going stir-crazy

Next Tuesday, it will mark the one-year anniversary of the last overseas missions trip I took. One year since I left the States for Romania. Fourteen days beyond that will be the one-year for being in the States mark.

And, in a way, it makes me sad.

I know that God wants me here for something. I know that my work here is important, that working in the local CEF chapter here in my hometown is important. That there are kids here who need to hear the Gospel. That I'm following God's will--at least, as much of it as He's revealed to me so far.

But...

I don't want it to be God's will for me to be here. I want to go someplace. I want to feel the press of g-forces as a plane takes off beneath me, carrying me thirty thousand feet up into the air. I want to be on my way to someplace on another continent, with strange smells and different foods and beautiful languages. I want to be running through an airport, trying to find an eatery with somewhat affordable food so that I can eat before I get on the plane. I want to have colorful money in my hands that crinkles oddly and shines when I hold it up to the light. I want to learn how to twist my tongue around the words of a new 'hello'. I want to see dark little hands put into mine. 

I want to run through a weed-infested churchyard, chasing a Romanian five year old who's challenged me to a game of tag. I want to walk through an African compound with a child on my back as we head home from church. I want to be in a Chinese high school where the beds are made of wooden slats and I don't have the option of a fork. I want to stare down from a plane window at the Sahara Desert, or the Pacific Ocean, or the soaring mountains of Germany. I want to stand below Big Ben, and walk along the fence of Westminster Abbey. I want to stand in an airport terminal and press my nose against the window and try to see beyond the fence that surrounds me. I want to go into a mall and feel that relief at air conditioning. I want to hug an orphan whose teeth flash white from a dusky-dark face.

I want to feel the press of a hand from someone who's just heard the Gospel for the first time. I want to see a smile from a child who's hanging upside down from a rusted carport, and know that as I smile we're communicating, even though he doesn't speak a word of English and I can't say more than three words in Romanian. I want to be able to sit next to an old woman and watch her prepare a meal for her family, knowing that words aren't needed, because we're sitting here, listening to the village celebrate the miracle of Christ. Words aren't needed. Our English and Nyanja is sufficient, because we don't need to use it.

I want all these things.

But I don't need them.

I know I don't need them. I know that there's something in this time here, firmly in the States, sitting behind a desk, reaching out to little kids who, more often than not, are of precisely my skin tone, that God has to show me. I know that He will use this time. I know He has appointed it. I know that He's going to reveal this whatever-it-is to me in His perfect time. I know that, when He does, I'll understand (at least in part), and I'll be the better for it.

But it's hard. And perhaps it shouldn't be. Because, everyday, God is revealing to me just how deep the hurt runs right here in my country, in my hometown. How deeply some of these children are hurting. How much of them simply need to be pulled into a bear hug and told how much He loves them.

So yes, travelling overseas is thrilling. I doubt my heart for international missions is going to go away anytime soon (at least, I hope not, because that would be sad). But for now, I'm working on being content right where I am. Giving my life up for the One who gave up His own.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.

Jeremiah 29:11

- Kyla Denae

life changing?

the people who stay behind on missions trips have come to expect big stories. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. There very often are big stories. I've had some of my own, from Zambia and China. I saw God work in mighty ways in my own life, and sometimes, in brief glimpses, I saw just what he was doing in other people's lives, too. My outlook was radically changed by the poverty in Zambia and by the atheism in China, by the different aspects of a lost world strangled by starvation in one hand and by materialism in the other. But I've had trouble pulling together my thoughts about Romania, and not really because anything big and spectacular happened.

Yes, there were moments that still shine in my memory. There was Rebeca and Estera, two sisters who followed me around at VBS. There was Bethany and Cami, the missionary's daughters, who I grew really close to, and who I'm pretty sure were the people I was sent to Romania to minister to. There were other times: when I stood in the middle of a sauna that we once called an auditorium and taught to seventy kids, via a translator, about the miracle that brought Philip to a lone Ethiopian man on a desert road and then carried him away once his task had been taught and, despite the heat, I didn't feel hot or uncomfortable at all. There was the feeling of closeness to God as I stood above Budapest and, despite the people around me, looked out at a city full of all lights except spiritual ones, and realized that He was still there, though few claim His name. There was the moment when we were all in a castle and stood in the great hall and sang Amazing Grace. The words echoed from the rafters, filling me with a sense of how awesome that grace actually is, how amazing it is, how utterly awesome God must be (and also, as a side-note, discovered that Amazing Grace really shouldn't be sung outside of a place that can make it sound so beautiful just because of the acoustics).

But despite that, there was no life-changing moment that I can point to. There was nothing that broke my heart. The thing that came closest was, perhaps, when I was talking to Mrs. Tyler and discovered that there are only a handful of actual Gospel-preaching churches in Hungary...but that had very little to do with my trip as a whole. I suppose that, besides that, the one thing I really discovered on this trip is that I'm not called to Romania. I mean, I loved it. I have made friends there that will live in my heart forever, that I still pray for, who someday I'd love to go back and visit. But I can't picture myself living there for a long period of time like I can in, say, Zambia, or even China. God sent me to Romania for a purpose, I know that, he put that desire in my heart, and there were things that I believe I accomplished. But for the first time, I think I went to a place where I was doing the ministering, not necessarily being ministered to, and a place that is now closed to me, at least for the time being. That door has closed, my purpose there is over for the foreseeable future.

I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. If that's "life changing" or not. Either way, I doubt anybody would want me to answer the question of "what did you learn in Romania?" with, "I'm not supposed to be a missionary there."

But it's true. And here I stand, waiting with eager expectation for the next door to open.

- Kyla Denae

final countdown

We're nearing the last days before summer begins. In less than two weeks, I will be leaving home to head two hours south on a nine-day journey that I've taken twice before. And it's going to be amazing, because I get to spend time with friends I've not seen in a couple years, spend time with an absolutely awesome God, and teach kids about said awesome God.

In just over 30 days (one month. one. month.) I will be driving to Dallas/Fort Worth to get on a plane for Frankfurt, Germany.

God has something planned for this summer. And I don't just mean safe traveling mercies, or maybe a mildly fun time overseas. A year ago, I had a desire to go to Romania. I expected to maybe be counting down to another GE trip at this point. That didn't happen, and instead I'm going with my church. But that desire hasn't changed, and whatever's going to go down, I'm confident it's going to be something that's going to blow the lid off my expectations--again. And I'm so ready.

O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsts for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is; To see thy power and thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary. - Psalm 63:1-2

- Kyla Denae

in fifty three days

The countdown has officially begun! In thirty days, I shall be heading two hours south to participate in Christian Youth In Action 2012, which shall be amazingly awesome, and filled with good times with friends, much squealing and laughter, and probably more than a little insanity.

Just twenty days after that (or something like that), I'll be climbing into a bus and heading to Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, where I and a group of twenty other people shall get onto a very large jet plane and fly to Frankfurt, Germany where we shall catch a connecting flight to somewhere in Hungary. I think. We shall then be continuing on to Timisoara, Romania, where we shall have two weeks of awesome ministry and team-building while sight-seeing and generally having fun times.

So let the insanity begin.

- Kyla Denae

wherein kyla gets a job

So, I have a job now.

I'm like all official and stuff

I even have a nametag.

I am now officially a front-counter, ringer-upper, drive-through-ish, dining-room-attender person at Chick-fil-a. Yes. It's actually not that bad; I've been working there for about two weeks now, and I quite like it.

But as a consequence of this change, I've had very little free time. It's really odd, being on a strict schedule. I've never had to be this conscientious of how I spend my time, where practically every minute is counted in order to get me where I need to go 'on time'.

I suppose there could be some deep, challenging lesson there somewhere, but I'm too tired to find it.

In other news

I am fully funded for Romania!

Yes. This makes me very happy. It's partly due to a reader of this blog

- Kyla Denae

i'm operating on a deadline here

Last night, my sister and I went out "canvassing" in a neighborhood a few miles from where we live. Basically, we went door-to-door and sweetly asked if our kind neighbors would be willing to help us fundraise for Romania. In fifteen minutes of walking and knocking, we came away with about $50, which was really good. Of course, most of it was on her side--she got over $40, while I was stuck with $10. Apparently my almost-adult face doesn't inspire as much confidence as her sweet little stuttering self.

Oh well.

Of course, I have a deadline. So does she, to be technical, but meh. We both must have over $1,000 in our accounts by this Friday. And, predictably, I am sick this Sunday. I got queasy last night, and almost got sick a few times. And it stuck around 'till this morning. Really?

God, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm trying to do something for you. I mean, what's the deal? You say I'm supposed to go to Romania, and then promptly make me sick almost non-stop from December to March before then making me sick on the last actual fundraising day I have before my deadline. Not to quibble with the creator of the universe or anything, but that seems kind of silly.

So whatever your plan is, I would greatly appreciate it if it went into effect soon. Y'know.

In other words, dear readers, I would greatly appreciate prayer. I'm trying to do more praying than worrying, and trusting God in all this, but...well, you know me.

- Kyla Denae

92 days. $1500.

Well.

I once again find myself in the position of needing to raise a lot of money in a very short space of time. Pray for me. Wish me luck. Whatever. Allons-y.

- Kyla Denae

I know, I know

I failed.

My resolution was to make one post a week.

I made one post at the beginning of the month, and this is the only other I've made so far.

I am exceedingly sorry.

In my defense, I've been busy. Books, Sherlock, and fundraising have consumed my thoughts. Not necessarily in that order of course--on some days, it's been more like Sherlock-books-fundraising, and some days fundraising-Sherlock-books. But those three things have always been present.

Sherlock is, of course, a BBC television show. (If you'd like to watch it, be wary of the first episode of the second season. It gets a bit risque.) But it's a beautiful TV show and I love it and I dislike Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. Okay, maybe not that much, because they did bring Sherlock to TV in the first place. But still. They are cruel to we, their poor captive audience.

As to books--I'm delving into Tamora Pierce this week, with Trickster's Choice. I've never read anything by her before, and it should be interesting. I'm also continuing Anna Karenina and beginning Brave New World. Yes.

Speaking of books, you can now buy mine on Amazon! Yes, that is my name and my shiny novel and a low price of $1.00 for the Kindle version (the physical copy is $12.00, but in my defense, that's the lowest price my self-publishing website-thing would allow me to set it as). Any royalties I get will go directly toward my Romania trip funds--

Which brings me to the third topic that I've been unceasingly devoted to for the past two weeks!

Okay, in all reality, I've been barely dedicated to it at all. My writing creativity has stalled and, with it, my ability to write a solid support letter has taken a nose-dive. It's also been snowy and rainy and ridiculously cold and my house has been full of sickness. So please pray that I will be able to make up for lost time.

In closing, I know this hasn't been a tremendously in-depth post. There haven't been any sincere, heart-felt outpourings of love for God or protestations of my desire to serve. I know that. So hopefully, in the next several days, I will be able to craft some sort of sincere, deep post. Even if it's just ten tips to write your own novel. You know.

Also, check out Altogether Separate, a new blogging/forum project I've embarked on with several other Christian homeschooled girls!

爱於耶穌,
~Liberty (紫涵)