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I Think I’ll Stay for a While

No, I wasn’t born in Hawaii. Yes, I’m from California. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay, but I don’t have any current intentions to leave. I’ve been getting the same question a lot lately- more than usual. “How long do you think you’ll live in Hawaii?”

When I moved here in 2016 I didn’t necessarily have a plan. It wasn’t, “I’ll stay for a few years then move back to California and really get life started.” I knew that God wanted me in Hawaii, and so the next right step was to move to Hawaii. So, my honest answer to everyone’s question is that I’ll stay for however long God wants me to stay, and the minute He tells me it’s time to go then I’ll go. 

But at this very minute, my heart breaks at the thought of me ever leaving. God has done wonderful and beautiful things for me in Hawaii that I could have never expected, but first He had to take me through some ugly and painful seasons as well.

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Wednesday June 21, 2017 1:38 AM.

I woke up in the middle of the night- something I don’t often do- but there was an uneasy feeling in my heart that stirred me awake. I rolled over in my bed, grabbed my phone, and checked for notifications. There was an email from my pastor with the subject line ‘Aloha’. In my half-awake state I read the email, shook my head, and read the email again. “People are stirring things up.” “Drama team.” “I have been asked to intervene.” “They talk a lot, to a lot of people.” Before I knew it, tears were rolling down my cheeks and the breath in my lungs had been stolen from me. In a season where I was constantly feeling like I was never good enough, this was the final blow.

With tears flooding my vision I begged her to let me go. “Mom please, please I just want to go home. I don’t want to be here anymore. Can I please fly home today?” For the first time in my life, Hawaii was not home. Hawaii wasn’t a place of peace and comfort, but it was the place that crushed my every hope and desire.

In that moment I was ready to leave.

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Friday June 21, 2018 4:26 PM.

“I don’t think you should go to church tonight.” “But I loooooooove church.”

I had a 99.7 degree fever, a small migraine, potentially an ear infection, and a sore throat. Most of my day was spent sitting down to avoid moving around too fast and making the migraine worse. Even in the humidity and heat, I was shivering cold and needed a fleece jacket. Still, I wasn’t going to miss church.

Church has become my place. It’s where I know I’ll see all my friends, where I know I’ll actually get to have interactions with people my own age not two decades younger than me, and where I know I’ll meet God’s grace. Even missing just one service makes me feel like I’m missing a month’s worth of quality time with the people I care about the most.

It’s because of my church that I know I’m not ready to leave.

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See, I was ready to jump ship. I was ready to pack up my bags and never look behind me. And I almost did! I applied for jobs in San Diego, I considered getting an apartment with my sister in Point Loma, and I thought I could just slip away. But God still wanted me in Hawaii. And if I had even for a second doubted God’s goodness, I would have trusted in my own understanding instead of having faith that God puts purpose in the midst of pain. So, because I know better and because I’ve had enough experiences under my belt to know that God is always good, I held out onto hope that there would still be light at the end of the tunnel… A tunnel that quite literally felt like it was crashing down on me and I had no way out.

Now here I am having finally made my way to the other side- absolutely loving this life that God has allowed me to live. Each day gets dreamier and dreamier. The color of the ocean and the sway of the water has yet to lose its awe and wonder in my eyes. Then even on gloomy days when it’s pouring rain there are still specs of beauty as each new waterfall forms in the ridges of the mountain. From one side to another, this island is beautiful.

But it’s not the beauty of the island that makes Hawaii feel like home. It’s the people I get to share my life with. The people I bake cookies with. The people I have sleepovers with. The people I text when an episode of Game of Thrones gets too wild, or the people I go to the movies with. It’s the people that ask me the tough questions, and the people that remind me I’m being prayed over. The people who are guiding me in my call to ministry. The people that welcome me into their homes and into their families. These are the people that have helped Hawaii feel like home again.

Because of them, I think I’ll stay for a while.

0 In Daily Life/ Hawaii/ Uncategorized

January Eighteen

I watched this Candace Cameron Hallmark Christmas movie- my favorite type of movie- called A Shoe Addict’s Christmas. In the movie, Candace has an angel who appears and helps her sort out her life. She asks the angel why God didn’t send any signs and why God wasn’t presenting Himself to her. The angel responds with a story…

There once was this man who was stranded in the middle of the night on a cold, snowy day. The man desperately prayed to God asking God for a sign that would rescue him from his predicament. Then along came another man in a sleigh. This man asked if the stranded man wanted a ride on his sleigh. The stranded man responded, ‘No thank you. God will send a sign.’ Along came another man in a sleigh. He asked a similar question. “Would you like a ride on my sleigh?” Again, the stranded man said, “No, God will send me a sign.” Then finally a third man came along. He asked the stranded man if he would like a ride on his sleigh, and the stranded man responded with, “No, God will surely send me a sign soon.” Well sure enough, the stranded man ended up freezing and dying. When he got to Heaven he asked God, “God why didn’t you send me a sign?” to which God responded, “I sent you three sleighs and you took none of them.”

I’m in a season where I think that God is sending me sleighs but I’m just not choosing to take a ride on them. I have a picture and a vision of what I want God to send me, but maybe, just maybe, God has something else in store and He’s waiting for me to open my eyes.

Because I could have easily said no to this sleigh. I could have shrugged it off as another matter of fact, but instead I decided to view it as a sign from God. Not to say that this is God’s plan for my life, but what if it was. What if I viewed each opportunity as an open door from God instead of thinking that God will only open the doors I want to be opened. I don’t think God works that way… I don’t think He’s going to do what I expect of Him, nonetheless do what I want when I want it…

So, I’m going to have to trust God on this one. I’m going to venture through open doors even if they’re not doors I would normally walk through. I’m going to rely on God’s wisdom and understanding and trust that even if this sleigh won’t lead me to my destination then at least it will get me a step closer to where I want to be. I don’t want to get to Heaven and ask God why He didn’t send me a sign and realize that He’s been sending me signs all along the way.

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January Fifteen

If you need me, I’ll have free time maybe mid-May… You know, after I finish my Master’s program…

Go to graduate school they said. Continue your education they said. Do it while you’re young they said. What they didn’t say was ‘sacrifice your social life’, ‘say goodbye to sleep’, ‘get ready to write the hardest papers of your life’.

But I really shouldn’t complain. I brought this upon myself. I had a Bachelor’s Degree already… I did the minimum and still I felt that wasn’t enough. So, I took a six month break from school, and I decided to put myself through the torture again…

Now I’m approximately 115 days away from walking across the stage in a long black robe to receive an expensive piece of paper… And the days couldn’t feel any longer. From now until May 11th I have an eight-week theology course and a twelve-week internship. I have countless amounts of reading and assignments, and I also have to complete 120 hours of ministry hours. My head is spinning. I took one look at my syllabus, and I was so overwhelmed I almost burst into tears.

But on May 11th I’ll walk across the stage at the age of 24 and have a Master of Arts in Youth, Children, and Family Ministry. I’m exhausted. I don’t want to read another book about doing ministry for at least the next five years. But most of all I’m excited. On May 11th I’ll have done what no one thought I was capable of. I’m getting a Masters Degree!

To say it was easy is a lie. To say it was a choice is an understatement. I don’t know what it’s like to do nothing after a full work day. After a full work day, I don’t get to come home, lounge around, maybe binge watch some Netflix. After a full work day, I get to come home, listen to an hour-long lecture, and write a 500-word reflection on said lecture. Then if I’m able to do all of that before midnight I’ll get ahead by doing an hour of reading, but if it’s already midnight I’ll beg myself to go to sleep already. It wasn’t- and until May 11th– easy. Each time I wanted to watch a movie instead of read chapters about theology I had to remind myself that I’m doing this because I decided to not because someone made me. Because in 2016 I chose to continue my education and continue learning about how to do ministry well. I wanted to learn as much as I possibly could, and deep down I still want to learn even if it means saying no to spending time with friends.

It took work, but I am so ready to reap in the reward. My brain is filled with knowledge that most church members don’t know. I want to share what I’ve learned, and more importantly, I want to practice what I’ve learned. I’m ready to be done with reading and writing and assignments and start spending that time serving and participating and doing ministry.

115 more days… It would be less if I didn’t have homework on the weekends, but I do. 115 more days; I can do this.

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January Fourteen

I remember it so clearly. We were high schoolers with nothing better to do than crash a friend’s house on a Friday night. He wasn’t even that close of our friend at the time, but that didn’t stop us from driving up to his house and going inside. His mom instantly made us a batch of cookies, and from that point on we were never leaving.

High school. We’ve been friends since high school. We navigated uncomfortable high school relationships together. We helped each other pick the least embarrassing senior portraits. We stood by each other through the stress of applying to, not getting accepted to, and eventually choosing a college. Then we graduated high school.

And then there was college. We were spread out across the country, yet no matter what we could come back home- to our weekend home- and weekend mom would have cookies ready for us. At one point it was even an ice cream cake- Jolan might have cried that day. College might have split us up, but you could guarantee we would find a way to get back together again. Even if it was just for one more pizza night. And sure enough, a few years later we all graduated college.

Now we’re ‘adults’ working full time jobs, sitting at desks, comparing the best credit card APRs. Adrian has a fancy job title, Robin has dogs in her office, and Vivian gets the best work discounts. Cheryl and Jolan have the best vlogs and are one day going to take over the YouTube world. Then there’s me. I moved to Hawaii and started a life there.

I could throw myself a pity party. I could wallow in the sadness of everything I’m missing out on… most recently being missing out on a trip to Japan. The photos were great. They ate lots of amazing food! They even went to Tokyo Disneysea! Goodness gracious the envy is unreal. But deep down I feel nothing but excitement for them. Because when they are happy, I’m happy.

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So, I FaceTimed Adrian, and he surprisingly answered. When his face came on the screen I smiled from ear to ear. Then there was Robin and Vivian and Alex. My people. I get so excited to see my people. I wish I got to see them more often and go on more adventures and be more part of their lives. But for today I got to see their faces, hear their voice, and watch them eat a fried mochi thing. I’ll take what I can get, but I’ll also keep fighting for more. Because they are my people, and I want more time with my people.

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January Ninth

When I was a kid I was silly. I was loud and unashamed. I wore three ponytails- two the normal way anyone would and one up top on my head. I tiptoed around the room like a ballerina when in reality I was probably just trying to avoid dust getting stuck to the bottom of my feet. I used to talk so much that my cousins would have to bribe me with money to stop talking. I was strange, so very strange.

Then somewhere along the way I stopped being silly and became quiet and reserved. I started to notice what the world expected of me, and I molded myself into that person. So, if that meant being put together, well-behaved, and gentle that’s what I did. And as time passed I became more and more afraid of being free. Afraid of raising my hand and giving the wrong answer. Afraid of dancing in public because what if I looked funny or what if I didn’t do something the right way. Ultimately, I was afraid of judgment and embarrassment because I somehow let myself believe that other’s opinions of me were more important than what I thought of myself. Or more importantly, who I was.

But tonight, I danced- more like swayed, stepped, and clapped. Baby steps, baby steps. Instead of sitting it out or pretending to be too busy to join the group, I went for it. And I remembered how much I love being free. Free to twirl and jump and do whatever it is I consider dancing.

I was brave. Brave enough to choose myself over what others could potentially think of me.

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Brave.

Brave is my word for 2019. It’s what I’m choosing to do, choosing to be, and choosing to believe. Brave enough to take scary risks on relationships. Brave enough to follow God out of my comfort zone. And definitely brave enough to dance in public.

God is stirring something in me, and I think 2019 is the year that I’ll be brave enough to trust Him in it. It’s still going to be scary. Being brave doesn’t mean that the situation will be any less scary. But it does mean that I’m going to trust God through the scary. I’m going to hold onto what I know to be true- God’s infinite goodness- in the midst of what I have absolutely no clue about.