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

Grace to be Blameless (despite weird things guys say at car washes, gold hair, and orange cones)

So here's the thing.

I'm a mess (in case you haven't realized this prior).

Saturday morning, I looked in the mirror to almost have a panic attack because I could have gray hair. To all of you older than 30ish, no thank you to any of your comments or contents or tragic pasts. I had a moment. If you've never turned 30, I just want you to know-- it's coming to you and it will not leave you unscathed. I have been given a few extra sunspots, wrinkles next to my eyes and a GOLD HAIR. I don't know if I'm Rapunzel in the movie "Tangled" or if this is real life (although, I have always thought/known I was a Disney princess so this just more than slightly affirms it). So come on over, brush my hair and sing to me/I'll sing to you- which ever you prefer. Any who, I have decided that my so-called "gray hair" is actually gold. Call me blessed if you must. Clearly, panic left and righteous confidence took over in the most annoying way.

So there's that. THEN there's this problem I have in the weirdest places where weird men say weird things to me and it makes me feel WEIRD. Here's the thing.... I can take a compliment, I can say thank you, the whole ten miles, whatever to all of that... BUT when you pull up to the car wash and the guy looks at you like you're sitting there in your bathing suit? Houston, we have multiple problems. This is going down. The man/guy/weird person who asked me what kind of car wash I would like smiled the most creepy/weird smile. (If we go back to my life as a Disney princess and I'm Rapunzel in the movie "Tangled," think the guys in the pub when they're singing the song about having a dream... except this wasn't a dream. This was real.) I almost felt like he was doing it on purpose. Since I wear none of my emotions (nor have I or ever will drop my jaw at the sight of something slightly strange) ALL of my emotions on my face, I have no idea how I continued to speak because I felt so weird. Moving along (literally thank you Lord and in this story), I buckled up to go into the car wash because it obviously felt unsafe and then it was over... blah. blah. blah. So I am directed to the vacuum area and am greeted at my driver's door who OPENS my door and says, "How are you doing today sweetheart?" And I was so like, what is my life, that I said thank you. That's right. I just said thank you because I was already being attacked by the glass guy who needs to fix a piece of my windshield every second and being pointed toward his assistant while also dodging oncoming traffic in the most dangerous gas station/car wash/parking lot on planet earth. (And I'm not exaggerating whatsoever in the least bit.) Then when I had to talk to the insurance person, they're all yelling in my ear because no one knows how to be polite when you're at your job and supposedly doing your job and everyone is taking a break. I'm sorry, but you handed me the phone. YOU. Yeah, you. In the midst, I'm trying to be compassionate and literally thinking of how not nice I'm being and you're making this hard for me. So that was yesterday. (aka Sunday)

In other news, today, I was driving to the west side of town (in no type of gang sense or association) and got stopped in traffic because NO ONE IN THIS EVER LOVING CITY KNOWS HOW TO MERGE (capital: my emphasis specifically). And then I was less than a mile from the restaurant, when I got stopped again because officially in Las Vegas, it can only be a street, if it has spent more time as a construction zone rather than a functioning road for cars to drive on. (Also, if you're looking for a job, I'm hiring a personal chauffeur because this construction everywhere in this entire city is stressing me out and I can't take it (today).) (I apologize in advance because I still may have road rage even if I'm not driving so take a chance and apply today! :) ) 

After all of this, I took a breath (here and there) and said, "Thank you Jesus that I can literally be this out of control and for the reason of your love ONLY do you chase me down and hold me back from acting like a crazed lunatic, posting incredibly overreacting Facebook posts, and yelling at the crew dropping off the cones on Durango. Because your grace doesn't cover only me and my mess, it covers theirs too... and the young guy who broke his arm complaining how bad it hurt... and the girl who had to call the insurance who was so not enjoying her job... and the man doing his job to make a wage to pay for his children to have everything they could possibly ever need. That's grace."

Jesus's reply to me may have sounded like this..."That is grace my love. That's deep grace that overcomes and overcame and will forever overcome. You're messy and fearful and rigid and uptight sometimes. You're also incredibly compassionate and generous to others. You are not all things because I am all things. In and through me is the ONLY way you can ever be any of those things. You've been asking to be made blameless? You want your words to match your walk as I reminded you last night? Then, hold your tongue and your written words. It's okay to be honest but it's not okay to let those things control you. I am enough. My enough makes you blameless. My enough is grace only. I love you completely and make you blameless in my sight time and time again."

What a relief. I have been so convicted over my words and beat myself up over my imperfections and drama and selfish heart and mind. HE MAKES ME BLAMELESS. He is the only one with the ability to let me start over. I face consequences and apologies and real life here but He knows real life well. Because He's in me and with me and gets me. Blameless I can be. In Christ alone... despite my mess and real life, I can choose Him. Thank you Jesus. (And thank you for the strange situations I find myself in---because they let me see you as you are.)

-Hot Mess Day #43,561.76 (but no hot mess counts accurately so yeah)--
Melis

You make me brave.

I have no idea if I've told this story or not but go with me...

On my first day of teaching high school, I'm standing at the front of my last period class and I started sweating. I started fanning myself like a crazy person because I was so hot. These kids/mini adults were just looking at me like, "Who is this lady? Where did our principal find her? What is wrong with her?" They were right, I was just having an "Oh my gosh, what have I gotten myself into, I can't breathe" attack for a minute. Therefore, that increases my body temperature by about 200%. 

We laughed about that moment a lot that year. They laughed about a lot of other things too- me not knowing how to pull the fire alarm. Me saying I was going to call "someone" when I realized the student lived with someone who was not a family member. Me saying a lot of crazy things that didn't make any sense. Me riding on a roller coaster screaming at the top of my lungs. Me doing a lot of things that were ridiculous. Me getting mad for ridiculous reasons. Etc. You get the point.

I was just talking to one of the boys from that year tonight. They were grace to me. They are grace to me. When I think about a lot of my boys particularly, they represent a lot of sorry's and forgiveness and mercy and mess that God was cleaning up in me. The girls were like mirrors of me-- worrying about relationships and self-esteem and fear and lack of confidence. I was the one sitting on their side constantly struggling with what to do with my life. Worrying about what people thought. Maybe I still struggle and need those things.

There was something about that group of students and few students before that just made me want to take a risk. I wanted to be a better teacher.  I wanted to learn and grow and work my butt off. They made it feel easier. They still do. Talking to them about what they're doing and have been doing gives me a great amount of hope. I'm proud of them. I always think that those must be the things that happen when you have kids of your own. Those must be the things you feel or want or see in your kids.

I don't really know what else to say on this at all but I adore them. Each of them for multiple reasons. Some of them make me laugh so hard and I can't stop smiling and some of them bring tears to my eyes and not in a bad way and some just do both.

I know I'm not always so nice and I can go a little crazy but I'm thankful that they make me brave. They make me better and a lot of the times they don't get the pay off for that but hopefully someone in the future can say thank you.

To my kids-- you make me brave and excellent and hopeful. Hoping that you keep passing it along.

Love, Ms. Gillespie

Staying and Grace Gifts and Kleenex.

I've sat with my kids for the last couple of days in Leadership in one-on-ones. Those times are normally moments when they open up about what's going on. Guarantees?

-One that needs a kleenex for them.
-One that needs a kleenex for me.
-One that laughs at himself.
-One that I laugh a lot with.
-One that takes it very seriously.
-One that's super anxious.
-One that hasn't talked to adults in weeks.
-One that has not talked to anyone or trusted anyone ever.

Pause.

These conversations are so good for me. Every single one is a grace gift. A sweet, peace filled grace gift. It cannot be taken. Those moments can't be. Last year and the year before, I realized how much I was beginning to look in my own face and life except they were these other humans sitting before me talking and it was me who was listening.

Play.

Yesterday, I commented to one that she wasn't listening very well ( I was more polite I hope than reading this sentence). Today she told me she wasn't good at listening (and she knows it) and then we talked about overanalyzing and over thinking and staying inside of our own heads. Sometimes when we get in that mode, we forget how much people care and love us and take care of us. How much people want us to stay in their lives. I wanted to look at her and say, "There's hope! I am you! You are me!"

Depression comes and goes here in Melissa world. Sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly. Always changing. During my second year of teaching, where it was unknowingly invading my life, I had this group of terribly wonderful kids who talked to me about Lil Wayne and shared their poems and lives with me. I slept a lot that year and lost a lot of weight that year but I think that their ridiculous ways made me stay there. It made me stay me. It allowed me to come back to the light and see what was actually going on. I could step outside and look in the mirror and see myself again at the end. They were continually helping me to stay. The next year was a repeat and then, they stayed. Many of those kids that made a great impact (from both years) have somehow stayed in touch with me. I LOVE that. I love getting to stay in people's lives.

Two years ago, when I took a new job, I was terrified. But there were these terribly wonderful kids again who won me over ALL the time. They were so ridiculous that somehow I had a decent self-esteem while teaching for one of the first times while they were simultaneously torturing and annoying me daily. I had some of the best conversations of my life that year. I learned the most about other people that year. I learned a lot about other people too- a lot of my kids and their pasts and it encouraged me to sit down at my desk and have them pull up a chair. I learned a lot about what makes a teacher at heart and what makes a teacher by position. I wanted the heart. I wanted the heart to stay. And those kids somehow invaded my heart and took over. And they stayed there.

One of them came to visit. One of them messaged me. One of them messaged last week to check on another one. My heart brings them to mind SO OFTEN. I stayed and they stayed in my heart.

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. So I'm asking you who want to leave to please stay.

You matter. I'll get the kleenex. Love you. -Melissa/Miss G

If you or someone you know needs help, please don't wait! There's a phone and online portion here... http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org

How do we sleep at night?

I mean, honestly, how do we do it?

How do we sleep at night??

When we see things like this and KNOW what is happening in the world around us. 

We are so comfortable that we crawl into our beds each night and complain about the noise the neighbors make and in the meantime, thousands of refugees are fleeing from the worst crises in our day and age. Families wanting to live. Wanting their children to not have to survive in a literal war zone. We have no idea what that life is like but this picture-- Aylan, the little boy who drowned at sea from Syria shakes me up. It makes me angry. Because he could have lived (and his brother too) but he didn't... They didn't. 

And yet, here we are... Complaining and bypassing the real atrocities of the world. And maybe I'm a little more attentive because I feel a strangely beautiful connection to the culture of family and care and kindness and protection, which is what I've experienced of Syrian culture. And I'm whining because the speed of the Internet on my phone is slow and I'm hungry for dinner although I had lunch a few short hours ago. Although I may fear some things, it is nothing of the life in the picture above. A little boy's body lying on the shore. A little boy who wanted to live. 

I hope for you. That you lose sleep. A lot of sleep. Because there is REAL injustice in the world and we are so selfish and focused on us that we don't know what to do about it so we do nothing. We sit silently, idly by. 

Seventy years ago, many Americans did the same thing. Slept well at night and when we woke up... And we saw the numbers following... 11-15 million dead in Europe. We did the same thing in the 1990's. But we stepped out and they were endangered in Rwanda- 800,000 dead within months. We've watched the atrocities of Sudan within our lifetimes and even allowed their president who is wanted as a crime offender internationally move freely. And now this. What will our kids say in 15 years when they learn about this in their history classes? What will be our answer. 

The least I can say is that I lost sleep. And stayed and prayed for the families of those who have chosen to stay despite the immense danger to their lives. And for those who have taken the risk to leave, may Europe and the Western world open their eyes, arms, hearts, pockets and homes-- then we will truly see change because we give and become part of the solution to the problem. 

Jesus, you're always it- may we hear you speak in sleepless nights on what you want us to do. On how we change the world. On how we let go of our lives to see others saved. 

I'm not sleeping either. Melis

A continual undoing.

The last post I made was about this little girl in Mpulungu who's sweet life shattered my heart and then put it back together again. My stars... There is more if you can even believe it. Last Friday night, I sat through a short debrief with the team at the lake and those of us on short-term outreach. I shared the story of Little M and how watching her had broken my heart but also given me confidence in what God was doing. Lorrin (the teacher who had here and there helped Little M) asked if she could tell me something. Of course she could! Without me even knowing, one of the other teachers was helping that sweet little one and she started talking about how she was scared of the muzungu (aka me) who had continued coming close to her and touching her and helping her. She said I had helped her with her math and that she wasn't scared anymore of me because I let her count on my fingers when she was adding... And that meant that I loved her. My fingers holding up to count to 13 showed a little girl so fearful that she was loved. 

My deepest love and undoing almost always comes at my point of fear. When I've looked at God and said, "I've had enough of the injustice and the hurt and the aches and I'm tired and scared of what you would ask me to do next." He just holds out his fingers to let me count his faithfulness time and again to show me how much he loves me. My deepest fears are his places of peace and rest. I am increasingly thankful as I see this time and again. 

He loves me. He is my healer. My portion. My provider. My peace giver. Enough. Always enough. 

Please pray as I prepare this weekend to speak 4 times. Once at a small church in a small village outside of Kabwe, and three times in workshops to women who serve Jesus in Zambia, Africa, and the world. 

My Hands are tense and worried but He... He whom holds out his hands for me to count His fauthfulness. He doesn't run out of fingers and He doesn't ever run short on love. 

-Melis

The little ones in the picture are from the village that I will speak in on Sunday. They're so adorable I can hardly stand it.