much as I love my sister, it is not advisable for anyone's mental health to make a 20+ hour car trip in a vehicle with no working stereo system and no one to talk to, so plane it is.

Pure Joy

I sprinted up the driveway, breaths coming hard but steady and even, heart pumping strong with each beat to push life through my body. Heavy black clouds pursued my brother and me as we finished our evening run, and the drizzling rain which came in spurts warned of the downpour to come.

Racing against the storm, we climbed the steps to our porch and, turning around to watch, saw the rain pour out of the sky. As a girl who loves a good thunderstorm, and because I felt the rain needed a consolation prize for losing the chase, I ran out from under my shelter to greet the sheets of water.

I fell down spread-eagle on our driveway, the hard concrete at my back and the grey sky above with the raindrops striking my face like kisses from heaven. Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply and reveled in each sensation, each shred of experience, and the thoughts that came with them. My heart swelled, and I laughed aloud at the thought that life is a gift, and it is so good to be alive. God's power was evident in the wind, his gentleness appeared in the caress of the water on my skin, and I couldn't help but imagine him belly-laughing in heaven along with this child of his who was giggling like a little girl at the fun of getting soaked by the storm. Spirit called out to spirit; his to mine, and we lay in the rain together, as Father and daughter.

I also couldn't help but think that with a different perspective, it might have seemed a miserable and hopeless situation. If you looked at me with a narrow focus, I was there on the ground - wet and cold - with no shelter and no immediate or apparent way of escaping the rain. You would have pitied me and thought it was such a shame I was suffering like that.
But I had a different, broader perspective. I knew my house was right behind me, and I could go in when I was done, the wet and the cold wouldn't last forever. There would be food, a towel, hot tea, and my favorite pair of pajama pants. There was joy ahead, but there was also joy in the moment, made sweet by the knowledge of what was to come.

As a Christian, I should have a different perspective on life, in trials and pain. If I remember what is coming, what is ahead - the reward that Jesus promises and the incredible gift of himself and his unveiled presence when we go home to heaven - what joy that should give me in even the darkest trials and situations of life!
They will become bearable and even sweet in a way when I realize that Jesus is lying next to me on the driveway in the rain, and when it is time to go inside the house, I'll hand him a towel, he'll hand me a cup of tea, and we will rejoice in unhindered fellowship together.

I long for that day when Jesus and I will walk in his back door.

Of Marriages and Maids [part one]

On December 26, 2012 my sister asked me to be her Maid of Honor.

Well, technically it was December 27, 2012 seeing as she called me at 1:00 in the morning after her fiance proposed. I offered something along the lines of a guttural grunt of consent when she asked me the question, but to be completely honest, I don't remember most of the conversation due to my sleep-induced delirium and may very well have agreed to trade myself in for a goat or become a bondservant for the next seven years. 

Regardless of whether my future liberty is in question, the wedding planning is coming along well, and I couldn't be happier to support my sister in all of her bridal preparations. 

Yesterday completed my first major MOH responsibility - the bridal shower. I am quite possibly a tad bit more than an perfectionist and most definitely a lot more than a overachiever, so my mom and I were busying ourselves for weeks to get ready for the party, keeping my sister in the dark about most of our plans all the while. (After all, shouldn't the bridal shower be a surprise?)

It was more than worth it when everything pulled together that afternoon, and I watched Emily enjoying herself with the friends and family who came to celebrate with her in this exciting new change. After the party was over, she tried her veil on for the first time and I could picture her the way she will be on July 20. It just seemed right somehow, like breathing in a sigh after unconsciously holding your breath for a while.

Nearly 40 people squeezed into our living room to fellowship with our family. We ate fruit and cake, listened to Emily tell stories about Chad (always my favorite part), and played two shower games: the Price is Right, Bridal Edition and a memory game where we hid the bride from sight and the guests had to recall details about what she was wearing during the party. 

And next, of course, came the presents! With 40 people to give gifts, there were so many bags and boxes packed around our feet that we couldn't move, but each one was admired and appreciated with time to spare. 

Frozen lemons in the ice cubes for the lemonade, and mint leaves in the ice cubes for the iced tea

Chocolate Cinnamon fruit dip
(makes approximately 1/2 cup)

1/2 cup vanilla Greek yogurt
2 tbsp. Nutella
1/4 tsp. cinnamon

Mix ingredients together well. Serve immediately or refrigerate until needed.

Honey Vanilla fruit dip

1 cup vanilla Greek yogurt
1/4 cup honey
cinnamon to taste

Mix ingredients together well. Serve immediately or refrigerate until needed.

Bridal shower favors

Friends for 22 years, and favorite sisters for just as long

All of the girls from both families - Mother of the groom, bride, Mother of the bride, and sister of the bride!

Next up on the list: Bachelorette party. 

The 'rette party and my NCLEX exam are in the same week. Here's to hoping I come out the other end alive.

 

Welcome back

Here it is.

My first blog post as a college graduate.
An IWU alumna.
The holder of a Bachelor of Science in Nursing degree.

But not a nurse quite yet. One more monumental obstacle remains.

The NCLEX-RN 2013.
The mother of all nursing exams. The test for which my graduating class has been preparing since we arrived on campus sophomore year, with bright eyes and brighter hopes because we were now NURSING STUDENTS. No other test has even come close. Not Sloan's Crit Care cardio test. Not Reed's Adult Health II final. Not even Wolgemuth's Pharmacology exams, aided by cheat sheets crammed so full of minuscule handwriting they were nearly illegible.

Notice how I've said "remains." Which means I haven't taken it yet. Which is why I haven't written anything in five weeks. When I first arrived home after graduation, I used lots of excuses to avoid cracking books for this test. Once I realized that this was probably not the study method that would lead to the most satisfactory results, I wised up and began reviewing information.

and information.

and information.

All of the information. From the past THREE YEARS.

Needless to say, everything else kind of lost its significance. Studying for a test that has the power to dictate whether or not you can practice where your passion lies really messes with your emotional stability.
On good days, I feel like Supernurse:

"Step aside, people. I can start IVs in one attempt on dehydrated veins with only my non-dominant hand and STILL maintain sterile technique. (Oh, and calculate titrated drip rates in my head at the same time.)"

But on bad days, you'll find me curled up in the fetal position on the floor as I slowly dissolve into a puddle of inefficacy, eyes fixated on that one point in space which will keep me from flying into a thousand useless pieces.

All that to say, I've been pretty preoccupied. Hopefully I will take the NCLEX before the end of the month, and this will all be behind me.

After the end of the semester, I was home for less than 24 hours when I told my father, 

     "Dad. I want to re-paint my room." 

And he said, 

     "Okay."

And I said,

    "But I'll do it all myself and...wait, what? Really?"

So for seven days, twelve hours a day, I completely immersed myself in Project Pinterestify April's Bedroom. It was fun at times, ridiculously hard work at others, and I pulled some life lessons out of it, which I can tell you about some other time if you're interested. Anyway, voila! The (almost) final result.

Eventually, the various paraphernalia on the floor will be on the walls. Eventually. 

Currently, my life consists of just four things: NCLEX prep, job applications, pursuing time with God, and helping my sister. I have one sister. One's all you need when you've got the best one.

She's getting married this summer (to a ginger by the way), and asked me to be her maid of honor. I've never been a maid of honor before, never even been a bridesmaid before, but goshdarnit I am going to be the best maid of honor there ever was for the best sister I've ever had.

We ran a 5K together this morning (um, yeah we're that cool), and I am so proud of her. So. much. fun.

More races in the future, yes?

That toe-tapping time [in be]tween

The Bible is a lot like Facebook.

Perhaps that statement requires a bit of explanation, lest you think I believe Moses had a timeline and posted daily selfies with captions like "Struck a rock today and a fountain came pouring out. #waterbender".

Let me rephrase. The stories I read throughout the old and new testaments can evoke the same emotions I feel when scrolling through my Newsfeed on Facebook.

Picture this: as I sit in front of my computer, chewing my nails to stubs while trying to fill out one more job application or figure out one more contingency plan in case something else falls through, my fingers somehow find their way to that gargantuan behemoth of a website in the obscure hope that the elusive words or thoughts I am looking for will be mysteriously hidden among the instagrammed pictures of food and overabundance of updates from Spotify. Scrolling through the posts reveals many words and thoughts, but not necessarily the ones I want to see.

This friend just accepted a position at a prestigious hospital!
This friend is going backpacking across Europe for four months!
This friend is going to graduate school!

I am truly happy for them, and yet discouraged at the same time. Why aren't these great, awesome things happening for me, too? Compared to the news from my friends and family, my life is so static, slow, and ineffective.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. There is a huge red flag right there. "Compared to the news..."
Compared to what news? What kinds of things do people post on the internet? Well I can tell you what they don't post. They don't talk about the two hours they spent cleaning. Or the half an hour they spent on hold with the insurance company. Or the grounds they spilled on the counter this morning while trying to start the coffee pot in the dark. Basically, the boring, monotonous things that happen to everybody all the time.
I wind up comparing my everyday, minute-by-minute, behind the scenes life with the glowing highlights of everyone else's.

Bad news bears.

So how is this like the Bible again? Right, I'm supposed to be making a point.
Consider the stories that we learn in Sunday School.
God promised Abraham he would become the father of a great nation, a multitude of people. And he did! He and Sarah had Isaac, who had Jacob, who had twelve sons, who then started the tribes of Israel.
Joseph was sold into slavery by his brothers, but he became second in command of all of Egypt and saved his family from a famine.
Moses became the leader of the Israelites,  following God's call to take them out of Egypt, and he performed many miracles through God's power.
Jesus had an incredible ministry, demonstrating God's love to us and showing us, through words and actions, how to live as a part of God's kingdom on earth. Then he conquered death in a final, resounding strike that echoed across every age and nation!

YEAH, GOD. I'm PUMPED. I'm READY. Let's go!

....Ready, go.

... ...Go?

...now?

And nothing happens. For a while. So I become discouraged when I'm not parting Red seas or raising people from the dead between raising my dead-weight body from the mattress and parting my bagel for the toaster oven. Am I missing something here?
Yeah, yeah you are, April. Let's go back and revisit some of those stories.

God promised Abraham he would become the father of a great nation.
God did this. And Abraham became the father of the Israelites.
And when did the nation of Israel begin?
Well, after Abraham was dead. The twelve tribes of Israel came from the twelve sons of Jacob who didn't even consider procreating until old Abe was long gone. Oh, yeah. What about Isaac, his promised son? Surely that had to have happened in his lifetime. In fact, God promised Abraham that he would give him a son and Isaac was born.... 25 years later. Abraham waited for God to fulfill his promise for a period of time that was longer than my entire life.

Joseph became second in command and saved his family from a famine.
Joseph did awesome things. He saved entire countries from starvation, became a powerful and wise leader, and displayed an upright and gracious spirit toward his family, forgiving them for the wrongs they committed against him. But before all of that happened, he was a slave. He spent years in prison.
We can see the story in its entirety. We can look back on the event's of Joseph's life and connect all the pieces, seeing the hand of God in everything that happened. But when Joseph was right in the middle of it all, he couldn't see the end! He didn't know what was coming! For 13 years, he faithfully trusted God in suffering and waited on God to reveal the plan and the purpose.

I could talk more about how Moses hid in the desert for 40 freaking years before he even started leading the Israelites or how Jesus spent the first 30 years of his life waiting for his Father to give the okay to start his ministry, but I think you get the point.
The accomplishments these men achieved with the power and help of God shine out brightly from the pages of my Bible, and the brilliance of their high points often distract me from the years they spent waiting or the hardships they suffered. The Bible is so concise, that sometimes it is hard to feel the full impact of what it means to spend 25 YEARS waiting on God to fulfill a promise. What was it like for Abraham to wake up in the early morning hours, walk out of his tent, and wonder in anticipation if this was the day that Sarah would announce, "I'm pregnant, love!" What frustrated thoughts ran through his mind as he smeared goat cheese on his falafel when it was not that day yet again?

This morning, as I sit on my couch with my cup of coffee, listening to my refrigerator hum and my roommate get ready for the day in the bathroom, I am waiting.

I'm waiting on God.

Yesterday, at 8:53 AM Eastern Daylight Time on April 24, 2013, I turned in my very last college final exam, which marked the end of my undergraduate career. The end to a 4 year era of nursing school.
What is supposed to come next is very vague and undefined. God has clearly called me to pursue a certain path after graduation, but he didn't exactly give me an itinerary or a how-to instruction manual. So I'm stuck in my breath by breath, minute-to-minute real time life, unable to see the end result and trusting in God that he knows what is going on.

I think that God is an optimizer, though. He uses the time we spend waiting to make us ready for what is coming in the future. Abraham and Joseph and Moses and Jesus didn't wallow in their waiting! They didn't sit idly by and say, "Well, God's got big things planned for me in the future, so I'm just going to hang out until it comes." No! They passionately and purposefully sought after God, allowing him to transform them into people who were prepared and equipped to do the things that He had for them to do.

They were faithful in their waiting, and God was faithful in his promises.

So I'm taking encouragement from them this morning, and making a commitment to not waste the waiting. I'll let God use me, shape me, and mold me while I anticipate what he has set in place for the years ahead. I'll be fully present in each moment to grow into the right person for the job.

And when the time comes, I won't hesitate, but will step forward in courage and excitement, cause I've been looking forward to this for a long time.

"For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." Ephesians 2:10

This is the Flip Side

Every once in a while, a moment happens in a person's life when everything changes.

Sometimes, a person can feel the presence and power of God so keenly and intimately that the hair on the back of his neck stands up and tears involuntarily stream down his laughing, uplifted face.

The world explodes in a revelation of understanding, and you cannot comprehend how you didn't see it before. The facts in your head didn't change, but the way you perceive them made a fundamental shift in perspective, like the difference between black and white and color.

Suddenly, my picture of heaven and eternal worship sounds like a cacophony of Spanish, Creole, English, and hundreds of languages harmoniously interwoven and looks like a tapestry of beautifully contrasting skin side by side with arms and hands lifted in praise to Jesus.

Welcome to the DR, April.
Welcome to a world where the reality of how small and insignificant you actually are is acutely evident, and yet the enormity of God's incomprehensible love for you is reinforced to such a degree that you cannot force your face to stop smiling. My heart was so full that I literally could not hold it in. Every part of me longed to spill love out on other people.
That is the way to live!
Wow.

Would you like to take a minute or two and hear about what happened?
Here we go.

Saturday, March 2 - Day 1
Travel is both exciting and exhausting.
Day 1 started at 2:00 in the morning in Indiana and didn't end until 9:00 at night on the Students International base in Jarabacoa. 1.5 hours in a van to Indianapolis, 2 hours to Newark, 4 hours in an airport waiting room, 4.5 hours over the Atlantic ocean, and 3 hours in a bus up through the island mountains equals 20 worn out and sleep deprived travelers.
Thankfully, our hosts knew just what we needed and sent us straight to bed.
My thoughts as the day ended:
"I felt helpless and stupid, not sure of what I was doing or where I was going. I've never had problems communicating with other people before. I've never been in a place where the primary language was not my own. It's awkward and uncomfortable. I don't think I ever really thought it through before. 
I feel very out of place in this world where nothing makes sense, funeral houses are painted in light baby blue, and dozens of people cram into the back of a pick-up truck while trash swirls around the tightly winding streets."

Sunday, March 3 - Day 2
Part of our team went to a Haitian church for Sunday worship. I couldn't understand a word anyone was saying, but the joy on the people's faces as they sang praise to God was so infectious!
In the afternoon, we had a crash course on the history of the Dominican and Haitian people and learned more about the culture of the country
"It's been a day of meeting new people and making new friends.
I just love people. I love learning about others and connecting with them in new ways. My heart was so full today. It's not about me, guys, it's not about me."

Monday, March 4 - Day 3
"Birds sing, roosters crow, and cars rattle past on the busy road as the sleepy tropical sun rises behind the mountains, illuminating the palm trees and overcast skies of this beautiful island. The air is cool and fresh, refreshing and invigorating as the breeze blows across the bare skin on my arms. I can hear the kitchen staff chattering happily among themselves in Spanish, and the delicious scent of breakfast wafts across the air, tempting my empty stomach.

As I sit and ponder my surroundings and circumstances, my heart is full to bursting with wonder and gratitude. Who am I that God would see fit to bless me with such an experience and adventure as this?"
The first day of the week brought an exciting start as I met my site leader, her translator, and the four other students I would be working with closely over the next five days. My site leader runs a community health clinic in Jarabacoa, providing health care to people who cannot afford the services of a hospital. In addition to an office in the city, she also runs traveling clinics out in the outlying rural mountain communities. We stayed in her office for the day, getting to know each other and seeing a few patients throughout the day.

Tuesday, March 5 - Day 4
My site group traveled up the mountain to our first rural clinic for the week.

"As we bounced along in the jeep with our heads brushing the ceiling and fearing every minute that a piece would fall off the bottom of the car, I was struck by the beauty of the land and the poverty of the people. The mountains are breathtaking - green and glorious with a wide variety of tropical plants and trees, ever changing in color under the influence of the piebald sky. There were houses made of wood slabs, covered in dirt and mud, standing adjacent to stables made of cardboard. The whole scene was straight out of a picture and my mind had a difficult time reconciling the discrepancies between the lifestyle of these people and my own way of life back home."

I struggled a lot with the language on our first day out in the mountains.
So many times I felt completely lost and frustrated at my inability to communicate. Even though the day was draining, in the end it was so rewarding as I made progress in understanding others and making myself understood. There is nothing quite like the feeling of seeing the light in someone else's eyes when they comprehend what you are trying to say in your mangled version of their language, your language, and plenty of universal hand gestures.
Tuesday ended with a powerful worship night as God spoke to all of our hearts, whispering to us when we were raw and so ready to hear his voice.

Wednesday, March 6 - Day 5
In the middle of the week, we set up clinic in a Haitian community.

Wednesday holds a very special place in my heart because of our very last patient of the day. She asked my site leader and me if we would pray with her. "Rachel prayed in English and then she [the patient] prayed in Spanish. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I was crying by the end. This woman, this beautiful woman who lives in another world, was praying for me, connecting to the very same god that I worship and after whom I seek. We prayed in different languages and from different backgrounds, but he understood us both and loves us both equally with the same intensity and passion."

In the evening, we were given the incredible opportunity of spending a night in the community, eating dinner in the house of a Dominican family. The dinner we ate is known as the "Dominican flag," the most popular meal in the DR, containing most of the food staples in that country - white rice, beans, chicken, and yucca. We also had cabbage salad and fried eggplant.
IT. WAS. DELICIOUS.
Seriously some of the best food I've ever had in my life.
Their house was amazing. The father of the family we visited built it himself, "poco un poco" for sixteen years.
"Our dinner was such a blessing to me...we played Dominoes to end the night, with lots of laughter and joy. Carlos seranaded us on the guitar in Spanish, and I was overjoyed to feel this connection with such a wonderful family with all the love of God in their hearts.
     We are all people. We are all valued in the heart of God. I am happy. I am so happy.
          And humbled.
               And blessed."

Thursday, March 7 - Day 6
Our last day of traveling clinic.
It was a great day of Spanish practice, and I was amazed at how much progress I made from Monday to Thursday! By the end of the day on Thursday, I was holding very simple (and, I'm sure, painfully slow) conversations with some of the patients while they waited to see Rachel.
We made a house visit to one of the patients in the town - an elderly woman who is one of the most generous, giving, and joyful people I've ever met. Even though she has next to nothing, she kept offering us everything she had!

Our entire site group at clinic on Thursday

Friday, March 8 - Day 7

"In the morning, we took an open flatbed truck up to a waterfall on the side of the mountain. The sight was absolutely astounding, and the drive up was so memorable - standing up in the bed with the breeze blowing in my face and hair, surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells of the Dominican... We spent the morning reveling in the beauty of God's creation. I climbed up the side of the waterfall along the rocks to sit at the top and take it in. I had forgotten just how much I love to be close to creation, clinging to the rocks and feeling their security, my insignificance, and God's power."

In the afternoon, we traveled back Jarabacoa, to see patients there in Rachel's office. I was sad to see the day end, because it meant the end of the week and the end of my time working with patients in the clinic, but I truly believe that God will bring me back to this country someday, so it is not goodbye so much as it is see you again, God willing.

Saturday, March 9 - Day 8

You can never have enough mountains.

"The glory and splendor of God is so tangibly evident through the beauty of his creation. Our entire team went hiking in the mountains this morning to another waterfall along the river. As the water flowed constantly down the hard, unyielding rock, my heart rejoiced in the moment. I felt so free, so ALIVE, so passionate. The roaring water filled my ears. The pinks, greens, blues, and purples of the rocks danced across my vision, and the rough caresses of the boulders kissed my skin as I scampered across them like an insect in comparison. Jumping into the deep, clear pool, my breath caught in my throat from the shock of the cold water...I wanted to laugh, cry, sing, and dance all in the same moment. I stood on the pinnacle of a boulder and felt my own heart beating in my chest and pounding in my ears. What a powerful reminder of my life, and the frailty of it! 

Ah, rejoice in the Lord, oh my soul! Praise his holy name! The rocks cry out in praise of you, they declare the glory of God!"

We walked around the city in the evening, eating at a Dominican restaurant to end the day, and preparing to leave early the next morning.

Sunday, March 10 - Day 9

Another long day of travel. Day 9 started at 7:20 in the morning in Jarabacoa and ended at 12:30 in the morning the next day in Indiana. My mind was considerably more full than at the beginning of this adventure and my heart rejoiced in all the ways that God revealed himself to me and all the lessons that he taught me throughout the week.

Nine days was all it took.

Nine days when everything changed.

I feel like I've said so much, but I also feel like I haven't said anything at all. I could talk for hours and still not fully explain all the thoughts that I have about everything that happened.

Maybe that's okay. Maybe it will motivate you to go and see for yourself.

The world is a book...

...and those who do not travel read only a page.

Here I am.
On the eve of World Adventure #2.

Many of my friends and family know this, but for those of you who missed the memo on being constantly updated about every detail of my life, I will be escaping from my school-shaped prison traveling to the Dominican Republic for 10 days with a group from my university to work with a missions organization in that country.

Hard to believe it's been less than a year since my trip to the United Kingdom. Two overseas trips in 12 months? This a good pace; I'd like to keep this up for, oh, say forever?
Seriously though, I am blown away by God's generosity and provision toward this young, inexperienced college student with limited resources.

My first expedition out into the world was one of the best periods of my life - my thinking, vision, and attitudes changed; I grew in maturity and as a child of God; I made life-long friends and connections. That initial global contact in the United Kingdom reminds me of the feeling you get when you touch something unexpectedly cold. Fingertips brush the surface, and the icy chill travels like lightning up the arm, across the neck, down the spine, and out through the toes, heightening every sense and imbuing life and energy. It shocks you straight out of your stupor and oblivious ignorance.

I want to think that the same will happen with this trip to the Dominican. However, I have no idea how it will happen or in what form. It would be futile and ridiculous to compare the Dominican with the United Kingdom. Not only are the countries themselves vastly different, but the reasons and motivation behind my excursions are fundamentally different. So, I am attempting to enter this [second world adventure] with an open mind and malleable heart, praying that my Jesus will use me to impact other people, and be eternally changed in return.

Every once in a while, I come across a verse that stands up from the pages of my Bible and slaps me across the face. My cheek is still red and stinging from the open palm of Luke 10:9 -

"Heal the sick who are there, and tell them, 'The kingdom of God is near you.'"

Um, wow. My life's mission, purpose, and desires beautifully, simply, and concisely wrapped up and snugly tucked in to one short verse like a breakfast burrito of good thoughts and Jesus.

     1.) Take care of other people

     2.) Proclaim Jesus and his kingdom

That's all I want to do in my life. That is my passion and my purpose. Love on other people and heal them.

Heal their {bodies} with my hands.

   Heal their {hearts} with my words.

      Heal their {SOULS} with the hope of a Savior that I carry within.

I cannot imagine a better life than that. 

Pray for me.

Please.

In these next ten days, pray that Jesus will bring healing to the people around me. Pray that the kingdom of God will be near to those people. Pray that I will live, breathe, speak, and act this kingdom of God.

When I get back, I'll let you know how it went.

Catch ya on the flip side,

April

Kickin' it in the Sunshine State

I can sit on the couch in my apartment with a blanket, socks, and hot mug of tea while the thermostat reads 75 and still manage to be cold.

It must be hereditary because my dad's brother is the same way.
Which is why he moved to Florida.

Guess who loved his niece enough to let her flee from the blustery cold of Michigan for a week and stay at his house in the land so aptly dubbed the "Sunshine State"? From the Saturday before Christmas until the Saturday following, I relished in the shining skies and balmy breezes of coastal Florida. It was a glorious vacation inside of a vacation as I relaxed with my family, read books, rode a bike near the beach, and didn't even think about coats or boots. That is, until my homegoing plane landed in northern Indiana and my paradisaical bubble of Floridian bliss was frozen over and shattered to pieces by the terrible snowstorm raging outside the airport. Welcome home! Why does this greeting for a home-bound traveler feel more like a slap in the face than a warm loving hug? It's okay, I guess. The Midwest is appealing in an acquired taste kind of way, and those of us who have lived here for our entire lives know better than to be offended at apparent insults.

The tropical climate of eastern Florida is the perfect place to lose your heart and fall in love.
My heart has no chance of ever finding its way back to my chest, as it was irrevocably and unmistakably stolen by a 16 month old little girl. My baby cousin is quite possibly the most beautiful and adorable miniature human on this planet. Of course I say this without any hint of bias. We had never met before, but by the end of the first day, she was calling me momma and almost exclusively wanted me to hold her. This became problematic when it was time for me to leave, but her despair upon parting with her new, honorary mother was quickly appeased with the lure of Goldfish snack crackers. At least now I know my true value is slightly less than a 1.5 ounce bag of processed bovine by-product in glibly smiling piscine shapes.
We all have those people in our lives. You know, "those people." The ones that shove pictures of their grandchildren or dogs or prize winning yachts in your face and expect you to ooh and ah over them until they are sufficiently satisfied with your reaction. Alas, I now understand what compels them to do so, as I have joined the ranks and sent a picture of my cousin to most of my close friends demanding that they tell me how cute she is. Well, now that my reputation is established, I might as well subject you to the same treatment.

I have always loved the beach, the ocean... really anything to do with water, ships, or pirate stories. If I up and turned into a mermaid one day, that would be just fine. Christmas Eve morning, my uncle and I biked out to the ocean and watched the sunrise over the water. My eyes filled with the myriad of golden morning colors straining against the bonds of their clever cloudy captors. My ears filled with the even progression of sound from the grumbling of the waves to the tinkling of the foam like so many thousands of tiny silver bells. And my heart filled with the beauty of the scene, overflowing and sweeping me along in wild fancies and nautical daydreams. Many people wish for a white Christmas to celebrate Jesus' birth, but I wouldn't mind having a Christmas just like this one every year - celebrating my Savior's birth through the glory of the sunrise on the ocean.

I've always loved the church service of carols and candlelight the night before Christmas morning. Singing is my favorite, old hymns are my favorite, and Christmas is my favorite, so the combination of the three is just great. My family that was down in Florida attended the Christmas Eve service at my aunt and uncle's small Methodist church that night, and their church had a terrific little orchestra section complementing the four-part choir that sang the carols. The whole orchestra was wonderful, but my attention was captured in particular by the first violinist. An exceedingly handsome youth who excited thoughts of romantic felicity in her mind whilst he coaxed his violin to song....whoops! I've been reading too many Jane Austen novels. Scouts honor, I tried to be attentive to the service, but it was a perfect "boy meets girl" setting and fostered my flights of fancy. He was directly down the aisle in my line of sight, we were surrounded by beautiful music and romantic candlelight, and my head was swimming with quotes from Persuasion. 
There were several logistical complications that didn't even cross my mind until afterward.
He could be married.
Or short.
Or, as I learned later, still in high school.
April's cougar tendencies strike again. Remind me to tell you that later about that time I had a crush on a sixth grader when I was seventeen years old.

In addition to babies, bike rides, and high-school-aged boys, I spent a lot of time shopping in town with my aunt and grandma, at the end of which I learned a very valuable life lesson – always leave room in your suitcase when you go somewhere because you will inevitably return with more stuff than you brought. My suitcase was lying on the floor sucking in its stomach to get the zipper closed when I started, and it gained its fair share of holiday weight over the week. There is a certain caliber of packing skills that only a college student can possess, and it took all of my packing proficiency to get that poor suitcase stuffed full and closed for the flight home. 

A great many of the stores through which we browsed were thrift stores. My love for thrifting must run in the family, because my grandmother and aunt are also well versed in the art of hunting for second-hand treasure. After all, who doesn't love buying a $70.00 brand-name shirt with the original tags still attached for only $5.50? However, every pro is usually followed by a con. For me, at least, shopping for shoes at thrift stores only serves to remind me again and again how depressingly large my feet are. Most people don't wear size Godzilla, and the rare person who does will not be quick to give up the cute shoes she can find in her size. 

As great as thrifting is, every girl loves to try on expensive clothes once in a while, so we found ourselves at the mall eventually. After strolling past window upon window of beautiful clothing designs and colors, we encountered a store front that displayed the most hideous shoes. In particular, one pair of seven inch stilettos covered in glittering punk rock spikes. My dear, sweet, 85-year-old grandmother looks me right in the eye and says in her slightly dampened New York City accent, "Why, those shoes would look lovely on you, April. I think you should get that pair."
Now I know where my sense of humor comes from. It would be an honor to be just like her when I grow old.

I love my family dearly. They are such warm, welcoming, and inviting people, and I couldn't have imagined a better way to spend my last Christmas vacation in college. Who knows? Maybe Christmas in Florida will become a yearly tradition now. Ah, one can dream...