thursday

Today is a Thursday, and I got up and had a biscuit for breakfast. I went to class and did some research and talked to people.  I came back to my room and then went out again to get lunch with my roommate. I wished that there was a little more sun and a little less chance of rain. I ate a salad and checked my facebook and made a to-do list; I failed a game of minesweeper and won a game of solitaire. I did some homework and listened to some music.  Tonight, I will get dinner with my friends and go to a FOCUS meeting and make sure my reading is done for tomorrow's classes. 

Yes, today is a Thursday, and all is normal.

except...

Today is a Thursday.  I got up on the edges of a happy dream.  I didn't have a headache for the first time in several days.  I had time to make hot chocolate to take to my class.  My toenails are painted and I feel pretty.  I laughed and joked and smiled with my roommate as we ate.  I looked at the clouds and saw the rain that was coming and knew it just meant that more green things would grow.  I checked my facebook and praised God for my friends.  I made a to-do list and smiled because of all the extra time I finally have... 

Today is a Thursday and tonight, I will get dinner with friends I love and am so blessed to know.  I will go to a FOCUS meeting with an awesome team that has blessed me and grown me and stretched me over this past year.  Today is a Thursday and seven weeks from tomorrow, I will head off on an adventure that I know will wreck and reshape my life.  

Today is a Thursday and I am praising God for thunderstorms and prayers in the rain, for friendships and laughing and tears, for chances I don't deserve to take and yet He gives them to me anyway.

Today is a Thursday, and I am redeemed.  I am loved.  I am blessed.  I am full.

And I am gently reminded that there shouldn't be so many "I's" included in the words I speak.

So,  more importantly: 
Today is a Thursday, and God is good.  He is enough.  He is more.  He is here.  He has provided, rebuked, healed, forgiven, broken, rebuilt, and loved this twisted little heart of mine into something better than it was yesterday.  
Oh my soul, praise Him.       

process, part one

I've been learning a lot about process lately, about how things (at least things of value) take time.  Especially when it comes to closure and preparation.  God has been bringing me through both of those kinds of processes over the past few weeks.

Going through the process of finding closure has been one of my most recent journeys of note with the Lord.  It's not an easy experience.  I guess it's my stubbornness to resist God when he's taking his time that makes it harder than it needs to be.  My impatient, now-now-now-get-it-done-quick self wants an easy fix, to move on to the next good thing.  That whole deal is done, and it wasn't all fun, and it's hard to think about sometimes, so let's move on and be happy again, right?  That's how I think a lot.  Impatiently.  But that quick and easy fix doesn't bring healing.  It's like trying to put some ointment and a band-aid on a snake bite.  It doesn't make any sense or do any good, and the poison simply spreads.  We are so adamant about a punishment that fits the crime; why are we so dismissive of a healing to fit our hurt? 


Anyways, God's been teaching me a lot in this area, particularly when it comes to teaching me to slow down and be willing to let him do stuff his way.  He is the Healer, and desires to see his children whole from the inside out.  He isn't interested in triage or pain-free treatments.  He is interested in growth, change, and transformation of the deepest kind and in the most dangerous way.  I think of the boy who was changed into the dragon in C.S. Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader, whom Aslan was more than willing to make human again.  The process was not painless and it took awhile, but the end result was beautiful and something to be talked about; much more preferable to an easy patch-up or ignoring the problem. 


God is more than an easy fix.  We are the clay; the Lord is the potter, and wants to make us into vessels full of truth and life.  The process involves bending and submission on our part.  It requires malleability.  It's not necessarily fun; but it makes us all the more whole, and gives the Lord all the more glory.


Finally, through the process, we grow.  I have grown.  I am growing.  I am healing more fully and completely.  I am growing to understand more of who the Lord calls me to be.  I am becoming stronger, I am maturing.  I am coming to recognize more of His abounding grace and overflowing mercy.  And as if the list wasn't already overwhelming enough, I can add one more reason to praise Him.          

Let it begin with me.

I don't even know what to say, other than God is good.  

It's one of those days.  You know, the sun is out.  It's delightfully cold.  The sky is a paler version of what would be electric blue.  Fresh biscuits were put out right as I got to the front of the breakfast line.  Something about the coffee tasted extra good today.

I don't know what it is really.  I just woke up feeling full.  

Today, God seems wild.  Big.  Breath-taking.  Present.  So good, His goodness seems threatening.  Like if I tried to comprehend how big and good He is, my head might explode.  If that makes sense.

Let it begin with me.

I went on a FOCUS ministry trip last semester.  We went to a church in Hickory for a weekend to work with the youth, have a sort of retreat weekend with them where we did our best to love them and pour into them, to try to communicate to them what we know of the things of God.

That Saturday morning, we went as a group to a prayer labyrinth.  It was a really cool experience.  The morning was a lot like this one - bright and quiet and cool and peaceful.  It was my first time participating in a prayer labyrinth, and I loved it.  Right as you entered this particular one, there was a flat rock on the sandy ground with a simple engraving on it:

"Let it begin with me." 

That phrase really stuck with me that whole weekend and in the time since.  I keep returning to it somehow.  Eventually, I had to act on it.  And as I'm finally beginning to learn this and practice it, I can feel the effects.  Letting it begin with Him.  What ever "it" may be.  My day, my decisions, my relationships, my spending, my learning, my loving, my healing, my life.    

He was the One who began it all anyway.  Who am I to try to deny the Beginner of all things credit?  Or His right to begin what He wants how He wants?  Who am I to think that any beginning I could come up with could be better than the one planned by the Ultimate Author and Finisher?

I'm not claiming to know much about the ins and outs and interpretations of the book of Revelation.  I have no education or experience with that book, much less do I have any idea of how to figure out the symbolism and imagery.  But this part of the text seems pretty understandable concerning who is speaking, and the truth contained in it rings out clearly:

And the one who was seated on the throne said, '"See, I am making all things new."  Also he said, "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true."  Then he said to me, "It is done!  I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end...

-Revelation 21:5-6

Hallelujah to the God who keeps promises and gives good gifts, who gives and takes away, who heals and restores, who rejoices over us and leads us into futures we couldn't have even imagined for ourselves.  The God who transforms and renews us daily.  The God who was and is and is to come. 

He begins because He has a great end in mind.  

"Bless the Lord, O my soul,

and all that is within me,

bless his holy name.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, 

and do not forget all his benefits-

who forgives all your iniquity,

who heals all your diseases,

who redeems your life from the Pit,

who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

who satisfies you with good as long as you live

so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's...

...As for mortals, their days are like grass;

they flourish like a flower of the field;

for the wind passes over it, and it is gone,

and its place knows it no more.

But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting

on those who fear him,

and his righteousness to children's children, 

to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments.

The Lord has established His throne in the heavens, 

and his kingdom rules over all. 

Bless the Lord, O you his angels,

you mighty ones who do his bidding,

obedient to his spoken word.

Bless the Lord, all his hosts,

his ministers that do his will.

Bless the Lord, all his works, 

in all places of his dominion.

Bless the Lord, O my soul."

-Psalm 103:1-5, 15-22

I want the dirt!

I remember one of the first times (maybe the first time?) I ever went to get a pedicure.

If you know me, you know such events don't happen very often.  But my big sister was home for a few days and wanted to take me out, so I went.  (For the record, it made my feet feel awesome.)  One embarrassing thing did happen, though.  The little old lady doing the pedicure took out the rough sponge-type thing or whatever it's called to exfoliate my feet and began to rub it all on my heels.  My lack of pedicure/foot care experience began to show as a bunch of dead skin began to come off, enough so that the little lady even commented on it.  Yeah, it was gross, and for a middle school age-ish girl it was highly embarrassing.  

I was thinking today about how many times similar experiences have happened to me.  I'm not polished in any sense of the word.  My toenails are lucky if they're painted twice within the space of three months, and my fingernails are always different lengths because I tend to pick at them when bored.  My lips are perpetually chapped come December.  I very rarely pull off the exact look I want in an outfit, if I even bother to go for a look.  I prefer bare feet to shoes any day so that my soles, if not a sight for sore eyes, are certainly a sight to make your eyes sore. 

I could go on, but essentially what I'm saying is that I'm not at all outwardly polished like the world encourages a person to be.

Actually, I don't think I was ever meant to be.  No, I'm not going to be that one who loudly defies every one of society's conceptions of personal beauty care.  I like being clean and looking somewhat normal, thank you very much.  The fact of the matter is that I don't care enough to bother with a lot of it.  I never have.  And considering where I know I'm headed for now, this is a blessing.  Even if I'm in the States, I probably still won't be bothering with a lot of it. And I don't care if I'm a missionary to Kenya, Ukraine, Nepal, or Mexico, I can guarantee I won't be lugging around foot cream and a hair straightener across deserts or through the jungle. 

I came to the realization today that this is exactly what I'm hungry for.  I can't wait.  You see, I want my life to be dirty.  I want it to be characterized by dust between my toes and shaking sand out of my shoes.  I want the sweat and the tears and the mud stains in my jeans.  I want the patched-up clothing and the laugh lines and the weathered skin, not only because it is no less beautiful but because for me it symbolizes a life well lived.   Even a life undignified.

 

a thank you note

This is another post about Ireland.  Sorry if you're sick of hearing about it, but this is my blog, so I'm going to talk about it anyways.  And I feel like this is something that's important for me to share. Thanks :)

Going into Ireland last August, I knew my main challenge would be finding a church community.  I knew it would require stepping out in faith and courage that only the Lord could give- after all, I've attended the same church my entire life, and only ever visited at other churches with friends or family.  But in Ireland, I knew I would have no such safety blanket.  And since the south of Ireland is around 97% Catholic, I knew that it might be hard to actually find a church to go to in the first place.  But despite knowing all of that and praying hard about it for weeks, I actually was not prepared at all for the "religious climate" over there, which was strange and surprising to me, and very different from the States- something I might go into later, but honestly don't want to talk about right now, because that is not what this post is about.  This post is about what I did find.

What I found was a corner of the Kingdom that changed me.
I don't know exactly when it was, except that it was a couple weeks after school started.  I know I had already attended Sunday morning mass a couple times and realized it wasn't exactly going to work (not hating on Catholics, I promise, but that particular community just wasn't enough), and I was feeling comfortable enough at school to actually speak at an audible volume in class. 
We were in Religion class, ironically enough, and doing some activity where we had to list songs we liked.  I was sitting beside my friend Alanna, who saw that I put down a song by Switchfoot.  She goes, "Ooh!  I love them!", and that gets us started on different songs by them that we knew.  Long story short, by the end of class, we had somehow made the connection that we were both Protestant (an extreme coincidence in a Catholic school, and I truly believe that connection was a moment orchestrated by God).  She invited me to her youth group that Friday, and to her church.  I decided to go, and she gave me directions.
Well, Friday night came.  I took the miniature map she'd drawn for me and grabbed my jacket, and set off to walk to the youth group.  Honestly, I was freaking out the whole way.  I kept wanting to turn around, but my feet wouldn't seem to let me.  Then I got lost- sort of.  Looking back now, I've figured out that if I'd followed the road around another bend, I would have made it in time.  But fear did get the better of me... I turned around and sat on a bench by the ocean for a few minutes, not knowing what else to do, and then walked the thirty minute route back home again.  Rationalizing it all was easy- after all, what's another week?  It'll be fine, I'll just ask for more specific directions on Monday and show up the next time!  It will be great!

Well, Jesus wasn't having that.

I arrived home thinking that everyone was gone for the night except me.  Little did I know that a friend of the family had come over and had delayed my host mother from leaving... So I walk in to exclamations of, "Carrie dear!  Is the meeting not on?  Why are you back so soon?"  I explained that I couldn't find the place, it was fine, I'd just go next week- but no.  This particular family friend, God love her, was... insistent.  And persistent.  She somehow managed to pack my reluctant self (and my equally enthusiastic host mother) into her little blue car and made it her mission to find the cottage where the group met.  "You are not going to spend your Friday night alone in that big old house!" she stated firmly, and, well, that was that.  I don't think the devil himself could have argued her out of that one.
Anyways, I arrived nearly an hour late, my cheeks red from embarrassment and the evening chill (I was not yet used to 50 degree weather in September).  I remember being terribly shy the whole night, but still having this huge sense of relief.  I knew from the moment I was introduced and everyone shouted "HELLO!" back to me that this could be my place, too.   

The church was just the same, maybe even more so.  I remember the moment I walked in to the room where the service was held in the building across from my school, and feeling the presence of God overwhelm me like a sweet, pervasive scent.  The people welcomed me, shook my hand, asked where I was from, how did I hear about the church, how was my week... When we sang the first song in worship, I remember being close to tears because of the huge sense of being right where God wanted me in that moment. 
That community, Tramore Bible Church, is what this post is about.  It is small and beautiful, a corner of the kingdom in the middle of what really is a lost place.  It is bursting with passion and love for God.  It is full of believers who have a vision of Christ's love sweeping through their entire nation, and they are working towards that with all they have.  The people of TBC taught me so much about what true community looks like.   It was a place like none I have ever been in before.
I was writing thank you notes after graduation a few weeks ago, and it struck me that nothing would be more fitting than to write one to the church in Tramore.  I have many more reasons to thank them for what they have done for me than I have reasons to thank most people in my life.  So here it goes.

Dear Tramore Bible Church,

 Thank you.

Thank you for taking in the weird American girl.  Thank you for not judging me or holding me captive to stereotypes.  Thank you for asking me how I was and really meaning it.  Thank you for loving me from the moment I stepped through the door.  Thank you for challenging me and helping me grow.  Thank you for following Christ in such a tangible, authentic way. 

You lot are truly an amazing group.  You stand for something so much greater than yourselves.  You really are salt and light to your town and to your country.  You give so much of yourselves and ask for nothing in return.  I know this because I spent five months with you, and I have seen it.  I still get compliments on my going-away presents, the blue top and the ring.  The hat sits on my dresser, and the card you gave me stays firmly tucked in my prayer journal.  Even if I did not get to know every single one of you that well, please realize that each of you impacted me in powerful ways.  I am blessed to have known you, and I feel honored that I was able to worship God with you.

You taught me so much.  You showed me what living in real community with other believers looks like in the day-to-day.  You taught me what it looks like to honestly believe that God can literally shape the nation.  You taught me what it means to really serve others.  You taught me that what I might consider to be a mundane, everyday task can be a beautiful act of service.  You kept me grounded, you helped me keep my eyes on the Lord.  Many times, you kept me sane!  You will never know how many times I was homesick and tired and worn out, but I looked forward to Friday nights with the youth  and Sunday mornings with you guys as the highlights of my week.  

God did so much in me and redeemed so much in my life during my time in Ireland.  There are some things He did that I am only becoming aware of now.  And I know it was completely the Lord who started and is finishing those works- but I also know that many of those works came about because of your faithfulness and your willingness to be Christ to others around you.  And so I thank you for that too. 

I do pray for you, every day.  So does my family.  I'm finding the further I go in my walk with God, the less I seem to know... But I do know this:  God is good, and God is faithful.  God has big plans for you, Tramore Bible Church.  I believe it with everything that I am.  I know I'm young, and it might seem strange to be getting "encouragement" from someone my age, but I hope this note can encourage you in some way. 

I love you all, and I miss you a lot.  I cannot wait to see you again, whenever that may be.

Again, thank you.  

In Christ, 

Carrie Lee Arant

"...For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you." 

-Luke 17:21

"I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now.  I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ."

-Philippians 1:3-6

Of all the places to meet

We were quite possibly the four most random people you might expect to meet in a small Irish town, not to mention the four most random people you might expect to become friends.  Four girls: one German, one American, one Brazilian, and one Japanese.  Think about it- what are the odds that we would all be in the same county at generally the same time, and become close friends in the space of months, before spreading out over the globe again?
I miss them a lot.  We had fun times, walking along Tramore Beach and eating chocolate biscuits and watching movies.  We were four of the older students, and among the most long-term exchange students that arrived in August; I was the first to leave, and Leticia went back to Brazil a month later.  Linda and Yuki will stay in Ireland until late June.  All of us made so many friends, and while we may have considered others "best friends", I do think we had a different kind of bond.  I mean, all four of us shared the same experiences of homesickness, dealing with a new culture, and working through struggles with our host families.  It was easier to talk about those things with each other because we could all relate to it.  And because of our different cultures/languages, things always got interesting when we got together.
Anyways, I've been missing them a lot lately, and I figured, what's a blog good for if not for processing things through writing?
So here's my small tribute to our "United Nations"...

LINDA
She's our German, always agreeable and enthusiastic, nodding excitedly and saying "Yah, yah!" whenever we made new plans.  Always positive, even when talking about her own struggles with her host family or homesickness.  I've always heard and read of people who had eyes that "danced", but had never met anyone who actually possessed such eyes until I met Linda.  She really had sparkling, dark blue eyes that were constantly dancing, her wire-curly hair bobbing to the same rhythm.  I rarely saw her without the echoes of a grin on her face.  I miss you, Linda!  I miss how supportive and fun you were.  I hope whenever I get to Germany, or you get to America, we get to see each other again.

LETICIA
This girl was my surfing buddy.  The poor thing was used to the weather of southern Brazil- which did get cold, she said, but was surely nothing like the Irish sea in November.  Still, she would show up from Waterford every weekend and meet us at the surf place to grab a wetsuit and we'd go freeze our butts off for three hours.  We joked about going on one last lesson in January just to say we did, but were never able to.  Leticia was the kind of gorgeous you wanted to hate, but was sweet in a way you couldn't help but love.  She went with the flow, and always had a good idea for how to fill the day.  She could cheer you up in a second.  Ironically, we live the closest to each other out of the four, but are still nearly 4500 miles apart.

YUKI
Oh, Yuki!  My sweet, stylish Japanese friend.  She lived on the other side of Tramore, but I still saw her at school every day.  She would try anything and wanted to experience everything.  Everyone knew Yuki, and everyone knew she was the sweetest, gentlest person you could ever hope to meet.  She was stunning too, and really good at mixing European and Asian fashion into the most amazing outfits.  One of my favorite memories was when it snowed in Tramore and we got a week off of school... There was this big hill that overlooked the sea, and everyone gathered there to sled.  The problem was that no sleds were to be found- so people used skateboards, surfboards (imagine five inches of snow covering everything, and a guy strolling down the street carrying a surfboard), and anything else they could find.  Yuki and I and a bunch of our friends wrapped ourselves in large black trash bags and slid down the hill on our stomachs, then when it got too cold we trekked up to SuperValue for some really cheap hot chocolate.

And then there was me.  But you already know enough about me.

 So yeah...  I miss those three so much.  I miss everyone I met over there so much.  We hope to have a "reuniting trip" somewhere- we jokingly speculated somewhere in Africa or Australia, as those are the only two major continents we don't have covered.  I hope we really are able to get together again one day.

Yuki on the left (with our friend Jill)

Leticia (with chocolate biscuit)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Linda and Leticia

 

 

Bailing for Steve. And other things too.

Monday afternoon and I'm rubbing down my hair, trying to figure out how to hide my sunburned back from my mother when I get home.  From the bathroom, I can hear Conner and Will yelling over Left for Dead.  Caleb is excitedly chattering about the huge sandwich he is making, and Mattie's humming a tune from Tangled.  Emmalee yells at someone trying to take her spot on the couch while Mattie's dad breaks into the conversation with a hilariously awful joke.  I towel myself down some more and start to dress, relishing in that fresh, sunburned, just-in-from-the-beach summer feeling.  It's at that moment that I realize I'm completely content with where I am right now.


Considering where I've been, that's a pretty exciting feeling.  Before Ireland, I just was not in a good place.  While I was in Ireland, well... if you've read any other posts on here, you might have begun to pick up on the fact that it was just a little awesome.  You know.  But really, I feel like God used so much of Ireland to change a lot in my life, and in my relationship with Him.  So then I come back to the States, and all I could think about was Ireland.  For a while, that was all I wanted to talk about.  That was the only place I wanted to be.  And that was hard- not only because there was no way for me to actually go there, but also because most people around me couldn't relate to how I felt at all.  And I'm not saying that as an accusation or anything, it just is what it is.  Several people also had pretty much no interest in my experiences over there either, which was especially hard, because then I felt like I was just sitting around with nothing to say but fit to burst with all the stories I wanted to tell.  I couldn't relate to people I once felt very close to.  To be quite honest, I couldn't relate to the Lord the way I did in Ireland, which is something I'm still dealing with and figuring out.

Basically, it was a tough transition back to America.  That, combined with uncertainty about what I was going to do next year, and other things, made for a rough first couple of months back.


So, all of that said, I know it's been awhile since I posted anything here.  Actually this is my first post back on American soil.  I tried to post more before, but just never got around to it or didn't like it enough when I tried.  Now that my transition home is mostly over though, I'll be trying to post on a more regular basis again (like it was regular before).  As an update on what's been going on, well... I've got about two months of high school left (huzzah!), and my graduation project is done, which means I'm basically coasting until the end of the year.  As for the relating to friends thing, I've reconnected with some, developed several new friendships, and some I'm just waiting to see what happens.  (I'll talk more about that in another post though).  I have a job as a nanny set up this summer.  What am I doing next year?  Well, after considering several very different options, making several pro/con lists, and shedding a few tears, the decision is final that I am going to Gardner-Webb University.  I'm really excited- God truly has good plans in store for me, and I can't wait to see them come to life.

So, with all these things both bringing closure and opening new doors, spring break this week was a welcome time away from school and from life in general.  I went to the beach with my friend Mattie and her family from Sunday to Wednesday, and it was amazing. 

The two lovely ladies I got to spend four crazy days with, Mattie and Emmalee

 Somewhere in the middle of getting some bad sunburn, racing clams, making epic drip castles, saving a sting ray named Steve, watching Lord of the Rings, and jamming out in the minivan, I realized that I've once again been given the gift of peace and contentment.  And it's awesome. 

Conner, Emmalee, and me

So yeah.  I'm back on and posting again from here on out.  Hopefully the coming posts will still be somewhat interesting, even without the whole Ireland aspect to them.... ;)