Blur...

The last three and a half(ish) months have felt like a blur. Let me explain...

It was a Wednesday. There was a note and a single red rose on the windshield of my car. I had been a nervous wreck getting ready that morning. I had an observation by someone from a large education company in my 1st period (teacher friends-- you get me) who had helped me plan a lesson the day before. (This is an ongoing process of my school and was not at all singled out to me.) I had been out of the classroom that Tuesday and I was going to be out the following day so I was planning from a sub to a sub and hoping I could teach something that made sense in the middle. I was dressed professionally and walked out to my car with my bags on bags on bags.

And there it was- a bright orange note with my name written on it and a single red rose. I was pretty sure I knew who it was from but was still hesitant until I opened the letter and saw his name.  

Matt.

The name of the sweet man that has pursued my heart over the last three months thoughtfully and totally under Jesus and with grace for both of us. It was a letter saying thank you and a letter that encouraged me. And in the letter, he told me I was beautiful. I asked God specifically for someone who told me I was "beautiful" not just "cute" or "pretty." And He answered that prayer well. And Matt has told me multiple times since. 

And I'm just really grateful for him. And the way he pursues Jesus's heart over mine. And the way he pursues me while following Jesus. 

Rewind again... Three months ago on a Saturday, I went on a dinner date. Our first date. With Matt.

To Lindo Michocan-- one of the best Mexican restaurants in Vegas-- that has a beautiful view of the entire city. He had chosen the seats next to the window and we sat and talked about how we ended up in Vegas, and our families, and our journeys with Jesus. We followed dinner with frozen yogurt and sitting and chatting for quite some time. I went home relieved. And felt something there but wasn't sure what to call it. I had no idea what was coming.

Matt and I had met the Sunday before at Hope (the church we both go to) at an interest meeting for a Tanzania trip and he had called the following Monday. We talked on the phone for an hour, which I realize is not something people do anymore and we both knew that. And definitely not something either of us do with people outside of our families. We planned for dinner Saturday. On Saturday, we went on the date detailed above and it went really well. We saw each other for a few minutes at church on that Sunday, talked on the phone for a couple of hours and then had dinner on Monday.

Basically, the story is we've talked, messaged or seen each other everyday since. 

I have scarcely dated since my freshmen year of college. So this is not just some random blog with a random guy and a few random stories. It is about Matt-- this guy who has sincerely and respectfully pursued my heart and has not allowed me to settle for anything less than what God has asked of me.

He's a complementer and a truth teller but he does not say things for the sake of saying things. He is wise with his words. When we first talked on the phone, he called twice and left me a message on one of them. He opens doors. He brings me flowers every once in a while. He sends me texts while I'm working to let me know he's thinking about me. He is not perfect but is honest and transparent and has said the entire time we've dated he wants to know my heart. And my heart he has totally stolen. 

So I'm a little overwhelmed with it all at times but so grateful I've waited and prayed and begged God to give me a sweet man like Matt. And Jesus has so faithfully answered and given and provided. So my eyes are a little blurry looking at the whole situation but in a good way. In the best way. 

Because Jesus does the best things for us and through us and with us. 

Will share more later-- this blog has taken me a few weeks to just finish! 

Love each of you sweet friends and praying for God's absolute best for you. May we all trust him more and more. 

Melis 

Fake flowers {on anxiety}

We stood outside of Olive Garden. Her sweet head tucked under my chin, like my child. She wasn't letting go and I knew she didn't want to. There are so many ugly and dark things in the world and sometimes when we stand in an embrace or hold someone's hand, we can forget that. Because more things feel right.

Her life took a devastating turn within the last couple of weeks and she replayed all of it for me as we sat over dinner. Some of the first food she has eaten as a full meal since everything happened. I so sympathetized with her broken heart and her depression and her anxiety. 

A couple of months ago, I think I ate less than 5 full meals in a week because I had major anxiety over an upcoming event. I'm pretty sure that my sickness back in December was the result of a 24 hour virus and intense stress of preparation for a trip and how much things were changing. As a matter of fact, the whole fall now feels like a big blur. I considered moving back to the South. I considered changing schools. I considered just quitting a lot of the stuff I was doing because I felt like I was becoming mad. Not mad in an angry way but mad in a crazy, certifiably insane way. And no one wants to feel that out of control. 

But panic and anxiety and depression play out like that. They leave you without control. The very thing you wanted becomes the thing you no longer have. It is so strange and I'm not sure if you haven't dealt with any of it- that it completely makes sense. 

So when she and I walked out of the restaurant and I gave her an "I'm here for you" hug and she held on, I knew I had to do exactly what God wanted me to. Say a prayer. Out loud. With her. Over her broken and aching and anxious heart. And remind her of the same Truths God has filled my heart with. Every time I've felt like I'm falling into a pit or falling apart. 

That He is enough. 

That He knows all of me. The anxious and non-anxious parts. The busy in my head and the busy out of my mouth. 

The what feels crazy and what feels okay is all okay. 

That He's got this. 

That He radically changes things.

She was my student in 8th grade several years ago and when she messaged me the other day, I knew that something wasn't right but I know it can be. Because God changes things. In all the best ways. 

When she walked in, she handed me a bag of a random assortment of items. One of those items were fake flowers so I would keep them on my desk and see them and remember how much I impacted her but I think God had a different notion. That when I see those flowers, I will stop and sympathize with my anxious ones. With my sweet heartbroken ones who need gut wrenching prayers. With my young ones who just smile and nod but seem really insecure. Because she was all those things once. And she was in my classroom each day. And it will be a reminder to pray for her too. 

And a reminder for my anxious days as well. That He's in control and He's got this and I can trust Him. And I can go to sleep with a trusting heart knowing that. 

So get some fake flowers and place them next to the place you see the most as a reminder that we all need to be loved so well. And that we are all loved so well by the King of Kings. And I can go to bed with an incredibly grateful heart over that too. -Melis

The beauty of a family.

I was on a turbulent plane. Feeling a little bit nauseous. Any time I'm physically sick or just exhausted or hungry (of all I am now), the enemy feeds a bunch of ugly lies. So I was sitting there asking God to show me the good in all my mess. And holding back tears. (Because I was on a plane, and who wants to sit next to a crying baby OR a crying 30-something 😳😁.) 

I give myself a hard time a lot about the right and wrong words I've said to kids. Kids that I realize I have for a short amount of time. Kids who call me because they don't know what to do. Kids who call me because they need advice. Most of them aren't kids in the term of age but they're my kids. I told someone a few weeks ago that my school is like my home and those kids are mine. I don't just let anyone take care of the kids in my house and I mean it still. 

I beg God in certain time periods for mentors for so many of them because I feel so incredibly inadequate and out of place and unworthy. And for reasons, only known to Him, He keeps sending them to me. On Monday, I knew that even writing this would bring an awareness one of them would probably talk to me about something in which they need immediate advice or wisdom and I needed to be mindful of the words only God gives. Because it is Him. And boy, did I ever need that prayer this week. Because one became so many. 

I would never do this. I'm too selfish with my time and friends and family. I want those things and people for myself. 

God quickly reminded me of one of the sweetest families I've ever met from my first year at Global. Their son was in my class and they had invited a whole group of us to dinner with them. Because that's what family does. You eat together and share stories and clean up. I attended his graduation and sat in between his dad and brother. It was like I was part of their family. Still called his sister and I consider that a huge compliment and honor.

My mom asks about Chandler all the time. My sister talks about Chandler like they've spent significant time together over a period of time but that's not the case. I just tell Chandler stories a lot and those become like my family stories. 

The hardest part of living in Vegas is being without a "family." But I have so many adopted family members. (Besides the ones already mentioned.) Teri and Tommy who have taken me to dinner and had me over multiple times. Shannon and Todd who ask me to be part of their family for dinner and time out and shows and TIME. Kristi and Steve who are strong mentors and also willing to do things like pick me up at their airport at midnight with no complaints and only love. James and Maly and Tom and Crystal make me feel welcome as a servant at church. My boss makes my kids and I like family. And a lot of the time (even on bad days) my kids feel like mine. 

I got to spend a lot of time with my family last weekend in Georgia and I loved playing with my niece, chatting with my parents over dinner, seeing my sister and brother-in-law as a part of their worship team at church and talking to my cousin about all that is going on in her life at the moment.

All of that to say, there is so much beauty in family. And there are so many people looking for that same community and dinner table and people to pick them up from the airport.

While there are also a large amount of kids WAITING for that same dinner table, the same community and a person to travel with because maybe they've never been anywhere out of the city they're in. 

I ask and beg you to find someone who needs community and family and BE. 

Just simply BE.

I'm ready to keep doing that. -Melis

"You have won my heart more than any other..." {to my sweet single20-something girls}

Dear sweet single 20-something year old girl,

I sat with one of your friends today. And several of your other friends this past weekend. We talked about a lot of things.

Today, your most honest friend was the realest. Per the usual. We talked about this season and time of year and this season of life. And the difficulties and pain you feel. Oh the difficulties and pain that silence and isolate you to the very core. 

If I could take a moment of that hurt from you, I would willingly take it as my own, even if it means I suffer through the tears of all things and the physical agony of others and the mean things people say without realizing the MEANing of it all. They never meant for you to replay those terrible things through your head over and over and over.

Those words weren't meant to feed lies that make you think you're not good enough, over the top, too much, too skinny or fat, too right or wrong, too willing to share, too closed off. They meant none of those things... yet, those words echo through you like someone yelling your name in the Grand Canyon. And on behalf of the person who said it to you, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the dreams you've had of it, the tears welling up in your eyes at this very moment, the sleepless nights you've had this week. I. AM. SO. SORRY. 

It is the season of love and if you're not in a relationship, you are wondering how you can tie up the person/group of people who invented this lovestruck mess of a day and tell them everything you're thinking so that someone will hear your hurting. (#Hashtag: When you find them, I will help. You're welcome in advance.)

I was 21 once. (10 years ago, but whatever.) And I knew how BADLY I wanted to be married. Now I'm 31 and I still haven't given up that fight. I want to be married. But I don't just want to be married. I want to be married to a man who knows my name and encourages me. Who loves Jesus more than me.

I want that for you too. 

So this can be the worst. The freaking worst season of your life. Or you can partially give up and have a bad attitude about it like me and just keep living :) (That is not all completely true-mostly dramatic.)

I'm not lying when I say this comes straight from a letter I
wrote to my future husband. :) 

I get butterflies when a guy (who loves Jesus might I add!) that I find attractive looks at me in just the right way but it also terrifies me because what if he knows everything? I still want you to have butterflies. But I want that right guy looking at you in the right way. And I want him to know what he wants. I don't want him to look at you and your three friends in the same way or say the same things that are a bunch of crap lies to you and your three friends. And I don't want him to say a bunch of stupid things that make you feel a certain way so he can get what he wants out of it. I want him to love Jesus more than you. I want him to encourage you and to KNOW you. To know the beauty of your broken heart and desire Jesus to place it all back together WITHOUT him (the hot Jesus-loving boy).

We can't fix broken hearts sweet one. But we KNOW the One who can. I listened to a song today called, "Be Still" by Bethel Music and my favorite lines are below...

"Be still my heart and know
You are God alone.
Stop thinking so much and just let go...

In my weakness, your strength is perfect.

You, alone, are God. There will be no other. 
You have won my heart. More than any other. 
So I will give it all. Cause you gave it all for me."

Spend this season begging God for a man who loves Him more than you and for His Kingdom more than a man. (Yeah, I totally stole that from my conversation with the realest today). He will come when God so chooses. There is no magic formula or correct prayer or one-stop-shop on this. There's just not. So don't ask for it. It won't be the same as your favorite couple and it won't be in the timing you think.

In this season (whether it lasts for 12 years #me OR 12 days), ask God to show you who YOU are and what He wants from you. Erase the hurt through the blood of Jesus and follow steadfastly in His footsteps. Kneel at His altar and strengthen your hands in praise. And do those things, even into a season of a relationship and a time of marriage.

But if that time doesn't come now or ever, you are in a position to love the Gospel of Jesus Christ and plead His blood over all. And His Kingdom is about that. It's about His things. His Son. His blood. His cross. It was never about marriage or us or love songs or holidays. It was Him. It was always, always Him. And marriage is a beautiful picture of the way He loves us. Hence, we are the bride of Christ. A beautiful, stunning, flawless, and complete Bride. 

And if you want to talk, and feel like your life is the only life on the entire planet falling apart, that's totally okay. And I get it. Now, call me... I've got your back. But I think you've got it too ;)

Love you, Melis

Sympathy can help. Empathy triumphs. {on adoption and giving}

When I taught middle school, I had a student who asked if I would adopt them. It wasn't a joke. They even talked to the counselor about it and the counselor came and talked to me about it.

I was shocked, just turned 25, so new to anything and not even knowing what I was doing with my life. I was also honored. To be called Mom is one of the greatest privileges that women have. I knew how important my mom was to me and I knew how important of a role I could play. I denied the opportunity but it was not without thinking about it multiple times. 

I think we respond to most of life out of pity and sympathy. We do things because we want a return or we feel bad and there's nothing wrong with helping people but there is something wrong when we see staggering statistics and show no empathy or sympathy. 

Sympathy says, "I'm so sorry." Sometimes sympathy feels like it should say something else. And it does and it can land like a pile of bricks on someone. Sympathy sometimes gives because it feels like it has to out of an obligation, not out of a 'want-to.'

Empathy says, "I'm so sorry and I get it, I may not completely understand but I can kind of understand what is difficult about all of this." Empathy says few words and listens. Empathy can sometimes wait too long to do the right thing because it's unsure of what to do or not secure in what to do.

This battle of sympathy verses empathy has plagued my teaching career. I can see students as projects (sympathy), which is sometimes necessary but I can also see it as an opportunity to meet a need that I want to meet (empathy). That battle was partially encouraged by my student who asked me to adopt them.

Here's the thing... I have all the tools necessary to raise a child in a home but sometimes my battle with fear pushes me to be sympathetic. These are the requirements for someone in Nevada who wants to adopt:

"Who can apply to adopt?

• People of any race

• People of any religion or no religious preference

• People who work outside the home

• People who rent or people who own their own homes

• People with high or low incomes

• People with or without other children

• People over age 21; however, all applicants must be at least ten years older than the person being adopted

• Married or single people; however, if married, the spouse must also be a party to the adoption."

(To see this question and other frequently asked questions about adoption in Nevada, click HERE.)

This list actually seems somewhat humorous because ANYONE can adopt. On the Nevada web site, there are a few pictures of kids WAITING to be adopted. Not as projects, but as children ready to be loved. What if God was asking this generation of lovers of Jesus to open up our homes and take a waiting and ready kid? What if we were obedient? What if Child Haven and adoption web sites were empty because the church became the church- empathetically? What if we loved people exactly where they were? These are the questions that come to my mind because I meet the list provided.


I ask you over the coming weeks to pray with me about kids in our local system who could be up for adoption, as well as those waiting to be adopted. I'm not saying in any way this will be easy, I am saying it could be worth it if we would listen to God's voice speak to us.

Join me! -Melis

If you're in the Las Vegas area, I HIGHLY encourage you to attend the "Wait No More" on Saturday, February 20. For more information, click HERE.

When you feel like you're the only failure in the room.

Please actually read this before assuming that I am beating myself up, being hard on myself, or giving myself too many expectations. The last thing I honestly need is for someone to tell me to stop doing that- it feeds the lies in my head that I've just messed up again and I could do without another lie. 

I sat in a room of 36 other teachers and strategists and coaches last week for a day and a half session on being teacher leaders. Except I felt inadequate and scared and worried. Especially at first.

I had put myself out there. I had applied and answered questions, my principal gave me a recommendation. Yet, I felt undeserving and felt the need to constantly compare myself even though it was so clearly unnecessary. Comparison is the thief of joy. And it will steal every freaking ounce it can. I promise. 

I am doing the same things on my campus these other educators are. And the same thing that literally MILLIONS of other teachers are doing. Yet, in my mind, there is a laundry list of every wrong and undeserving thing I have done during my teaching career. Every mistake I have made. Every student I missed. Every word I said that filled a student with a lack of confidence. Every argument I've had with a kid. Every dirty look I've received from another teacher or a parent. Every kid I've had quit the Leadership program I'm in charge of. Every time I've stuck my foot in my mouth. 

It is hard to continue to act normal when you feel like that on the inside, yet it becomes a new normal because you get used to covering up the lies in your head.

Because that is what they are-- LIES. Anyone flawless and full of perfection you know? Jesus- that's it. And in my striving to be like Him, the enemy trips me up. 

You know what makes the enemy the angriest? The confidence telling you that you are able and the confidence you find in Christ to be confident and fight against the enemy. Even if that confidence means you need to get up and leave school and leave work there and get something to eat and take a nap. Those are not against the person of Christ. Taking care of yourself is essential.

Entertaining the failures and flaws and mess ups is not. It is unnecessary and non-essential.

It is a time waster. It is never sweet, always bitter. Always rough and hurtful. And. At the end of the day, you are no better because of the lies you have believed or told yourself or listened to. NO BETTER OFF.

Monday afternoon, I left school feeling like the biggest failure of a teacher of all time. I mean, how many times do I have to repeat the same sentence in order for a person to understand it? I even explained it in a different way every.single.time. It is exhausting to continue doing that. SO exhausting. One of my best teacher friends said, "Melissa, go home. Get your stuff and go home."

And that's what I did. I got something to eat, went home and slept on the couch for 2 hours. I had pajamas on before 5pm and I felt I was living a great success in that hour. I was a better person for it on Tuesday morning when I got to school. I was a better person when I could laugh and reminisce with my Leadership kids. I was a better person when I could jump around like a freaking cheerleader ballerina teacher when my kids actually grasped what I was reviewing in my Ethnic Studies classes. That 2 hour nap has made me a better person for the last 48. Because I shut my brain off from the lies and listened to the Truth that told me, "Shut up and take a nap. And by the way, just shut up. And your ears too." 

Failure loves the hungry-angry-lonely-tired more than anyone else. It feeds lies like steak quesadillas having road rage while sleep driving. That sounds ridiculous. That's because failure is stupid too. We can learn from failure but failure doesn't RUN us. Failure doesn't control my life. It can develop certain aspects and cause me to reflect but failure is not my life.

I've had a rough week and a half. (Cue rolling eyes emojis everywhere.) No, seriously. It's been really difficult and really rewarding at the same time.

I have this girl in my Leadership class. She's a 10th grader and this is the second year I've had her. We will call her "Sparkle." Because she is that to my entire class. We joke about her 'light' but we all know that her 'light' guides us 90% of the time in that class. She is a little motivational speaker. She begins talking and you're like, wait a minute, did I just wear my shirt that says, "Help- I need some encouragement!"? Yes, yes you did with Sparkle. She just knows. The last time she did a presentation in my class, she was so honest and vulnerable that I could have just cried with her. I'm pretty sure tears welled up in the rims of the my eyes because she was just so real, so authentic and it was so moving. She talked about how hard expectations are and how hard it is to cover up what you feel like are lies and failures with a pretty face on the outside. Earlier in the year, I called her out. I called out her defense- she makes other people laugh and smile because she is falling apart. I am the same way as my Sparkle. So I get this sweet girl's mind. You mean the best for others, but sometimes you're just drowning and you need someone to row your boat for a little while too.

After her presentation, I gave her a little encouragement note expecting absolutely nothing in return. But sometimes Sparkle just comes up and hugs me anyways because she just gets me and knows we both need it. The next morning, she reciprocated the encouragement and handed me a note that inspired me and made me cry. She talked about how God had placed me in her life for a reason. How good she was because of me. How I make her better. She used the illustration of the moon and the sun. If God placed me in her life as the sun, then she wanted to be the moon, a reflection of that same kind of direction and kindness and love.

I am not saying any of this to brag because I promise you these kinds of things are not of common occurrence. They are so rare but they are normally so desperately needed that I am a big puddle of tears hoping that someone will help me to not just sink. Failure causes sinking. Truth allows you to float to the shore and get up again and start over.

Tonight, I watched my Sparkle girl get in the center of a room of almost 75 people with no introduction or applause or notion of attention and dance her heart out to a Mariachi band. She is brave and fearful at the same time, but her bravery to just move to the music in front of her peers SO moves me. It gets my heart racing because someone was that sun for me once. And I need to keep going. 

So have you felt like you're the only messed up, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, failure lately? Where is the sun shining in your world? I am praying for a Sparkle for you. A person who lights up your life and makes other people smile but who also just gets you. Through pain and fury and peace and steadfastness.

Choosing Truth and Joy. And to sparkle like the Sun. -Melis

You are Home to me.

Emma is on the left and, obviously, that's me on the right :)
This was in Portland last year in March over Spring Break.
We've spent a lot of valuable time together. ;)

A few months ago, sweet Emma was in South Africa. It was Thanksgiving and we were on the phone for an hour or so- her describing the millions of things our sweet Jesus had been teaching her on her 5 month journey through a few countries in Southern Africa. Fast forward to Christmas break while she was wrapping up her last few weeks in the country and she sent me this question:

"So is it okay to be homesick and ready to come home, but also not ready to come home?... I've come to the conclusion that I'm officially going crazy."

My response? "Welcome to my world." 

It is hard to have a wandering heart. It is hard to possess the ability to want to stay in a place you know and love for a long time. At the same time, my wandering heart is plagued with the ability to fall in love and want to stay in every place. So sleeping in my own bed just seems normal... but my own bed is not necessarily at the house I pay rent for. It's in a lot of places. When you've spent 18 years in one place-- for me a small town in Georgia- and you still call it home but you also spent 4 years away for college and called it (all 45 million of the places you live in college) home-- but you also have lived in the big city of Vegas for going on 9 years, you call it home. And you call everything in between home and there's a homesickness for all of those places. After that message from Emma, I sat down over a couple of days and wrote a poem that I felt identified my feelings for her and for me. But as I truly think about it, I think this could also so apply to adoption and foster care-- a safe place to call home. While this post is not entirely about adoption or foster care (as was my last), there are some identifying features that someone from that perspective could identify with. This was the prayer/poem I wrote in my journal...

Hey Jesus- There was one time when you became home to me. 
It wasn't a building, a pew, or a chair. 
It wasn't a city, state, or a country somewhere. 
It was You. Your heart. Your hands. Your mind. Your voice. So kind. 
It was sometimes my house, but sometimes not. 
It was my classroom, my car, a bunk bed in Zambia. 
It was a hotel room in D.C. and a dorm room in Tennessee.

Home became people. Who were priority.
It became the places You called me. 
Where my heart was a bit fearful
but beat faster. 
Where my mind was a little worried
but overly confident in Your breaking of impossible. 
Knowing You are. Above all things. In all things. Of all things. 
And all those things are you. 
And home is and was and will always be You. 

I penned those words during a prayer service and during my quiet time- just asking Jesus to show me Home. It is found in Him. The crazy and quiet. The solitude and chaos. The deep breaths and the loud screams. The giggles and the tears. The emotions when they make sense and don't.

How loved we are to be able to find our Home in a person who knows every.single.piece. of who we are and loves us through every.single.thing. Grateful for a home. That is loving and gracious and merciful and humble and true. One that doesn't fade through time. One that doesn't change with my emotions. 

My prayer is that Emma's hope for home will be found in the person of Jesus Christ. My prayer is that sweet girls and boys find their hope in a home centered around the person of Jesus Christ and they know Him. As home.

Jesus- thank you that you are still and always home to me. -Melis

Hey you... Don't give up.

I was watching "The Bachelor" tonight. This show seriously just makes me laugh because they are saying on public television what we have all said in our heads at some point or another. About a first date or being nervous or wondering what someone is thinking. I mean it is, in the most unreal sense, real. One of the things I have loved about this season is the fact that when girls don't feel like it's working, they understand that Ben (the Bachelor) takes this seriously and they volunteer to leave. I don't remember another season where they have done that with so much grace, but I'm glad they are. And I'm glad that Ben doesn't feel like he has to make up something to keep them there. He lets it go on. Their giving up is not actually giving up... it is letting something go to pursue something better and allowing the other person involved to pursue something better.

I had an eventful, really super fun weekend and felt like going back to school tomorrow could be a drag. My kids will be excited because, despite what they say, they hate staying home and being bored and a lot of them will have worked all weekend so they will basically need a nap or two tomorrow.

One of my girls messaged me today and told me how difficult it would be this semester. This sweet one is up against some hard circumstances and tough realities. She's fighting a reality that she doesn't want for herself but is also making choices based on consequences of other choices. (I know this seems confusing but I would never want her to feel like I'm telling her whole life story, even though she would willingly tell you herself.) My heart hurts for her and I can see her getting to the edge and having to make a choice as to what to do next while lacking the support she needs to move on and start over and keep MAKING herself do hard things. She said, "Thanks Ms. G" and my response was "That's what I'm here for!" We are here to help people do hard things. To not give up.

Another one of my friends, who's also a teacher, asked me Friday, "Do you ever just wonder whether this is your calling or not?" She was referring to teaching and I told her, yes, all the time. Last semester, it felt like there were a few weeks where it was every day weeks in a row. It was reassuring that she wasn't the only one who felt like that. It is easy to get burned out and let things that don't matter get to us.

I've questioned something totally different most of yesterday and today. I struggled to be totally myself but also questioned whether I was myself and if myself was good enough. Kristi, my big sister/mentor/friend/advisor, sent me this quote from E.E. Cummings: "To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing its best to make you somebody else, is to the fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting."

It is okay to stay true to myself when things work out and when they don't. When things feel good and when they don't. When things go well and when they don't.

So I just want to tell you-- Hey you, don't give up. If it's your first day back to college, your first day of a new semester, your 'Monday,' your worst day, the longest day, or the best day. Let things go to move forward and take new adventures and have new beliefs that you don't have to give up something to be yourself. And if something is to be given, let is be something that needs to go and replace it with something so you.

-Melis

A War for an Unknowing Princess {on adoption}

A few weeks ago, I was asked to think about writing a blog for an event coming up in Las Vegas called "Wait No More" so here I am! Writing about it :) The entire focus of the event is adoption. In most states, there are more churches than children waiting to be adopted. Which is the point... they're WAITING to be adopted. They are waiting for homes and families. I started thinking about my own experiences with students who are in the foster care system here in Las Vegas. The ones I've had in class. And I imagined what I think it would be like. I cannot say my writing below is accurate by any means but I can thread together stories of my kids at school and maybe it would be like this one. It does have a happy ending. Because I believe adoption provides happy endings for kids who think there is no happy ending. And I believe that Believers who adopt teach kids in a million ways the love of Jesus and that is always a happy ending. There are a lot of hard and difficult things but there are also some really beautiful things. I hope this portrays the beginning of what that could look like. Through the eyes of a teenage girl who is adopted due to circumstances out of her control. -Melis

I was born in a war zone.

There were no machine guns

Or hand grenades

Or bombs.

My physical house didn’t disappear.

There were no shattered windows

Or broken dishes.

But there were words and those words…

They felt like hand grenades

And bombs

And they were repeated like the rapid fire of a machine gun.

No one lost any physical life at first but there was life lost in MY war zone.

Life and time I thought could not be redeemed.

It could not be taken back and in the hope

That none of it would be remembered

It would reappear in dreams and conversations

And school essays

And the slamming of locker doors made me cringe.

Because there was a war zone there too.

It was in my mind, not my heart or house.

A continual war that never ended. Never died down. Never silenced.

It was so loud and the wrong look from a teacher

Or a word whispered in my direction from a “friend”

Made me breathe deep from my war zone and

Prepare myself for the armor that I must continue to wear.

The leaving was unlike anything I had felt before.

It was like part of me died because the rest of me so wanted to leave

And I could not see in black and white

Or color

I could see nothing. I could hear nothing. My sense of smell barely remained.

I felt nothing. I would touch nothing and hold nothing.

Because anything that I could see or hear or feel or touch or hold

Meant that a part of me was alive and I didn’t want to anymore.

I didn’t want to hear the words, “I love you”

Or have someone pat me on the back

Or hold me at night when I screamed from the terror.

I feared the future and relationships because that meant that someone

Besides a counseling office and a policeman would know

They would know everything

They would see everything

And hear everything

And what if they wanted to feel?

What if they wanted to hold my hand?

What if they wanted to tell me the truth?

My darkest night brought out the longest day

And the day brought me to a house with the light on outside

Even in the afternoon when everyone could see

A sign of safety

Because at my house, the light was never on

The physical light

The emotional light

The mental light

The spiritual light

It was dark and my world had reached a dim point

And the only thing holding me there was a 911 dispatch woman

Who told me I would be safe

That hope was coming

That help was coming

That I was not alone

To stay on the phone

To keep talking

To keep fighting for myself

To keep breathing

To take long, deep breaths

The knock at the door seemed cruel and my mother would surely be angry

But she was passed out on the kitchen floor at the feet of my phone call

Gasping

Hastening a prayer and a hope that something somehow would change

I knew there wasn’t a chance and I wouldn’t believe her if she tried

I’d seen too much.

Too many men and drugs and drinks and stuff that ruined me

That made my mind feel like a foreign place

I didn’t even know myself

And I didn’t know what mother meant

This woman owned a few pictures of me at an early age but now at 14

I was independent and on my own

I got myself ready for school and did my homework on the bus

I let myself in while she carried on and never noticed

The constant flow of people through the place I called mine was never ending

The only greetings I received were harsh and hurtful and misplaced

I knew how unloved I was and how desperate I would someday be if I were to repeat this cycle

And now she was gone and here I was

In a new place

Overwhelmed by fear and grief and questions

The light next to the large red door attracted my attention again

I steadied my step and looked up at the sky for a moment

I walked close behind the man from the services who brought me here

I waited while the doorbell rang

I could hear tiny footsteps running down stairs

I imagined that I had once done the same but I couldn’t remember

My battleground was so messy

So many people…

Who were supposed to be my family

Who let my mother go

Who left her alone when she was sick

And then the large red door opened

The woman there was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans

With her hair thrown to the side

With a bright smile

I was so surprised by her quick hello and 'we’re happy to have you'

I knew this couldn’t be real

I was in a dream

How do I wake up?

And around her knee appeared a shining sing song princess

Carrying a wand and a tiara and a tea cup

“Would you like to have some tea?” She said in her fanciest voice

The silence remained in my head

It pounded. It pierced.

The woman perceived to be the mother and the man who brought me there talked quickly

And he left me sitting at a small kitchen table with my backpack of books and clothes to the side

With a toothy girl sipping imaginary tea

How was I deserving of a castle when I knew war

How could I be a princess if I had no beauty fit for a crown

The little princess passed me the plate of cookies

Unknowing the silence that was now screaming in my head

So undeserving and confused

The smiley mom looked at me holding this silly cup of imaginary tea

“We all wear crowns here…” she said

And she repeated similar words told to me the day before on the phone with 911…

“In this castle, all are safe.

Hope is coming and hope is here.

Help is coming but help is here.

You are not alone.

Stay with me. Here. Not alone.

Keep talking with me.

Keep fighting for yourself. I’ll fight for you too.

Keep breathing.

Take long deep breaths.”

As she exhaled

She handed me a crown too.

And the picture of my birth mother

And a picture of myself at the age of 2 wearing a tiara

“Some of us are princesses, and some warrior princesses.

This castle holds war sometimes but this castle is a place of peace.

And we keep the light on here

The physical light

The emotional light

The mental light

The spiritual light

The world is a dark place and it can be dim at times

But there is One.

That overwhelms the earth with a whisper and oceans roar on His behalf

The rocks cry out when we don’t but those crying rocks built this castle

And we call that castle home. This crown means you’re home.”

And she placed the crown on my head

And I tapped my cup of tea to the princess

“Yes, I would like some tea, thank you very much.”

For more information about the Wait No More event in Las Vegas on February 20, click here :)

The Shattering: Part 1(ish)

So not long ago, like a week, I decided to choose another word of the year: Shatter.

How do you, by the end of the week, decide to quit something that was your idea?

Yeah, so I haven’t quit but I have definitely contemplated it MULTIPLE times. By multiple, I mean at least 1,000. Okay, maybe that many times a day.

Tuesday night, I was at a prayer night at my church. I was sitting next to Shannon and I went over to prayer with a family that I met there. We were just talking a little bit between prayers because they had not been going to Hope very long.

I was praying silently at some point and journaling quite a bit and just asking God to continue to show me a way out of shame and guilt. Something that I constantly deal with. I understand that I’m not supposed to and blah, blah, blah. (I am not asking for advice here- I am talking myself through this. Please and thank you.)

But God just told me, “Melissa, I don’t change my mind about you.” And He doesn’t. He. Just. Doesn’t. Here’s what I wrote in my journal:

“Thank you that you continually show me how to be loved by you. Through free forgiveness- a beautiful gift of grace...Thank you that as I confess- you forgive immediately. You don’t wait or hesitate or ponder it. You don’t change your mind about me. I have had such a few guilt-ridden days over nonsense- you don’t change your mind about me. I bow down to your fullness, adequacies and enough-ness. How good you are. I know you have asked me… to own my own junk and be real. You are calling me to bigger things and until I let go of small things, I can’t see the entire picture. You call me to more. Because you don’t change your mind about me. Thank you that you don’t change your mind about any of us…Thank you that meeting with other people shows me a mirror of my own struggles. It clears the air with me in front of you and changes my heart and mind. Help me to see you well and love you well. Help me to remember that you don’t change your mind about me. Ever.”

I know that repetition is the way to my heart and so does God. To tell me the same thing over and over and over. To remind me of His truth so gently. He never shouts over my insecurities because that makes me so tense. He only whispers and quiets my heart.

I just thought I should share this. Because maybe you’re wondering if God has walked out on you or if you are questioning if you are loved by Him. You are. You so are.

Step 1 is being completed. I am being shattered and God is restoring me by telling me the Truth.

Love, Melis

A fierce 2015 and a shattering 2016. Why you need a word of the year.

Last year, I read somewhere that instead of choosing resolutions for the year, that you should pick a word of the year. My thoughts?

"This will be easy!"
"A word of the year?? Piece of cake!"
"What a brilliant and simple idea!"
"This person (whoever he or she is or was) is the smartest person on the planet!"

I'm just wondering if they picked a word like "sweet" or "gentle" or "gracious" or "merciful" or "brave" and I wonder how easy it was for them.

Being fierce was so easy I even forgot how to not be fierce was HARD. (Think Kid President's video where he says he took the road less traveled and it was hard, kind of hard.) Yadda, yah, yah, yah... say what you want you non-fierce people. All of you saying, "Oh, Melissa, but you were always fierce... this was just a natural word for you."

This is where I run out of the room and I'm like, "Peace out suckas!" (I know that's not polite. That's all I want to say in this parentheses.)

The rest of you saying, "Loser... you never talked and were always shy. We were wondering when you were going to bring this up and be honest." (To you I still make my same statement but this time in italics: This is where I run out of the room and I'm like, "Peace out suckas!" (I know that's not polite. That's all I want to say in this parentheses.).

Here's what I learned: Fierce=Fearless/Brave/Courageous.

Here's what I know. It is rare... like less than 1% of the time that I am actually any of those things. BUT on a few rare occasions, like the 36 or so hours out of the entire year I was, I celebrated. Because a lot of time fear ATE ME UP like a lion eating an antelope fresh out of the field.
Because a lot of the time, people are LOUD in our heads and they don't encourage fierce.
Because a lot of the time, our own hearts are WRONG and they eat fear willingly.

But now at the beginning of 2016, I can celebrate a few moments where I was fierce and I can also transparently admit that I wasn't fierce on more than one occasion.

Here's 3:
1. Actually talking about living in Africa one day in a real way with a real dream and a real reality. Could be very far away, could be very close but the few times I talked about it openly were fierce moments for me.

2. At a church I spoke at last summer, I talked about the picture of the Egyptian Christians who were about to be killed on the beach. I will not even show you that picture because it will forever tear me up but you can look it up yourself if you missed that. But one time, I used that as an example and I cried, like I knew those men but I don't and I didn't but that picture is very real and terrifying to me and for me to bring it up in front of people was fierce.

3. I messaged my college pastor to ask if I was crazy for supporting the idea that Syrian refugees should safely come here and was I crazy that I was embarrassed of Christians who just laughed in the face of that idea? For me to admit openly that I agreed or disagreed was fierce. Whether you agree or disagree with me doesn't take away my being fierce. You can work out your fierce ways on your own. Those are not mine. 

Three ways I was fearful: 
1. Didn't want to talk about anything political on social media because I disagree with 70% of people who talk about political things in my circles of the world and am embarrassed that they don't know how the government works. There, I said it. 

2. Didn't stand up when I felt like I needed to in a lot of face-to-face conversations about major social issues that are directly linked to my beliefs in Christ.

3. Barely left my house after all the Paris attacks. Because those were ordinary people in ordinary places who were just living ordinary lives. Fear lovers- you put me to my wit's end and I have MANY things to say to you this year. Just wait. 

I can say that overall, it was a fierce year and I am not walking into 2016 with too many regrets. Some wishes that didn't come true in 2015? Of course, but that's okay. I'll live.

So, when I was asking God to show me what He wants for 2016, I kept thinking about the word belief, but that just seemed simple and necessary. I do need a stronger belief but that has been a theme of my entire walk with Christ.

He kept bringing up the word SHATTER because here's what you fear lovers and non-fierce wanters in the world taught me... Your expectations do not guard my life or direct my path or seek my best interest. They are simply expectations. And much more simply, they are YOUR expectations. They are not God's. They are not the Lord God's. While a few of you may have more influence over my life, your decisions and opinions and wants and needs are not my own and I am not held accountable for most of those things but I am accountable for the things I say, do, think and feel. I would never expect you to take over any of those messy things.

So here's my plan for this year...

• Shatter your expectations
• Shatter guilt in my life because of stupidity or your expectations
• Shatter my own expectations
• Shatter grudges and unforgiveness and shame
• Shatter the way I use my gifts and figure out how to use them for Him in the most glorifying way possible

That sounds crazy and impossible and downright stupid but it is where I am at the moment. 

Have you thought about picking an impossible life to live this year? Seriously... pick a word and then if you're like me, make into a hashtag and you can make it partially serious, partially embarrassing, and partially amazing. Make it an ongoing theme and let it literally destroy and put you back together. (Doesn't this sound like LOADS of fun?? :) )

And to the rest of you non-fear lovers and fierce wanters-- who have observed and encouraged and cheered me through a #fierce2015 ... THANK YOU from the sincerest, most devoted and kindest inner part of me. Your love and leadership motivate me! I am thankful for you. 

Walking into 2016 is a bit of a different story because I feel like God is shattering things to make me even more fierce. I'm really thankful. Let's see what happens!

Love, Melis