One of my youth group girls posted this note and I thought it was so great, I needed to re-post it.
Thanks Danielle!

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
- Marianne Williamson

I walked into the room and saw the bag full of baby items.  I set the basket on the table and began to rifle through the bag.  It was loaded with baby essentials — enough to get any first time mom started off on the right foot.  A few girls (aided by a challenge from the stage) began a quest to meet the need of a girl they walk the halls with at school each day.

She’s pregnant.  Alone, and surrounded by unstable conditions at home and in school — these girls began to wonder what they could do to bring a bit of hope her way in the midst of a really tough situation.  Given $20 to figure it out, the challenge quickly grew when they shared their hearts the following week with a room full of teenage girls who are not waiting on the world to change.

One girl immediately chimes in that she will donate another $20 and it’s followed by another commitment to do the same.  Excitement started to build as together, they began to dream about the possibilities of what they could do for this person in need.

Their innocence shed convicting light that they cannot contribute to the darkness any longer.

And so they listed the things they have yet to purchase and their deepest hope is to be able to provide a car seat for this new mom.  The girls in the room confidently declared this is their act of love for this girl few of them really knew.

I think sometimes there are little flames inside all of us and what we need is someone to come along the side of us and fan it.  I sat back for a moment while we exchanged stories and experiences and smiled.  Watching most of these girls the last four years transform into beautiful ladies who want nothing more than to leave an eternal impact on this world.

It must be the feeling parents get with their kids grow up and explore life on their own — hoping they’ll continue to make the right decisions and hoping their deepest motivation in life comes from a divine call of God.

That’s how I feel about these girls I often term so affectionately as mine.

In two weeks, they will deliver a basket full of love to a lonely girl trying to get through the next few months.  Our hope is that this act will brighten many lives — not only for the duration of the light bulb, but for all time — in the reflection of the sun.

We walked out the door towards her car when she thanked me for being unemployed.  I laughed and said, “Well, it definitely has it’s good days!”  She laughed and responds with, “Today, I’m glad you were home.”

I wasn’t quite sure what I thought of her when I first started working with her.  Personality conflicts sometimes get the best of two people trying to get to know each other.  But, we pushed through it.  And I’m so glad we did.  Because today, we’re no longer two people who work together, but we’ve become those friends who have started to get comfortable, getting uncomfortable.

Like so many families, couples — married and single, she’s now facing life on her own.  Thought I’m unsure of what the next days will be like –  the territory seemed familiar.  Not for myself, personally, but in helping someone walk into tomorrow with confidence.  I began the process last week with some of my deepest loves in  life.  I’ve really realized that loss in relationship, no matter what the length of time has been, hurts.  It hurts the deepest part of your being.  Grief is difficult. 

I looked at her from across the table as she was getting ready to leave.  And I thought, “I can’t wait to see where she ends up.”  I thought for a brief moment how our friendship developed and how she has been a huge blessing in my life.  And then I thought about all the people praying for her at church.  A bunch of people who truly hope she finds life for her life.

The unknown of her future excites me.  And then I thought, thought it may be over, it’s not really over.  Life awaits these two beautiful ladies who hit an unexpected bump in the road.  I can’t wait to see where their paths lead.

And for that, I’m thankful for today and the opportunity I had to be a friend.  We need each other during those times we hit unexpected bumps.  To help pick up the pieces, to catch our breath, and to smile knowing we’re not alone.

Simple concept, I know, but not always easy.

I wasn’t really sure what I thought I was going to find, but for some reason part of me fell apart when I looked in the crib and saw the old and tattered elephant.  I gently picked him up and in perfect rhythm to my heart, the music inside it chimed, “…when skies are grey.”

It was as if the last 27 years of my life flashed before me and memories began to flood my mind.  There were summer days when we looked down the street and saw pops cruising in the red convertible on his way to pick us up from school to head to the beach.  I thought about the fishing trips and the times he wrote the things he was thankful for in a letter to each of us at Thanksgiving.  I remembered high school graduation and the moment when he read my name as I received my diploma.  Though I gave him “our” sign for I love you, I still wish I would have given him a big hug — right there, in front of everyone to see.

As a few of us stand on the edge of tomorrow, uncertain of what will come to be — I remember the rest of that song the elephant failed to chime a few days ago.

“You are my sunshine
my only sunshine.
You make me happy
when skies are grey.
You never know dear
how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

I grabbed the stuffed toy as I stood frozen in a moment, hearing the song on repeat as my child voice sang along with pops all those times so many years ago.  Maybe it was an effort to hang onto the good times or maybe it was an effort to not lose hope.

Either way…

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Day encounters with people are part of a world unseen by many.  Since most people work and the majority of people who don’t work, have kids — lots of people miss out on the world experienced by the rest.  When I take a moment to leave my small world of figuring out my future, I step into a world where I wish I would find myself more often.

I stopped at our favorite Red Box location.  Hesitant to step into the bubble of the older man who was hovering between the box and the new release sign, I tapped him on the shoulder and asked him if he was picking out a movie.  Confused, he excitedly replied, “Oh no sweetie! I don’t rent movies, I buy them!”  I laughed as I thought how expensive his habit could become.  At that moment, we began a 20 minute discourse about movies.  I learned Silver has 10 rubbermaid bins full of dvds at home.  He buys 4-5 dvds a week — but only on “New Release Tuesday.”  He recommended I save my money on Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, but I really should see The Proposal.  As with people in general, I observed some funny quirks of this older man who wishes he had grandchildren.  After all, he always buys the kid movies too…just in case.

But then Silver said something that will stick with me.  I asked him why he buys movies he’s never heard of when he could rent them for much cheaper.  He responds, “Well, I don’t work anymore.  What else am I supposed to do with my time?!”  We both laughed, but I felt a piece of my heart break for him.

According to Silver, he buys 4-5 movies a week at $17 (roughly) a piece.  That is $340 a month.

He grabs my arm and says, “It was a pleasure to meet you Karianne.  I hope to see you around here again sometime.”  And so I began to think about Silver as he rolled his cart out the door and loaded his purchase into his shiny white Escalade.

It was an interesting interaction that probably wouldn’t have happened outside of the working day and yet, it was so challenging.  As I consider the dreams and visions for my life, I am reminded of the huge opportunity before me to live for myself or to pursue others in intentional ways.

I hope I run into Silver at the Red Box again.  If I do, I’ll know it was a God moment — designed for me to leave Silver inspired with a sense of hope.  Who knows, it’s one mile of a million, but if Silver finds more than the latest movie he doesn’t own, the author of my story will smile at the wonder of His people who decide to do something that awakens another.

It was the end of a really long day.  The array of our various plans had all changed in the moment I received a phone call asking me if we still wanted tickets.  I make a call to my best and exclaimed the surprising news that came four hours in time.  Suddenly, we jumped into an intense mode to speed up two of the three arrangements we originally had in place and still hoped make happen. 

No matter how fast we functioned to accomplish our goals, it was a failed attempt and we found ourselves sitting around, waiting to leave for the big show.

Hours later, after a six-block run through the rain and many uncontrollable yawn sequences, we were back in the car, heading to our final destination.  He looks at me and asks, “What would be one high and one low for you today?”  I respond without hesitation, “My high is finding you tickets and being able to go with you tonight and my low is definitely how exausted and chilly I am after tonight.”

I looked over at him and asked the same question.  He responded with, “My high is being able to go to the show tonight and my low is…” 

I cannot remember what he said his low was.  But then he continued…

“One day, I really hope to be able to say that my high for the day is about the time I spent reading God’s word and praying.”

I’ve thought about that comment for the last four days.  Do I desire the same thing for my life?  How do my actions shape where I place my daily value for something ‘high’ in my life?  What do my actions say about my focus and motivation for living?

May today be one step of many in the direction I want to find myself one day. 

And, a continued dialogue of our daily highs and lows will help shape our perspectives of where we are and where we’re headed.  It could be our daily purposeful tradition we begin.

I bet most kids had a growth chart when they were young. My parents hung ours on the wall and my brother and I would stand against the wall as they marked our height with the date.  I would always spin around quickly to see how much I grew since our last measurement.  We always wanted to be taller and so when my brother finally passed my mom in height, it was a good day for him.  It was easy for us to love growth as kids.  I suppose adults don’t find the same satisfaction when their growth is measured because often times the only growth they see is in the increase of their weight.

But there is something that still fascinates me about growth.  I get excited to see people get taller and I get excited when people change and become something better.  For me, life is about growth.

You could only imagine the anticipation that filled my mind as I opened my favorite piece of mail that comes all the way from Mozambique, Africa once a year.  It was the Namanjavira ADP Annual Progress Report.  In usual fashion, I hurried as I opened the letter, hoping the report was good.

To summarize what I read:

Felizardo just turned six years old.  His health is good and he is in 2nd grade.  He attends Sunday School and Sunday Mass.  His favorite hobbies are soccer and jacks in box.  But most importantly, through World Vision, his family received mosquito nets this year.

I looked at the picture to the left and there he stood, dressed with the shirt that I sent him and the same pair of shoes he wore when I met him last year.  He is posing with a thumbs up and a much happier look on his face.  His skin and hair look healthy and he is so much taller than last year.

Meeting Felizardo changed my life and seeing his progress in the last year reminds me of the belief I have in World Vision to help change kids’ lives.  But then it reminds me of the belief I have in a Big God who loves to work the impossible for people.  Although it’s difficult to gauge the rate of growth against impossible things, I know that’s part of the mysteriousness of God.  And I have to trust that if a shirt I mail from Minnesota can find it’s way onto the back of a six-year old boy all the way into the deep villages of Mozambique, then surely God can do a big work in a home of two people who have forgotten what it feels like to stand against the wall as a child to see how much they’ve grown.  Because whether you’re six years old or 60, becoming a better you is something we all want in life and though sometimes it is hard to see progress, often times, other people can see what you cannot see.  And when the progress reports are submitted, you too will see that hope is alive in what once seemed so impossible to score on the growth charts.

I recently discovered I haven’ t moved far from the place I was in a few months ago.  And so I decided to pack up my things and find a new place to settle.  I didn’t know exactly where I wanted to go, but I did remember a place I passed by over a year ago.  So, last week, I found myself in a place that has some familarity, but it’s mostly full of newness and unknown.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve never really known where I wanted to be one day.  Some love that sort of thing, while I would much rather know, settle, and call it home for a long time.  Or so I think.  There is a newfound part of me that enjoys the adventure and very small doses of the unknown.  Unsure of what I have to lose, I set out to climb my Inca Trail.

It’s really because of you.  Yep, you, as in the person reading this writing.  For some reason, I believe I have something to say and for some reason you agree.  And so you read and leave comments from time to time.  Those comments are rich nuggets I’ve been collecting over time and I’ve finally decided to do something with it.  Your words have been a light as I’ve wandered in unlit places.  So to everyone who has taken the time to share the ways this writing has warmed you or has encouraged your pursuits towards what really matters in life, thank you.  My next steps up this steep mountain could not be done without your love.

With the deepest support from my best, I’ll be taking some big steps in unknown territory.  I want to do more with these words on a page and courage is required.  I’ll be writing more and making it a larger focus in my life so I can truly do what I love, full time.  This means you might be seeing weekly trends with this blog, slight changes & updates, and broader range of categories. 

I can’t do this without you.  Please continue to read and to share your thoughts.  And if you leave inspired, I’d encourage you to send a link of inspiration to another person.  And if at anytime, there is a topic or theme you’d like to see on this site — don’t keep it to yourself.  Encourage me to grow. 

As I continue to climb this mountain and begin embracing difficulty in the terrain, I will hold steadfast to the reason for my words.  Because it isn’t what a man does that really matters; it is why, and that makes all the difference.

It’s almost been a million miles and I’m going to keep climbing.  Because I know the people I meet along the way have a story to share and I have to be there to tell it.

While on our honeymoon in St. Lucia, Jason & I agreed we needed to take some time to step outside the resort and explore a bit of the culture on the island.  On Wednesday, (the only day it rained) we got in a van with another couple and made our way to a fishing town named Castries where the Marketplace was located.  We were so eager to catch a glimpse of what life could be like for the residents of St. Lucia.

We walked up and down rows of vendors.  As in most places, they sell everything.  We decided it would be fun to find a piece of art for our home that would remind us of our trip.  We were drawn to a variety of faceless statues.  Some were wood and others were stone, but they were so unique.  Intentional about using our Dave Ramsey negotiation skills, we gathered information across the building on the cost.

Meanwhile, we walked down an aisle where a woman was singing old church hymns.  We commented on her joy that accompanied her song and started a brief dialogue.  We continued browsing, but realizing we were running out of time, we knew we had to make a decision on which statue to purchase.

We ‘randomly’ walked down the same aisle where we encountered the joyful lady.  As we stood behind her, she started singing a song I haven’t heard since I was 10 years old.

“He touched me.  Oh He touched me.  And oh what joy that floods my soul.  Something happened and now I know, He touched me and made me whole.”

Immediately, the song reminded me of my mom.  This image from 17 years ago entered my mind.  I saw her standing in church, just belting out this song as if every thread of her being believed the words to be so true.

I rested my hand on this lady’s shoulder and I said, “That song reminds me of my mom.  I haven’t heard it in years.  Thank you so much for singing it today.”

She gave me a hug and smiled as she passed along a blessing.

Shortly thereafter, we walked outside to meet the other couple and our driver.  Still somewhat emotional about the moment inside, she walked up to us with a bag in her hand.  She asks, “Is you mother still alive?”  ”Yes,” I respond. “Then I want you to give this to her.” She replied.  ”My name is Linda.  Please pray for me.”

I gave Linda a hug and thanked her for the incredible blessing.  She smiled and walked back inside.

In disbelief at what just happened, tears flooded my eyes.  We could have spent hundreds of dollars on things to remind us and friends of St. Lucia (much like the couple who came with us did), but nothing could have been purchased to mean what the gifted hand carved wooden vase means to me.

There is something so special about gifts.  You can never buy that feeling you get when someone gives you something special to them.

Some people are just nice.  I’m not talking friends or family, but those stranger to stranger encounters that we all have from time to time.  You know those people who know no strangers? 

I met lots of new people last weekend.  Some are still nameless, while others were very personable.  I suppose we had a few things in common.  I’m a bride (soon-to-be) and they love everything wedding.  Naturally, we go together.

All over town, in random places, people waved, smiled, shouted their congratulations, and even wished me a happy wedding day.  This happened all night long.  In one place, a girl (soon-to-be-bride herself) sat down next to me and started asking all about my wedding plans.  It seemed odd to have someone (a stranger) so interested in my day.  Then, she explains she’s a bride too and shares with me a few exciting details planned for her day and then wishes me the best for the future.  As she went on her way, she left me questioning my own niceness to strangers.

How often do I share in the happiness of a total stranger and add to their excitement of a special time in their lives? 
How often do I express well wishes for the future or empathize along with them?

Like the countless people who were just nice to me, I was reminded me of the natural goodness of people.  It’s there.  Although it’s sometimes buried deeper in some — I learned I should not underestimate the niceness in people.  And maybe I should be more generous in spreading niceness on a daily basis.

It feels good.  To be nice (not to be confused with courteous) with strangers.  Try it.  It made my day.  And sometimes it might be what you need at that very moment.