The Road to Here

You know when you have some things on your mind for a while, and somehow they keep showing up in everything? Like different aspects of life, and God, and relationships. And how sometimes these different things intersect and shift your way of thinking?

Once I hit my 30s, I started thinking about age a lot. I still don't feel like an adult most times, but I can definitely tell I'm not in my 20s any more. I'm different, I've changed. It's kind of scary because this is uncharted territory, and I just keep getting dragged in deeper and deeper.

But something a friend had recently shared stood out to me. It was a quote that said, "Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many." And isn't that a bittersweet way of looking at something we often see as negative? One little quote adjusted the perspective that I've had the last few years, that aging is somehow a bad thing. But really it's a gift to live life, every bit that we are given.

I've also been thinking about how I got here, to this point in life. A confusing, beautiful point that I tried for so long to get to, but gave up part way through. I love that God doesn't give up on us when we grow tired of waiting on His plan. I love that He doesn't stop writing our story just because we try to take over and craft a few chapters on our own. When we lose sight of the destination, He brings us back.

I feel like all these thoughts have collided to remind me that the road to this point was long, and I am not who I once was, but it is a good thing. I'm not 18, but in the nearly 14 years since, I have experienced a journey that has grown and shaped me into the person I am today. I am far from perfect, but I am more secure in my identity in Christ than perhaps ever before. I would not trade that for all the youthfulness in the world. Aging is a gift, whether we choose to see it that way or not.

I am thankful for the road, it has brought me to so many places and people. It has helped to shape me and make me who I am. I am thankful that the road reminds me that life is about progress, not perfection. And in the times when I want to settle down and remain, the road reminds me that the movement of time and trials bring me closer to the end.

The end. It often sounds sad, like a great story has come to its lasting and final conclusion. But this end is really the beginning of a greater story, one that will make this one, this long road, seem but a distant memory.

See, the other thing I've been thinking about lately is that heaven is the ultimate goal. Which sounds simple, but can be so hard to remember here, where goals are things we set and spend our lives working for. Like jobs or money or relationships or possessions or fame. But the ultimate goal isn't something we create from our hard work or investments. It's already there, waiting for us to simply choose it. By choosing Jesus, we choose to step into the ultimate goal of heaven, where there will be no more roads or trials or tears. Just a place to remain with God, forever.

I look to heaven when things feel out of control, when the burdens and the road become too great to bear, when I feel tired and at a loss, when I want to give up. I remember that heaven is waiting, and it is better than all the good things I have ever experienced here. Heaven is the destination at the end of the road.

When I get there, I probably won't even remember the road. It will probably be like the long trip to a beloved friend's house, and how when you arrive, you instantly forget all that it took to get there. Because you're finally together, and you can't think about anything but the joy you experience at seeing that friend's face. And you rejoice, for the destination was worth all that it took to get there. Yes, I think all I'll remember was that it was worth it to get there.

I'll Always Thank God for Iowa

Life is changing once again, in beautiful, painful, unignorable ways. I've come to learn that is how God works--He works in unexpected ways, in ways I often don't like, to move me to places I need to be. I think He does this because He knows I won't move on my own. Not without the slamming of doors, not without me kicking and screaming. Not until I realize that this is the only way.

God has taken me many places; I call it the nomad life. I don't think it's a life I would've chosen on my own, but the more I live it, the more thankful I am for it. It has brought me to more places and people than I ever would've known possible. It catches me off-guard at times, when I realize how spectacular it is to be in a place I never knew existed, colliding with the lives of people who never knew I existed.

The beauty of the nomad life exists in its painfulness--it is a kind of death that brings a new life. Something must end for something new to begin. I must leave behind people and places I have come to love in order to discover what awaits. As my time in Iowa ends, I can't help but reflect on this piece of my journey.

I tried everything not to live in Iowa. My family moved there, to Clinton, while I was in college. My first experiences of the state were on short visits and holiday breaks. After college, I tried to stay in Chicago, but cost of living quickly closed that door. Less than a year later, I tried to escape to Colorado and an idealized relationship. A year and a half later, dead ends, poor choices, and job loss left me with one alternative: return to Iowa.

Iowa became the place I called home for the next six years. It was undoubtedly a struggle at times, trying to find my place in a culture I couldn't relate to. I hadn't grown up in the Midwest, or lived on a farm, or even lived in a small town. But I met so many amazing people who became like family, who welcomed me in, and made Iowa my home.

My first Iowa family will always be the people of Clinton, particularly those from my church. They supported me through unemployment, the death of both of my grandfathers, my work at the Clinton Herald and my side photography business, my marriage to Nick, and our move to Iowa City. They opened their homes and their lives to a pastor's kid from Texas and made me part of the family.

The youth group in Clinton also helped solidify my love for youth ministry by allowing me to be a small group leader and occasional teacher. I will never forget those first students I was privileged to work with and know. It was truly an amazing experience to watch them grow up through the program, and to now see them as successful adults.

My second Iowa family has been forged through the past (almost) four years, after Nick and I relocated to the Iowa City area. Once again, a group of wonderful people welcomed us, made us feel at home, and gave us a family. We grew close to peers in our church, and the awesome group of young people who made up the youth group. Later, I would get an even bigger family through my job as I got to know and work with some of the best co-workers I've had.

I never could have guessed the bonds that would be born out of this family, a family that walked with us through many highs and lows. We have mourned together as we have experienced loss in many forms, and rejoiced at triumphs and answered prayers. We have journeyed to other states and countries, and cried on each others' couches. We've shared countless laughs and cups of coffee. We've challenged each other to grow, and shown up in the darkest of hours.

I will always thank God for bringing me to Iowa and giving me the family I found here. I wouldn't be who I am today without each person who became a brother or sister, grandparent, or child. And though God may be leading me elsewhere, I will carry my Iowa family in my heart, wherever the road may lead.

How I Feel About Turning 30

Have you ever had a moment when you finally understood that life was going to change, whether you were ready for it or not? I first had this moment when I realized the 90s weren't going to last past 1999. Somewhere in my kid brain I thought it would be the 90s forever. Then when I realized my senior year would fall in the 2000s, my mind was blown in a slightly disappointed way. I wanted to be a "class of 90-something" not the class of 2004.

I feel like life is made up of many of these little moments where we have to adjust our perspective. High school won't last forever and neither will college. These huge life milestones sometimes feel insurmountable, but before you know it, they're over. That's how I felt about my twenties until this past year. They were a season I spent a decade in, they were my life, I guess some part of me didn't expect them to end.

Yet here I am, 29 and on the home stretch to 30. Soon this season I've been existing in for so long will just be a memory, like high school and college. And as scary as it is to move on, I feel like I'm finally ready. I guess that's what this past year was for. It led me gently into a transition I couldn't get away from. I thought I'd be fearing my 30s and all that they represent, but it turns out I'm excited.

When I look at my 20s, I see messiness. I see a lot of striving to become something. I see many mistakes. I see disorder and my attempts to control my life (which failed miserably). I see the missteps I've taken, the frivolous things I've pursued. I see the people I should never have run after, and the ones who changed my life. I see some triumphs sprinkled with failure and doubt. I see loss, tears, and temptations. Much of my 20s were troubling times.

And while there were definite highs, successes, and joys, I am happy to leave the tumult of my 20s behind. They were a season of painful growth, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. As I look to 30 and see a fresh start in a new life season, I see opportunities to grow from the person I was to the person I hope to be.

I want my 30s to be a season marked by a constant movement toward holiness. I want to step farther away from myself and into a life devoted to godliness and Christ-likeness. I want to see less of me and more of Him. I don't want to see the reckless selfishness of my 20s. I don't want to constantly relive the past in an attempt to "stay young." I want to move forward boldly into whatever God may hold. And I know He holds much that I have yet to discover.

I have a lot of hopes and dreams for my 30s. I'm letting them all go for the dream of pursuing God harder than I ever have before. Rather than looking to my goals and being sidetracked by selfish hopes, I'm looking to what God has for me. I know that will take constant refocusing, because if I didn't learn anything else from my 20s, I learned it's easy to become derailed by your own desires. I don't want my 30s to become marked by the same mistake.

Whatever life phase you find yourself in, I want you to know, it's not too late. You're never too old, too young, too lost, or too far-gone to pursue a life with Christ. All it takes is a small step--choosing Him over everything else--to transform your life. And the best part is, you won't be alone. He will always be with you, and so will those who have also committed their lives to Him. Let's go on this crazy journey together and see where He will take us.