no more hiding.

"Isn't it crazy to think that at one point, the most important thing to me in the whole world was to be able to hide and not be found?" My friend Leslie said that to me the other day. We were remembering middle and high school, playing hide & seek at youth group. Everything in our whole lives hinged on the pride we felt from our secret hiding spots. Girls vs guys hide & seek in the dark. We would strategize, eavesdrop, whatever it took to find more boys than they found of us girls. Some of us kept our same hiding places for years. Years. It was that important to us. We would wait for the boys to come searching, hold our breath as they walked into the room, and not move an inch, our hearts about to beat out of our chests, wanting with everything in us to beat them at the game. It was innocent and carefree, but it was such a big deal to us. As the years went on, my world became much bigger than just not wanting to be found at youth group hide & seek in the dark. But in so many ways, I still like to hide.

Why do we hide? I hide my problems from my host family because it's easier to just crack a joke. I hide from friends because that requires being vulnerable. I hide my hurt, my sadness, and the cries of my heart. I hide my sin because I am ashamed. I hide failure and disappointment with sarcasm. I talk about situations matter-of-factly, without ever having to dive deeper than a baby pool into how I feel about them. I can change any conversation around so that we end up talking about you, or the weather, or a joke, or some abstract question that gets people thinking about anything else besides who I really am, or how things affect me. I love to listen to other people talk about their highs and lows. I genuinely love to learn how other people think, how they process, how things affect them, what they're learning, and how I can encourage them. But when it comes to me, I'd rather hide in the shadows. Let you know the fun Lauren without the vulnerable one. I hide the truth because it's shameful at times. I even find myself hiding behind the right answer- talking to someone about something that's happening but skipping right into, "But God's doing amazing things. He's really working, and I know he's using this." I don't even give myself the opportunity to acknowledge that this is hard. That this hurts. That sometimes I question all of that, and that it leaves me restless.

Fellows has been a process of changing that for me. It has caused me to step out of the shadows. To admit when I'm not okay. To cause me to call up someone when I know I need encouragement, and not just when I know that they do. Leaning on community has been something that I have always struggled with. Maybe it's because I like to fix things, and when I can't, I don't want you to know about it. I don't want to be that person that just throws up their life on you without warning. No one wants to be that person. But if I've learned one thing in the past few years, it's that it's okay to not be okay. 

This past week, I found myself saying, "I just feel tired. Not still recovering from the trip to Nicaragua tired. But weary. Like my heart hurts." It took a lot for me to say that. To not hide behind the smile that so easily gets me out of the "how have you really been" conversations. But how true it was. My heart was overwhelmed with future decisions, with family decisions, with how God is stirring in my heart towards what he has next for me, and overwhelmed with the energy that it takes to be fully in the right now when a lot of changes are happening around me and those I love. Changes for the better, but changes just the same. And overwhelmed with the anxiousness that starts to creep in when one-by-one, other Fellows have their next year planned out and I'm still just trying to survive today. I wanted to run and hide from it all. I was tired. I was weak. The thought of one more cloudy day, or one more thing that I couldn't seem to do right left me feeling helpless. And then I heard Him. "Lauren Elisabeth you are mine. And I love you. Rest." He calls me to rest in Him. To rest in the truth that He goes behind and before. That He comes to me and continuously pulls me out of the shadows and into His arms, reassuring me that He is the Healer. That I don't have to hide my struggle behind expected laughter, but because He holds me, I am freed up to genuinely laugh and to have that joy. That particular day He used His people. Those people that He has so graciously placed in my life that I can learn from and be encouraged by. Those loving people that let me walk in with what seems like 2 checked bags and a carry-on full of my own questions, doubts, restlessness, and heartache and help me begin to unpack and sort through it. I need those people. I need to be those people. Those people that encourage me not to hide because of shame or doubt, but point me to Him in whom "there is no darkness at all."

"The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."  John 1:5

wrecked

I don't have another word to describe it.
I am a smiling on the outside, world turned upside down on the inside wreck. And I mean that in the best possible way. As I sit here in my longsleeves curled up under a blanket, I think back to just a week ago when I was leaving La Source, sun blazing, sweat pouring, and covered in dirt. 

As I stepped on the boat, I was already missing Pootchy, already missing the 3 children on each arm as I walked through the village, already missing the "LaLa, LaLa dance!" (which I usually willingly did, because any cultural barrier is broken when the white girl from Georgia willingly makes a fool of herself bustin a move). But I'm used to goodbyes. In fact, I've gotten pretty dang good at them over the years. It's not that I don't miss people, I've just gotten used to the "see ya laters" and the weight of knowing that might be the last time you see that person, with the hope that it's not. So what the heck was wrong with me? Why was it so hard this time? 

I walked to the front of the boat and just sat there, alone for the first time in a while. Was it the afternoon-long conversation that I had to have with Pootchy's mom, about honesty and gifts vs expectation, and about what this godmother/godson relationship looks like in relation to the long-term goal of the ministry? Was it the way Pootchy wept in my arms as we waited for the boat, or the way he said how much he loved me and would pray for me? Was there unfinished business of ministry that we were supposed to be doing that week and somehow missed? The playground was complete, and had been dedicated to the village. The children's Christmas party went well. The women's knitting ministry bought more dishcloths than ever before, and even the mission house projects were a success. Commitments to the Lord were made from a few team members and the gospel was shared with the village. Relationships were continuing between us and the village.  Relationships among team members were good. Really, really good. And as I thought about all of those things, I couldn't help but wonder why I was a wreck. But I pushed it to the side, got up, and enjoyed the boat ride back to the mainland. Just think about it later. Well, later came 2 days later in baggage claim (ironic) and I was about to lose it. 

Talking to myself (per usual), I kept saying, "Lauren, you've done this like 7 times. You should be used to this by now. Your left your family to go work at an orphanage for 5 months with people you hadn't met before, and that didn't phase you. Get it together."

As we walked toward the airport exit, I knew that I was leaving some people that I loved dearly, and others that I had just gotten to know in an incredible way through serving together, and was headed back to Bham. And for some reason it just hit me hard. And knowing logically that this is where God has me for the right now and wanting to actually be there are 2 very different things. It's not that I'm not thankful for Fellows, because I am. I am so, so thankful for where God has me and the friendships that I have. For the ministry opportunities here and for the growth that's happening in my life. But going back from a trip like that without anyone to share your inside jokes with, or without people who know exactly what you're talking about, or who don't know how to brainstorm toward future ministry in the village because they don't have a reference point isn't easy. Leaving a place where your family seems to work together seamlessly and heading back to the realities of life is just hard sometimes. 

But even more than that, I think, was the voice of the Lord pointing out sin in my life. Little things that he showed me throughout the week. Things that make you feel like the straight up sinner that you are. As I wrestled with those things, I was reminded of CS Lewis' wise words:

"It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us, it is the very sign of his presence."

And so, for right now, it's ok with me that I'm a little bit of a wreck. I visited Maison (the orphanage that I interned at last spring) a day before the rest of the team came in to Haiti. One boy, Wilson, that I love dearly, was getting to go home with his adoptive family the next day. He looked at me and said, "Miss Lauren, I feel happy and sad at the same time. Wilson gets it. At 9 years old, he gets me. 

And so I say all of that to say, yes it IS worth it. Serving the Lord, where he calls, is worth feeling wrecked. For those of you who went to La Source with me, remember that it is worth your obedience. I don't think that any of us can say that we are exactly who we were before we went. He worked in us as much as he is working in that village. And if you're reading this and didn't go, then GO. To La Source, to the projects, to your neighbor, to your sister, to work, just go. He has called you, and he who calls is faithful. He will wreck you. He will reveal your sin. He will give you incredible friendships. It will not be the easiest thing you have ever done. But I'd rather be wrecked and have my heart broken for what breaks his and sometimes get sad about missing people than sit around and never have experienced the opportunities he has given me. 

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger 

In the presence of my Savior"

Well, she's willing.

"I wasn't God's first choice for what I've done for China... I don't know who it was... It must have been a man... a well-educated man. I don't know what happened. Perhaps he died. Perhaps he wasn't willing... and God looked down... and saw Gladys Aylward... And God said - "Well, she's willing." 
- Gladys Aylward 

humbled by a Clif Bar

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broken foot and a mended heart

Last week, all the fellows headed to Tennessee on our "wilderness adventure." It was a week full of mountains, waterfalls, caving, cliff diving, whitewater rafting, staying at a gorgeous farmhouse, and so much more. In 1 week, I experienced so many of my favorite things that I'm literally getting excited just typing about it. I can't begin to describe the blessing of the community that I am surrounded by. 11 other fellows who are living life with me, going through the same transitions that I am, and doing it in a way that is so encouraging I could just explode. We all took turns sharing our stories- what makes us who we are, how we have seen God work, things we still struggle with or question, and were just real. There were so many tears. When you hear someone's story, it's like something in their story just pulls at your heart strings and you are able to identify that much more with them, because, somehow, it reminds you of yourself. We shared our hurts, our burdens, our joys, and our hopes. We are 12 very different people, but 12 people committed to each other, and being accountable to each other, and investing in each other. And it's beautiful. It's not perfect, but it's community. We came back battered and bruised from our adventures, but with full hearts. 

Monday I started my job as the assistant director of Foundations Early Learning and Family Center. It was a great first day of work, getting to know the staff, starting to figure out my role as the volunteer coordinator, and forming relationships with the precious 4 year olds in the class. I woke up Tuesday and went for a run. I made it almost a mile before I stepped wrong on the side of the road and rolled my foot underneath itself, falling flat on my face (downhill). Typical Lauren, right? I walked over a half mile back home realizing all the way that my foot was probably broken. After the doctor visits yesterday and today, it definitely is. My precious host mom has been so patient with my stubborn self, telling me it wasn't an option not to go to the doctor, making me sit my booty down so she can get things for me, and has just been such an encouragement. I called my

mentor Walton and told him and of course his response is, "Gilpin, girl you are like the most un-athletic athletic person ever!" Tell me about it..

But the reality of the situation is, my foot hurts daggumit and I can't walk on it. I am depending on others to carry things for me, to (yesterday) drive me around, to help me up steps, to bring me a cup of coffee. And I hate it. I hate it because I only made it through 1 day of work this week and I actually like my job. I hate it because I don't want it to be a painful task to get up to go potty. I hate it because I feel dumb for having broken my foot doing something I do every day. I hate it because I like to do things myself, and have always been that way. I hate it because I don't want people to feel like they have to take care of me. I hate it because I am in physical pain from walking on one leg, on the foot that I already have arthritis in. And I hate it because I am prideful. I could have been in Haiti and broken my foot- I ran there, it could have easily have happened then. I could have been on the wilderness trip, in the middle of the cave. I could have been placed in a host family where the mom was just not able to drive me to the doctor or do the little things for me. I could have been a mother of 3 in a hut in Africa whose family is dependent on me bringing them water. I mean really yall, that really happens. 

I am so thankful that I am surrounded by people who love me and have told me that they are blessed by serving me. They carry my coffee and get my supper for me. They bring me a brownie from work, or make sure I make it to my car ok. They tell me what questions to ask at the doctor and tell me to sit down when I should because they've been through this before. As much as I hate being taken care of, I am being shown that to truly be able to serve others, I must be willing to be served. I can't do it all on my own, even if I had 2 good feet. And now that I have 1 decent foot and 1 broken one, I definitely can't. I know that this is just a short season in my life. But my prayer is that it is one of growing my patience, my contentment, and my joy in the little things. I'm learning how to plan- that's something you have to do when you can only get up a counted number of times. I'm learning how to be still. And I'm learning that it's ok for others to help you. It sounds dumb to say that out loud. But making it my heart attitude is proving to take a lot more time. 

Peace & Blessings yall, from Birmingham. 

"I have an interesting perspective on depending on others. I think it gives people a chance to serve. And I'm not so much big on independence, as I am on interdependence. I'm not talking about co-dependency, I'm talking about giving people the opportunity to practicing love with its sleeves rolled up." Joni Eareckson Tada 

Big Girl Pants

Little Lollar has her Big Girl Pants on. That's right. It's weird knowing I'm not headed back to Statesboro this weekend, about to get settled into another semester at Georgia Southern. I love Statesboro more than most people realize. But, with my new state of Georgia necklace that I just bought and my handy dandy college degree, I'm heading to Birmingham, Alabama. I don't actually move for a few more weeks, but here's what I'll be doing. 

I'll be a part of the Briarwood Fellows Program. There are 12 fellows in all, 6 girls & 6 guys. We are all recent college graduates, who have some idea of what we want to do with our life. At some point or another, we've probably thought about full-time ministry (at least I have) but have a desire to test the waters in the marketplace. This is a chance for us to learn how to apply a ministry mindset to a marketplace job. We will have roundtable discussion dinners, meet with mentors, attend seminary classes 2 days a week, & work at an internship 3 days a week. We will also be tutoring students in the community and building relationships with them. We'll attend many seminars, conferences, and retreats, all to help us gain leadership training and insight into just where we should be headed next. I'll live with a host family who is a part of Briarwood, and help with the youth group on Wednesdays and Sundays. 
I will be interning at a newly founded child & family development center. I'm so pumped about this opportunity. I will be working with pre-schoolers in the classroom, as well as doing some parent education and any intern/assistant director-y stuff. This is the first year of the center, in the community of Fairfield, and I am so excited to be jumping on board with them!

A special shout-out to my girl, Leslie Morris, because without her, I wouldn't even know this fellows program existed. There I was, sitting in my house in Haiti and we got to talking about her awesome Fellows year and what I wanted to do after graduation. I decided to apply, and here we are. It's going to be a ton of new experiences, people, and knowledge all at once, but that's also what's so great about it. When I think about what I want to do with my life, I can think of a million hobbies, interests, or new things that I want to try. But it all comes back to kids, people, continuing to learn and a longing to grow spiritually. Here's to 9 months of all of that together. I can't wait to be back in Alabama. 



Meet the fellows: (photo via Stacy Richardson)

for more info about the Briarwood Fellows, go to http://briarwoodfellows.org/#/fellows/class-of-2014

let the kids be kids

Back in April, I wrote about my visit to La Source. I went back to the village, a few weeks after the Life Ministries International team had returned to the States. I met with the village leaders, and discussed different ways that we could work together to clean up the village. I stressed that I was not going there to "tell them what they need to fix," but to merely ask how we could partner together to clean up La Source. Trash washes up on the beach daily, and the task of raking, sweeping, and cleaning the beaches and yards is no small task. Still, we felt like it was something that needed to be talked about. The village leaders expressed a desire to begin this work. They said that they wanted to be good stewards of what God has blessed them with. They wanted to teach their children about caring for their land and possessions, in response to the blessings God has given them. We discussed gathering and burning trash outside the village, and recycling plastic bottles. I left slightly overwhelmed about all the work ahead, but very thankful for our conversation and their eagerness to begin these plans. In June, another team returned to the village for a week of ministry. The villagers had already begun cleaning the beaches, and 4,800 plastic bottles had been collected and stored in the pastor's yard until we can set up correspondence with a recycling center on the mainland. These photos were taken:

The people of La Source continue to clean their yards and beaches, in response to the Lord and his work in their lives and among the people. They long to be good stewards of what they have, and to set an example to each other and surrounding villages. To reward the people of La Source for their efforts, and because we love them, a team in January will be building a community playground. We want this to be a gathering place for the people- where mothers can sit under a pavilion and knit together- through our knitting ministry as their children swing, climb, and are able to be children. We want it to be a safe place where they can gather, whether teams are there or not, and share in the joy of the children having a safe place to play, of having toys of their own, and of having the responsibility to maintain the site. 

The materials and transport of materials for this playground will be several thousand dollars. We will be buying our supplies from a Haitian store on the mainland, to support the Haitian economy. We are selling t shirts to help us raise the needed funds for this project. Please pray about how you can be a part of this amazing ministry to the Church, by going or sending. We believe that every child should get to BE a child, no matter where they live. Through this ministry, we build lasting relationships and are able to advance the Gospel and encourage the local church. 

If you are interested in joining our January team, please email me at laurenegilpin@gmail.com. 

This is the t shirt design: the left picture is the front chest, and the right is the back. 

Shirts are $20. All proceeds go directly to the purchase and shipment of playground materials. If you would like to purchase a t-shirt, you can do so by emailing me your size and shipment info at lasourceplayground@gmail.com if you'd like to send a check or give me the money in person. If you would like to purchase a shirt online, you can do so with the PayPal link below.
Peace & Blessings!

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