In my previous blogs, I’ve discussed how difficult it is for me to ask others for money. In fact, the entire topic of money makes me extremely uncomfortable as everyone has a different opinion on the value of money, how you should earn it, and what it should go towards.

Irregardless, I need it. I can’t get around the world for free. I can’t serve people in other countries on my bank account alone. That has been made painfully clear to me. In an attempt to raise my first $5,000 due this Thursday (9/28) I have sent out support letters, started a photography business, sold t-shirts, and put things like ‘Adopt-A-Jar’ & ‘Adopt-A-Box’ in motion.

All with little to no results. (i.e. I had less than $700 in my account including my $150 commitment fee..) Every fear I’ve had about the topic has been realized. I didn’t receive feedback, I spent more than I sold, and I enlisted the help of others with little to show for it. And for many reasons, this strikes me as incredibly embarrassing. 

It wasn’t until I scheduled an emergency doctor’s appointment that things started to change ever so slowly. (Patience–another virtue I do not have). I went to the doctor because I felt similar as to how I had felt last January (’17) before I had my seizure, and I knew my doctor would not clear me to go on the World Race this January (’18) if I had another seizure. I told him what I was experiencing and to my surprise he said that what I was describing were panic attacks. 

He prescribed me a medicine and essentially told me that I was spreading myself too thin. This is another thing I hate to admit. I can’t work 10 days straight and fundraise and photograph weddings all at the same time by myself. As someone who was raised to be independent, that feels a whole lot like being weak. So I told my boss that I needed every Wednesday and Sunday off or I couldn’t work there. While he wasn’t especially enthusiastic, it wasn’t the end of the world and I did not lose my job.

The following Sunday was my first free Sunday in a long time, so I went to church that day and nearly every Sunday after. Here is where things get good. I was met with open arms (literally-there were lots of hugs), I sang alongside people who loved me, I opened my heart to the messages being spoken, and I listened to a boy about 10 years younger than me drop his change in the missions fund during offering.

Every Sunday I left church feeling renewed by the love and support from my church. I was particularly struck by how the boy got up every time and dropped his change. I don’t know about offering at your church, but offering at my church is a fairly quiet and quick ordeal. So every time the boy went to the altar and dropped his change it made an un-ignorable sound and it took some time. Nonetheless, I appreciated the sound as he was helping me to reach my goal for this trip. I thought if this boy isn’t afraid to stand in front of the congregation, then why should I be afraid to let others know that I need help?

So I set up a fundraiser the same week as my town’s annual fall garage sale in the hopes that it would help draw a crowd. It sounds so easy–“I set up a fundraiser”. 

No.

I found a few close friends to help me out. I booked the community building in town, which of course costs. I printed and awkwardly distributed flyers to hang around town (How many times have I mentioned yet that I hate asking for things?). My friends, family, and I spent nights making various items to sell. It took hours the night before for me to set up everything people had donated. And we also spent the morning of bagging popcorn and cookies. Think 7 am. Needless to say, lots of time and effort went into this. 

And for lack of a better term–it was a bust. Not many people came through and even fewer gave. 

I sent two people home hours early and shut it down completely a couple hours before I had intended to. While loading everything back up to take home, we locked ourselves out of the building. Inside was my purse with my phone charger, all of my money, and ironically my panic attack medicine. On Saturdays and Sundays, the office which is in charge of the building is closed. This was a Saturday.

Overwhelmed, frustrated, and exhausted I did not cry. I’ve had so much bad luck (or whatever you’d like to call it) over the last year or so that I don’t have the energy to react any more.

Instead, I napped before I had to go to work that evening. 

The next morning, I went to church. (Illegally, because I drove myself without a license…) But that’s besides the point. I went and the boy gave the same way he had before, but this time it was communion. After the bread and juice, families take up space within the church praying over one another. When I’m alone, there’s a particular family (shout out to the Gobbles) that takes me in as one of their own to pray with. And, you know, there are some days where it’s hard to get out of bed and stand. This was one of those days for me. One of those days were wrapping arms around each other in community was the biggest blessing I could receive.  

So I cried. 

And I’m a super cute crier.

My face turns pink and my eyes swell and it doesn’t happen often any more so once it starts it’s pretty difficult to stop. I headed back to my seat and a handful of people had already taken notice. Then the boy, the same boy with the change, smiled and handed me a tissue. 

And the ladies around me decided that everyone needs a cleansing cry every once in awhile. 

Then we listened to the messages of that day. They were excellent. But I couldn’t stop thinking about vulnerability–How important it is to set aside our pride and expectations in order to really love one another the way Jesus intended. 

1 John has a lot to say about this–

“Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.”

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.”