a vision illuminated.

photo credit: Pinterest

I have had a dream; a vision; a long-term, grand-scheme, God-given passion bubbling up in me for so long.

Several, really, but for now we're just talking about one.

It's been one of those things--you know the ones. You have a great idea, but can't put it into words. You can't map out a plan or get people on board because you're just not quite sure what to tell them. You just can't paint a picture that accurately embodies everything you're feeling, everything you're wanting.

I've been carrying around that kind of abstract vision for years. I still don't know what it will really look like or how exactly to plan the thing out, but I do know I can show you. I might be able to help you understand.

To lay a little groundwork, here are a few things that have led up to this point:

Growing up going to a girls' camp where girls were almost completely free to just be little girls and love God in big ways.

Tammie Head uncovering for me, four years ago, so many truths about the Lord and His desire for me to be in His presence, truths that were still cloudy for me even after being taught so well for so long. I told her at the end of that summer Bible study that I wanted to help girls get it earlier than I did.

Finally submitting and surrendering to teach and serve kids through whatever kind of ministry the Lord laid before me. It has been abundantly more than I could have asked for or imagined.

And so what the Lord had started, I couldn't wrap words around.
Until I saw this:

Sara Bareilles, "Brave" 

I've watched it almost every day since I first saw it.
I cry, start to finish, every single time.

That's it. That is so perfectly, wonderfully, everything-I've-been-looking-for it.

I want to create an evironment where girls are free. Free to be themselves. Free to worship. Free to be girls.

I don't know how big or how small or how old or how often. But that's exactly my vision in a four minute video.

The first time I saw it, the Lord so clearly whispered, "Look what I can do." ["I" as in "Him." Only He can do it.] And as I watched, I didn't see sweet little strangers, I saw the slightly more grown up faces of girls whom I know and adore. Girls whose boundless futures I pray for often.

Elizabeth
Karis
Eva
Moriah
Jemma
Gracie
Mallory
Callie
Reese
Jordan
Story
Lydia
Maddie
Hope
Avonlea
Kennedy
Kadence

My dream and my prayer and my hope for them is that they would be always comfortable in their own skin.

That they would laugh far more than they cry.

That they would walk boldly, unafraid of judging eyes.

That they would know early that God is who He says He is.

That they would blow us away by how they can be so small, yet walk so intimately with their Father.

That even though they'll undoubtedly be hurt by this world, they would seek Him first every time.

That with all the limits the world will put on them, they wouldn't put more on themselves.

That they would dance with confidence and love for people to be listening when they sing.

That they would actually feel beautiful and believe that they are radiant little souls.

That they would know they can really, truthfully, realistically change the world.

That they would never have to wonder whether or not we are watching them in wonder. They would know we are.

That they would know that their mothers and grandmothers and teachers and friends--their sisters--are cheering wildly for them as they run. That we would slow our pace and run with them.

That they would live confidently and without fear, knowing that we are begging big things for them in prayer. That we are on our knees for them, battling evil forces out to get them.

That they would be free.

sweet girl, I can't hold your hand...

Where have I been, sweet blog friends?

I wish I could tell you I was on some secret mission in Spain. A mission trip to Africa. Maybe a study-abroad session in Greece?

No. None of those.

I had finals. Papers due. Graduation. Advising sessions and apartment hunting since I got into Texas A&M for grad school. Christmas festivities. Moving out. Moving home.

Not as exciting, but nevertheless, they've kept me from you.

I graduated on Saturday! Complete with family lunch and a party...but by the time I went to bed that night, I had a fever and an awful cough. Two days of high fevers, lots of kleenex, an exorbitant amount of sleep, two trips to the doctor's office, and one ridiculously long wait at the pharmacy find me here, curled up on the couch watching You've Got Mail and wondering about the probability of some wonderful man "coincidentally" happening upon my email address. A girl can dream right?...but I digress ;)

On our way out of the pharmacy, there was a younger woman in front of us with her two little boys. Her hands were full and when we got out the door I heard her say, "Get on my hip, guys!" The boys quickly found their spots on either side of her and stood so close, touching their shoulders to her hips as they walked. I was reminded of a day a couple years ago when I was running an errand at the mall and had a sweet little person with me. As we left one store to navigate the crowd to another, my hands were already full so I leaned over, looked straight in those eyes and said "I can't hold your hand right now. I need to you hold on to my sweater, ok?" A smile and nod later, we were on our way. Sweet little fingers gripped the edge of my sweater as we passed by people hurrying to do their shopping, reassuring me that I hadn't lost the most important package I had with me.

Watching that woman today, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe that's how it was for the woman in Luke 8.

(The Message)

On his return, Jesus was welcomed by a crowd. They were all there expecting him. A man came up, Jairus by name. He was president of the meeting place. He fell at Jesus' feet and begged him to come to his home because his twelve-year-old daughter, his only child, was dying. Jesus went with him, making his way through the pushing, jostling crowd.
In the crowd that day there was a woman who for twelve years had been afflicted with hemorrhages. She had spent every penny she had on doctors but not one had been able to help her. She slipped in from behind and touched the edge of Jesus' robe. At that very moment her hemorrhaging stopped. Jesus said, "Who touched me?"
When no one stepped forward, Peter said, "But Master, we've got crowds of people on our hands. Dozens have touched you."
Jesus insisted, "Someone touched me. I felt power discharging from me."
When the woman realized that she couldn't remain hidden, she knelt trembling before him. In front of all the people, she blurted out her story—why she touched him and how at that same moment she was healed.
Jesus said, "Daughter, you took a risk trusting me, and now you're healed and whole. Live well, live blessed!"

I wonder if somehow she heard Jesus say, "Sweet daughter, I can't hold your hand right now. I need you to hold on to my robe....just that little touch, you'll be with me. Grab whatever you can reach--no matter how small."

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by God. Sometimes I can't wrap my mind...let alone my little hands around all that He is; but then I remember--I don't have to.

All I need is to reach out and grab the edge of his sweater...er...robe :) and I'll know how close He is.