Wednesday, August 26, 2020

The One 3 Years & 8 Months Later

 Well hello there everyone!

This is the first time I have been on this blog, literally, since 2016. In the very small chance that you have forgotten, it is now 2020. Why, you may ask, have I returned to this old blog after three years and eight months (as Siri has informed me it has been that long exactly)? 

Because my name is still Taylyr. And I still talk.

Well… And because I for the life of me couldn’t figure out what email and password I used for the other blog I had.... It wasn’t that cool anyway. When I tried to Google it I found five other blogs that have the same name. I’m still the only one with this one LOL 

As I talk to text this (yes you read that right), my six month old baby girl who was put to bed 30 minutes ago is screaming. I don’t know why she’s screaming. She’s been fed, she’s been changed, and her room is exactly 73° just like any other night. If you have an opinion on how cold or hot my baby’s room is, please keep it to yourself- I do not need another opinion today. 

Anyone else feel that? I know that one day I will make the terrible mistake with my two daughters of giving advice that is either unwelcome, not asked for, wrong, or all of the above. I will forget exactly how I feel right now. I only pray that by God’s grace my girls Will forgive me for the lapse of memory. 

I am mainly here to let you all know that I am a mess of a mother. I am also a mess of a sinner. It is only because of God and his patience and grace that I am anything other than that. There are a lot of women that only post and give you glimpses of the perfect parts of their life. That’s not fair. It’s not fair that a lot of people are so eager to make their life look perfect that they make everybody else feel like theirs is a failure. 

I’m not saying the pretty pictures shouldn’t be shared. I’m not saying the beautiful moments shouldn’t be a source of pride.

But for goodness sake, it does really make me feel encouraged and not alone when I see that one brave person that’s willing to acknowledge that she is not always content. The hard part about this battle of façade versus reality is that if you make your life look too perfect people complain they are fake, but if you put too much of real life on there people think you’re looking for attention or complain too much. 

I’ve had the sails of writing knocked out of me for a couple years. I haven’t really felt motivated to share. Maybe I should’ve been sharing all along. Now I’m back, and some posts will be brutally honest in the world of reality. Other posts will be beautiful and not worthy of being reality. 

Ultimately, to God be the glory. Keep reading if you’d like, ignore the links to my posts if you’d rather. My feelings won’t be hurt because I will never know. 

One of the women.....

Taylyr Jane (when I tried to swipe text my name it came out as Rattle 😂) 

P.S. my kitchen is a complete mess right now. I’m trying to motivate myself to do my dishes, and I never want to do my dishes.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

NO CAPES!

Our society is tumbling.

I know, it’s not as graceful of a fall as that word makes it sound. I’m sure most of you imagine it more as a violent collapse. Perhaps like that of the buildings after Samson pulled down the columns. Destroying whoever was unfortunate enough to be underneath at the time.

We all find ourselves under these buildings as they collapse and turn to rubble around and onto us. We look around once the dust and dirt settles and see our fellow people who were caught in the same place. How did we get here? Why didn’t we see those columns falling earlier? Why did we make ourselves so vulnerable?

Society has always been a living, giant label maker. Have you ever seen one of those? You type a word into the machine and it nicely prints the word onto a laminated piece of paper that we can place anywhere, giving anything a name. It’s pretty, handy, innocent…until the label maker decides to malfunction. Ever seen that? It becomes rapid, hurried, and messy. Our society is a malfunctioning label maker.

Lately, I have been asked if I’m a lesbian. Or if me and my best girlfriend are dating. We laugh and joke about it, ultimately being firm in the fact that we’re neither. But, through the jokes and sweeping the comments off my shoulder (trying really hard to not allow it to become a full-fledged chip), I find myself deflating. As a single woman, I am not different from any other single woman when it comes to not wanting to hear that I’m not enough of a woman to be pursued. That I don’t wear enough dresses. Not enough make-up. That I have too many opinions and ideas to keep someone around.
   
And here’s the best selling point to my new label-I compliment other women.

Not just the ordinary, “You look nice today!”

Or, “Your hair looks good!”

Or even, “You’re good enough for him!”

I am a woman of words. I love to use them; they are my gifting. However, I didn’t get the memo that my gift was limited to men. That I could only use sweet words and kind adjectives when I’m attracted to someone. In fact, I’m pretty close to positive that this isn’t what God has intended for what He’s given me. MY God isn’t a God of limits. I am a human of limits created by a God that knows none. And I fully believe that His gifting in me isn’t meant to be limited by humans who only know limits. What right do we have to place limits on God breathed ideas, gifts, words, creations….the list goes on. Who are we to limit a species that was created and chosen by a God that literally knows no limits at all because He created everything that we view as limiting?

When society places that messy, limiting label on us we tend to allow it to stop us cold. We cannot possibly go on because we now “have a new name”. Our lists of “new names” are long and cruel. In a way, I believe we wear these like a long, heavy cape. They engulf us, we wear them, and they weigh us down. But, we cannot take them off because they give us some sort of identity. Perhaps an ugly one, but one none the less. They allow us to take on other identities such as victim, survivor, warrior. But, how are we these if we need a cape of shame, dirt, and ugliness to bear it? Is this cape really worth what society sees as a good reason to complain? Or judge? Or compare?

Our worth has become based on capes that bring us down.

Our identities have become based on petty labels.

Our faiths have become based on our limited view of an unlimited God.

We have become a society that labels itself because it doesn’t want a seemingly “invisible” God to do it for them. Beat God to the punch. We are who we are.

Yet, this is why we are limited. We are not limited because we surrender and submit to a limitless God. We are limited because we give in to a creation not only full of limits, but a creation who creates limits. We are so desperate to have control of our own identities that we destroy them. We destroy who we could be. Who we are meant to be.

My gift isn’t meant to be limited. My words aren’t meant to be hidden. I am not meant to be boxed up in hopes that one day a man sees me and opens the box back up. A man has already seen me. His name was Jesus. He put Himself into a box by becoming a man so that I wouldn’t have to even be put into the box. MY God has created a limitless, bubbly, kind, unique, loud, talkative woman who loves to shower my fellow women with words of beauty and encouragement. THAT is my identity.

God is my identity.


The whole cape analogy has made me think fondly of the scene from The Incredibles where Edna is explaining to Mrs. Incredible why capes are a bad idea. Let me just quote this eccentric character and say to you to take off your cape- “NO CAPES!” They may give you an identity now, but they will eventually kill you. 

One of the girls....
Taylyr Jane

Thursday, July 21, 2016

Norway: The Beginnings of Wanderlust



Dear friends,

I know so many of you have been waiting for this post and I'm sorry I've kept you in suspense for so long.

My trip to Norway came with so many unexpected things, as well as many other things I've always heard comes with mission trips. I went to Norway with a broken heart. The reasoning for this will not be said, but it made for a difficult start. There was a time about three days before we were to depart that I wondered if I really wanted to go on this trip. Doubts flew around in my mind and kept me awake for the last couple nights of being in New Mexico. Even though I pondered it, the thought that I would later regret not going kept me quiet and moving forward.

At the airport, I said good-bye to America for the time being and boarded a plane to a totally different country with only being really acquainted with one teammate. Anyone who has gone on a mission trip knowing only one to none of your teammates knows that this can further any already existing fears. You're handing out your trust to people you've met maybe only once or twice before. In this case, I had only met most of my team twice, and both times briefly or with little interaction. (I will acknowledge that this wasn't always because of circumstance. I did have some part in the not talking.)

We had four flights that I recall. Two within the U.S. and two outside of it. All felt long, but more because of limited mobility than time. I sat in the middle of two people for all but one flight. I drank a lot of coffee (no surprise to those who know me) and spent a lot of time overthinking. Overthinking is a special talent of mine. When we landed in Oslo, we had to go through the exciting experience of getting our passports stamped! I actually was very excited for this. I walked up to the window expecting an easy list of questions and quick passage, as I had seen other people do before me. Instead, the fact that I appeared to be a female American traveling alone brought about an unexpected suspicion. I was asked how long I would be staying (10 days), why I was here (I was told to say vacation), where was I going (Trondheim), and was I traveling alone (no, my group was scattered in front and behind me). At this last answer, the woman looked at me and asked if I was with a church group. I answered yes. Where was I staying? With people in the church. Were we getting paid to come? No! She paused and seemed to size me up. All of a sudden I was nervous by the idea that I may not be allowed to enter the country past that point. Finally, she stamped my passport and I went through the glass doors that welcomed me to Norway. I rejoined my group to find out that I was the only one who had gone through such scrutiny! We looked all around us at the funny words on the signs (parkering instead of parking) and tried to figure out the money system in our heads. We found food, most of us exchanged money by doing so (we all sat eating and staring at the currency that we agreed was much cooler and prettier than our American money), and sat until we boarded our last flight.

Once we landed in Trondheim, we came out of the terminal to see fog and rain. Two of my team members, who had been to Trondheim the year before, had told us that this was how the weather was for them last year, also. We found our suitcases and our rides. On the way to the Pastor/Missionary's home, we were awed by all the green! (Anyone who has ever been to Portales, New Mexico will know why.) We found out from our driver that three months out of the year is summer (lots of rain) and then the rest of the year is pretty much winter (lots of snow). We also were told that Norway has one of the highest numbers for suicides. This has been said to be because of the months of all day darkness. We happened to come during the months of 24/7 light.

That night we had salmon (we would have much more in the next 10 days) and learned more specifics of what we would be doing during our time there. I personally couldn't stop looking outside. One thing I noticed about every house I stepped into in Norway was that they all had huge windows in at least the dining and living rooms. Also, you had to take your shoes off before going into the houses.

Sleeping that first night wasn't hard, despite the light. I hadn't slept much during the flights and we had all been told to bring sleeping masks to block out the light. I went to bed that first night having no idea what was to come for me emotionally, spiritually, and mentally in the days to come.
Some people hear of these short-term mission trips and don't expect a person to come back changed. How could anyone be that impacted in such a short time? Trust me, it can not only be done, but it happened to me. Amongst all the building, painting, socializing, painted smiles, etc. I struggled with all the pain and heart ache I had brought with me. I couldn't seem to put down and unpack all the extra baggage I had brought with me. One of the other team members told me during this trip that he never saw me unhappy. I always had a smile on my face. I laughed because during most of the trip I had spiritual warfare happening in my heart and mind that I never anticipated.

This trip started a road of true healing for me. Healing that I didn't realize I needed. Healing that I probably wouldn't have admitted I needed had I not been where I was.

We built new booths for the upcoming festival. The men got to put their skills to the test and one or two impressed the rest of us. I got to spray paint something for the first time and assembled a balance beam from a box by myself. We did some yard work for the Pastor and his wife (the lawnmower had to be plugged in). We walked/drove around and put flyers inside of mailboxes. Although, some of the mailboxes we weren't allowed to do that because they had stickers that said they didn't want flyers and such (The Norwegian word for no is apparently Nei!). For three nights we had special activities for children hoping to draw in some parents as well. The first night was gymnastic-type obstacles (balance beams, walking through hoola-hoops, etc.), the second was a movie night (Tangled in Norwegian!), and the third was a talent show (some of these kids put our artists here to shame!). We heard mostly songs we knew well from here (lots of Rihanna). The festival came quickly and we helped set up all the booths and then were assigned to a booth. Each booth had one of us and one of the local church members. I felt kind of bad for the guys since they got put into the booth where they got sponges thrown at their faces. I was placed at mini-golf. The festival was open for around 5 hours and then we packed everything up.

One night, we got invited to this woman's house for dinner. Her and her two children (college age and high school age) came from outside of Norway (Africa or Zambia, I think) and moved there when she married. We had pork chops that were so tender they came off the bone as we tried to serve ourselves! I also tried liver for the first time (wasn't bad, but knowing what it was made me gag). We were served so much food that night! We would be done with one round and another would come!

Speaking of food, the main menu where I was staying was:
Breakfast- soft boiled egg (like a hard boiled, only the yolk is runny inside), bread (addicting!), jam, butter, salmon, cheese (their cheese is a light brown, sweet and has a sharp taste), and a fruit.
Lunch- usually sandwich stuff (didn't really differ much from here)
Dinner- varied
No matter what, we had chocolate and coffee at least three times a day. The chocolate is VERY different and I personally like it better than what we have here.

Our sight-seeing day was on the second day of our trip. We went into what looked like a town square, a mall, a gorgeous cathedral, and an old guard tower! In the cathedral, we waited and heard the huge organ inside played. It was amazing! We also went down into catacombs beneath (I was very disappointed to see they weren't like in the movies). The stain glass windows were so beautiful and the outside was so detailed. There were these boxes with sand inside them with candles. You would take a candle, light it, say a prayer, and set it into the sand. There were some parts of the church we weren't allowed to photograph (I never learned why.). We walked a lot and saw many quaint cottage houses. We crossed the bridge that you'll see if you google Trondheim. You know, the one that shows houses along the sides of the river; those houses colourful and the sight as a whole beautiful. It kind of made me think of those illustrations in old children's books. It looked almost like watercolour. That's something else I noticed a lot-every colour seemed more vibrant than in the U.S. It's almost as if something has washed out America and all those colours have run into the ocean and somehow been poured onto cities such as these. The green was a beautiful back drop to flowers whose blues, purples, yellows, etc. would just spring at you. Trees looked wise and enduring as they seemed to be proud of the way they managed to stay where they were despite all the chaos and buildings around them.

The old guard tower made me think of my best friend back home. He would have loved seeing the old cannons and studying the design of the building. I honestly thought it was simply a house on an estate, or something like you'd see out of the American Girl Felicity's world. We walked into this short tunnel, through thick, probably heavy double doors. Coming out of that tunnel, you'd look to the right and see rooms that you'd assume would be storage houses or perhaps slave quarters. I didn't learn what they were having never went closer than that. Looking straight and left, you saw an added café (we people always have to add something to these places), the house looking structure, and all the way around the premises was the top of a high wall with cannons pointed to their outside marks. We could see most of Trondheim from there. The town center, the cathedral, the harbor, all the houses we admired, etc. I looked out and if I wasn't already in love with travel, mission work, and Trondheim-this was where that love was officially born.

We walked up to the house to find that it wasn't technically a house. It could be considered one as one remembers that's soldiers had to live there to keep watch. The tower (as we learned it was called) had three stories that you got to by stairs that were pretty much ladder-like. We couldn't imagine having to run up and down them without breaking your neck! On the first floor was a museum explaining the history of the tower and the people who served in it. On the second and third floors were holes in the sides of the tower where the beautiful cannons pointed. Some parts of the floor was scary to walk on because you could tell they made it more steady and safe, but you could also tell that they didn't rebuild the floor either (which I actually deeply appreciated). The walls were super thick! You could tell by looking at the windows. 

I stood outside that guard tower and tried to imagine all the action, chaos, and death that more than likely occurred there. The bark of orders from the one in charge to his troops, the smell of gun powder and cannon residue, the smoke, the quaking ground as they fired and were fired upon….the tears as people were killed-brothers, friends, and team mates. The men they were playing cards with just yesterday were now gone. I would imagine that today's soldiers, airmen, seamen, marines, and coasties can understand this picture. I then walked to the wall, stood by one of the huge cannons, and looked out. I saw this big green area. Families were enjoying the nice day- laughing, yelling, playing, eating… My mind replaced this scene with the yells of the enemy screaming out the orders that could've been those that lead to the death of the man who, back then, stood right where I was. I tried to imagine myself in such a place. The whole thing made my heart swell. For the men who were once there and for each and every person who is and has ever been in our own U.S. Military. For anyone who fights a war for who they love and what they believe in. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to go to my second cousin and tell her that her son didn't die in combat for nothing. I wanted to go to my wonderful grandpa and tell him how much his service was a blessing. I wanted to hug and cry into the arms of my marine best friend back home. I had never felt the sacrifice and loss of so many come into my heart before.

I walked out of that place in reverence.

We kept walking through neighbourhoods to get to the restaurant we would eat. I never minded walking. I mean, I had "trained" for it being a college student without a car. Plus, the views made it not too bad. (We also had to work off all the food we ate every day.) We stopped at this huge tower structure (two towers in one day!). It looked kind of like a radio tower to me. We had to take an elevator all the way up and when we came out all the way around was windows. It was a mix of amazing and terrifying. We were so high that we could see literally ALL of Trondheim and the surrounding area. It wasn't until we were seated at a table that we realized that the room was slowly rotating. It would make a full circle around in an hour. This was so that those eating could slowly see everything while they ate. Although, I think some were more in awe of the taco pizza. The rotation made finding the bathroom confusing since every time we had to go it was in a different place.
The next couple of days we went to work. We all got frustrated at least once, if not openly then silently. We all learned how to do something different (or re-learned how to do it differently). I learned how to spray paint, assemble a boxed item, sand a balance beam, paint, etc. All of these things most people already know how to do, but as we go through different circumstances, teams, leadership, etc. we often have to be ready to be taught them all over again. I mean, how could they know what I could or couldn't do? So, some of this time was being patient, quiet, and lovingly submissive as I was taught a different way to paint and use tools.

I, for one, was really impressed by all the skills I learned everyone had! I mean, I was learning who all of my team was. Even the one person I knew beforehand surprised me a couple of times. However, I struggled with this-connecting with my team. I have a "look, don't touch" preference when I am in pain-physically or emotionally. Because I carried a pain on this trip, I also carried that. I forced myself to talk to each of them at least once. (I don't use the word "forced" to say that they weren't amazing people that I eventually grew to admire and love. I use it to express the tone in which I, myself, was feeling.) Some took longer than others to get information out of and connect with. Which, is to be expected since we are all different. I had an assumption of myself- since I was used to being outside of groups due to moving, I would be okay being outside of this one. This assumption very quickly proved wrong. This made me angry with myself more than once. I hated not knowing everyone as well as they knew each other and I hated the fact that I hated it.

"How are you not over this petty feeling?"

That's the thought that went over and over in my head. However, in time they all became people I trusted and the beginnings to good friendships.

It rained a lot, so we were having to move building projects in and out of the garage a lot. All I could think of when we did that was BOOM, BANG, FIREPOWER! The rain wasn't heavy, but more of a drizzle. However, it always did rain long enough to soak things. It reminded me of how God's blessings aren't always "thick" to where you feel it immediately. Sometimes they are soft and happen over time, but they still thoroughly soak your life. That's how His blessings on me kind of happened. He drizzled His pure, amazing love all over my heart as a form of soothing oil. I didn't always feel it thick and heavy. But, it was abundantly obvious by the end of the trip. I left the U.S. full of doubt towards my heavenly Lover and came back fiercely sure of how he felt for me.

The Pastor's children we a daily blessing and source of heavy laughs. They could speak both English and Norwegian! (I know I shouldn't have been surprised, but my goodness it blew me away!) I couldn't help but be reminded of me and my sisters as the three of them interacted with us. You could easily see where they inherited such a precious spirit as you watched and talked with their parents. They always seemed to be welcoming people into their home (literally). There weren't many times there wasn't someone walking through their door. They poured so much into us as a family. They fed us, encouraged us, cared for us, translated for us (even the kids!), etc. In the wife you could immediately see such a tender heart and spirit. She made you feel as if you were home and in the best care you could be in. The pastor himself was very gifted to be such. I cannot even describe how strong and deeply imprinting it was to listen to him preach. Especially in a different language! You could see his love for God in his movements and face when he preached. 

While we're on this topic, I suppose I'll talk about the church a little. Someone (I forgot who) had mentioned that they were a Pentecostal church. Before the service, a group of us (both the team and members of the church) went into a separate room and prayed. Not just one person praying and then we left for service- a person started and anyone could pray after that and it would go on until someone felt they could or should end it in prayer. There was a mix of English and Norwegian prayers. All were powerful. All were unifying. All were beautiful. I imagine all were so precious and sweet to God.

We walked into the sanctuary. A lot of wood (which I adore) and the lights coming from the ceiling were those that look kind of like bubbles hanging from the ceiling. I loved it. The worship started and I could tell that most of us were entranced. The blend of voices and instruments weren't much different than that at home, but hearing worship in a language that's not your own has a certain mystery and magnificence to it. They did some songs in English for us, too.

We had these things that looked like walkie-talkies with headphones. They were translators. A woman in the congregation graciously translated the sermon for us. But, I kept one earbud in and one out so I could hear it both ways. I happen to believe God is amazing in timing. We happened to be there during a sermon series about being fearless. I felt anything but fearless. In fact, I hadn't felt fearless in a long time.

The Norwegian word for fearless is fryktløs. That word will probably stay with me for the rest of my life.

After service was a socializing time with coffee, tea, pastries, and other food. I tried seal thinking it was salmon (salty). Many people were fascinated by the thing we call home school. My friend and I (we both were home schooled) answered many questions for a couple people on this topic. Many had never heard of it. They were all intrigued by the concept. My friend and I also met our house host at this time. I was more than ecstatic to find that she and her husband were Swedish! She ultimately became one of my favorite people on this trip.

Because I am blonde haired and blue eyed, I was more than once approached and spoken to in Norwegian. I was an assumed Norwegian. It was kind of really cool having been the only blonde hair and blue eyed person in many classrooms filled with Hispanics and Blacks. On that note, I was talking to one of the church members and I said "the dark skinned woman" and he laughed at me saying that us Americans are too offended all the time. He told me it was okay to just say "black person". Although, in this case to say "African American" could've been correct, too. After he said that I began to think about us Americans. We really are too offended all the time. I came back and looked at facebook and couldn't stand to be on for more than 10 minutes. All the judgements, hate, offenses, etc. suddenly were just too obvious as to where before they were just part of everyday life. They also recycle everything. Every household has three trash cans and every street has three different dumpsters. Their way of life is just so different…most walk, bike, ski on skis with wheels, or just travel by some sort of exercise. There are cars, but why use that when we could save money and gas by walking or biking? 

Also, all the food tasted better. More fresh. Even food we have here tasted different. I didn't feel guilty eating anything!

I know that most of you are reading this and thinking, "This is all great, but what about the kids and people you went there to serve?" There wasn't any great revival. We don't have pictures of hundreds of children knelt down in prayer. In fact, a majority of the time we were so focused on what we were doing that we didn't think to take pictures. I sure didn't. Any pictures I put here are not ones I took. Many people have wondered why I have so many of the views and sights, but not of that time working or with kids. Well, when we were looking at the sights and views we were focused on those. We weren't working. One of our focuses was to capture what we saw on film or phone. But, that wasn't our focus at all while we were building a booth that would make a child laugh or talking to a parent about Jesus. Someone did get these pictures thankfully! My goal there wasn't to get as many selfies as I could. It was to show people who we serve. An amazing, loving, merciful, caring, genuine God. And they need this God even if they think they have it all.So, again, sorry for not having many pictures!

A lot of the children that we did interact with hadn't gotten to the grade level to begin learning English yet. Because of this, we had to try to communicate in a type of broken sign language- lots of hand motions and pointing. But these kids interacted this way eagerly and readily. Not many parents were there to interact with because parents more often than not sent their kids to us by themselves. I'm not gonna lie, this was sometimes frustrating. But, it didn't stop our ministry with these beautiful little souls. I learned how to say good job in Norwegian (godt jobba) and said it as the children completed my part of the obstacle course. I wanted to be able to say something in their language no matter how small it was. I saw their faces light up as I said it.

My house host, as I mentioned earlier, was one of my favorite people. She asked us questions about America and we asked her questions about Norway and Sweden. We cracked each other up trying to explain things we couldn't find the right words for in each other's language. Her English was awesome and she was learning more words as she spoke to us. I taught her the word "tweek" and she was very excited. She made me laugh a lot and her calming spirit often did wonders for me in the morning when I had to prepare for any chaos that could be thrown our way. I loved talking about God and the Bible with her! A topic we talked at length about was being unique women in God and what is beauty. Having two people from two different cultures made this a really cool conversation. Her husband and two little girls were on vacation while we were there so we got a lot of one-on-one time when we all had free time. This wasn't as often as you'd expect, but the times we had were like those little shavings of gold that gold miners might look over from time to time because they aren't bigger. They weren't big moments, but they were priceless.

I did eventually get to go to a Norwegian coffee shop. If any of you know me well, you know that this was definitely on the bucket list! I got a mocha (caffe mocca) and it tasted different despite the same ingredient list. I loved it. I also purchased a handmade, leather purse from a vendor that had his handmade items under a tent like structure outside the mall. I tell you, it was weird to see scarves being sold for 100 (kroners). A meal at McDonald's was 98.

A cloud of sadness came over the group as the time to leave drew very close. I mean, we were eager to see our families and sleep, but we had all fallen in love with at least a part of Norway. When we said our good-byes, it was definitely sad. We encouraged and prayed over the pastor. My first time ever in a taxi was the one that took us to the airport.

Also, sarcasm was something we couldn't really do because they took us seriously when we said it.

It was weird coming into the airport and seeing everyone reunited with their families. I suddenly knew what a deployed military individual felt when they walk off the plane and see no one. I mean, my friend's parents were there for me too, but it's not the same. 

My time in Norway means a lot to me. There was so many times that I thought about snapping a picture of the beautiful sky or journaling about my team's laughter as we played games, but then I would put the phone down and the pen away knowing that these moments didn't require any other documentation than a place in my memories. I was walking by the lake that my parents have near their house and I saw some small fish. I got my phone out for a picture, but then decided that not every amazing moment needs that. Sometimes we are given moments for us. Not for the world. Not for our church. Not even for those closest to us. Just us. I suppose that's why I've procrastinated in writing this. I feel like this whole trip is one of those moments.One big beautiful moment. But, I've also learned that some things aren't meant to be kept that way forever. Stories are meant to be shared, spiritual victories to be encouraging, and moments to be painted on the canvas in the minds of whoever finds it pleasing. 

Thank you to all who made this trip possible for me. I give all that glory and all of the glory of this trip to God. 

Taylyr Davis


Here are some pictures of our time! (As I said, I didn't take these, so photo credit goes to my team members!)


Face painting at the festival!
 
Movie night! Tangled in Norwegian!
Gymnastics obstacle course!
 
My station! (I'm in the black shirt and khaki capris!)

Yard work at the Pastor's home.

Building, painting, assembling-oh my!
Food!! (Where I tried liver)

Skills!
The amazing pastor!

Our team before departing to Norway!

Festival!
 
Mini-golf! (My booth)

My house host!

Thursday, April 7, 2016

The Enemy of Me

I pray almost everyday for God to give me patience, grace, love, etc. for other people. But, the person I often forget to pray this over is myself.
As I sometimes zone out and remember random points in my life, I recognize a hateful, abusive pattern that I have towards myself. One that is constantly destructive and overwhelming.
I was talking to a friend of mine last night in a very emotional, depression drenched state and I said to him, "What if all this time I've been the monster?"
He answered me in the way I least expected him to; he said, "It's possible, maybe it's time to face yourself."
At the time I was irritated and wondered how he could confirm such as awful thing!
But, then I realized how right he was.
I remembered how in the movie/book Insurgent (the second book in the Divergent series), Tris' final challenge in the simulations to open the box is to face herself. She held onto the guilt she felt for killing her friend, she belittled herself for it. She convinced herself that she wasn't worth anything. She had to face the root of every fear, insecurity, and guilt she had ever felt-her very own self.
I know how she felt holding onto a guilt as if it would be wrong to let it go. I saw myself in the character of Tris Prior.
Not the part of her that made it through Dauntless and became this mighty over comer that everyone wanted to be. No, I connected with the little girl that tried so hard to stay brave and untouched by everything around her, but inside just broke more all the time.
We all struggle with ourselves and where we fit in all of this messy world. Often times I feel as if my mind is like that broken, bleak dystopian world and I'm just trying to find my place in it.
I'm trying to find peace in the middle of chaos and safety among wolves.
I fear being factionless in my own mind.
It's scary when you can't even find love and acceptance from yourself. How can we find that anywhere else if it's nowhere to be seen from the person we're closest to (us)?
Thank goodness we have such a warrior of a God! 
Many times through the day, I feel and hear God fighting and counteracting the lies I tell myself. He's here in my mind and spirit fully clothed in armor and ready to defend what's His before I even know I'll need to sound the distress call! He is the wonderful, perfect mediator between me and myself. But the most amazing thing to me about it all is that He sees the monsters in me just as well as the ones outside. And instead of throwing me aside saying, "Oh, you're defective! I can't use you!"

          He holds me and says, "Come here, precious child! I have a place for you!"

Those monsters inside us don't affect God's plan for us! But they do affect how we embrace or carry out His plan. We can't let our own selves cripple us. If we think about it, that is often the very thing that does.

I've been doing some things to help myself out in those battles and if any of them sound cool or good to you, take it! Use it!

1) When I do hear those encouraging words from God, I write them on sticky notes or bright paper and tape them everywhere! On my mirrors, walls, desk, the ceiling over my bed.....anywhere I'll see them. I read them whether I mean to or not because they're in my face. lol

2) When I become abusive to myself verbally, I yell with myself out loud if I'm alone. I know, it sounds crazy, but it's like with anyone else-arguing can help get stuff out and healing started. (this one doesn't happen very often since I live in a dorm)

3) I make coffee in my favorite cup and read anywhere in the Bible. I literally just open it and force myself to read from there no matter where it's at.

4) I walk with Needtobreathe pandora radio on. I don't allow myself to skip songs.

This next one is super important...at least to me.

5) When I need to cry, I let myself cry. Even if it's over a "stupid" reason.

6) Find a "counter partner or buddy". It's almost like a traveling buddy, but with quite a different journey and destination. This is a person who you can verbalize all the self-hate and verbal abuse to and they'll speak truth into you. They'll let you get it out, but they won't let you dwell in it or let it stick. They help counteract the venom with encouragement.

Giving yourself patience, grace, love, etc. is important and essential.
So is acknowledging that sometimes that monster you're fighting is yourself and where those ugly words are coming from. (Not God!)

Also, remember who is bigger and stronger! (Jesus!)

One of the girls...
           Taylyr


Sunday, August 2, 2015

Through the Waterfall: A Chilling Tale About Divergence

I went on a Whitewater rafting trip with our 7th graders this last week and it was so much fun!
This one part of the trip has really stayed with me since it happened: On the last day of rafting, part of the day was this hike that I was told was around an eighth of a mile in distance. On this hike, we walked along this really clear, beautiful river. The river was VERY cold because it was mostly water that ran off the mountain (aka-snow water!). 
This hike ended at these two waterfalls that ran right next to each other with a gap in the middle. In this gap, the kids were told was a small, short place where they could jump off. 
I don't know if you know this, but 7th graders LOVE jumping off stuff! So, they went straight to it. However, to get to the spot, they had to swim to the rock wall, use it to inch to and through one of the waterfalls, and eventually climb onto the place to jump. It looked easy enough as I saw child after child do it, so I decided to give it a try.
I swim to the wall and start inching to the waterfall. I get to the waterfall and look up. Water is already splashing onto the shoulders of my life jacket as I enter the waterfall. 
It was not as easy as it looked.
Not only was the water freezing, but there was no gap between the waterfall itself and the rock wall behind it. I had to slowly continue to inch my way along the wall as the powerful current tried to sweep me away and I was trying to breathe as water filled my nose and mouth. To top it off, I couldn't open my eyes at all. 
To be honest, it really scared me.
After what felt like a long time, the current started receding and I could open my eyes. My body felt like all the warmth had been sucked from me and I had just gone through a washing machine. My eyelids felt sore from being squeezed shut and my lungs hurt as I tried to inhale deep breaths. 
But I had made it.
I climbed onto that small, short rock. I looked around for a second. Then I jumped. 
This wasn't by far the most thrilling jump I did during the week, but I look back at it and deem it my favorite.
I also look back and wonder how differently it would have gone without a life jacket to keep me at least floating. As I felt the water pounding me down further into the deep, icy river, I also remember feeling the life jacket holding me up so that I could keep going.
Our speaker for the week spoke on being divergent in our faith. Being kind to those we hate, loving the outcasts, and standing out even when we'd rather not. Sometimes this divergence puts us under some strong, icy currents that try to pull us under. Sometimes it's hard to see our goal and stay spiritually breathing when pressure, bullies, or being left behind pounds on our backs. 
But Jesus, our spiritual life jacket, keeps us afloat so that we can keep going! He helps us fight the pounding and chill of the world we live in so that when we see that rock we can jump and look back later knowing that we did it! 
Divergence is not always comfortable. It can actually be really scary. But that jump-whether it's developing a new friendship, watching someone come to Christ, or coming to the end of your life knowing you're going to be with God-will be worth it. No matter how small that jump looks from the outside. 
If we keep Jesus, our life jacket, with us we won't ever sink. God lets us know what will happen if we keep going:

"Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him." -James 1:12

If we keep going under those waterfalls, we'll get through it. God even tells us that He will strengthen us!

"I can do all things through him who strengthens me." -Philippians 4:13

Keep going because our heavenly life jacket has you!

One of the girls.....
         Taylyr Jane 

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Today, Tomorrow, the Next Day...Oh My!

I'm involved in a 7th grade youth group this summer working as a mid-group leader. 
This morning we started a thing called Beach Studies. We meet every Thursday morning and study God's word before diving into the freezing ocean. We decided to do our study on the women of the Bible. I am so stoked for this study! 
My friend, another mid-group leader, started us off with Proverbs 31. You know what that is right? Of course you do! 
She was reading it and we came upon verse 25:

"She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future."

Does that hit anyone else right in the heart? 
I mean, the last thing I usually do when thinking about the future is laugh. The future is scary. Especially for a college student that's leaving home, hopefully getting a job quickly, and has a full school schedule. So much to juggle!
Yet, this verse tells us that a woman should look at the future in two ways:

#1: with laughter
#2: without fear

Lately, my future has been on my mind. A lot. And, I have to admit, sometimes all the choices I'll have to make scare me. Matthew talks about fearing tomorrow:
"There fore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?"
Matthew 7:25

I guess I shouldn't be worrying how I'm going to pay to do laundry, then? 
"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
Matthew 7:34

That verse has always made me chuckle inside. I can picture God wagging His finger at me and saying, "Taylyr! You're gonna get into enough trouble today as it is! Stop planning how to screw up tomorrow!" 
Instead of trusting God with my tomorrow's and next year's, I have a bad habit of giving myself panic attacks over them. I cause smoke to come out of my ears and my fears to get ahead of me. Even worse, I try to plan my life! *gasp!*
Sometimes I can't stand the thought that my life isn't mapped out. That I can't be like Dora and just pull out a talking map to see where I'm going. To see what my obstacles will be. 
But God knows.
So, instead of me being in control, I have to say, "God, you know better. You've got this."
It turns into....
I'm going to depend on myself God to get through today.

Now, you may have noticed I completely skipped the laughter part and went right to the easy part.
I mean, what the heck does that mean? 
Am I supposed to literally look at tomorrow and laugh at it? Think about how much I'll screw up and laugh at myself? 
I don't think that's quite it.....
The New American Standard Bible says it this way:
 ".....And she smiles at the future."

King James:
"......and she shall rejoice in time to come."

When it says to "laugh" at the future, I believe it simply means to be joyful. To look positively at the future. 
This ties in wonderfully with not being afraid of the future! (No! Really, Taylyr??)
Not only does the author say to not be afraid of the future, but he tells us what to replace that fear with: laughter, rejoicing, smiles! 

 So, laugh, rejoice, and smile! Put the day in God's hands, even if it looks like you've got it all under control.

One of the girls.....
Taylyr Jane