Seasons

l(a

le 

af 

fa 

ll  

s) 

one

l  

iness

I usually always say summer is my favorite season, but right now, I'm not minding the fall that has sprung around me.

Let the Rivers Flow

There is an abounding grace, an unending stream of joy that is available to me; a gift do succulent and delicious, yet my feeble and unrefined taste is so satisfied and content with eating the muck of this earth, the scum on the floor. It has left a putrid taste in my mouth yet I am so desensitized that I have come to see it as appetizing. The rubbish I have found enticing has kept me from experiencing the wholly true and beautiful nature of who God is. I have let fear---fear of the unknown and the future--- keep me from experiencing His peace. I have let cheap circumstantial happiness keep me from experiencing His joy. I have let crumbling faith keep my from believing in the hope available and ever-present to me, if I desire it. God help me understand the true nature of who you are. Let me be dissatisfied and disgusted by anything that does not come from You. Let every encounter I have with You be the most gratifying and pleasing taste I have ever come across and ruin me to the taste of this world, that I may never find false pleasures in the cheap things of this poor and deprived world.

What I have collected:

Signs God is in the process of teaching me to be a missionary:

1. Extremely hard work for no pay.

2. Only an allotment for 5 minute showers.

3. A measly 1 dollar tithe. 

4. Unstable living conditions.

5. The fact that I haven't straightened my hair in over a month.

6. ...learning to undergo all this with a joyful servant's heart.

Signs that the transformation isn't complete yet:

1. I desire to be able to shave and wash my hair all in the same shower.

2. I kind of really want to hold onto that one dollar. :/

Yep, it might take some time. Dear friends, pray for me. Thanks. :)

Sometimes you have to pack up and fly away...

So here goes my story: I talked to a missionary teacher for a very long time today. She told me all about what it is like to teach overseas. I'm going to do it. This is my passion in life. I want to work with students, I want to travel, I want to make a difference. There is a need and I have able hands. Okay God, how is this going to happen? I don't even have enough money to pay for this semester let alone an extra year of getting credentials then not really getting paid as a profession afterwards. There are a lot of logistics to work out. I'm not scared though. I think that's a good sign. I feel like putting this firmly on my blog will make me start to make the steps that are necessary to make this dream a reality. So here I go.

Adventure time. 

A place to lay your head, and heart.

Home is really the most beautiful picture I can think of right now.

I can't wait for this picture to become a reality, someday.

I really hate being a gypsy.

Oh, the processes of life.

I need to figure out what my passions are in life. 

It shouldn't be this difficult.

What do I want to do when I grow up?!

(I wish it was like when I was a kid...

An astronaut

 or fashion designer

sounded like good ideas.

It's too bad I learned

I don't like flying

And I have no desire 

to be in the fashion industry)

But it was easier back then. 

I'm still not over the hill though

Baby steps are hard for me.

I want the big picture. 

I want to dream.

But I don't even know where to

Start. 

Sunflowers (aka my soul)

I must confess I’m going to start speaking Christian-ese. I fear this will turn some people off from reading my forthcoming blog; but please, do not let that stop you. I will try and make it as non-cliché as possible. However, some things are cliché because they are true, right? Therefore, here I go with my thoughts: I don’t hear God talking to me all the time. It’s kind of a rarity, and I know that’s probably my fault. I don’t always put as much energy into “listening”. I get too distracted doing seemingly Christian things. Ironic much? However, one instance in my life I heard God clearly and it almost brought me to tears. This happened over the summer, but I remember it vividly, and for some reason I thought someone else might want to read it and bear through this lengthy blog. So here’s some background:

The time was May 2008. It was a sunny day in Tanzania, Africa. I was sitting in the back of a rickety old van, sans seatbelts, bouncing all over the place every time the van hit a pothole. (Which let me tell you was quite frequent)  So there I was being exposed to a world so vastly different than I had ever seen reading all the signs like a completely white girl would. “Karibu” the sign in front of me said CARE-EE-BOO, I said almost proud that I was sounding like a native. The missionary just laughed at me- rightfully so.   As we were driving I saw a breathtaking sight…one that doesn’t happen too often in Orange County. One that I could try and take a picture of, but it would never accurately depict what I was seeing. It was fields and fields of sunflowers. Really, you could not imagine more sunflowers swaying around. Now, in my Western mind, I would think they are just there for the enjoyment of people; to look pretty. But in Africa, that seems to be the least of their concerns. This is shown throughout many places…many odd smells…many odd levels of cleanliness.  Being the curious little camper I was, I asked. “Are these flowers just for looks?” Again, another chuckle out of the resident African. She told me that the flowers produced sunflower seeds and oil, which they exported for money.  Now that by itself doesn’t seem like much. In fact, I didn’t think anything about it until months later when I was back in my all-too-comfortable setting of Moorpark (aka Suburbia), California.

My church was doing something pretty charismatic. However, I figured go big or go home, right? So there the pastors were, anointing everyone’s hands with oil praying for God to reveal something to us about ourselves. It was pretty far-fetched, but I though I’d go for it. So there I went: Eyes closed, head tilted upward (as if Heaven is legitimately in outer space), hands raised in a fashion that would look silly outside of any other setting besides the one I was in. With a furrowed brow I prayed. Then I would scrunch my nose and pray again (Yes, a very holy stance) I couldn’t think of anything besides those darn sunflowers. I thought that was what was clouding my mind from hearing God. But after a few more nose scrunches it finally all clicked. I heard God in a voice I will never, ever be able to explain to you say “Talene, YOU are the sunflower, you’re not just something that is bright can bring people happiness, you are useful; I can use you. You have a purpose” I have to tell you, this was pretty earth shattering because I was at a place in my life where I did not have everything together; I was scared and lost. I felt comforted. I felt loved. Dear Jesus, don’t let me ever forget that feeling.

 I am a sunflower.

You are too.