There will be healing but don't force this girl to stand; As she's counting the ceilings with pale voice and trembling hands

God has given me this life. This beautiful, passionate, frustrating, tingly, broken, smiley, tearful, valuable, hysterical, captivating, aching life to claim as my own. And when the world around me gives me every reason to believe I can do it myself, God speaks in pictures. In afternoons with friends holding mugs of tea. In a text message from an unlikely source. In dog-piles that crush your lungs. In soft music, He speaks.

He speaks through His spirit and His spirit reminds me why I'm here. Simply put: I'm here for God's work.

What this has looked like is night runs to wal-mart with strangers that became mine. It's looked like crumbly gingerbread houses with His children that speak a different language. It's looked like sacrificing my idea of a to-do-list and listening for hours on end. It's looked like taking a geology class for no reason other than He needed me to meet someone there. It's looked like a lot of ugly crying. It's looked like opening a book that is mercilessly mocked. It's looked like early morning runs repeating truth with each heel-toe. It's looked like uncertainty. It's looked like saying yes to the ridiculous and no to the way everyone else does things. It's looked like speaking a language I never had any intention of speaking. It's looked like spending a lot of time with people in coffee shops. It's looked like my heart breaking for myself and others. It's looked like giving up my idea of worth, love, friendship, and embracing His definitions that so trump anything I've ever known. It's looked like a Savior breathing life back into me.

It's looked like a mess a lot of the time, but my God is one that makes beauty from the ashes.