choosing to fight ...

So in the spirit of my last post, how's this for transparency and vulnerability: My life is a wreck right now. I feel as though everything's a disaster. It feels like someone took the plug out of the drain that was holding my life in the tub and now it's all rushing mad down the pipes. I'm nervous. I'm scared. I'm confused. I'm angry and frustrated and hurting. I feel like throwing up. All while trying to remember that happiness is circumstantial, but joy, however, is not. Is this what a crisis of faith feels like?

Once I made the decision and accepted the call to go to Alaska, everything went to pieces. I'm having a hard time discerning whether this is the enemy blocking my way to joining God in his work or if this is God blocking my path with thorn-bushes as he did in Hosea. But when I start to think about it, I really believe that Alaska is where I am called to be. Knowing how alive I felt while I lived there the first time fills me with joy and anticipation. But then I start to question my motives, Am I running from something? Or to something? And then comes the deluge of self-doubt, Who do I think I am to even imagine that I might be worthy or qualified for missions work? Who am I to dare to fulfill one of my dreams (living in the mountains where God continuously meets me) and move to Alaska? Do I deserve to live in such a beautiful place? The last time I moved to Alaska I had a week and a half from decision to landing in Anchorage. I had no time to doubt or question or do anything but move forward. It was so much easier that time. I made my decision and left 9 days later. I wish this time was like that. Don't think, just act. It would make all of this so much simpler.

The other night I had the distinct pleasure of seeing Donald Miller in person and listening to him speak about his new book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I was front row center, literally right under his nose, when he said these words, "The second you decide to live a more meaningful, more beautiful life, you will encounter conflict and pain." I thought, Boy, does this guy have a camera following me around or something? Direct access to my life? Sure, life wasn't all fun and games before I made this decision but conflict has at the very least doubled since I accepted the call. In Million Dollar Baby, Scrap-Iron Dupris, played by Morgan Freeman, says, "Boxing is an unnatural act, because everything in it is backwards. You wanna move to the left, you don't step left, you push on the right toe. To move right, you use your left toe. Instead of running from the pain - like a sane person would do, you step into it." I'm trying with everything in me to step into it, to be open to it. Open to it changing me and me coming out the other side better and stronger. He also says in the movie, "Sometimes the best way to deliver a punch is to step back. But step back too far and you ain't fighting at all." So, I am choosing to fight. To not let some conflict rob me of time or important lessons. Or rob me of joy. Time in the desert makes the Promised Land seem that much more beautiful once you get there, right? I'll just keep telling myself that.

But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the LORD, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior ... (Isaiah 43:1-3, NIV)

truth vs. lie ...

It's been hard for me to update because I feel like there's just so much for me to cover: process of moving to Alaska, things I'm learning, a study I'm doing, and other aspects of life. All of it has been so good but overwhelming too.

Process: I've sent out support-raising letters to friends and family via email and to churches I think might be interested via snail-mail. I've gotten little response and it makes me uncomfortable. One friend this morning told me that he'd help me by giving toward moving expenses and I was thankful for that. And another friend (from Alaska) emailed last week and said she wants to support me as well. I continually have this mantra playing through my head like a scrolling screensaver: While I might repeatedly find myself in over my own head, I am never in over God's! He is going to provide. I have days when I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt, but the other moments, the ones in which the shadow of doubt seemingly overtakes the light, the truth, seem to be coming at smaller intervals lately. I don't want that. I want to be growing in faith, not away from it. I suppose I have thought that I would be farther along in my fund-raising by this point though. Was that foolish of me to have thought that? Perhaps. It's only been a little over a month since I received the offer. But I feel this looming deadline and it makes me start to twitch with anxiety.

Things I'm learning: With all that said, however, I am doing a study at church with other women. It's a Beth Moore study entitled Believing God: Experiencing a Fresh Explosion of Faith. It's all pretty timely if you ask me. It's about how we are to present active participle believe that he is who he says he is, he can do what he says he can do, I am who God says I am, I can do all things through Christ, and God's word is living and active in me. We are to actively believe him. Not just believe in him, but believe him, what he says and what he does. This led me to the thought that I so often call myself a "believer" but really when I label myself that am I really actively believing him in that moment. More often that not, no. I believe in him and I think that's where most of us go wrong. We interpret being a believer as believing in him, and fail at the true meaning: Believe-er, one who actively believes something, the verb form of the word. So I am learning to present active participle believe him in my move, my future as a missionary in Alaska. It seems that it is just so much easier to believe the enemy when he tells me that I'm fooling myself, that I am not worthy of this calling, that money won't come in, that people will mock me for my efforts only to fail in the end, and who do I think I am anyway thinking that God would use me? This is HARD! Living this faith is hard, but I am resting in the knowledge that it will indeed be so worth it in the end.

Other aspects of life: My friend Lisa (from Alaska, the one I mentioned above that said she'd support me monthly) said in the same email that she's horrible at long-distance friendships but that I am "so worth being friends with." That was pretty timely too to be completely honest. I have felt like a failure the last few months in the area of friendships. I have seen the end of two friendships since June, one of which was very significant, the other not as much but still. A third friendship feels like it's on the edge of the cliff waiting for a stiff breeze. I started a small group last fall with the hopes that I would forge some wonderful friendships with some amazing women and we would eventually be really close. I stated in the beginning that I wanted a commitment from them, to remain together for the duration, to truly do life together. That group fell apart in early spring this year. It's no one's fault. People just had to go their different ways. Who was I to try to demand a life-long commitment from them? Things change, lives change, people move, etc ... After the demise of that small group, I emailed the "connect" director at my church to be placed in a new one and that I was also willing to lead a one-on-one mentoring group. I was promised that they would get back with me very soon. That never happened. I have just let the creep in lately that since so many attempts have failed, it must mean there is something wrong with me. A couple of weeks ago my pastor taught on intimacy and immunity and technology. I was hit hard by the idea that I sometimes use technology (Facebook, my blog ... ) as a means to replace real intimacy that's lacking in my life. I use those avenues to gain approval or affirmation instead of actively building into people and giving of myself in true relationships. It was at that point that I decided to join the women's study on Believing God to try to open myself up to others for true intimacy. I think it will be good but also a stretch for me. A stretch because I have a disdain for surface talk. I want to cut out all the surfacey "What do you do? Where do you live?" crap and get to the nitty gritty of things. This might actually be why I feel myself lacking in the friendship department. People ask me something on the surface level and I shut down for some reason. I am sure it shows on my face too because I'm told so often that I don't hide my emotions very well. So I'm sure the asker gets "put off" and any possibility of a future friendship forming is ruined. So again, I'm left thinking that there must be something wrong with me, when they choose to direct their safe questions to someone else that they interpret as a little more "safe." I just want to be real, cut the crap. Let's get to it.

Another thing I have been thinking about is the cynicism that harbors inside of me. I loathe chick flicks (the boy meets girl and fall in love after 3 dates movies). I can't stand them. And it's more than just a level of understanding that it's fairy tale. It's much more than that, much deeper. I can enjoy them at some level right up to the point where the boy and girl get back together at the end and it's presumed that they live happily ever after while the credits roll. But once I can see they are getting to that point I feel myself harden. I actually sense a shift inside. I can't explain it really. And when the guy and girl DON'T get back together in the end, I want to dance with glee on my way out! Take 500 Days of Summer for instance (SPOILER AHEAD!). Great movie all the way through I thought. I love those quirky kinds of movies. Loved the music, loved the actors, and actually loved the story. And what made it even better, for me, is that they don't end up together. She marries someone else. And I was ecstatic. It just makes me wonder why that is, why I feel that way. Am I dooming myself? Is this a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts? I don't know. But I think it's much more serious than just a knowledge that it's not real. It's like I'm afraid to let myself be happy or hopeful. It worries me. I heard a week or so ago - and now I can't for the life of me remember where - that "Every woman has the exact love life that she wants." It left me thinking, Could that really be true? I do believe that I sometimes hide from love (as a self-defense mechanism) to avoid the potential hurt but I still want a love life. I want someone to choose me as I am now, not as the me that I could be. I agree that on some level the statement is true. After all, if we want something bad enough we will create space for it in our lives and rearrange goals to achieve/attain it. But I struggle with the statement too and can't subscribe 100% to the idea. At least not yet. Will keep chewing on that one.

a little of each: past, present, future

So much has taken place since my last post. The biggest, and perhaps most important, is that come January I am moving back to Alaska, the place I fell in love with when I lived there previously from 2005-2007. It was actually right about this time 4 years ago that I first decided to pack up and move to Alaska to attend Alaska Christian College. You can read the progression of that story here, here, and here. Many will tell you that I came alive during my time there. My dad says that I became more myself. It really did transform me, which, I suppose, is one reason I'm returning. It's a missionary position for which I am required to fundraise all of my own support for the duration of my career there: $17400/year or $1450/month. I have moments (most of the time) when I am fully trusting this process to the Most High, boasting in my weakness so that his power will be made perfect. I have other (occasional) moments when doubt grips me and I am afraid. It's a process, one that will undoubtedly teach me much about faith, about God, about others on this journey with me, and about myself. I can't wait!

Also since my last post, I have parted ways with a woman that I have been friends with for 17 years now. We met sophomore year of high school (Fall semester 1992) in choir. She sat behind me and played with my hair and as someone whose primary love language is touch, I let her. We were fairly inseparable over the next several years. We made declarations that we would be each others' maid of honor, would always be best friends and nothing could separate us. In fall of 1998 we were roommates at KU and my personal reasons for being there were probably all the wrong reasons. I desperately wanted out of my father's house and saw college as a seemingly suitable way out, even though I couldn't pay for it. In the not even 8 weeks I was there, I attended class maybe 3-4 times. I slept. I partied. I ate. I managed to get a job at a hotel as front desk help. Personal tragedy struck early that semester and I found myself in literal shock in the ER. My "best friend" abandoned me when I needed her most because of something I wrote about her out of anger and frustration in a letter to my sister but never sent and she had found wadded up IN my trash can. I left KU feeling more alone and scared than I ever had in my entire life. She and I didn't speak for more than 2 years until she'd heard from a mutual friend of ours that my mother had passed away several months before that, and she called to say she was sorry for my loss. I was reluctant to let her back in because the pain of her turning her back on me was so profound and so irrevocable. But I chose to try to look past it. I forgave her and we tried to build our friendship again from there. But I never forgot that hurt, that wound and I think I had my guard up with her ever since, never able to fully trust her though I really wanted to. Sadly, from that point on, it seemed to be a repeated pattern: in my deepest times of need, my darkest hours, she was unavailable. She once told me, "I have enough problems of my own, I can't deal with yours right now" and that though she loved me she couldn't be my friend at that time. I remember the very next day I saw her at church and she acted like nothing had happened, as if she hadn't said any of it. I remember talking with a friend at that time (in early 2005) about wanting to end the friendship. But at the time, my way of dealing with conflict was to avoid it at all costs. I never mentioned it. I think I was so hungry for friendship, for connection, that I put up with it. Or I didn't think I was worth standing up for myself and told myself that's normal, it's what I deserve and nothing better. I was in a very unhealthy place at the time and I say that because I know I made mistakes too. I wanted to end it but I also couldn't reconcile that with "Love keeps no record of wrongs" so I said nothing and stayed. But I still couldn't help but notice that this was her pattern. She also once told me that she was/is the most selfish person I would ever meet. Over time, I really began to see and experience those words come to life and with a new clarity. I think those words that she spoke became a lens through which I viewed almost all of our interactions thereafter. I felt the friendship was over long before it actually ended and I believe I grieved it a long time ago (I would say 2005 or 2006 probably). Something happened about a year ago in our friendship that I believe was the "straw that broke the camel's back" - at least for me. I won't get into details but will say that I found myself deeply, deeply hurt by her again and we didn't speak for a few months. During that time, I began to discuss our friendship with trusted Christian friends and mentors and was advised to end it. More than one said it was an abusive relationship and I needed to get out. And over 4th of July weekend this year something else came up that ultimately led to my ending our friendship. I had prayed about it and talked with people for months and truly felt peace with the decision and once it was done I was relieved, as though a weight had been lifted and I was free to invest in other healthier, life-giving friendships. That I was so at peace and relieved with this said a lot to me, it told me that this was indeed the right thing. And I firmly believe that.

That process has taught me so much about friendships, about myself, God, and even my mother. Growing up with an abusive father, I remember at times wishing my mother would just leave him. I prayed for it, wished for it on stars and on birthday candles. It never happened and though I am eternally thankful now, at the time I was angry, hurt and confused at different times, and other times I was all of those things combined. Her commitment to stay had a lasting effect on me that only in the last month or so have I come to notice in my own life. I've had a series of semi-abusive relationships over the years, never physical abuse (aside from my father) which I have always thought to be easier to deal with. It's the emotional / mental abuse that leaves scars that don't heal and later may flare up and cause problems. I learned from my mother to stay, that it was okay and normal to be mistreated. I learned to put up with it and to avoid. I learned to stay when everything in me was telling me to leave.

I feel I need to make clear at this point that I love both of my parents deeply and feel no ill feelings toward either of them for the past. I have ALWAYS loved both of them and, like I said earlier, am grateful now that they stayed together and were more in love with each other in the months leading up to my mom's passing than I had ever seen before. They did the best they knew to do and did a fantastic job of it at that. My dad has grown and transformed so much under the Refiner's fire. He has always been a gentle, tender-hearted, loving man and now he shows it daily. I am proud of him and know that it is not my praise that matters. I know our Heavenly Father is proud of him too and that it is only by his grace that my daddy is who he is today. With that said, I know there will continue to be things that come up from my past that God will bring to the surface in my present relationships. I know this and welcome this as part of the journey back to Eden, part of the restoration of the glory I was originally intended to bestow, and the reconciliation to my Creator.

Needless to say, there have been some big things happening in me and through me. To hash them all out here would take an eternity but I would say that I've covered the biggest parts. The last 2-3 months I have discovered things in me that I didn't know were there, or more likely, I didn't know how to use. I can't put into words how it feels to stand up for myself, to draw a boundary line and say, "I will no longer let you treat me this way. I will no longer let anyone treat me this way!" It feels good. Tonight I am thankful that God calls me to come with him, not to stay where I am, stuck and frustrated. I choose to go: free and open to the journey.

becoming recklessly his...

I knew things would be vastly different from that point on. I didn’t know how much at the time but I felt a shift, even if it was only slight. My whole life had been building up to that moment and it was over and the decision was made just like that. I didn’t know why or how it would happen; I only knew that God wanted this for me and he had placed the desire in my heart for a reason. I was moving to Alaska to go to school.

Every summer growing up my family would head for the mountains of Colorado for a week or two of vacation. We never went to the ocean; I was 19 before I ever saw the ocean; but the trip to the mountains was always one last hoorah before my sisters and I would head back to school. I loved the mountains: those mighty, majestic peaks rising out of the ground in the way that I thought Neptune might rise out of the ocean, confident and bold holding his trident yet mysterious and magic at the same time; the pungent smell of pine, that I could almost taste, permeating the crisp, clean air. They always seemed to call to me, never audibly, of course, but spiritually and emotionally I was drawn to them. It didn’t matter how many times we went, every time we would go I would pass the time trying to be patient, trying not to ask, “Are we there yet?” too many times. And then about 9 hours after our departure I would be on the lookout for the peaks in the distance: purple, and sometimes white too, blips in the sky that might look like clouds if you didn’t know any better, but I always did.

We would hike and play, rest, feed the chipmunks, watch the eagles on the tops of mountains, watch the hummingbirds outside the A-frame cabin, pick wildflowers, have bonfires, shop, explore, go down the Alpine slide over and over again, eat lavish foods, talk, laugh, cry, and hug and love there. It was family in all the ways we weren’t when we were at home. Dad was never as angry and Mom was never as sick while we were there. Looking back, maybe that’s why I loved it so much, because it brought a little slice of heaven into our family even if it was just temporary. I always felt safe and peace; they provided a refuge for me.

School would be starting soon with its halls scented with scotch tape, old books, and lead pencils and subtle undertones of angst thrown in. If I thought knowledge could smell like something, it would be scotch tape and books and lead pencils: rich with possibilities and imagination. I loved school but never seemed to excel at it except in reading. By third grade I was reading at the 11th and 12th grade reading levels. I liked learning and took comfort in this idea that for those 8 hours a day I wasn’t getting beaten by a belt or whipped with words that ripped apart my very identity, like I did at home. When I was at school I could be anything I wanted to be and not be scared that I might get ridiculed for choosing wrong. And for a while, at least, it challenged my dad’s convictions that I was stupid and worthless and dumb. Before long though, I began to believe that what he said was true: I must be stupid and worthless and dumb since I am doing so poorly. It never occurred to me that I was doing poorly because of what he told me and he told me those things because I was doing poorly. It was a cycle, one I couldn’t seem to break.

Time went on and I graduated from high school finally making the honor roll the last semester of my senior year. I worked mostly and took classes here and there over the next few years accumulating 27 credit hours between community college and the University of Kansas. Then I quit school altogether and focused on work thinking I could save up money to eventually go back once I figured out what it was God wanted me to do. I would start a job and love it and then after a year or so, I would get bored and quit, start a new job and love it and then after a year or so, I would get bored and quit. I was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with where I was and who I was becoming, or not becoming rather, and the way my life had worked out up to that point. I couldn’t help this feeling that there was something more out there for me. I was unfulfilled and hungry with desire for adventure that I denied because of fear of failure, my father’s rejection or disapproval, and in some ways my own fear of succeeding. I told myself “Once I get married I will move away to Colorado” and then “Once I get financially secure I will move away.” The ideas progressed into all-out unhappiness. Depression. Countless sleepless nights. Sporadic forays into superficial happiness permeated throughout with unhealthy relationships. Last summer while reading Seizing Your Divine Moment and Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Heart, something within me was stirred. Adventure was calling me and I could hear it loud and clear. I was suddenly aware that my life had become a downward spiral into a search for meaning and value that I knew I could only get in one place: immersing myself in an authentic environment where I could dive into God and submerge myself in his love and grace for me. I needed to learn, to study, to exercise my spirit and indulge my mind. I wanted a clean slate, a new start, to be where nobody knew my name or the history that came with it.

At that time I had been meeting regularly with a small group of girls that provided me with some honest feedback, some of it friendly and some of it not so much, but all of it needed. One Sunday afternoon last August we were gathered together and one of them said, “You really need to be actively pursuing this dream of yours to live in Colorado. What’s keeping you here? Nothing! So why are you still here?” I knew she was right and that it was out of love but I was offended. I went home and thought about what she said. I went to bed that night and, yet again, laid there wide awake wrestling with God and myself. And then at 2:15am, out of nowhere, I remembered going to Alaska to visit my dad a few years ago on this little college campus that barely had 20 students and no money at the time. I remembered the scenery taking my breath away. Alaska Christian College. Alaska Christian College. The thought wouldn’t leave me so I rose from my bed and went to the computer and half-heartedly pulled up their website thinking it was just a silly pipedream.

I thought about the idea of making Alaska my home. I knew I had loved Alaska while I was there, it was so beautiful – more so than Colorado – but so far away. The more I thought about it and prayed about it, the more at peace I was with the idea. I went to bed and slept soundly through the night for the first time in a long time. I woke the next morning feeling hope and promise that something might be waiting for me. I went to work and logged into the website again and sent a quick “request for information” on the electronic form explaining that I was the daughter of one of their staff members from a few years back, that I was interested in information about the school, any scholarships I could receive, etc… I had little hope of anything happening since it was already mid-August and school would be starting soon. Maybe Spring semester but more than likely it would be next Fall. Leaving so soon would be irresponsible and reckless. I didn’t have money. I didn’t have a job. How would I pay for school? What would I do for transportation? But it became obvious that God had a very different plan for me. By the end of the day I had received an email back from the admissions director at the school saying that he remembered my dad and that there was still space available and if I applied right away I could have my room and board covered with scholarships. I started crying there at my desk on the 5th floor of the office building in the pretentious part of downtown where I should have been earning my $40k/year by updating the database and making travel arrangements. Instead I sat there with a box of Kleenex in my hands and prayers of thanksgiving in my heart. They were tears of joy.

I emailed my friends, including the girls in the small group, and called my family telling them what had transpired overnight and of the adventure that could be waiting for me. I filled out the paperwork and faxed it back first thing the next morning. By Tuesday night I had received a phone call welcoming me to Alaska Christian College and that I had to be there in a week and 2 days. I called my family and told them first and it meant so much that they were all very supportive of me. Then I headed out to celebrate with friends. Change was underway; I already felt transformed somehow. We all shed some tears but mostly we laughed and reminisced about the memories we had made together over the last 13 years. Arrangements were made for going-away parties that Saturday night with friends and Sunday afternoon with family. I am still surprised at how calm I was, how much I felt at peace with the whole thing. It was almost like I was performing in a play about someone else’s life but yet I was conscious that this was happening to me, that this was my life. It was strange.

The next morning I had to tell my boss. I was nervous about it at first, like you might be nervous if you were afraid of telling your parents that you suddenly met someone, were getting married and moving to Africa or something. But I prayed and asked God to direct me and to open my boss’s heart. I went in to his office and told him I needed to talk to him and shut the door. He looked at me worriedly and said, “Okay, have a seat.” I sat and told him all about what had happened over the few days immediately prior to that and that I was leaving in a little over a week for Alaska and that I needed to give him only 2 days notice as opposed to the corporately preferred 2 weeks. He smiled as he looked at me and said, “You know, this reminds me of the time that God told Abram to leave Ur in Genesis.” My jaw dropped to the floor in shock. We had never really discussed Christianity or our individual beliefs during my tenure there but in the back of my mind I had somewhat of an inkling that he might be Christian. Then he told me that it’s obviously God’s call on my life to go to Alaska and that I certainly can’t ignore that. He was genuinely excited for me. Then he floored me again by working it out so that I got my 10 days of vacation and that I could get my check early in order to make preparations for the move. His support and encouragement was just another affirmation that this was from God.

The next week was a fury of chaos and making arrangements and packing. I had to be sure to see all the friends I needed to see, the ones that couldn’t make it to any of the going-away parties and the ones that have meant the most to me. But I pulled it off only with God’s strength and determination and help.

Thursday, August 26th my best friend took me to the airport and sat with me the 2 hours while I waited to board the plane. She cried and I told her how I excited I was and how at peace I was with the whole thing. I assured her that I knew God was in this and that it was something I had needed for so long – an adventure involving the mind, body, and heart. The announcement was made that they would start boarding for my flight. We embraced and 14 years of memories and love came rushing over me. I broke down; not because I was scared of going to Alaska, but because I was scared of leaving her behind. She had been a constant in a world of change and pain, she had been a rock for me. I told her how much I loved her and valued her friendship and that nothing, not even 4000 miles of distance between us, could change that. And I boarded the plane.

That night or the next morning rather, at about 12:35am, we were making our final descent into Anchorage. My heart smiled and my face reflected that with upturned lips, pearly whites, and hope. I was starting the rest of my life and I knew that this beautiful state, that three years ago I had spent a week in, would soon feel like home for me. I could see the Cook Inlet off to the West and the midnight city lights to the East. Then I saw the soft silhouette of the mountains off in the distance. Yes, it already did feel like home.

Now, more than a year and a half later, as I sit staring out the window at the heavy blanket of snow, I think about each individual snowflake that it took to create such a beautiful scene. And I think about the God who, with a breath brought the seasons into existence and told the snowflakes to fall here one upon the other, each adding to the beauty of the last in retrospect. And now I am thinking Isn’t that a lot like life? All the moments of the past, each uniquely breathtaking in their individual ways, add up to one amazing, resplendent picture of God’s awesome design and his love for me and the many ways he has blessed me since I have been here. Every moment of my past has been preparing me, leading me, drawing me closer to this present. Hosea 2:6-7 says, “Therefore I will block her path with thorn bushes; I will wall her in so that she cannot find her way. She will chase after her lovers but not catch them; she will look for them but not find them. Then she will say, ‘I will go back to my husband as at first, for then I was better off than now.’”

My days of being walled in are over, as are the days of being blocked by thorn bushes of fear and self-doubt. I had tried to find love and value in all the wrong things and therefore, had not found it. Until now. I have returned to my husband as at first. And as in Hosea 2:14, he has allured to me and has led me into the desert where he speaks tenderly and softly to my heart. In a recent phone conversation with my dad, with whom I have experienced a great deal of healing, he said, “Since you’ve been in Alaska you have become more yourself than you have ever been in your life. Your heart is alive and you are radiant.” Yes, it was reckless but then isn’t there something dangerously attractive about being reckless for God? After all, isn’t he a little dangerous himself? I have learned to become recklessly His. Yes. Things are indeed different now and I would not have it any other way.