Joseph & Mary | A Christmas Scandal

It’s the week before Christmas and I’ve been thinking a lot about the characters in my nativity scene. Today my mind was filled with questions about Mary and Joseph and what those first months before the birth of Jesus might have been like. It was no PG Hallmark movie, I can tell you that.

Mary is young. Maybe 14 or 15. She’s engaged to Joseph, the young man down the street. This arrangement is not weird at all. In fact, it’s totally culturally normal and acceptable and expected. Girls get betrothed and married young. They are more of a property piece. Good ol’ Patriarchy.

As far as we know, there is nothing particularly special or unique about Mary. She’s a hard worker and a devout Jew and Joseph is happy with the match.

Then one day everything changes. Read More

An Invitation in the Midst of Change

“We took the job.”

My fingers trembled around my phone as I hit “send.” The lump in my throat made my neck ache as I attempted to hold back tears. I could hear the muffled words of my husband and our Uber driver talking about this “awesome city” that would soon be our home. I tried to focus on what they are saying but my thoughts were filled with the dozens of things we would need to do in preparation for our move. My husband would start his new job in less than two weeks and, not wanting to do life in separate states, we would need to sell our house as soon as possible. My mind was swirling at the thought of telling our three children about the decision we’d just made. What about our parents? Our friends? Who would come to the kids’ birthday parties? What about our commitments and our obligations and the plans already written in pen on next month’s calendar?

With the four words of that text message, everything was changing.

Read More

Lighting the Fire of Risk | Rachel Trigueiro

My friend Rachel is writing a legacy of “yes” by walking in faith through both the big, scary things, as well as the smaller, unnoticed things. I asked her to share a bit of what being a risk-taker looks like for her, in this season. I have read this post at least six times for my own personal benefit and encouragement and I am thrilled to get to pass it along to you. May your soul be strengthened and blessed by Rachel’s lovely and vulnerable words. 

 “Make your choice, adventurous Stranger,
Strike the bell and bide the danger,
Or wonder, till it drives you mad,
What would have followed if you had.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew

Uprooting our family from California to Seattle was just the beginning.  THIS WAS IT. We had made the (huuuuuge) decision to go, so now we were official RISK TAKERS.

So brave, so scared, so excited, so CRAZY.

In 30 days we made the decision to up and move our family: no job. no house. no plan. no community (except a few friends) AND 3 KIDS in tow. It felt pretty brave. Pretty risky (actually, felt like it couldn’t get much riskier). But it wasn’t until we moved that I learned the bravest moments were yet to come.

It wasn’t easy leaving, emotionally or practically. We were sad to leave our families-for our kids to leave their grandparents and cousins. And it was a lot of work with tiny children, a big house and A LOT of stuff in very little time (thank you, Lord for sisters who help get that crap done).

BUT, it was exciting. New. Thrilling. It was an ADVENTURE. And if you’re anything like me, you know exactly what I’m talking about because just hearing that word feeds your soul. There’s a desire deep down in you that craves adventure. Something new and something risky. And it’s those adrenaline-pumped emotions that make the tough ones easier. Saying good-bye is hard, but looking ahead to the unknown—endless possibilities—is life giving.

But all of that quiets down. The fanfare, the excitement, the mystery. Your people are no longer around. Eventually, those dreams, prayers, promises & hopes turn into waiting… Wondering. And you find yourself asking questions… Read More

When Silence Becomes Sin

My sophomore year of college I studied abroad in Guatemala. I spent most of my time working as an intern in a home for severely abused and neglected girls. Over those few months I witnessed, first hand, what evil can do to an innocent child. I learned that the enemy doesn’t play fair or “take it easy” on someone because they are only five-years-old or have already been victimized. I watched demonic forces try to kill children.

When my semester abroad was over, the plan was for me to return to college in San Diego where I would spend my weeks in classrooms with ocean views and my weekends taking students out on snorkeling trips and mud caving adventures.

I remember sitting on the edge of my bunk bed at the girls home and thinking about the “what next” question. I knew I had seen too much to ever attempt to go back to my old routine. I was jaded, I was angry, I had lost much of my white, middle class, Southern Baptist innocence and I felt scared.

I remember crying out to God and asking Him what it was that I should do next. Do I go back to my posh and comfortable and beautiful school in San Diego? Do I stay in Guatemala? Where do I belong? What do I do with what I’ve seen and heard and held in my hands?

In His faithfulness, the Lord told me two things: 1. “You will never again feel comfortable anywhere on earth. Your home is in heaven. It is ok to feel “unsettled” as it will be a constant reminder that your earthly city is a temporary dwelling place while you are on-mission with me.” 2. “Be like the ‘shouting voice’ in Isaiah 58. Do not be silent about what you have seen and heard and held in your hands.” Read More

His “Yes” Legacy: Happy Father’s Day, Dad

Much like that piercing I got my freshman year of college, I probably should have asked my parents permission to write this post before going through with it. Oops.

Also, much like my post on the time I took on my school’s uniform policy, there are a few people who will read this post and want to make it about the “uniform policy” rather then the lessons learned from the risk I took to take it on. Please, please, please, I beg you. Let my words, dedicated to my father on Father’s Day, be about the lessons I’ve learned from my dad and not about your defense of a “policy.” Trust me, you don’t want to go there with me.

Deep breath. Here we go. Read More