Coming home is the worst part. I thought by now I'd be used to it, but I find myself still needing a few days to adjust. I'm pretty sure all I've done this weekend is eat, marvel at having clean feet, and stare into space. Part of that is the usual overwhelming trip to the grocery store that has too many choices on too many aisles, crossing the goat-less street without the fear of getting run over, and sleeping all night long without waking up at 4:00am for the morning prayer call by the Muslim mosque across the street. It's the little things. And the little moments when life "back home" is just too much. I have to ease back into things to preserve sanity.

But my heart has to adjust as well. It is full and desiring to live richly (not in a monetary sense) and seeking a deeper and stronger meaning that doesn't always line up with the life I find here. Somehow, my heart grows bigger with each trip to Ghana; and with each journey, I return to wrestle with the ways that life here needs to align more consistently.

My heart is bigger having spent time here:



Lake Volta never fails to give me chills. It is the life-source for so many people in Ghana; they wash their clothes and cars, bathe in, drink from, and cook with water from the lake. Having access to water – regardless of the filthiness of it – is everything. And yet, there is so much hurt and pain associated with it as well. Broken families, stolen childhoods, lost friends and loved ones in the water, never-ending work just to survive. I don't think it's an accident that it takes 1-2 hours by boat to get to the villages we are working in. We spend a significant amount of time out on the lake. It allows for the best contemplation and the best conversations about how we are trying to bring new life to an area that is so desperate for it.


My heart is bigger having spent time here:



Challenging Heights is one-of-a-kind. They are faithful in their pursuit of rehabilitating and empowering children and their families. I thought quite a bit this week about the fact that the staff waves goodbye to children just as soon as they say hello. It's a constant revolving door as groups of children come in and out. It is selfless work. The staff could not be more welcoming or wonderful, and they inspire me to be meaningful with my relationships and to spend my life in ways that matter – even more so when there's no return on the investment.


My heart is bigger having spent time with these guys:





Pure joy is seeing a child in slavery, rescued, reintegrated, and in school. It is recognition by them and being greeted by a hug. It is the pride in their eyes when we ask about their school uniforms. It is seeing shoes on their feet and hearing they ate a good breakfast that morning. It is seeing them pick up a pencil and write their name with pride – instead of picking a fish out of a net. It is knowing they will walk down to the lake to fill a bucket of water for their family – and not get in a fishing boat to paddle. This is joy.


More photos and stories to come, but suffice to say, it was a great trip!

This season. This season of a super short spring melding into an already-too-hot-summer has flown. Not every day; there are always those that stretch so long I feel as if time has stopped right when I'd prefer it not too. But the last two months have been packed with goodness and waiting and full life all rolled into one:

I attended a sewing night, organized by a sweet and talented church friend. We kicked off marathon registration (how is it time already?!) in mid-May and hosted the first Night Trail Run at Royalty Pecan Farms. A new favorite for sure; it was a blast. And then in the last three weeks... I've traveled to Dallas – partly for work but also to see good friends – and was reminded that I am surrounded by such good people near and far. I've traveled to Houston on a day trip to visit a Ghanaian Consulate. We successfully hosted our first live Art Auction online and were blessed by so many generous supporters. And I've traveled to Abilene for a quick weekend with the fam – time with my favorite two littles, exploring a downtown festival and spending time on the golf course.

Now it's departure day. Thankfully, last week/weekend was just hectic and frantic enough wrapping things up that I have had the morning to breathe. Even carved out a little "coffee break" before stuffing the camera equipment, snacks, and a few sets of clothes (essentials, in that order) in my carry-on bags. My days this week are already running together – which does not bode well for the next 10 – though losing track of time in Africa only aids the cultural transition. I'm not much for historical/political holiday celebration in general (don't shoot). [I do always find it ironic to be in Ghana over Independence Day; our last two group trips landed us there during that day and has changed my view of the way we celebrate and view freedom in America.] And so it never occurred to me until this morning that we're leaving for Ghana... on Juneteenth.

Today Juneteenth commemorates African American freedom and emphasizes education and achievement. It is a day, a week, and in some areas a month marked with celebrations, guest speakers, picnics and family gatherings. It is a time for reflection and rejoicing. It is a time for assessment, self-improvement and for planning the future. Its growing popularity signifies a level of maturity and dignity in America long over due. In cities across the country, people of all races, nationalities and religions are joining hands to truthfully acknowledge a period in our history that shaped and continues to influence our society today. Sensitized to the conditions and experiences of others, only then can we make significant and lasting improvements in our society... Juneteenth is the oldest nationally celebrated commemoration of the ending of slavery in the United States. (via)

And yet there are more slaves in the world today (including the US) – an estimated 27 million – than at any other point in history. God, help us.

So we continue to go. We leave families and jobs and comfort and "easy" because we believe in freedom, and we believe that we cannot see the 27 million and turn a blind eye. One of the greatest lessons I've learned in working for Mercy Project is that we can easily be paralyzed by the magnitude of the problems, by the idea that a few average people cannot possibly make a dent in the brokenness for fear of failure. Or, we can choose to simply go and dive in because we are called to. Lucky for me, there are people who push me to "go" on the days it seems too overwhelming.

I love that this God I know is not a God of coincidence or happenstance. He is not idle or distant, and He finds ways to speak to us when we most try to keep Him at bay.

Our group trip crew of 9 embarks for Ghana this afternoon. I am anxious but cannot wait to share this week with fresh eyes and hearts who will meet the children on the lake for the first time. Not much is certain except that I am never left unfilled upon return. And for that, it is always worth it to "go".

who is worthy? none beside Thee.
God Almighty, the great I AM.

This song challenged me tonight. I often think I am worthy, worthy of making my own decisions and doing whatever I want, whenever I want. That's proven time and time again to provide a pretty terrible outcome. And yet, it doesn't keep me from trying to take control. This time it'll be different. This time I'll get it right. I never do. And each time I attempt to do it on my own, I crash and burn. And each time, I am saying that God is not worthy of my trust and surrender. That He does not want better for me, that He does not have better intentions for me than I have for myself.

And yet,

the mountains shake before Him, the demons run in fear,
at the mention of the name King of Majesty.
there is no power in hell, or any who can stand,
before the power and the presence of the great I AM.

Who is worthy? Not I. Certainly not I. Though He need not prove himself to me, He continues to reveal full life in the simplest of ways. For this, I am grateful.

I want to see dry bones living again, singing as one,

Hallelujah, holy, holy
God Almighty, the great I AM.
who is worthy, none beside Thee,
God Almighty, the great I AM.

Loving the springtime weather and activity around here. So many fun things to be apart of, so many new things to try out, so many signs of God's presence.


Joined a hilariously fun crew in our 80's gear for the Girls Just Want to Have Fun 5k. Our first race of the BCS Marathon Race Series, and it was a huge hit! Over 1,000 women came out for the morning; our awesome group of all-men volunteers served the ladies and helped with chocolate fountains, course directing, costume judging, and handing out roses at the finish line. We're excited to build on this race for years to come.




Made a trip to Abilene to see the crew over Easter weekend. Lots of zoo time, play time, cooking, and Apples to Apples. Love getting to all be together...



... and love giraffes.




Working on designating more quiet time in the middle of these busy weeks. Time to unwind, regroup, and spend some time in peace with minimal distraction. Challenging for me, yet so good when I create space to just sit and listen.




Spending more time outside! It's been a beautiful spring here with bursts of cold and hot nearly every week. It's the perfect time to soak up creation.






Trying new recipes... like tortillas and pillow cookies! I highly recommend both.






And then we had one incredible Guinness Baseball Bash for Mercy Project! 50 hours of non-stop baseball, and the weekend could not have gone smoother. 56 supporters of MP and lots of volunteers, all coming together to spend a full weekend doing something totally crazy to make the world a better place. We always call it a time of "thin space", and so it is. This has become one of my favorite MP events, and I am so blessed to be part of it.










And most recently, I have put these up...



... in exchange for this:



Going on 11 weeks of no running, and it's been challenging to say the least. Lots of PT work, stretching, and cross training. I'm learning to embrace new forms of exercise – even yoga! – and have enjoyed trying new things, even though I wouldn't choose it. I even bought a bike!




The past week has found me here, lots of screen time putting together the Run For Boston book. Culling down 5,000+ photos to ~2,200 to fit in a 150 page book for thousands of folks to see and purchase. Yikes! It's been a long process, but one in which I have continued to be reminded of the ways ordinary people can join together and change the world. Good triumphing evil. Light overcoming the darkness.




May you do something today to make the world a better place.

These words. These words:

"Grace is when you finally stop keeping score and when you realize that God never was, that his game is a different one entirely... I used to think that the ability to turn back time would be the greatest possible gift, so that I could undo all the things I wish I hadn't done. But grace is an even better gift, because it allows me to do more than just erase; it allows me to become more than I was when I did those things. It's forgiveness without forgetting, which is much sweeter than amnesia." (Bittersweet)


Grace is so hard to understand. It's intangible in a world that is experiential and hands-on. We may forgive, true, but to fully erase seems impossible. The mess still lingers when we look at each other. Understanding God's grace, which doesn't keep score and does not define us by our mess, is often unfathomable to me.

Last week was a heavy one. And yet life hasn't stopped. If anything, it's picking up speed like an out-of-control steam engine. But just for now, I'm pausing, pausing to get a few things down before moving on, collected thoughts that may come out all jumbled, but hopefully there's grace for that too. Life collided for me last week in ways totally unexpected; it forced me to simply stand still for a time and wrestle a bit. (Me? Stand still?!) But it was a good wrestling.

Monday morning loomed, anxiously; I had some tough conversations lined up with people I deeply trust and desperately seek wise counsel from. I entered in, uncertain; I left with overwhelming relief – truth and "we're with yous" instilled in my heart, burdens shared. One of those conversations centered around grace, around this idea that God views us so much differently than we view ourselves. The idea that the marred identities we create for ourselves, borne out of way-too-often shortcomings, are not even visible to God. With the exchange of words that morning and a willingness to be vulnerable and to listen, God extended words of wisdom and grace through my friends. The best kind of wrestling.

Not two hours later, our team first received word of the bombings in Boston as we walked into our weekly staff meeting. It was a surreal feeling, having just spoken to one of our marathon committee members who finished her fourth, and fastest, Boston run that morning. We sat glued to the news, and spent most of the afternoon watching the footage online as it came in. Tragedy like this always seems distant – until it doesn't. Until it hits close to home. And as we watched video replays and listened to reporters and folks on the scene at the finish area, talked about those that were stopped at mile 25 unable to finish, thought about those waiting in the stands for their loved ones, imagined being among those who had trained for years to gain entry into this race of a lifetime... it struck deep. We wrestled with the reality of the world we live in.

The rest of the week passed in a flurry – continued conversation, tough decisions, letting go, late nights, initiating a movement of hope and peace that rallied thousands and thousands of people around the world with Run for Boston, and many other ironically normal day-to-day happenings as if all were right with the world. One evening I was watching the massive manhunt going down in Boston; the following night found me debating which card to play in a trivial game of Spades. I'm not an emotional person in general, but there was something about the juxtaposition of normal and extreme that really rocked me.

By the end of the weekend, I was done. Done thinking and running around and trying to find answers and figure things out. But this idea of grace came back around on Sunday as I soaked up a time of worship. Another collision, this time one full of affirmation and goodness. I'm learning much about community as of late – the need we all have to connect, to be known, to share life with each other. And Sunday I was reminded once again that there is life and sustenance to be found when we are willing to dig deep with one another, to walk closely through the good and the hard and the hurt and the celebration that life throws our way. I experienced that in waves last week, and I am grateful.

Reading comments and thoughts from Boston has been a challenge. "They [the bombers] don't deserve anyone's time of day..." and on and on and on. I will keep wrestling with that for awhile.

I can't help but wonder if the outcome in Boston would have been much different had a few men been given the time of day and shown a little grace earlier on in their lives. I wonder what would happen if they were shown grace now in a public way. And I wonder how I might better show grace to those around me.


It's time we stop keeping score. The choice to be more than our mess is so much sweeter.

What an odd little season I find myself emerging from. The past few months have been so full, busting at the seams with activity and business, pinpointed with moments of hurt and brokenness, life moving along as if everything is perfectly normal.

I spent some time last weekend out at Lake Bryan. Why I had yet to discover this gem of an escape, I'm not sure. But it came at just the right time, just when I needed to still the noise even for a few hours. I was like a kid on Christmas morning – exploring paths, reading a trail map, trying to recall the names of the wildflowers, balancing on logs, and traipsing through hidden woods in silence. It was then that I remembered, then that it hit me: this is what I find to be life-giving. Spending time with those I love, working on projects that I am passionate about, and living in community with others provide that as well. But underneath the trees, where time seems to stand still, where distraction is minimal... this, this is where I hear the Lord. And so I was reminded of the importance of making time for those moments, making time to get to the places where I really connect and can dig deep with the Lord.

In a similar manner, writing is like that for me. It's this organic, evolving, healing chance to let out so much of what bottles up inside. It's the chance to be raw and blunt without having to make a big announcement or face off with those who might not fully understand. It's a chance to wrestle with and applaud a God who keeps life moving even when we want it to stand still – for time to sit in the pain or celebrate the joys around us.

So I find myself back here, returning to a blank page. There are approximately a dozen "started but not finished" posts from the last 6 weeks, not including the hundred pictures or so that have backed up. Eh, we'll get to those. For now, it is enough to enjoy words finally being thrown back up on the page. Come along, if you'd like.