Set Free by Faith

Tomorrow, I go home.

When people ask me how I'm feeling about going home, I always say I am incredibly excited. Because I am.

This seems to take most people by surprise. A few have even asked me why I'm not sad about leaving Europe. Well, I've got a few reasons: A) I am quite certain I'll be back. B) God had incredible purpose for me this semester, and I have seen what he wanted me to see. But now, this phase is done, and I am called to go home and put to use the incredible things I've learned here. In the least cliche way possible, this is not the end. It's the beginning.
And that, my friends, makes me excited.

Here's a short re-cap of my semester, in order:

This is where I spent the majority of the last 110 days: Madrid, Spain.

Stop one on our two-week adventure: Interlaken, Switzerland. It's a fairy-tale place.
Technically, we stopped for a few days along the southern coast of France, but I didn't like it very much, nor did I get any note-worthy photos.

Climbing in Innsbruck, Austria. One of the major highlights of the entire trip. Beautiful, not to mention some really great climbing.

We then spent three days traveling through Slovenia and Croatia, which by circumstance more than the places themselves, were miserable. Thus, no pictures of those places either. I'd like to go back though, and give them a fair chance. :)

Venice, Italy. Oh, my, the food was so good. And Venice is beautiful, even if it was packed with tourists.

And with my mom, Barcelona, Spain! So fun, so pretty.

Stop two with Mama Tucker, Edinburgh, Scotland. We're Scottish, in case you're wondering :)

Of all the places I went, Edinburgh was my favorite. I think Sam and I are going to go back this summer and hike the highlands for a few weeks. Cue Braveheart soundtrack.

Solo-adventure number one: London, England. Busy, beautiful in it's own way, and wonderfully old. I loved the business of it, and the quiet moments you stumble on out of nowhere. Not to mention the endless Harry Potter references.

Solo-adventure number two: Amsterdam, Holland. I loved everything about this place, from the food to the people to the cobblestone streets. Even the Red Light District, though not for the same reason most people like it, I'm sure. :)

Solo-adventure number three: Rome, Italy. I didn't make it to Pompeii like I wanted to, but I did get to spend three days hanging out with new friends I met in the hostel, and that more than made up for it.

Solo-adventure number four: Dublin, Ireland. Glendalough is a close second as my favorite place in Europe. I think Jesus really might live there, considering the intense conversations we had along the path through the hills of Glendalough.

I do not even know how to describe this semester. I feel so far from the girl I was when I first stepped off the plane, and I couldn't be more grateful for that.

I've seen some of the most beautiful places in the world, and some of the ugliest parts of humanity. I've been given a heart that aches for God's people, and been changed radically in the way I love those around me.

I have gained weight, to the point that I had to buy a new pair of jeans because I couldn't fit into my old ones. I have never felt more beautiful.

I stood in the middle of a crowded street and cried for the brokenness around me, even though there were people talking about me as they went by.

My hair is long and unkempt, unruly and badly in need of a haircut. I like it like that.

I dance to Michael Jackson in the kitchen in my slippers, and do not miss a beat even when someone walks in on me in a white-girl-attempt at the moon walk.

I have learned to stop and talk to the people on the streets, even when it means people look at me funny.

I cried for the man who tried to rape me. Because I get to love the most beautiful Savior there ever was, and he does not.

That God would take someone as broken, selfish and proud as myself and bother to change anything about me is amazing. He has taken me to the ends of the earth and back again, just to show me what being free really looks like. I've caught a glimpse of what true faith looks like, and what loving with reckless abandon really means.

I'm free to gain weight and have crazy hair, because the definition of my beauty isn't something you can see. I'm free to make mistakes, because the definition of my success isn't something you can measure. I'm free to love recklessly, hurt without fear, rejoice without restraint, because I share a heart with the God of the universe. And because of that, I am free to be unashamed of anything that overflows.

I could go on, but I think you get the point: I'm not who I was.

And I cannot wait to see what is next.

The Sin, the Sinner, and the Difference Between

I have a really hard time trusting men.

If you know me, you may have noticed this. If you know my story, this comes as no great surprise. If you don't, suffice it to say that I've got more than one good reason.

I am quick to doubt them, almost eager to think the worst of them. I am always suspicious of their motives, rarely giving them the benefit of the doubt. It is instinctively hard for me to be comfortable around them, let alone trust them enough to really, truly know me.

This is the part of me that I hate the most. But try as hard as I might, old habits, especially ones learned the way I learned these, die hard. Thanks to incredibly good (and persistent) friends, some counseling, and a lot of Jesus, I'm not nearly as bad as I used to be. But, though I have gotten better at loving the men around me well, that initial reaction of distrust and the desire to lie through my teeth until they leave me alone? That is ever-present. God has been working on all of this a lot over the last two years. I have noticed him overturning my heart in some amazing ways. But I had no idea just how radically he was changing it until last week.

I was walking home one afternoon last week when a man attacked me. By the grace of God, I made it away unhurt. I ran back to my apartment, locked the door, and (more or less) went on with my day. It wasn't until later that night that it really began to sink in, the reality of what had happened. The reality of what had almost happened. I felt heartbroken and shaken up and absolutely disgusted. But what I never felt was angry.

I kept waiting for it to come, expecting it to rise up and flare like my temper so often does. I almost wanted it to, the lack of anger leaving me feeling a bit surreal. But it never came. All I felt was sad.

Not sad for me, though. Sad for him.

I was heartbroken for this man that doesn't even know the magnitude of grace that he is throwing away. Because no matter what happens to me, I know that I have the love of a God who fights for me, hurts for me, died for me. And he does not. The core of who I am and what I am worth cannot be shaken. But he, he is so desperate for control that he is willing to steal it from those around him. He has no idea that the answer is right in front of him, and freely given.

This breaks my heart. The sin itself makes me angry: the grace he chose to throw back in God's face flares my temper. But the sinner? My heart aches for him. The sin and the sinner are not the same thing. He is no more defined by his sin than I am defined by mine. Even when that sin was against me. Because, in all honesty, his sin really wasn't against me. Because I am not my own.

His mother probably smiles when she thinks of him. He's probably got friends and loved ones who love his company. The God of the universe looks at him and smiles. That makes me want to know him, to see the part of him that I didn't see that afternoon.

I don't even feel like myself when things like that are going through my head. It doesn't make sense. It feels like the heart I'm feeling all these things with, seeing all these things with, doesn't belong to me.

Oh yeah. That's because it doesn't.

Because I'm an emotional person. My roommate can tell you that it takes me a long time to process anything major that happens. My emotion flares up like wildfire, and I have to let it burn itself down to a smolder before the logic, the reason, and Jesus can really set in. Basically, whatever the situation is, I have to let it be about me for a while before I can let it be about anything else.

Except this time around, that didn't happen. The emotion flared as intensely as always, but not for me. Not in defense of my worth, but in defense of his. It wasn't the post-emotion thought-process that changed. It was the instinct. Jesus didn't just change what I do with my heart, he changed the foundation of what it is.

"It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me." Galatians 2:20.

God is so, so good.

Haaaave ya met Eustace?

The last adventure of the semester has come to a close. Dublin was cold and rainy and green, and absolutely wonderful. I spent four days wandering around the cobblestone streets and drinking lots of coffee and tea, talking to people, studying for finals and generally just enjoying the feel of the place. A lot of cool stuff happened, but I spent last night in the airport and I do not have the energy to write about it right now. Maybe later :) In the meantime, a hodge-podge of pictures to make it up to you:

I spent a day at Glendalough, which is about an hour and a half from Dublin. Absolutely beautiful. It was really nice to just be away from the sound of the city for a while. I have missed the sound of quiet more than anything. The view doesn't hurt either.

I had bought the hat on a whim earlier that day, before I caught the bus to Glendalough. Turned out to be the best ten Euro I ever spent. It was freezing, windy, and rainy out in the hills of Ireland, and I was glad to have the wool hat.

I have a really strange love for black-faced sheep. That aside, a visit to Ireland just isn't complete until you see some sheep. Check.

Downtown Dublin. Awesome.

My flight left early this morning, so I just slept at the airport. I had a book with me that my mom brought when she came to visit back in October. It was a historical/romance novel, that I got about 3/4 of the way through the day before and completely lost interest. Thus, deeming myself in need of something good to read while I whiled away the wee hours of the morning in a cold airport, I bought this. Am I the kind of girl who will trade in a romance novel for a magic/dragon book? Every time, my friends, every time. :)

Another purchase included a watch, since my phone had died a few days before. This was the only one I could find for less than $30. Not to mention it's awesome. I know you're jealous.


Why yes, those are sheep on my socks. And they kept my toes nice and warm all night long, thank you very much.


When sleeping at the airport, meals become less about the food, and more about whatever you happen to have stashed in your bag. For me, this meant a small bag of apples, some bread, and a few cookies. Don't worry, McDonald's offered coffee and muffins to supplement, as well as 'breakfast' starting at 3 am.

And this, my friends, is Eustace O'Flannahan. We hung out a good bit, when I was too tired to read anymore.

Yes, my contacts were sitting inside that floss container. Why? I left my case back in Madrid on accident. So, I improvised. Sadly, this is not the first time I've used my floss container for a contact case. Eustace approved.

Mid-night snack of chocolate muffin and coffee. If you're wondering where the rest of the muffin is, it turns out Eustace and I like to eat them the same way... You pop the bottom off and eat that first, then eat the gooey, delicious top half last. Yum!

Also turns out that Eustace and I have the same favorite Bible passage. Too bad Eustace can't read Spanish.

All that before 3 am... At which point I checked in for my flight, got some McD's breakfast (that later made me ill) and headed to my gate for my flight. Which didn't leave until 5, but the change of scenery made it seem much sooner.

There's Dublin in a very small, very sleep-deprived nutshell. Now, I'm off to study for my finals tomorrow... And by study, I mean sleep.

Tests all day tomorrow, then two days to enjoy Madrid before I fly home on Saturday!

312

I came to Belmont because I felt very clearly called there. And I can see, even two and a half years in, how incredibly purposeful God was in that. My major, up until recently, was Music Business. Why? Lack of a better idea, and I felt like if I was paying that much money to go to Belmont, I should do what they're known best for.

Then, last semester, I realized that I not only NEVER planned on using my Music Business degree, but that I actually hated it. So, I switched to Spanish. Why? Again, lack of a better idea. I love the language, and have always loved learning about new cultures. And there is something about meeting people where they are, language included, that sits well with my heart.

And then I came to Spain. I could write for days and I wouldn't even begin to scratch the surface of what God has been teaching me here. I've filled 312 pages in my journal in 98 days. Absurd and wonderful. One of the themes of those 312 pages is where I go from here. I have been wondering, since I am certain I neither want to nor am called to be a Spanish teacher. So, what am I supposed to do?

God has been revealing to me my gifts and passions, and how to use them to both know him better and teach others to know him better. My life is not my own. He has been teaching me that he can, and will, call me to the very things I find impossible. Because nothing is impossible for him, and "I can do all things through him who gives me strength." Phil 4:13

It's amazing how God has taken something I find both impossible and terrifying, and has made me excited about it.

So, off to nursing school I go.

But don't worry, Belmont friends. I will be finishing my degree at Belmont first. God's not finished with me in Nashville yet. :)

Roma

Last week, I spent a few days in Rome, Italy. It was wonderful! I flew in on Wednesday night, and spent the next three days hanging out with new friends. I stayed at a very small hostel just beside the Colosseum. As soon as I walked in the door, I met two friends from the States, with whom we shortly realized we have two common friends. Thus, instant friendship.

We spent the day walking around the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill. It is amazing how old Rome is... It really can't be described, that feeling of being so young, so small, so insignificant. Everywhere I go, I get that feeling. And yet, each time, it's just a little bit different. I love it.

I then spent a day walking around the Vatican with two rather crazy Aussies, who reminded me very fondly of Getta, what with their use of the phrase "sweet-as" and "I'm so jelly." It was a good, long day, that ended with Italian wine, pizza, and gelato. Perfecto.

The next day, I wandered around the Colosseum and downtown Rome with another friend from the hostel. Again, perfecto. We spent the day talking about nursing and philosophies on life, and the value in pursuing something more than what we are. On not settling, and realizing that life has a lot more to offer than we often realize or take advantage of. It was a wonderful way to spend a rainy day in Rome, before heading to the airport to go back to good ol' Madrid.

This is my favorite photo. No people, for once! That's the Colosseum on the left, if you couldn't tell. :) The house in the background is part of Palatine Hill, which is where all the richest, most important people of Rome used to live.

Friends from the hostel, enjoying a delicious bottle of red Italian wine, authentic Italian pizza, and entirely too much gelato. That's Christina on the left, who we realized we shared two common friends, and Cory on the right. Even more fun, Christina was heading to Dublin the next morning, and she'll still be there on Friday when I go! So, we are meeting for dinner in Dublin on Friday. Only in Europe...

The Vatican. Those are the famous Swiss Guard, who are the security of the Vatican City. And, of course, it wouldn't be complete without a few nuns in the photo, too.

I obviously didn't take this photo, but it is one of my favorites of me from this semester. One of the crazy Aussies I toured the Vatican with snapped it, just outside St.Peter's Basilica. That was, by far, the most impressive cathedral I've seen.

This is at Trevi Fountain. If you're wondering what I'm doing, I am not intentionally eyeing the seagull just above me, though it does look that way. I threw the traditional coin over my left shoulder, and was watching it fall towards the depths of the fountain, beckoning the return of Rome, just when Christina snapped the photo. I do kind of look like I'm communicating with the bird. Awesome.

The Colosseum and the Roman Forum literally sit in the middle of bustling, downtown Rome. It's the weirdest thing ever. I don't know why, but it doesn't matter how many historical cities I go to, I never picture them with cars and highways.

Arch of Titus. Not Constantine. If neither of those means anything to you, don't worry. I pretended like they did while I was there, but I had no idea what anyone was talking about. I nodded and tactfully added nothing to the conversation until later, after I googled information on both.

Part of the Roman Forum. It never ceases to amaze me how they built things like that...

Rome was wonderful. And the food is every bit as good as they say it is. My stomach may not like Italian food, as I spent most of those four days feeling pretty sick, but my soul was happy. And that totally wins out. Pizza, pasta, tiramisu, paninis, gelato...

It was raining yesterday afternoon, so I headed to the airport an hour earlier than necessary and sat at a café and wrote in my journal... which I had sadly been neglecting for a few days. I spent a lovely two hour flight talking to the sweet old woman sitting next to me... She spoke to me in Spanish, to her husband in Italian, and her husband spoke in English to me. Again, only in Europe.

I met a wonderful Ghanaian (yes, I had to look up that word) woman in the airport, at midnight, on the way to the Metro. She had to have had more than 200 lbs of stuff: two rolling suitcases, two backpacks, and a purse. I had a hard time rolling one. I've no idea how she managed both at all. She must be Super Ghanaian.

All-in-all, it was a weekend full of unexpected surprises, and surprisingly good, deep conversations. I met a lot of people, heard a lot of stories, and learned a lot about life along the way. I am so incredibly thankful.

Less than two weeks to America!