“Wherever you are, be all there.”

Jim Eliot said that.
"Wherever you are, be all there."

I'm here.
Back in Indiana. Hiding away in my basement cave, trying to focus and get through the next week of projects, papers and journals. It's hard to be all here.

My heart is in so many places right now. It's in the living room with my family. It's in Chicago with my Grandma. It's in Winona Lake with Zach and the rest of the tribe.

It's in Mongolia with my friends, co-workers, and students.

"Wherever you are, be all there."

I'm struggling with this. I've been going at a pace so fast that I do not really know where I am right now. I just want to sit. I want to ponder, to recollect, to inspect the treasures stored away in my heart.

I want to light a fire and watch it burn. (This might be difficult, since I don't have a fireplace.) I want to sit with coco in hand and trade stories--stories of adventure, growth and change.

I'm not sure if this post is an invitation or an apology, but I'm going to make it into an invitation.

When I see you next--when I emerge from my academic hermit cave--let's talk. Because, that is where I want to be--in fellowship with you.

Community: come in and stay for tea.

Our schedule forced us out of the church doors before the tea was even poured today.
Leaving before tea felt like the equivalent of eating and running.

"Hi, family. Thanks for the food, gotta run, love ya, bye."

It felt so wrong--and I think that means I'm learning.

Learning that being the Church is less about theory and sermons and more about the everyday moments, the common interactions, the breaking of bread, the sharing of tea--so to speak.

So, let's come.

Come to the table, and linger long. Stay until the last drop of tea is finished.

"We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us." 1 Thessalonians 2:8

(beauty)

Some days, I get lost in the smog, in the chaos, in the tension.
Help me to remember the beauty.

"Greater things are yet to come; greater things are still to be done in this city."

Shoes of Peace

"and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace."

As I walked through some anxiety this past week, I clung to the prayer of Charles, one of my missionary dads--"Help Caitlin to walk in the gospel of peace."

There are so many things that I cannot control. I'm learning to live with caution in a way that I have not needed to while living in the utopia which is Winona Lake. But I am also learning to walk in peace--to recognize that I have peace, because I am in Christ.

Each step that I take, I take in the peace of knowing that I'm following Christ--in my dusty, dirty, shoes of peace.

Welcome to the family...(Mongolia week 9)

I knew going into this that my inability to speak Mongolian would make life a bit more challenging. However, until I lived here for a while, I had no idea how isolating and at times intimidating a lack of language knowledge could feel.

Riding the bus, purchasing groceries, everyday interactions, classroom management--all become more confusing due to my small knowledge of Mongolian.

The one place where I feel at home, despite my lack of Mongolian, is the church. While in other places I feel like a foreign target, in church I feel like I'm just the blonde member of a dark haired family. The odd one out for sure, but still a part of the family.

When I meet with my church family, I feel at ease. The tension that I carry around with me disappears.

Welcome to the family, Caitlin. Worship, learn, fellowship with us. Sit down, drink tea, share life with us.

Welcome home.

This is what it means to be the body of Christ--the family of God.

Love breaks through the language barrier.

Shout out for Grandma

This post is mainly for my AWESOME Grandma, who has sent me a card and coffee money every semester since the beginning of college. This semester was no exception!

I am so thankful for her--for her courage, faithfulness and love.
I hope I'm just like her when I grow up. :)

“One can always spot a foreigner by the dirt on their shoes.”

I try. I try so hard to keep clean. To brush off every speck of dusty, fine, Ulaanbaatar dirt.

It’s a losing battle. By the time I reach my destination, all my efforts are for naught.

No good Mongolian would be caught dead in these shoes.

But, try as hard as I might, I will never be a good Mongolian.

I will always struggle to keep these shoes clean.

I will misread the bus signs, and end up on the edge of town

Hopelessly lost.

I will always be the odd one on the bus.

Which one of these is not like the other? The foreigner, who, unable to maintain balance just crashed into you as the bus made a sudden stop.

I will wait hesitantly to cross the street—hoping for someone more aggressive than I to lead the way.

I will often forget that coffee-to-go is a Western concept, and I will forget to sit down and enjoy rest from the busyness of life.

I will make laughable efforts at pronouncing your name correctly, but I won't give up trying to learn your name.

And, I will pray that you’ll forgive my mistakes...all of them.