Conductor

23 Jan 2013 1 Comment

by nataliaria in Music, Prayer, Sovereign, Worship

I waited all day to come here, waited all day to write and tell you all about… well, life, I suppose. But it’s 11pm now and The Roommate’s asleep on the other side of the room, and it all seems too very much to write.

I almost started with “I wish”, but I’ll not fall to that, because I wish is the antonym of content, and sometimes it feels like a very tender balance inside of this heart. I suppose it’s human nature to wish for. But contentment with the enough, the more than enough, that God has poured boundlessly over my life is not the only balance I’m trying to find.

There’s another balance between excitement and a deep, creeping fear. Being a teacher someday, a someday that will become today in an all-too-short blink of the eye, is an exciting concept when I’ve done my homework and the reading report is ready to turn in and I’m working right along on the paper. But I sat in the second row in class today, and I’m looking at the backs of heads that must know so much more than me. And we’re talking about education standards and curriculum and I’m so inadequate and overwhelmed pours oil on the fire of fear that’s building in my heart.

The president of our school preaches Chapel twice a month, and today was one of those treasured Tuesdays. And I was so very happy, relieved maybe a little, too, when there were mikes and guitars on stage, because my soul craves God time in worship with song, and after we’ve sung, this school president is a wise, wise speaker. He’s teaching on Esther and emphasizes decisions, and my notebook’s open on my lap, I wrote “God Orchestrates” in the front page, even as Dr. Nyquist spoke about a sovereign God whose ability to know and care and design far exceeds my own estimations of Him.

I’m sitting in bed now, feet perpetually cold tucked under my comforter, and writing brings back snapshots of a day still winding down. But without realizing it my eyebrows are sinking deeper and deeper, a frown taking shape in the light of my computer screen because I just can’t make sense of it all. There’s no way, really, just not a chance, that God could use every decision, every experience of this day that feels so fragmented, to work in my heart and bring truth to a plan that He set in motion when time began.

I know in my head that He’s wise and sovereign, and that His rule extends far beyond my ability to comprehend anything about Him, but my heart hesitates because I really just don’t see how. I have a little mind, and a little faith to go with it, and if I can’t conceive of how He could bring good from the small bits of chaos that chain together to form my life, then how could He?

But The Roommate prays first and God Orchestrates is on the wall now, cardboard reminder of truth I’m not sure I always believe. And The Roommate prays Conductor, because He gives cues when we need, not a second before, and He’s looking at the whole picture, the whole piece, and He knows where this melody is headed, and He’s doing exactly what’s needed to bring us exactly where He wants us, to turn this confusion into a concert.

And she doesn’t know, but feet away, tucked into her own bed, soft blue eyes closed, she’s praying peace and hope into a life, a day, a heart phase, that’s not terrible, but none too wonderful, either. I’m balancing on one leg between hope full of peace and chaos swirling confused, and with words she’s praying right back to Him, The Roommate pulls layers of doubt back from a life that He’s deemed for Him, and it’s pouring this is right, this is good, back into my life.

Because there’s a balance in life, that I’ll probably be seeking the rest of my life. But God doesn’t wobble over fear and trust, doesn’t raise eyebrows and question why that was necessary. He doesn’t doubt, doesn’t wander, doesn’t hem and haw and eventually just stop for a moment, because it all just feels a little off. He doesn’t do any of that.

Because He’s the Great Conductor and He knows it all and orchestrates it all, and His hands mold my life like they’ve molded history since time first blinked, and His plan is so incredibly rich.

~Natalia

Bullet Point Post: Classes are Classes

10 Sep 2012 1 Comment

by nataliaria in Bible, Bullet Point Post, Moody Bible Institute, Music, Teach

• I’m sitting in the dark in the lounge on my floor. It’s not completely dark, but it’s dark enough that seeing my keyboard is a bit of a struggle. I know how to type, so my inability to visually decipher which key is which is not too great a struggle, except when I decided that this would be a Bullet Point Post. Then, suddenly, not only could I not see the keys, but I had also completely forgotten which keys produce the bullet point icon. By the time I figured it out, my squinting face was three inches from the keyboard, and I had typed the following into the WordPress box: *(**I, as well as activated the search box on my computer desktop.

• It took me five tries to create that bullet point icon, as well.

• I’m getting the hang of it now.

• I had Foundations of Education for Christian Schools this evening. A night class. The jury is still out as to my feelings regarding both night classes and once-a-week block classes. This class is both, and I’m sure I’ll have further opinions to share with you on that topic at a later date. As it is, I really very much enjoy this class. The professor, the methods used to instruct us, the texts we’re reading, the high amount of interaction with the other students, the way learning is a truly active and participatory event. I’m a fan.

• Actually, I lied. I’m still having trouble typing out these bullet point symbols.

• In my hermeneutics class, another once-a-weeker that meets on Tuesday afternoons, we were assigned the task of creating a chart containing the major points and themes of the book of Galatians. I dutifully printed out the book of Galatians and read it every day, highlighting words that seemed significant and scribbling notes in the margins of my print out. The chart due tomorrow, I was rather ambivalent about the whole prospect of charting a book of the Bible- surely I would leave something out, or incorrectly identify the themes of the passage. But, it being the night before, I tackled the assignment this evening, and was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the task. Maybe I’ll share my completed chart with you one day.

• Between the ages of eight and eighteen, I studied the art of playing piano. I dutifully practiced my songs, measured out scales and intervals, and memorized scores of musical facts, instructions, and informational tidbits. Twice a year for ten years, I was tested on these tidbits and songs, scales and intervals, along with many other musical skills. These music achievement tests were not the bane of my existence (that was recitals), but there are other things in life that provide me with more joy than said tests. However, I have quite recently discovered an additional bonus, a surprise application, for the random musical knowledge that I have retained: Exploring Music.

Exploring Music occurs on Tuesdays and Thursdays and it exactly what the title indicates: an introductory class wherein music and the fundamentals thereof are explored. My music knowledge, limited and scattered though it may be, has served me very well in this class, to say the least.

• Due to the lack of purpose or truly redeeming nature of this post, I have prepared for you a short list of take away points, as any good professor would do:

- Bullet point icons are hard to type after midnight in the dark.
- Studying the Word of God, and at Moody, is an amazing privilege.
- I greatly enjoy what I am studying and the things I am learning.
- I gave up on bullet points.

~Natalia

Rain Falls

16 Jul 2012 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in Casa Hogar, Clothes, Kiddos, Mexico, Music, Work

It’s five o’clock in the afternoon. The sky overhead is overcast, huge grey clouds filling in the space between white puffs of precipitation.

Down here on the ground, in the long, shallow dip between the grey brown mountains that surround us, we’re busy. Lunch fresh in our bellies, we’re down in the gravel courtyard, finishing the project we started this morning.

Hermana Deisi and Hermana Tere are the heads of this operation. Deisi’s deep in the storage room, directing. These blankets go here. Can you take down this box? Careful, it’s heavy. All the shampoo should go here. Where is the tape? Young ones hurry to help, hurry to move in, hurry to step up.

Hermana Tere’s at the other end of the courtyard, seated on a black swivel chair, a huge pile of brightly colored jackets balanced next to her. She sorts. Takes out. Checks names. Whose is this? We don’t need this anymore. Can you put this with the other pink jackets, please?

The concrete walkway between the two women is a maze of shoes, toys, jackets, and boxes. Tens of pairs of shoes rest neatly against the whitewashed wall. Sitting contentedly with their match, they await their destination. Across from them, a huge garbage bag houses an equal number of shoes without a pair, waiting dejectedly for their match to be discovered.

Cardboard boxes, former houses of eggs, chips, canned food, and other bulk products, have since found a new purpose. A chip box containing yard upon yard of fabric rests neatly on top of a box that used to contain a computer and now holds boys’ socks and underwear.

Beyond the shoes, beyond the boxes, lie heaps and piles of items just recently taken out of the dark, dusty storage room. An art easel, piles of sheets, ready to be folded and boxed up once more, a couple more matchless shoes (here, David and Chuy, see if you can find their pairs) and so much more.

It starts to drizzle now, and yet work goes on. Things to sell are put in thin white garbage bags, Hermana Tere’s pile of jackets grows smaller as we roll up the bright garments and tuck them into a bin marked Chamarras. Clothes are sorted, organized, folded.

Inside storage it’s dim, and the constant tread back and forth, in and out, raises brown dust from the cement floor. Outside storage, thin yet persistent raindrops fall on the gravel; the ground is wet. The cars are wet. The garbage is wet.

And in the midst of it all, one young boy plays.

Ten years old, but maybe a little small for his age, his light brown skin and gelled hair shine with rainwater. His wide jeans are cinched tightly around his waist, deep cargo pockets hanging down under his belt. He’s pushed the sleeves of this fleece up, exposing slender forearms and small fingers.

And he’s on a pogo stick.

He’s found an infant’s toy amongst the piles of things, a brightly colored musical toy that spurts the same handful of melodies over and over at the touch of a button, and he’s using one little hand to hold the toy up to his ear.

The other hand holds tightly to the pogo stick handle, gripping and flexing as he bounces up and down, up and down, up and down.

The rain falls. Piles grow smaller and bins begin to fill as we continue to work. Young ones and grown ones alike move back and forth along the corridor, sorting, moving, organizing.

And in the middle of it all, the boy hops around, while baby-ized classical music tweaks away in his ear, and the rain drips off his peaked nose and down his round cheeks.

~Natalia

Tuesday Night

29 May 2012 2 Comments

by nataliaria in Chicago, College, Friends, Love, Miss, Moody Bible Institute, Music, Remember, Summer

It’s 8:30 in the evening, and the sun’s last rays are trying adamantly to reach into the rear windshield of the car. They’re not making a lot of progress, and cars up and down the road are clicking on their lights, as freshly lit street lights glow cheerily overhead.

My window is rolled down a couple of inches, and I can feel the cool breeze whipping those little strands of hair that insist upon escaping from my ponytail. I roll to a stop at a red light, and take advantage of the moment to switch radio stations. Sometime during the school year, Stevy took the time to set the radio presets to stations that I appreciate, as well, and I flip through two or three stations before a familiar tune fills the car.

The light still red, I lean back against my seat, my mind wandering back the last week of school.

It’s the Tuesday of finals week. I’ve been in the library all day, and will probably do the same tomorrow. This paper, this final paper, is due on Thursday morning, and I’m determined to do well on it. And people are already done with school and there’s packing to be done, and there’s a list outside Mary’s door that provides a rough estimate for when each girl is emptying her room and moving off the floor. Moving away for the summer. For a semester. Forever.

School marches on, and I feel just a couple good night’s sleep away from truly being on top of academic things. Friends and friendships insist upon being fluid, living, breathing, changing, growing things and as much as I want to hold up my hands and yell, “Freeze!” just so I can get my footing, I know it won’t do any good.

There’s grace, and forgiveness and understanding, but hearts and stories and friends and souls stop for no one.

So I keep my feet under me as best I can and keep running, desperately trying to keep up with lives, hearts, relationships that I barely understand myself.

And plans and ideas and obligations are hurling themselves at me from all sides and I’m tired of wondering what to do, and tired of turning things down, and all that is swirled together with tired of doing so much. I was in the middle of a hurricane, scrambling to keep my wits about me as finals week plod steadily on.

But it’s Tuesday night; Breakfast at Night night. And it’s 10pm and the SDR is packed, and the line runs out the door, and I’m sampling every cream cheese at the cream cheese bar. It loud down here, so very loud. Someone just serenaded his girlfriend at the table behind us, to the enthusiastic applause of tens of Moody students.

Across the table, Ellie’s trying to get my attention. I take another bite of my bagel, this time with strawberry cream cheese, and lean towards her to try to understand. It takes a couple tries to understand but then I get it- Do I want to go out for a drive around the city with some people?

Now? I can’t. I have too much work.

But Ellie is persuasive and you’ll be back around midnight. So, come, please?

I go.

We’re a little delayed in heading out, but soon enough, Ellie’s driving an SUV full of six girls down Michigan Avenue, and it’s warm out, and the windows are down, and the music is turned up, and the pair of girls sitting in the very back seat are dancing back and forth in time with the music, hands waving in the air.

I accidentally end up sitting shotgun, and I let my flip-flops fall to the bottom of the car as I pull my feet up in front of me. Swiveling in my seat, I’m met with five happy pairs of eyes, as the entire back of the car has picked up on the dancing, and there’s laughing and yelling and when a song comes on that we know, you better believe we’re singing right along.

And the city is bright and tall and breathtakingly beautiful and the ride comes to an end far too quickly. And Elli parks the car and we step back onto our little campus in the middle of the Big City, and are suddenly once more smack in the middle of the whirlwind.

But for that hour, driving up and down the brilliant Chicago streets with some of my closest friends from the school year, the whirlwind faded and fun took over.

And tonight, driving alone to the same songs that formed the soundtrack of that late-night car ride, I missed that moment, that evening, those ladies, very much.

And I love this summer, and I love the opportunities and fun I’ve been having, but deep down, I miss, too.

~Natalia

Do I Believe

03 May 2012 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in God, Music, Trust, Worship

This morning was worship chapel.

Forty straight minutes of praising God in song with hundreds of my fellow Moody students.

There was a Shane and Shane concert this evening, too.

Right in the same auditorium.

Two hours of worshipping God. Fellowshipping with others. Being encouraged.

And then, standing surrounded by people who had come to worship God, I thought,

I don’t live my life like I believe what I’m singing.

If I believed what my lips were singing with my whole heart, and truly clung to the truth of these songs as I know I should

I’d be less stressed.

I’d trust God so much more.

I’d not be afraid.

And in all that, I’d glorify Him more.

“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

~Natalia

Provides

18 Apr 2012 2 Comments

by nataliaria in College, Family, Friends, God, Grow, Hurt, Love, Music, Provide, Trust

Merging with the dwindling rush of people moving systematically down the stairs, conversation hummed and lulled up and down the dim stairwell. I listened intently to the friend next to me, both of us hopping quickly down the steps, on our way from class to chapel.

Finding our places in the vast auditorium, we let our bags slide off our shoulders and sunk comfortably onto the red, flip-down seats. Scant minutes passed and the worship band appeared on stage. The chapel was filled with the sound of seats flipping up as the student body rose to worship God.

Songs sung and hearts refreshed and encouraged, we took our seats once more. As the main speaker was first introduced and then took the stage, my mind briefly wandered to an interaction had not fifteen minutes earlier. In a matter of seconds, my upcoming Thursday evening had become much less hectic, as I was offered the opportunity to not take the two final philosophy tests, and instead collaborate on a group philosophy project.

God is so good, I thought to myself, marveling at His provision. He provides for me, giving breaks just when I need them most. I am amazed by His provision.

But then another thought struck me. I don’t just provide for you in classes, God seemed to be saying.

Oh, I know that, Lord. You provide for me in so many other ways.

I provide for you in relationships.

I paused to consider this statement. God providing for me, caring for me and my heart in the way my classes unfold? Yes, absolutely. God giving me His best in my work situation, my school living situation, and my family? For sure. But my friendships and relationships a vehicle through which God provides for me? Harder to swallow.

But God, friendships are hard. There’s miscommunication and confusion and hurt. I explained to God, because He was clearly out of the loop on human relationships. And even if everything were to be perfectly clear; no mistakes, no miscommunication, to love someone is to open your heart up to ache. Ache when they leave. Ache when they change. Ache when it’s over.

That’s not your provision, LORD. It can’t possibly be.

But it is. I give you relationships for you to grow, to learn, to love, to hope. And I give them to draw you closer to me. I provide for you in your relationships with others.

And suddenly, sitting in chapel, tucked neatly into a soft, red seat, hundreds of my classmates scattered in identical seats all around me, I understood a little bit more about relationships. Because God does know what He’s doing when He puts people in my life, and He does actually have a clue when He seems to be taking them away, too. He provides for my heart, He provides for my needs, and He provides for me to grow.

And I can trust Him on that.

~Natalia

Come Back

04 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in Beauty, God, Love, Music, Need, Prayer

God is always with me. He always sees me, guards me, and cares for me.

He’s with me.

But my heart strays away from Him. And I don’t realize it until I’m standing in chapel, and we’re singing praise to Him, and everything begins to slip into place once more.

Hundreds of voices, my classmates and professors, are singing all around me, and I’m singing, too. And my heart jumps a little bit, because I had forgotten what it’s like to feel so safe, so secure, so right with Him, and in Him.

And we sing another song, and then there is a prayer. And I close my eyes, my head low before Him. And as we come before God through prayer, a voice speaks in my heart.

Come back here.

Come back to where you are safe, to where there is comfort and peace and joy and where right is clear and bright and true. Come back to where Jesus meant for your heart to be, close to Him. Come back to what is important, what is beautiful, what is love.

Come back to me, God says. Stop running, stop spinning, stop worrying. Be here with me.

And I am so thankful.

Because I wander so very far away. I forget Him accidentally, deny His will defiantly, and become oh so confused in the process.

I need Him, and He knows that. He created me, created you, to need Him. And He doesn’t leave us hanging either. He provides for us, draws us near, calls us to Him.

Calls us to come back to Him.

~Natalia

Come

18 Mar 2012 1 Comment

by nataliaria in Africa, God, Hurt, Music, Need

You know the songs- praise and worship melodies whose choruses contain some line about Jesus coming back. Come, Lord Jesus, come. Lord, rend the heavens and come down. Those kinds of songs.

I have always had a hard time with those songs, a hard time standing in church, in chapel, and meaning the words that I am singing. In fact, sometimes, when a song begins to beg Jesus to come, to return to Earth for a second time, I suddenly become aware that I’m no longer singing along, my lips have fallen silent and I’m no longer praising God with my voice.

Because the thought of Jesus coming back kind of freaks me out.

As I thought about it, a couple possible reasons for my anxiety over Jesus’ eventual and inevitable return occurred to me. A large part of my general hesitance to beg Jesus to return is what is eloquently referred to as The Fear of the Lord. I mean, think about it: He’s GOD, for goodness’ sake. And what am I compared to that? A speck of a speck of a piece of dust.

So, yeah. I was fearful. Awed. Intimidated.

Secondly, the thought of His immanent return makes me want to run around and do stuff. What stuff, I’m not sure, but there is so much yet to accomplish in the world. There are people to care for and children to feed and love and millions of souls who have not heard the Gospel and wait, Lord! Just give us a second to get on top of things!

But this morning, the faces of yesterday’s Care Point children still fresh in my mind, and memories of the injured, the sick, the dead still bouncing around in my heart, I told God I wanted Him to come back.

Because this world is broken, hurting, sick, dying. I knew that before I came to Kenya, and I know even better now. And yes, things are being done, but we’re certainly not on the fast track to improvement. There are problems, issues, and heartaches in this world that will not be fixed this side of Heaven. Jesus Christ is the only one capable of fixing, solving, healing.

So come, Jesus, come.

~Natalia

Church Night

21 Dec 2011 2 Comments

by nataliaria in Bible, Casa Hogar, Church, Family, Kiddos, Mexico, Music, Sleep, Spanish

I arrived at church this evening shortly after the service started, and slipped into the tiled santuary as the congregation stood to sing a hymn. I approached the five rows that the Casa Hogar occupies and catching her eye, motioned to Hermana Deysi.

Where do I sit?

Sit here, she indicated the far end of her pew, so you can help me with the little ones. I nodded and she leaned back so that I could scoot into my place. Past Enrique, past little Giovani and past Beatriz, her hair tied neatly with a blue bow. I settled into the space between Luis, acknowledged my presence with a smile, and Samanta, who patted my hand with her little one.

From where I sat in the back row, I could see the backs of forty dark-haired heads. Johana with her hair down, tamed only by a headband balanced atop her jet black hair. In between dressing and pony-tailing the little ones, Rubi had found time to pull her short locks into a tight bun on the side of her head, graced with a black bow. The row just in front of me was occupied by young boys, packed shoulder to shoulder, their gelled hair glinting in the fading evening light.

Sitting on either side of me, my seven-year-old charges behaved marvelously; standing and sitting, praying and singing as the service progressed. After several rounds of stand, sing a hymn, sit, stand, repeat, we opened our Bibles and the pastor lead the congregation in reading the evening’s passage. The passage read and the prayer said, we sunk once again onto the pews, silence settling over the huge room as the pastor prepared to speak.

The sermon was a rare bilingual sermon, with a visiting pastor preaching in English and Pastor Ramos translating into Spanish. As the pastor mentioned various passages throughout the message, Luis leaned towards me, Can I look for them? he asked, extending his small, dark hand for my blue Bible. I nodded and handed him the book, which he accepted happily and began to flip through, studying the page titles in his quest for 2 Chronicles.

Minutes later, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Glancing down at Samanta, I had to supress a smile as her little head nodded back and forth in the beginning stages of sleep. Her eyes were closed but every time her head fell forward, she would pop back up, her eyes momentarily opening, startled awake by her own sleep.

For a moment, I let her continue to sway back and forth, while I considered how best to handle the situation. Decided, I reached over and laid her head gently against the back of the pew.

Less than a minute later, I felt something bump my arm. I looked down to see the girl’s head, her cropped hair slightly tousled, resting against my arm. This time I could not supress my smile, as she heaved a sleepy sigh and sunk a little deeper into her seat and against my arm.

The rest of the sermon passed without incident, and as the message came to a close, the congregation rose to sing a closing hymn. As I eased her head off my arm, Samanta’s eyes fluttered open. She nodded as I motioned for her to stand, and obediently, although sleepily, rose to her feet. Luis, my Bible set gently on the pew next to him, stood as well, singing boisterously along with the choir director.

A hour later, back at the Casa Hogar, it was time for me to leave. My brother and father had arrived, and greetings and high fives, hugs and kisses had been exchanged. My mother and I, along with a handful of the older girls, had served dinner, and the children were trickling out of the dining room and into their bedrooms, to change, to bed, to sleep.

As I skidded down the open-air hallway, yelling good-byes into bedrooms and kissing cheeks as I passed, Samanta came bolting out. Clad in pajamas, her toothbrush in hand, the little one was on a mission for the bathroom. Adios, I said, wrapping one arm around her in a quick hug before sending her on her way. But she stopped, and turned to face me, her unusually light eyes reflecting the light from the bulbs that line the hallway. She motioned for me to lean down, which I did, bending until we were eye to eye. She grinned, revealing a mix of adult teeth and baby teeth, and wrapped her arms around my neck, her little arms squeezing tightly.

Moments later, she let go, but not before turning to kiss me on the cheek. We said goodbye again, and then she skipped off to scrub her little teeth, and I continued down the hall, laughing as girls yelled their goodbyes through the screened windows and young boys jumped out of their bedrooms to say goodnight.

I always enjoy church nights here in Mexico, and tonight was no exception.

See you tomorrow, Casa Hogar.

~Natalia

A Little Perspective

06 Dec 2011 1 Comment

by nataliaria in College, God, Music, Sovereign

It’s busy.

I labelled today as my most stressful day this semester.

But God’s not going to bring me this far and then hit the road, leaving me high and dry.

He is faithful.

And He is what this chaos that I call life is all about.

Lead Me to the Cross
by Hillsong

Savior I come
Quiet my soul remember
Redemptions hill
Where Your blood was spilled
For my ransom
Everything I once held dear
I count it all as lost

Lead me to the cross
Where Your love poured out
Bring me to my knees
Lord I lay me down
Rid me of myself
I belong to You
Lead me, lead me to the cross

You were as I
Tempted and trialed
You are
Te word became flesh
Bore my sin and death
Now you’re risen

To your heart
To your heart
Lead me to your heart
Lead me to your heart

~Natalia

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