A crazy day of grace, God, and miracles

Honestly, I was sort of hesitant to write this at first. Or at least to share it. But the more I thought about it, the more evident it became that God's hand was over us this weekend, and so I'm trusting Him to use this in some way or other. If nothing else, it'll be beneficial for myself to reflect and let the events of this weekend sink in.

This weekend was really good. It was refreshing and adventurous and I got to be reunited with some incredible people. It didn't quite end the way I'd planned. But then again, when freak things happen, you usually don't make room for them in your schedule.

So this is what went down. Two good friends and I were visiting Noah and some friends at IWU for the weekend, so we drove out and enjoyed our time together with lots of laughs and memories. It was great. We enjoyed each other's company and it was definitely good to see Noah again. Seriously, we had a blast.

Then Sunday came. Yesterday is officially going down in the books as one of the weirdest, most bizarre days of my life. The plan was to go to church with Noah, come back, and head out right away to beat the snow and weather that was supposed to come in the afternoon.

I woke up feeling strange; my stomach was unsettled, I felt weak and exhausted, and I couldn't figure out exactly why. During church, I literally felt like I could almost pass out, so Noah took me back and made me lay down and rest up for an hour or so, so I'd hopefully be feeling better by the time we were ready to go. I laid down and I could not completely relax; I couldn't stop my body from trembling. We came to the conclusion that I was lacking energy and was partially dehydrated. Noah ran and got me some Gatorade, which helped a little bit.

My two friends came back after church and we were gonna get ready to go. By this point I had some more fluids in me and was starting to feel at least slightly better. Noah had asked that I'd let one of my friends drive the first leg of the trip just to be safe, to let me rest up and feel better before I started driving. Setting my normal stubbornness and determination aside, I agreed and handed over the keys to one of my friends.

We said our goodbyes through giant snowflakes and dropping temperatures (both of which came faster and sooner than was anticipated after checking the weather and planning ahead), and then at approximately 11:45, we were off with me in the passenger seat. We had to stop in town on our way out to grab some food, and when we stopped, I offered to drive since I was starting to feel better after getting on the road and drinking some more Gatorade. Not to mention the roads were starting to get to that annoying slushy stage and the snow continued to fall, and I felt bad making her drive through that.

Before we headed back out, I sent Noah a text to let him know I was feeling a bit better and was gonna be driving. I got his response at 12:07, but only glanced at it quickly before heading on our way. Not until later did I take the time to actually think about what he'd said and let that resonate with me. I'll come back to that later.

After a few minutes we got to the highway, followed a huge semi truck up the ramp, and merged in with the traffic. I was thrilled to see that the roads weren't bad—wet, but not snowy or slushy, so I wasn't worried. 

Less than a minute after getting onto the highway, it happened. 12:19.

In one of those freaky, all-at-once yet somehow in slow-motion moments, a car came crashing into the back of mine, sending us toward the truck. Turning to avoid slamming into the truck, we went down the bank, into a field, and through a barbed-wire fence, somehow ending up facing the direction from which we came. 

Once we came to a stop, the three of us looked at each other, faces full of shock and amazement. As soon as we realized we were all okay, I scrambled for my phone. "I need to call Noah. I need to call Noah." Somehow I was able to at least somewhat calmly explain what happened. He was glad to hear we were okay, and told me he was coming to get us.

We sat there for a moment, looking at each other in awe, when my friend gasped from the backseat. "Guys," she said. "I just realized I wasn't wearing my seat belt." 

She was sitting in the corner of the car that got hit. 

"I totally forgot and just didn't think about it when we left. But it's weird, I felt like something was holding me back." 

Back to Noah's text. Only 12 minutes before the accident, he had sent "Please please be safe Maryssa. I'm praying for safe travels. God's Angels are watching over your car."

Tonight as I reread that message, I got chills. I knew without a doubt that he was right. Because by the grace of God, we didn't hit the semi, we somehow didn't roll or flip the car, and Jamie was unscathed by the impact of the accident. I'd say His angels were with us alright. His presence was definitely all around us.

I needed to call my parents, and thus began the frantic calling frenzy. I couldn't get ahold of anyone in my family for nearly an hour. I called my dad multiple times, my mom, my brother, my home phone, with no luck. I then proceeded to call my grandpa, several friends, a family friend, my youth pastor and his wife, and my pastor and his wife, doing anything I could to get in contact with my family. Eventually, I finally figured out where they were and my dad finally answered the phone. Thank God he was calm as I explained everything to him. Like Noah, he was just thankful we were all okay.

After an hour of waiting, I realized our quick, fast food lunch was scattered across the car and I'd been sitting on soggy, greasy fries for an hour. But I couldn't have cared less. We were safe. 

While we had to wait on the cop to talk with the other vehicles on the other side of the road, we had to watch Noah sitting up in his car along the side of the road. I can't say how scary it was watching the cars move past him from our perspective, not being able to judge their distance from his car. Every time a semi passed him, I couldn't help but cringe.

Eventually, the cop came back and explained that my car needed towed but that we were free to go with Noah and could pick up our things later. So we trekked up the bank, climbed into the car, and headed back to town. The snow was still coming down, harder now, and we began to discuss our options. My parents suggested meeting us halfway that afternoon, but considering the weather (it was supposed to get significantly worse throughout the afternoon and evening) and the fact that we still had to retrieve our belongings from my car, that didn't look like a very good idea.

Noah asked if we'd be okay to miss our Monday classes, and he said he'd rather call off his student teaching to drive us all the way back to school in the morning, after the nasty weather passed.

Meanwhile, I was told to take everything out of my car in case it was totaled, so we loaded Noah's car up and headed back to IWU for the night.

We spent the afternoon resting and taking it easy. When Noah's roommates got back, they were surprised to see us there. One jokingly said, "This is an answer to prayer... I prayed that I'd get to see you all again soon... it's a MIRACLE!" We all laughed, and although he said it simply in jest, looking back over the events of the day, yesterday was pretty miraculous. So many things could've gone quite differently. It could have been so much worse than it was. Seriously though... How miraculous that we didn't hit the semi, that we didn't flip, that Jamie didn't get hurt or ejected without a seat belt, that this happened only 25 minutes away from Noah, that no one was seriously injured.

Throughout the night we learned of many prayers that had been lifted on our behalf throughout the morning; we were blessed by understanding professors; we were encouraged by kind words of friends and classmates and families; we were welcomed by the hospitality of new friends; we were grateful for safety.

I was also reminded of the blessing God's given me in Noah. He showed nothing but selfless love to me and my friends all weekend. From taking care of me when I didn't feel well, to being there to pick us up after the accident and making sure we were taken care of and okay, to setting aside his schedule and offering to drive eight hours to make sure we got back to school safely, I was again blown away by his heart. I'm so thankful for him.

At the end of the day yesterday, my heart was simply full of thankfulness. Exhaustion, too. But mostly thankfulness. I found myself thankful that I lived through another day. Thankful for the lives of my two friends. Thankful for the reminder that God's not finished with us yet. Thankful for the opportunity to be held in Noah's tight embrace again. Thankful for the opportunity to hear my family's voices. Thankful for another chance to say "I love you." 

Those three words really can't be said enough. I've learned that much in the past 48 hours. 

God is good. There is power in prayer. And He is in control in all things. What a bittersweet reminder that He is always good, always full of grace. Tonight I am thanking Him for the reminder that each day is a gift, not a guarantee. So please, please tell someone you love them. And thank God. Tell Him you love Him. Thank Him for your loved ones. Thank Him for today. Because today is a gift. A pretty big, miraculous gift from the One Who loves us more than our hearts can comprehend. To Him be the glory.

This was taken right before we left IWU Sunday morning. Little did we expect to be back so soon. I'm so thankful for these two.

This was our view from the field where we ended up.

This corner was the only point of impact. I'm still amazed and thanking God that Jamie was okay sitting right inside this door without a seat belt.

I took this from Noah's car once we were ready to leave. This was the direction we were going, and when we stopped, we ended up facing the way we came from.

This too was taken before we left Sunday morning. My heart is full of love and gratitude for this gent.

"And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God." Philippians 1:9-11

An overflow of passion (not just the conference)

God is good. All the time.

My heart is experiencing such a fullness of joy that I don't even know exactly where to begin. I guess it makes sense to pick up where I left off. 

01.06.15 
A Tuesday. This was one of the most emotionally and mentally draining days. I'm not sure why, really. I was exhausted, readjusting to school and freezing temperatures. I was thinking about every aspect of life and second-guessing my current decisions and future plans. I was beginning to wonder if being at this school was a waste of time, money, and effort. I spent a good percentage of this day in tears, another in prayer, the rest on the phone seeking wisdom from my dearest loved ones. I no longer felt an entire sense of peace. I was doubting and questioning and longing to figure out life, even though I am reminded again and again that it doesn't just become clear at once. Regardless, I wanted a step in the right direction, and I didn't want to misstep.

I'd talked with my roommate during the day about my rising stress levels over my plan of studies, I'd conversed and poured out my frustrations and confusions and second-guessing doubts to my parents and Noah and my grandma, seeking their advice, wisdom, and direction. That night I sat on a couch in a vacant dorm room down the hall, hearing my grandma ask the Question.

"Well, honey, what are your passions?"

Yikes. That's the question I've always hated. My passions?

"Um, well, that's what's been frustrating me, Grandma. I feel like I don't really have any passions."

I thought about it and explained to her that I love writing and I love people. Especially kids. So I guess if those are considered passions, it's writing and people. That's my answer. 

But I felt like that wasn't enough. I wanted something more.

I wanted a big cause or some kind of movement; something to work toward, something to support. I wanted a passion that was big and important. 

But taking this little bit that I did know, I looked at where I am. Okay, so I love people and relationships and writing. Long story short, after praying and discussing and lots of thought, I decided to walk away from my plans of a radio performance minor and into a children's ministry minor. Guess what? With that decision, my heart began to feel the peace it had been missing. 

01.14.15 
It's Wednesday night. I know the next day I'm most likely gonna have to pull an all-nighter, preparing to leave Friday morning at 3 am for the Passion Conference in Atlanta. I plan to get to bed at a decent time to get some extra sleep to make up for the inevitable lack of it over the weekend. It's already almost eleven, and just as I finish some homework and get ready to quick look over my notes for a quiz the next day, my roommate casually walks over to the futon and asks the Question. 

"Hey Rys, what are your dreams?"

Ohh boy. 

"Uhm... That's a tough question. My dreams...? It's bad, but honestly, I don't really know."

I told her what I'd told my grandma, the few things you could say I'm passionate about. "I just really love God and people, I guess. That sounds so cliche."

She posed the question again. 

"What are the desires of your heart?"

Yikes. Not having an immediate answer, I threw the question back on her.

"I dunno exactly... What about you?"

She whipped out a list and started explaining her hopes and dreams and desires to further God's kingdom, plans to rescue young girls from slavery, to bring hope to the lost, to see human trafficking come to an end. Big dreams.

And that's when it hit me.

I've been trying too hard and looking in all the wrong places. All this time I've been worried about not having something I'm passionate about. I've been turning to the internet, to already planned and set, pre-established, dreams by-the-book. In this moment, God just hit me with the force of a bus. That's not what it is to dream. It was like He just tapped me on the shoulder and said, C'mon, Rys, you know Me better than that. I'm capable of way more than you could ask or imagine. I'll give you the desires of your heart. Just dare to dream big, k? Trust Me on this."

That challenged me to dream. It also led to Hannah and me staying up till nearly 2 am talking about God and life. So much for sleep. Anyway, that night brought me one step closer to passion. One step closer to peace.

01.15.15 
It's a Thursday. One of my new friends that I met through radio shared her life story in chapel (she has an incredible story). Part of her testimony included being impacted by students and members of our campus while growing up in the local community. That stuck with me. I felt a little nudge, a little spark of passion. Hmm. Maybe I'm supposed to reach out to the community where God has me. I held on to the thought and decided to tuck it away for later.
  
01.17.15 (Part 1)
Now we're at Passion (the actual conference). It's Saturday. Lecrae is bringing it. He shares this story about tee shirt shopping in Beverly Hills (something I have no desire to do—a $640 tee shirt? Nah, I'm good). But seriously, he found this $640 tee shirt. He asked one of the workers what the deal was, if this was some sort of special fabric or something, and the guy was just like, "nope, it's just cotton... But it's the designer, the name brand... that's what makes it so valuable." Lecrae used the illustration in comparison to our value based on the fact that God is our creator, we carry His name. He went on to explain that as the moon doesn't shine on its own, but reflects the light of the sun, so we are to reflect the glory of God. There's some purpose right there. 

Then comes Christine Caine, serving a holy slap in the face that was right on target. She called us to pick up the plow and willingly get to work out in the field. She reminded us that we have a mission field wherever we are; she also said some really great thing about having a calling, not a career. If someone asks what we do for a living, the greatest answer to that question is the purpose we were placed here on this earth for—living to serve and love and to make Christ known. More purpose. My mind is starting to soften, slowly transforming. 

01.17.15 (Part 2)
It's Saturday night. Over 12,000 college students are gathered in a dimly-lit basketball arena. A circle of passionate worship leaders gather in a circle at center-stage. To begin a night of laid back, acoustic, intimate worship, they open with a hymn. Not just any hymn.

It is Well.

Yes. The song that settled my soul when I first decided to come to this school last spring. The song that again brought me peace my first weekend here in the fall, when I struggled to adjust and get used to this new home away from home. And now, the song that again settles my soul after a time of second-guessing, doubt, and God shining light and opening my eyes in new ways, opening doors and stirring the beginnings of new passions and dreams. Yes.

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say: It is well, it is well, with my soul.

01.19.15
Today. Monday. After getting to bed after 3 am, considerably lacking sleep, waking up at 8:30, I am driving back to school. With worship music in the background, I chat with God. I ask Him for more dreams, to instill within me dreams greater than anything I could ever imagine. I ask Him for a picture, an image, of what I am.

The image that pops into my head? Disco ball.

I almost laugh. What? A disco ball?

Silence. 

I ponder. Yes, a disco ball. The tiny mirrors, covering every angle of the sphere. Shining; shimmering; reflecting. Yes, always reflecting. As long as there is light, reflecting. Reflecting every shade of every color of every stream of light.

Who would have thought? A disco ball. That's not what I expected. But what better to be? Because as long as I am in the Light, I will not cease to reflect. In this moment, the desire of my heart is nothing more than to reflect every facet of Him. Every fruit, every color, every detail. Always bearing His name. Always reflecting His love, His grace, His joy. 

Always joy. That's the other thing I felt compelled to this weekend. A deep desire for joy. A longing to be filled to the top and overflowing with joy. Bubbling over with joy. Pure joy that is only found in Him. 

Do I have it all figured out? Ha! No way. It wouldn't be an adventure if I did. Nor would it require faith. But I have returned to that place of peace. Again I can say, it is well with my soul. Tonight I am thanking God for moments orchestrated by Him in ways I can't comprehend, for the refreshment of my soul, and for the dreams and passions that are only just beginning. And in this moment, that is enough. Christ is enough. It is well.

"Delight yourself in the Lord,
    and he will give you the desires of your heart." ~Psalm 37:4

A faith leap into 2015

I've always had a hard time working my way into the new year. It's all exciting at first, with the long buildup of Christmas and parties and family and friends and New Year's celebrations. But man, I always struggle with the sudden and stark transition into January at the beginning of each year.

I have an endless list of blessings to be completely grateful for and a fresh new year on the horizon, yet here I sit, fists closed, selfishly wanting to hold on to last year and every wonderful thing about these past few weeks of heaven (aka Christmas break). At this point, several days into 2015, there's the "new year, new me" people—interested in recreating their personal image until the wonder of goal-seeking wears off; there's the people who have a quiet determination to reach high aspirations and achieve great things over the course of this next year; then there's me—the sentimentalist. 

Even at a younger age I think I had this weird appreciation for memories. I found little things in life to be important. I hated goodbyes. I was sort of a pack rat (if I had something that reminded me of a specific event or memory, I would keep it. Even if said item was a rock or a tissue. Yes, I was a weird kid). I literally would worry myself sick. I held on tightly.  

With Christmas break ending and a new year unfolding before me, I've found myself returning to the tendencies of my youth. I dread goodbyes. I worry. I over-think. I doubt. I over-analyze. I cling and hold tightly to everything that was wonderful and perfect and amazing about the past.

But God keeps gently nudging me, showing me that I need to look forward. Cherishing memories with a thankful heart is good. But I can't walk backwards into 2015. 

And that's what I've found myself doing—walking backwards, because I'm quite fond of that view and too afraid of what's ahead. Having a whole new year before me overwhelms me to some degree. I've found myself worrying about school and classes and my goals and dreams for the future, wondering if I'm even on the right path toward God's plans for me. I've begun second guessing myself, wondering what I'm doing here.  

But then I was calmly reminded that I don't need to worry or doubt or fear. I don't need to view the unknown as a burden; I need to view it as a blessing, an adventure, an opportunity. Because Christ is enough. He's holding out His hand, offering to carry me and walk me through each step. Even though I don't know what is on the horizon for me, He does. He always has. And never once has He failed me. He is calling me to trust Him, to let Him be the One Who's filling me up. And with that comes peace.

The other day, I was at a hotel that had motivational quotes and words of encouragement written across the walls of the dining area. Although quotes like these tend to be cheesy or cliche, one of them rang with some truth: "Half the things you worry about won't happen. The other half will happen anyway, so there's no point in worrying about them." I don't need to worry because I have a God Who is in control, Who loves me, Who has incredible plans for me, and Who knows what He's doing. 

As for holding on to memories and the great times of 2014, a song came to mind for my tight-fisted self. "Love You Tightly," by Sanctus Real, has been a song I loved from the moment I first heard it. It's the perfect reminder that the people, memories, and blessings we've been given don't belong to us, they are gifts from God. We go through seasons of life, some short, some long, and sometimes transitions aren't easy. But because we've been given these grace gifts, our only response should be to accept these gifts with gratitude and open hands, trusting that God will continue to provide, love, and lead us into the amazing plans He has for us, that we can't even begin to imagine.

"He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it." 1 Thessalonians 5:24