Today I gave myself permission to cry.
I think you broke my heart a little. Don't worry though, I don't blame you.
You see, you don't know a whole lot about me - which is probably good now. But let me show you a little...
You see, I've had my heart broken quite a few times. I fall hard, so hard. I have this sometimes curse - mostly blessing where I see the best in people, I see potential with clearer eyes than I see messes. So I let my walls down and am vulnerable and get doors slammed in my face and forgotten phone calls and apathetic excuses. And let me tell you, you have so much potential. You're sweet and funny and genuine and hold all the doors and walk just close enough and you smile like nothing else matters. And I totally fell for it. And I promise this isn't all about you because even if you told me otherwise I choose to believe that night as genuine.
You see, I'm just so used to expectations. Coffee means a kiss and dinner has higher stakes, like some twisted trade exchange that you didn't seem to know the rules to, and I liked that.
You see, I'm tired of letting people break me. And I swore to my walls that I would not prematurely let them down again in a battlefield - I'm not sure how much more this heart can take.
So this morning when I realized I'd done it again... I let myself cry.
It didn't heal me any more than you broke me. But I felt it.
And sometimes when you're broken you just need to remember how to feel.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Africa
Have you ever loved something that you've never known with such a passion that you really didn't know what to do with yourself?
I imagine this is how mothers feel of their unborn children. How farmers feel of the crops that will rise to feed their families. How pastors feel of their planted church that will bring people to know Him. This is my Africa.
I remember in seventh grade when I was first introduced to Africa. I completely fell head over heels in love. The other girls in my grade doodled pictures of their crushes names and I drew up plans for how to get there. They gravitated towards bridal magazines and me to travel sites. I prayed so hard that God would let me go.
My freshman year of high school my small group sponsored a little boy from the Challenge Farm in Kitale, Kenya. I adored him. I kept a picture of him on my wall and couldn't wait for the day I'd get to see him.
My junior year came around and I was coming to a church that had a huge heart for missions and twice a year they would go to Kitale and I would pray to go and God would say no. And I would talk to people and they would say I was just too young and I needed to concentrate on my life here and not worry about the make-believe one I had created thousands of miles away.
As I graduated high school I thought that'd be my chance but I felt God pulling me towards local missions instead. Frankly, I was pissed. God put this passion in my heart five years ago and I wanted to go. Let me go. Let me go.
But He didn't. So I didn't.
Door after door after door was closed.
Window after window was screwed shut.
I was ready to run through a wall.
I was so bitter that God would give me this love for a place He was keeping me away from.
I lost years of feeling like a "teenage girl" because I wanted so much more than bridal collages in my back pocket. College interviews went by and I remember dwelling on Africa while trying to earn scholarships that would hold me here.
Fast forward three years.
My best friend has never had a heart for the third world. And honestly, it was one of my favorite things about her. She wanted Paris and shopping and pastries. And I wanted dirty children and brokenness and languages I couldn't begin to understand. And we didn't understand those parts of each other and that was so so okay with me.
Then God told her to Go.
And my best friend said yes and spent six months in the place that I have loved for as long as I haven't known it. And she loved those people so well. And she told me about the hard stuff and she cried. And I cried because I wanted to be right there. I wanted to be right there for her. But I wanted to really be right there in the middle of Africa, loving children and not sleeping and washing my clothes by hand. And in those moments of not having my best friend because she was living out my passion I gained so much peace. And that sounds so backwards in my head, but I adored the ways God was using her and I looked down to prepare myself for however God wanted to use me. I am pushing through nursing school to be able to love people tangibly. I am becoming ready for where ever He wants me. Even if it was here.
I became content with His no.
And now, nine years into this love affair, I am terrified - He is saying yes.
And I'm walking in Faith that He will provide the strength and the courage and the finances it takes to get me there.
--
January 15th, 2015, I hope to be beginning a long journey to spend ten days with this nation God has engraved into my heart.
If you'd like to know more about my trip, how you can pray for me or support me, please don't hesitate to email me: liz.kaiman@gmail.com
I imagine this is how mothers feel of their unborn children. How farmers feel of the crops that will rise to feed their families. How pastors feel of their planted church that will bring people to know Him. This is my Africa.
I remember in seventh grade when I was first introduced to Africa. I completely fell head over heels in love. The other girls in my grade doodled pictures of their crushes names and I drew up plans for how to get there. They gravitated towards bridal magazines and me to travel sites. I prayed so hard that God would let me go.
My freshman year of high school my small group sponsored a little boy from the Challenge Farm in Kitale, Kenya. I adored him. I kept a picture of him on my wall and couldn't wait for the day I'd get to see him.
My junior year came around and I was coming to a church that had a huge heart for missions and twice a year they would go to Kitale and I would pray to go and God would say no. And I would talk to people and they would say I was just too young and I needed to concentrate on my life here and not worry about the make-believe one I had created thousands of miles away.
As I graduated high school I thought that'd be my chance but I felt God pulling me towards local missions instead. Frankly, I was pissed. God put this passion in my heart five years ago and I wanted to go. Let me go. Let me go.
But He didn't. So I didn't.
Door after door after door was closed.
Window after window was screwed shut.
I was ready to run through a wall.
I was so bitter that God would give me this love for a place He was keeping me away from.
I lost years of feeling like a "teenage girl" because I wanted so much more than bridal collages in my back pocket. College interviews went by and I remember dwelling on Africa while trying to earn scholarships that would hold me here.
Fast forward three years.
My best friend has never had a heart for the third world. And honestly, it was one of my favorite things about her. She wanted Paris and shopping and pastries. And I wanted dirty children and brokenness and languages I couldn't begin to understand. And we didn't understand those parts of each other and that was so so okay with me.
Then God told her to Go.
And my best friend said yes and spent six months in the place that I have loved for as long as I haven't known it. And she loved those people so well. And she told me about the hard stuff and she cried. And I cried because I wanted to be right there. I wanted to be right there for her. But I wanted to really be right there in the middle of Africa, loving children and not sleeping and washing my clothes by hand. And in those moments of not having my best friend because she was living out my passion I gained so much peace. And that sounds so backwards in my head, but I adored the ways God was using her and I looked down to prepare myself for however God wanted to use me. I am pushing through nursing school to be able to love people tangibly. I am becoming ready for where ever He wants me. Even if it was here.
I became content with His no.
And now, nine years into this love affair, I am terrified - He is saying yes.
And I'm walking in Faith that He will provide the strength and the courage and the finances it takes to get me there.
--
January 15th, 2015, I hope to be beginning a long journey to spend ten days with this nation God has engraved into my heart.
If you'd like to know more about my trip, how you can pray for me or support me, please don't hesitate to email me: liz.kaiman@gmail.com
Friday, September 5, 2014
Nothing But You.
O Lord hear my cry.
See my need for help.
In a land where I feel I should be at height,
I get caught up feeling I'm in a depth.
Surround me in comfort,
In wisdom, in Peace.
Make forgiveness and grace cover faults.
Equip me well with mercy and words,
and yearning to walk daily with you.
For my state all of sudden is broken
Teaching your greatest gems how to walk -
And sometimes I feel
it's a hypocritical journey of
preaching to myself through lips in
their direction and eyes set on
anything but a mirror.
Draw me back to your arms.
Draw me back to your heart.
Let me never choose me over You.
I long for your presence,
My Rock and Defender,
My lonely escape, my Desire.
Be the Lover of my soul
Be my go-to best friend.
Hear my cry,
from desperate pedestals I want you to crush beneath me.
Let Your arms be long enough to
Wrap my complacent soul,
And draw it to You.
Let Your arms be strong enough to
Crack my hardened heart,
And draw it to You.
Let Your arms be soft enough to
Touch my sealed lips,
And draw them to you.
Lord, the world is spinning
And I've so many options
But I want nothing,
Nothing but You.
See my need for help.
In a land where I feel I should be at height,
I get caught up feeling I'm in a depth.
Surround me in comfort,
In wisdom, in Peace.
Make forgiveness and grace cover faults.
Equip me well with mercy and words,
and yearning to walk daily with you.
For my state all of sudden is broken
Teaching your greatest gems how to walk -
And sometimes I feel
it's a hypocritical journey of
preaching to myself through lips in
their direction and eyes set on
anything but a mirror.
Draw me back to your arms.
Draw me back to your heart.
Let me never choose me over You.
I long for your presence,
My Rock and Defender,
My lonely escape, my Desire.
Be the Lover of my soul
Be my go-to best friend.
Hear my cry,
from desperate pedestals I want you to crush beneath me.
Let Your arms be long enough to
Wrap my complacent soul,
And draw it to You.
Let Your arms be strong enough to
Crack my hardened heart,
And draw it to You.
Let Your arms be soft enough to
Touch my sealed lips,
And draw them to you.
Lord, the world is spinning
And I've so many options
But I want nothing,
Nothing but You.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Safe.
Safe.
Cling tightly my child to the standards and rules set before you.
Walk lightly through trials, lest you make light of forgiveness offered to you.
Tightropes and trapeze
try to say the right things
and walk the "clear path" set before you.
But blindness makes things awful hard to see and
legalism does nothing but blind you.
Through my life I've been told,
"rules are there to keep you safe"
Sometimes I feel they are there to restrain me.
But restraining sounds an awful lot like chains and
Jesus broke chains to free me.
Grace.
It's offered to every man once he opens his eyes to believe it.
It breaks chains, shines light in great darkness,
reaches places you never thought you'd see it.
But the best part of grace is the hearts that it changes,
I could give you examples in mine.
And it stops being about the rules, tightropes, and lines
and more about striving to love Him.
Safe.
A word not commonly used by people in my situation.
For is grace is an ocean, my comfort a boat,
I'd fall overboard in an instant.
For as much as my sin has been broken and lost,
so the rules and the acts have too. -
For it's no longer living to impress this safe world,
It's living to love and trust you.
I'm living to love and trust you.
Cling tightly my child to the standards and rules set before you.
Walk lightly through trials, lest you make light of forgiveness offered to you.
Tightropes and trapeze
try to say the right things
and walk the "clear path" set before you.
But blindness makes things awful hard to see and
legalism does nothing but blind you.
Through my life I've been told,
"rules are there to keep you safe"
Sometimes I feel they are there to restrain me.
But restraining sounds an awful lot like chains and
Jesus broke chains to free me.
Grace.
It's offered to every man once he opens his eyes to believe it.
It breaks chains, shines light in great darkness,
reaches places you never thought you'd see it.
But the best part of grace is the hearts that it changes,
I could give you examples in mine.
And it stops being about the rules, tightropes, and lines
and more about striving to love Him.
Safe.
A word not commonly used by people in my situation.
For is grace is an ocean, my comfort a boat,
I'd fall overboard in an instant.
For as much as my sin has been broken and lost,
so the rules and the acts have too. -
For it's no longer living to impress this safe world,
It's living to love and trust you.
I'm living to love and trust you.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Kintsugi
Kintsugi is the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with lacquer resin dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. Philosophically, speaking to breakage and repair becoming part of the history of an object, rather something to disguise.
To repair with gold.
I think that Kintsugi is something undoubtedly inspired by God. Created for us to see how He deals with our brokenness.
As a Christian, neither you or I is promised a free pass from brokenness in our lives.
I've been there. I've lost people I love to the world and further. I'm losing them now in sickness and in schemes from the prince of this earth. I've lost myself. I've thought I lost God. I've lost love, broken engagements, lost dear dear friends due to my selfish actions. Lost my mind. Tried to lose my life. Broken my own heart. Allowed it to be broken again and again. Given away all that was dear to me.
I've literally laid myself down on a tile floor sobbing because I was so, so utterly lost and alone and broken.
An expert on kintsugi said, "Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, but the repair is literally illuminated..."
How often I see that in my own life.
How beautifully I see that looking back on those things that once had me so broken.
How fondly I look back on that day, on that tile floor, when I looked up and begged God to fix it. Send me something that wouldn't break me like everything else in my life had.
And he didn't.
Instead, in that moment (and those following) He sent me one of my best friends and sisters in Christ. A woman who has such a heart after God, and for others that it amazes me sometimes. Who constantly and consistently encourages me to love God, to love people, and to write. Who has sat with me as I poured my heart out at noon, midnight, and 3am. And who has loved me not only despite every mistake, but because of every mistake. Who sees my beauty in my brokenness. A piece of my kintsugi.
He has since sent to me a friend who I was able to share part of my story with. Who looked at life not believing there even could be a god. Who looked at my brokenness and how beautiful HE made me, and was given a glimmer of hope that He is real. And He's alive and He's doing great and unimaginable things with the least of these in the world. A piece of my kintsugi.
He has given me grace to forgive people who have contributed greatly to my brokenness, who discouraged me, who led me down paths I pray no one else will ever have to set foot on. He has given me strength to love them and tell them about Jesus, and why I don't hang out on Saturday nights anymore. A piece of my kintsugi.
God doesn't try to cover up my damage. He doesn't make me forget the pain. He doesn't make sure it never comes up in conversation again.
He makes it beautiful.
He makes it His.
He illuminates my brokenness for His glory alone, to show that even through this mess, even through these ashes, through every crack,beauty exists.
To repair with gold.
I think that Kintsugi is something undoubtedly inspired by God. Created for us to see how He deals with our brokenness.
As a Christian, neither you or I is promised a free pass from brokenness in our lives.
I've been there. I've lost people I love to the world and further. I'm losing them now in sickness and in schemes from the prince of this earth. I've lost myself. I've thought I lost God. I've lost love, broken engagements, lost dear dear friends due to my selfish actions. Lost my mind. Tried to lose my life. Broken my own heart. Allowed it to be broken again and again. Given away all that was dear to me.
I've literally laid myself down on a tile floor sobbing because I was so, so utterly lost and alone and broken.
An expert on kintsugi said, "Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, but the repair is literally illuminated..."
How often I see that in my own life.
How beautifully I see that looking back on those things that once had me so broken.
How fondly I look back on that day, on that tile floor, when I looked up and begged God to fix it. Send me something that wouldn't break me like everything else in my life had.
And he didn't.
Instead, in that moment (and those following) He sent me one of my best friends and sisters in Christ. A woman who has such a heart after God, and for others that it amazes me sometimes. Who constantly and consistently encourages me to love God, to love people, and to write. Who has sat with me as I poured my heart out at noon, midnight, and 3am. And who has loved me not only despite every mistake, but because of every mistake. Who sees my beauty in my brokenness. A piece of my kintsugi.
He has since sent to me a friend who I was able to share part of my story with. Who looked at life not believing there even could be a god. Who looked at my brokenness and how beautiful HE made me, and was given a glimmer of hope that He is real. And He's alive and He's doing great and unimaginable things with the least of these in the world. A piece of my kintsugi.
He has given me grace to forgive people who have contributed greatly to my brokenness, who discouraged me, who led me down paths I pray no one else will ever have to set foot on. He has given me strength to love them and tell them about Jesus, and why I don't hang out on Saturday nights anymore. A piece of my kintsugi.
God doesn't try to cover up my damage. He doesn't make me forget the pain. He doesn't make sure it never comes up in conversation again.
He makes it beautiful.
He makes it His.
He illuminates my brokenness for His glory alone, to show that even through this mess, even through these ashes, through every crack,beauty exists.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Amidst My Brokenness
I've been a little bit of a mess lately. I've been a little sad and angry and empty.
Sometimes I wonder how God can let bad things happen to some of the most beautiful and strong people I know. I've been struggling a lot as I watch one of my best friends struggle with a disease where the average life expectancy gives her about 15 more years. I am broken at the lack of support of the people around her sometimes. I am broken when she doesn't want to do her treatments around me, because she's worried about how I feel about them. I am broken that I can't better understand what she's going through. I am broken that I can't help more.
I am frustrated and confused on what God's plans for my life are. Why is He allowing me so much time that I see as wasted. Why can't I just know where He wants me and what I am supposed to be. Why can't He give me answers and clarity and peace. Sometimes it breaks me that I can't control my future.
I break after work some days as I watch parents holding onto hope that their child can learn to eat and live and survive days without medication and nursing and extra. As they rejoice in apple juice swallows and potty training victories. Sometimes it breaks me that I can't fix him.
And it's funny. Amidst my brokenness, I learn that it's okay to be broken. The author of Psalm 102 is so broken.
So broken they forget to eat. So broken they describe their heart as withered, their flesh as plaster. Their nights endless and demeanor lonely.
And it's so so comforting that someone else has been there too.
And it's so so comforting that their response is a reminder of the faithfulness of an everlasting and all knowing God that loves me.
I still get angry sometimes. Angry that God would let people be sick. Angry that God would let orphans die alone and unknowing of love. Angry that God would let people go their years, even their whole lives without knowing what their passions and callings are. But then I realize, maybe I'm not angry at God. Maybe I'm broken. Maybe God is changing my heart for those sick, to comfort them. To sit with them and laugh and sometimes cry and live life alongside them. Maybe God is changing my heart for the unloved, to teach and show them love in all the ways I can think of. To show them grace that Jesus has shown me. To show them the love that He has shown me.
And crazy as it may be, maybe that's my passion, maybe that's my calling. I am here to show Jesus. I am here to show love. To spread comfort and peace and grace, just as I have been shown.
I wish my college major could be love.
But maybe that's why I'm in "nursing limbo" to learn love better. To learn to be a peacemaker. To emit Jesus like it is my job, because in His eyes, the only ones that matter, it is.
Sometimes I wonder how God can let bad things happen to some of the most beautiful and strong people I know. I've been struggling a lot as I watch one of my best friends struggle with a disease where the average life expectancy gives her about 15 more years. I am broken at the lack of support of the people around her sometimes. I am broken when she doesn't want to do her treatments around me, because she's worried about how I feel about them. I am broken that I can't better understand what she's going through. I am broken that I can't help more.
I am frustrated and confused on what God's plans for my life are. Why is He allowing me so much time that I see as wasted. Why can't I just know where He wants me and what I am supposed to be. Why can't He give me answers and clarity and peace. Sometimes it breaks me that I can't control my future.
I break after work some days as I watch parents holding onto hope that their child can learn to eat and live and survive days without medication and nursing and extra. As they rejoice in apple juice swallows and potty training victories. Sometimes it breaks me that I can't fix him.
And it's funny. Amidst my brokenness, I learn that it's okay to be broken. The author of Psalm 102 is so broken.
"For my days pass away like smoke,
and my bones burn like a furnace.
My heart is struck down like grass and has withered;
I forget to eat my bread.
Because of my loud groaning
my bones cling to my flesh...
I lie awake;
I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop....
For I eat ashes like bread
and mingle tears with my drink..."
So broken they forget to eat. So broken they describe their heart as withered, their flesh as plaster. Their nights endless and demeanor lonely.
And it's so so comforting that someone else has been there too.
And it's so so comforting that their response is a reminder of the faithfulness of an everlasting and all knowing God that loves me.
I still get angry sometimes. Angry that God would let people be sick. Angry that God would let orphans die alone and unknowing of love. Angry that God would let people go their years, even their whole lives without knowing what their passions and callings are. But then I realize, maybe I'm not angry at God. Maybe I'm broken. Maybe God is changing my heart for those sick, to comfort them. To sit with them and laugh and sometimes cry and live life alongside them. Maybe God is changing my heart for the unloved, to teach and show them love in all the ways I can think of. To show them grace that Jesus has shown me. To show them the love that He has shown me.
And crazy as it may be, maybe that's my passion, maybe that's my calling. I am here to show Jesus. I am here to show love. To spread comfort and peace and grace, just as I have been shown.
I wish my college major could be love.
But maybe that's why I'm in "nursing limbo" to learn love better. To learn to be a peacemaker. To emit Jesus like it is my job, because in His eyes, the only ones that matter, it is.
"But you, O Lord, are enthroned forever;
you are remembered throughout all generations...
Of old you laid the foundation of the earth,
and the heavens are the work of your hands.
They will perish, but you will remain;
they will all wear out like a garment.
You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away,
but you are the same, and your years have no end.
The children of your servants shall dwell secure;
their offspring shall be established before you."
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Less than Sunshine
I don't like getting flowers. No, I take that back... I don't like being told I am getting flowers. I want to be pleasantly surprised on a Tuesday afternoon when I haven't seen him in a few days and it's rainy and he sees the flowers as he's running into the grocery store to replace his expired milk and he can't help but them because they remind him of me. I want chocolate only when he knows the only reason I'm being a brat is because I'm a girl and rather than avoiding me for a few days he picks up a Hershey's and a heating pad and comes over and holds me while I hopelessly cry over Sarah McLaughlin commercials. I just want to be more than an option. I want to be more than someone to impress or win. I want to be so engraved in a persons heart, and them in mine that when I am happy, I want to share every giggle with them. And when they're alone, they miss me like Seattle misses sunshine. I want to be someones sunshine. I want to be someones novel that they can't help but read over and over because every time they open the pages they are pleasantly surprised. I want them to fall asleep next to me, drunk off my pages, and fighting sleep to get one more sip. And I know it's a lot to ask. But if I love my novel's more than I love you... I don't want to waste my time on someone I love less than sunshine.
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