Meal Planning & Jesus

When I first started this blog, it was supposed to be a tool to hold myself accountable for establishing healthy rhythms in my life and to share some of what I'm learning, etc. It worked for a bit, and then I got a new job at the Y, moved, and found it difficult to establish good habits while I was working that split shift - having to be at work so early, home later in the evening, and then to bed early. Could I have done it? Of course. But I didn't do it well.

Fast forward 9 months and here I am, establishing myself in MHK. I've figured out the basic rhythm of my job (whose hours vary week to week, but in a really good way. Case in point: It's 9am and I'm still home. Note: About 5 minutes after typing this I got called into work. I'm now finishing this over my lunch break!) and am starting to get into good routines.

I went to Wichita last week and it completely threw me off my game. Something I am learning about myself (and maybe this is true of most people?) is that if you take me out of my routine, I'm not going to naturally re-establish it. So Wichita was hard in some ways... but here are the highlights...

 I was in Wichita for a training teaching me how to lead the class prospective foster/adoptive parents take... they gave us stickers for participating and it made me way too happy. Also, coloring sheets.

 

 

By Wednesday night, I was so bored of sitting in my hotel room watching shows about gypsies on TLC, I just picked a direction and drove. My drive led me to a sign for a lake, so I turned down a gravel road and was rewarded with a gorgeous little lake, complete with ducks. It was nice to just sit on the shore and be quiet (while also looking over my shoulder every 10 seconds to make sure I was still alone. I need to stop watching crime shows, you guys). Jesus meets me in nature, every time I stop for long enough to notice it.

 

After Wichita, I went to KC. It was my first time back since I moved and it was great to see so many friends and of course my family.

 

Love these people more than words.

 

But I was so happy to get home to Manhattan. I need structure and rhythm in my life. When I don't have it, I get lazy and distracted. I get more selfish.

 

This week I am practicing structure through the art of meal planning. My co-workers go out to lunch every day and it is always a temptation to go with them, but neither my budget nor my goal to eat healthy could support that as an every day habit. I also despise packing lunches. So if I cook a few meals a week, it provides enough food and variety for bringing leftovers for lunch and eating dinner in the evening.

I know you're dying to know what I've made/am planning this week.

 

Sunday - Chicken, Sweet Potato, and Apple Skillet. It was delicious but if I make it again I think I will use chicken sausage instead of chicken breast.

 

Monday - Thai Turkey Meatballs. Baller ass, you guys. I will probably do a separate blog post with this recipe.

 

Tuesday - One Pan Salmon with Garlic-Lemon Butter and Roasted Veggies (I'm doing brussell sprouts, asparagus, and cherry tomatoes)

These three meals will be enough to feed me through the end of the week. Holla.

 

If you've made it through this whole post, I am impressed. It's probably my most boring one yet. But here's the thing:

 

I'm learning that the everyday, ordinary that happens in my life affects my spirit in a real and tangible way. That there is so distinction between the sacred and the secular. When I cook these meals, I find myself marveling at the spices, smells, colors, textures of all of these foods that God has given us. When I am doing the dishes with my hands covered in suds and music playing in the background, I am reminded to slow down, to follow through. I get to see the kitchen go from chaos to order and it reminds me of a God who is doing the same thing in my soul, drawing me closer to Him and making me more like my Jesus, healing my broken places and making me strong for the next battle.

 

Praise God for His faithfulness to us, for the lessons He teaches us in the places we least expect them. And who doesn't get mad at me for calling something baller ass.

 

Peace,

Emily





Lessons Learned in MHK

I've been living in Manhattan for a little over a month now. In what I think is a typical feeling, it feels both much longer and much shorter than that, but mostly it just feels right.

Jesus has been showing up a lot in the past month, teaching me and loving on me. I've felt his presence much closer than I have in probably over a year in this last month. Remember how I said in my last post I feel closer to God in Manhattan? It's true.

What have I been learning, you ask?

"Joy is the realest reality, the fullest life, and joy is always given, never grasped. God gives gifts and I give thanks and I unwrap the gift given: joy." - Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

"Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have broken rejoice." -Psalm 51:8

"O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall declare your praise." -Psalm 51:15

Joy. Praise. Thanksgiving.

Taking a walk alone and overflowing with thanksgiving and joy to Jesus for His goodness.

Those things have been a big theme for about 3 of the 4 1/2 weeks that I've been here. Then last week hit. It was one sad thing after another. Cases at work, co-workers stories of pain in their own lives or the lives of their families, and the news, you guys, the news last week. Tragedy after tragedy. I felt so incredibly burdened and despondent.

"Jesus, come back. Jesus, why? Why do you allow these things? Why do you allow this pain and this suffering? How can you ask me to engage it, to let myself feel it? It's too much. I can't carry it." This was my almost constant dialogue with the Lord, mixed with a decent amount of good ol' fashioned being pissed off. I was feeling so hopeless.

This is not an uncommon place for me to be in. Most of the time, I have to actively choose hope over despair, truth over doubt. It's without a doubt the biggest struggle in my relationship with God.

So that's where I was all week. Then on Thursday night I went to Ichthus with Kristin. I didn't really want to go - I felt weird about going back to a college ministry that I had been gone from for three years. But I went, and I'm so glad I did. John talked about exactly what I was wrestling with and preached the truth. That hope is real and it's already, but it's not fully here yet. We have to claim it. And we can't do it alone. We need the body. Oh man, it was exactly what I needed. I needed to be reminded of the resurrection power and of the bigger picture. Because, what's that saying? It's hard to see the forest through the trees? There's probably something more profound I could allude to, but just go with it. I get to bogged down in the everyday pain - and that pain is real. I don't want to ignore it or become numb to it; I think it's important to engage with it and wrestle with it. But I can't forget the bigger picture. I can't forget the hope. That Jesus actually lived and actually died and was actually resurrected. And the same power that resurrected Jesus from the dead lives in me. Today. Right now.

I will continue to fight this fight with despair and sometimes I'll be overcome a little bit. And that's when the body of Christ will be so vital to me - to give me a hand up and to remind me of the truth and the hope.

These are lyrics to a love song by the Avett Brothers, but I'd like to think they can be even bigger than that; that they can apply to me and the rest of the body:

"I hope that I don't sound too insane when I say
There is darkness all around us
I don't feel weak but I do need sometimes for her to protect me
And reconnect me to the beauty that I'm missing"

So, friends, when you see me flirting with hopelessness, please remind me. Remind me of the hope of the Gospel. That Jesus has already won the War and it is finished. That someday all things will be made right and the suffering and the pain will be a distant memory as we worship the King in the fullness of His glory. And until then, we get to claim the hope and we get to be His hands and feet to the broken, and the suffering, and the hopeless. We get to bring the resurrection power just a little bit nearer.

Happy Easter :)

Peace,
Emily

Return to the Promise Land (read: Manhattan, KS)

Can I say that I feel closer to God in Manhattan?

I moved here almost a month ago through a series of serendipitous events. Everything fell into place so seamlessly that not to move to Manhattan would have felt like the weirder decision.

Here's the story:

I had been feeling discontent with my job for various reasons and thinking that I would start looking for something new for the fall.

I was feeling a little stuck in KC. Nothing major, just unsure of what my purpose was there. I was starting to get an itch to go somewhere different. I'm 25, single, and there was nothing holding me there - why not venture a little further from the nest? I also didn't want to move across the country; the itch wasn't that big. So Manhattan came to mind. My sister lives here and will be here for the next few years in grad school. My dear friend Meg lives her and is expecting her first baby in August.

And, I mean, it's Manhattan. The Promised Land. The town that held so many memories of four years in college - laughter, heartache, growth, humility, mistakes - the whole deal.

I told a few of my close girlfriends that I was contemplating a change. Asked them to pray for me. That God would make clear what He wanted me to do. That I would have peace and direction.

That same night, I got online to see what types of jobs might be available in Manhattan, just to get an idea. I applied on a whim for a job at TFI Family Services for a Foster Care Worker.

They called me the next day to set up an interview. I scheduled phone interview for the following Tuesday. Tuesday rolled around and I was so nervous. More nervous than I've ever been for an interview in my life. I'm not trying to brag, but I nailed the interview. Nailed it. I felt so good afterward. But then they didn't call me for over a week. I started losing hope. I had butterflies in my stomach alldayeveryday. I called a week after the interview and asked for an update. She told me they were making the decision that day and to "hang tight". I got a call a few hours later and they offered me the job. I negotiated the salary a little (heyo!) and accepted the job, with a start date of just a little over two weeks from when I accepted.

The next couple of weeks were a straight up whirlwind.

First, I went to Waco to welcome my new baby nephew into the world and hang out with my other nephews and my sister-in-law and brother.

That was wonderful. I love those boys so much and it was great to have some time off work before I started a new job.

I got back to Kansas City on a Tuesday night, worked Wednesday and Thursday, packed Friday, and moved to Manhattan on Saturday, March 15.

The move went really well! My bestie, Laura Wetzel, drove my car and spent Saturday night and part of Sunday with me to help me get settled in. I am so thankful for her help. I think I would've been so much more overwhelmed if she hadn't come along.

Where am I living, you ask?
I moved in with a girl I had never met, but who came highly recommended by my sister and John Schwartz (Ichthus pastor and trusted friend). When someone comes with a John Schwartz seal of approval, you know their top notch. Katie and I talked on the phone twice before I moved in, but weirdly, neither of us were really worried about it. (When I say weirdly, I mean that I think that God's hand was so heavily involved in the whole thing that both of us just knew that it was going to be great.) And it has been great. She is wonderful. She is currently sitting across from me at a table at Arrow Coffee (my new favorite coffee shop in MHK).

I started my job the Monday after I moved in and have loved every minute of it. It's the best job I've ever had. I get to support foster families and advocate for foster kiddos. I'm so happy and finally feel like I'm doing what I was meant to do.

Can I say that I feel closer to God in Manhattan?

Because I do. I feel His presence closer to me. I feel this peace that I can't explain or describe. It's like I can breathe deeper. I sleep better.

I have a lot more to say about my time here so far, but this post is already way too long, so I'll just leave you here for now. But I'll be back soon. :)

Peace,
Emily

Advent

If you know me even a little bit, you know how much I love the Christmas season. I am a fierce believer in waiting to start celebrating the Christmas season until the day after Thanksgiving, but you better believe I start my Christmas countdown in April. A friend asked me in an offhand way this season, why I love Christmas so much, and it made me think. 

Why do I love Christmas? 

I love it for the anticipation. Stringing the lights on the tree and covering it with ornaments, knowing how beautiful it will be when I run outside holding my three year old nephew to look at it through the front window. Finding a perfect gift for someone and thinking about their face when they open it Christmas morning. Knowing that people are trying to find the perfect gift for you and thinking about opening it Christmas morning. 

Waiting for the Christ-child to be born in a stable, this tiny helpless baby that was also the fullness of God. The Word becoming flesh, sacrificing his needs for our salvation.

I love it for the JOY. Little nephews putting ornaments on the advent tree and their eyes lighting up as the days get closer. A whole family under the same roof, playing games and reading together. Shared meals and conversations. CHRISTMAS MUSIC. Decorating cookies and drinking eggnog. Friends gathered around a kitchen table for hours. The twinkling lights all around the city. The smell of a fresh Christmas tree. A fire roaring under handmade stockings.

Imagining Mary making it through a hard and uncertain labor to finally behold this baby that she shouldn't have, but is real and flesh in her arms anyway, tenderly supported by Joseph, who could've abandoned her and didn't. The joy she must've felt, cradling the God-child in her arms. 

I love it for the holiness. There is something so holy, so sacred, about Christmas. I've seen the Christmas story through new eyes this year as my three year old nephew has been processing that little baby Jesus is also God. He's said things like "aww, baby God" when talking about God loving him no matter what. He doesn't get it; he's so confused. And it made me ask myself, Do I really get it? really? Have I become so complacent with the story of Jesus' birth that I have forgotten the mystery and scandal that surrounds it? Am I so arrogant that the thought of God allowing himself to become a human infant no longer amazes me? I was humbled. I was reminded of the mystery, the magic, the holiness. So tonight when I go to church, I am asking God to remind me again in the words of the hymns, in the reading of the Gospel, in the sacredness of communion, that Christmas is not ordinary, it is not trite, it is not about consumerism or spending or even family - it is about the selfless God laying Himself down for selfish humans in order to redeem us. 

These reasons, and so many more, are why I love Christmas. I don't ever want to lose the anticipation, joy, and holiness that make up the Christmas season. I pray that each year God teaches me more about who He is and who that makes me during the Advent season. 

May you experience the peace, love, and hope of Jesus this Christmas and forever. 

Peace, 
Emily

to whom shall we go?

I've been meaning to update the blog for weeks - it's been almost a month since my last post. That's crazy to me. Time is flying by.

When I started this blog a few months ago, it was to document the healthy rhythms I was trying to create in my life. I was doing pretty well for a while. Then summer came. Then I decided to start looking for a new job. Then I found a new job, left my old one, moved, and have basically been sick since the second week that school started. So healthy rhythms feel a little bit like a joke right now. There was one week about two weeks ago I was starting to do pretty well - I went to the gym three times, I was conscious of eating healthy, my room was coming together. Then I got sick again. And I'm still sick. I'm mad at myself for not going to the doctor. I thought about going to urgent care today but I found out my co-pay would be $75 and I'm not shelling out $75 for a cold that won't go away. So I'll be a hermit this weekend and go to the doctor Monday.

Anyway, all that to say, these last few months are not exactly what I hoped they would be. I feel a little bit like I'm just trying to keep my head above the water. I'm also trying to walk in grace. I've been thinking a lot about my relationship with Jesus these past couple of months, and I realized something: For the first time in about 5-7 years, or maybe ever, I don't have external pressure to have a strong relationship with Jesus. In high school, I went to a Christian school, I was very involved in youth group and led worship - my status as a Jesus Follower was probably my main identity. After my freshman year of college, I did summer staff for two summers, and got involved in Ichthus, eventually becoming a life group leader. It was important for me to keep my relationship with Jesus strong so that I could be a good leader and be able to be authentic. After I graduated, I became a youth pastor. If I didn't have a strong relationship with Jesus, I knew I couldn't minister to the kids, or at least it wouldn't be sustainable. But now, there isn't a clear external pressure forcing me to be in relationship with Him. I don't have someone asking me every week what God is teaching me. It's weird. But I think it's good for me. I have to figure out how to let the motivation to stay "connected to the vine" come from my own desire to love and glorify God instead of doing it for the sake of other people or to maintain some sort of image.

I don't really know how I'm doing so far. I don't want to try to measure it at this point. If I was measuring by the number of "quiet times" I've had, I'd be doing very poorly. If I was measuring it by how connected to God I feel, it'd be decent but not great. If I was measuring it by my commitment to not give up, I'd be doing pretty well. I've been thinking a lot about John 6 when Jesus asks the disciples if He wants to leave them and Peter says, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life..." If I had to sum of my relationship with Jesus in one sentence, it would be this. I have a lot of questions and not very many answers. I have doubts. But I also know there isn't another answer. Jesus is the answer, to everything. And so I am resting in His grace, and saying to him when He asks me if I'm giving up, "Jesus, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life..."

Peace,
Emily

Finally.

I finally painted my room. I basically haven't liked the color since my early college years, but I was never home long enough for it to feel worth it to paint it. Then I lived at home for a year, but I kept putting it off and it never happened (can you tell I don't like painting?).

So this weekend I bit the bullet and did it. With prep and waiting for the first coat to dry, I was working for about 8 hours. Whew. BUT SO WORTH IT.

Before:

After: 

Isn't it so much better? It's a grayish purple if you can't tell from the picture. I'll post pictures once I get my room all cute and organized, too.

I'm so ready to be settled. I don't like living in transition.

A Fresh Start

I moved this weekend - well, yesterday. I pretty much packed and moved all in one day because that's the way I roll. I detest moving so I want to do it for the shortest amount of time possible. That resulted in me being grumpy/emotional last night because I was exhausted, and sore today because... I'm out of shape. And I moved a mattress that was really too heavy for me. Get 'er done though, ya know?

Where did I move? Oh, just back in with the parents. I was supposed to move in with a friend, but that didn't work out, so my parents are taking me back in so I won't be homeless. THANKS, GUYS!!

I actually think moving back home is something the Lord is forcing me to do for my own good. This was a rough year for me for a lot of reasons. I learned a lot about myself this year and what kind of environment I need to be in to really be healthy. I essentially lived by myself this year and I found out that that isn't good for me. I isolate myself. Then I become lonely. I think living at home, however long this season ends up being, will really be a time of restoration and healing for my soul. And there's no way in hell that I'm going to be able to isolate myself because not only am I living with my parents, but my brother and sister-in-law are living her as well. So it's a big happy family.

I left this morning for work at 6:15am. And by 6:15am, two people (my mom and brother) had said to me, "Have a good day!" I know that doesn't sound like a big deal, but when I was getting in the car, it just struck me how much I liked that. It's not like I've actively been missing someone wishing me a good day in the morning, but it's one of those things that when you've been without it, and then get it again, you realize how much it means to you. I think this is going to be good for me. God knows what He's doing.

I have my work cut out for me still in the whole unpacking department. And i desperately need to paint my room. I painted my room in high school - 3 walls blue, 1 wall coral. It's not.cute. So I will be painting and unpacking and organizing this weekend.

For now, this is how I'll be living...

Have a great week!
Peace,
Emily