Inspired by Shauna Niequist, author of Cold Tangerines
There’s been this crazy part of my life, this unprecedented collection of moments and memories spent with eight of the most dazzling women I’ve come to know. It’s this crazy part of my life that has been spent traveling the world and living in the closest quarters that I have tasted the most abundant life.
It struck me very evidently the night of Erin’s twentieth birthday. I looked around at each of my friend’s faces, sitting there on our sarongs in the grass of a park in Battambang, celebrating with blue-iced cake and fake mimosas of mixed orange juice and sprite, that I realized- these are the days. These are the days that make us. These are the days that have us believing that divinity is woven throughout everything in this world, and it is good. Our dinner is lit by street lights and there’s a massacre of mosquito bites as we sit in the grass and reminisce on our south american jungle days, nights spent months ago in another hemisphere.
Caela and I had gone grocery shopping earlier that afternoon for a meal we discovered during our stay in Peru. It’s called jungle beef, and we had eaten it several times in a wooden farmhouse by the river, prepared for us by our host Yola. We hoped to do it justice, although we knew nothing will ever match her magic. We replaced beef with chicken, shopping on a budget to feed our herd of thirty. We kept the rest of the stir fry the same: peppers, tomatoes, onions, and french fries, served atop of rice. It’s this meal that we made for her, the birthday girl, that three members of the team snuck out of the house in a big silver bowl to prepare a picnic at the park, while the other five of us appropriately kidnapped Erin.
For birthday parties, Team Abundance goes all out. I mean we celebrate. Each party has been uniquely catered to the individual and their distinctive tastes. For Erin, that meant going out at night to sit in the park and have a meal together- it’s intimate, fun, there’s an appeal of healthy rebellion, and of course the aesthetic views of city lights dancing on river water and lots of the people passing by.
Jacee and Alivia, a dynamic duo of frequent laughter and eager service, had left the house while Caela and I were cooking to finagle a birthday cake for the night’s celebration. The results were surprising and kind of perfect, as they showed up with an iced light blue cake decorated with flowers and the lettering “happy birthday queen”, the inside layers of vanilla, coconut, and chocolate. During dinner we played a game of asking Erin the amount of questions of the age she’s turning, interrupted a few times by a hair raising-ly assertive stray dog.
I have only 5 weeks left of life every day with these people. But I know that after these weeks pass, and the race is over, I can hold in my heart that I know what it means to live and to live well, from personal experience. I taste this abundant life every day, and it is good. I can know when this is all over that I have bought in, I have said yes to being a sister. I have cried in front of these girls, because of them, alongside of them. I have laughed at them, with them, in a joy of celebration for them. I have laughed out loud when a memory of something they’ve said or done has crossed my mind. They are mine and I am theirs. No matter where we are in the world, and no matter what path we all take, my heart will be happy knowing they’re are out there loving me as I am loving them.
All that I’ve grown to love about us can be seen in this night of Erin’s birthday:
I think of Julia cutting the onions, and her screams of pretense that she has cut her finger. Julia’s sense of humor is morbid, hilarious, and dances on the line of how far she can push before it’s just not funny, anymore. Hahaha, our moment to moment banter is something I’m going to miss. More than I can say.
I think of Jordan slapping a twenty on the counter so four people can jump into a hotel’s swimming pool fully clothed. Spontaneity, generosity, and nonconformity define substantial aspects of her personality.
I think of Alivia whispering a little too loudly “can i borrow your sarongs?” tipping off Erin that something abundance-esque must be happening for her birthday. Alivia’s voice is something I know well, often filling the air with unexpected questions and funny anecdotes.
I think of Jacee, volunteering without hesitation to serve in the inglorious ways, like the hunt for a well-made cake with limited time to spare in a city unfamiliar. That’s a good word for her, volunteer- freely giving of herself with no expectation of being paid back. And she’s a joy enthusiast.
I think of Caela, and us sharing an amusingly small stove-top as we prepare a meal for thirty people, her asking me questions about my time with God, my future, my memories of home. Caela is the kind of listener who is not there for her own benefit. She does the kind of listening that is purely an act of serving the one right in front of her, a genuine attitude displaying that she cares deeply about whomever she’s conversing with.
I think of Maddie, right there in our midst, a mighty warrior choosing to be here when all the lies in her head tell her she shouldn’t, and the throbbing of an infected big toe says ‘you should stay home.’ Maddie has consistently fought and triumphed and taught all of us about victory, carried by a spirit of steady endurance through the battles we’ve only glimpsed.
I think of Chooch, chasing away that stray dog with a water bottle in hand, prepared for hand to hand combat if it comes down to it. She’s a woman of ferocity and inherent maternal instincts.
And I think of Erin, whom Julia interrupted during her water-coloring to tell her a tuk-tuk is on its way and we’re all getting in. She had been painting a place she hadn’t let herself call her own in two years, releasing to the Lord that He owns all of heaven and earth and He will lead her to many wondrous and beautiful places, both naturally and spiritually. Her path to freedom and of freedom is one I am blessed to witness and glean from.
I know that I’ve still got time left on the race, but that’s why I wrote this all down. I’ve got to write it down while I’m right in the middle of it, because in a few months or a year I might not believe this all really happened. I have to hear it in my own voice that this is a part of who I am, that this community of people that could have all slid past each other in a different setting, bought in to belonging to each other and putting each other before ourselves. And for the times when we didn’t, we were met with grace. These people, the ones I’ve lived with for the past 7 and a half-ish because I don’t yet want to say 8 months (an acknowledgment that makes it closer to the end), have been living under the same purpose of bringing a message of hope and healing, fighting to stand for the gospel to be wherever our feet are, have found family in each other.
Before training camp, before I met this band of hell-shaking women, I prayed to God that I would be put on a small team. He’d do that for me, right? He knows me. Yet if God had given me a small team, I never would have seen the box broken open to reveal that there really is nothing quite as grand as living in abundance. For many years we’ll tell our stories, send random texts, a surprise package in the mail that reminds us that for almost a year, in a formative time of life, we were each other’s people hand selected by the God of handmade masterpieces. If my own life is a tapestry and God is weaving each season into it, then I imagine that this part of the picture depicts 9 girls sitting in the grass on their sarongs, sharing food and laughter and time.
It’s one of those moments when you realize you’re living right in the middle of something that could be known as the glory days. You’ve become a first hand witness to the truth that there’s never gonna be any glory without a little grit. We’re 18, 19, and 20 year-olds traveling the world together, ages that are already kick-starters for fundamental growth. We’ll never be able to recreate the same magic that we’ve carried together, but we’ll also never be able to lose it- each phone call, old video, package in the mail and story retold is our way of keeping the magic of this season together with us. The sisters that I’m writing this for, know this: the best is yet to come. My heart will always carry you. I know that we won’t always call, and distance is tricky, and the reality of 9 people chasing big dreams remaining close like this is just not sustainable. So know this: I am always cheering you on. Each of you has impacted me, celebrated me, challenged me, prayed for me, and chosen me. There will always be power among us that remains the glorious aftermath of all the choices we’ve made to choose each other. These are the days, and they have been anointed with overcoming grace.
We are known for our notoriously long team times. We are known for our room wafting the fragrance of a thousand essential oils. We are known obnoxious chants and weird phrases. We are known for our presence- it is the weight of peace that we carry that permeates the spaces we’re in.
Abundance: I’m so thankful for your bravery, your authenticity, your grit, conviction, and hope. I can’t believe how far we’ve come, that even in Ecuador I didn’t yet believe in a time of us ever being on the same page. It really was in Peru that we found our ground to stand on. Our team leader, Elijah, had given us two months of carrying true harmony into our conversations and our lives. Moving away to it only being our team out there on that green farm further solidified the belief that there’s a power in going out into the wilderness, of seeing more terrain in the wild heart of God, that really brings people together. When I think of Peru I think of Aly, our squad leader/surrogate mom who led us in humility, humor, and wisdom.
I remember walking into the country of Guatemala as a unified powerhouse. Our room became a haven for peace and growth. We built this during our high intensity laundry room talks, our feet washing jungle days, our handwritten notes, and our freely spoken conversations. When I think of us I think of our prayer walks that turn into house visits, our way off topic conversations, the secret ways that only we know how to roast and toast and flame each other. Seriously. I think sometimes people around us must feel like Michael Scott from The Office when he said, ‘I love inside jokes, I’d love to be a part of one someday.” Haa, oops.
The point is, these have been our days, and they still are. There’s never been a day we’ve lived that Jesus hasn’t lived too. You’ve taught me about dependence and sacrifice and purpose and love, and I really mean it when I say that I love you.
May all of you, for the rest of your days, taste life and life abundant.
From my heart to yours,
Thanks. <3
