Street Pastors - Cork

I've been assigned to Dave for the night. He hands me one of the notorious Street Pastor lolly pops, as we step out the door and head for town. We chat about Cork and what Saturday night in the town looks like. About his heart for Street Pastors, and what's God's done through them in the city. 

As we get into town my senses are assaulted with the smells of chippers, pizza, urine, beer, perfume, cocktails, fags and pot. With people brushing past through crowed alley's. Or getting hugged by randomers. Or someone grabbing my elbow as I try crossing the street before I look. My ears ring with girls screeching, men singing and pubs blasting music out onto the streets. 

Very early out, we come across Andreas. A polish man, begging. Apparently he's very well known, not just by the Street Pastors, but  also by the locals. He appears to be very well loved, and to have a way with the ladies. As it's mostly ladies that stop by to chat to him on their way to the pub, he kisses their hand's and flirts with them as only a 60 year old polish man can get away with doing. Very soon after saying hello and chatting to the man for a second or two, we discover that he's hurt his hand. He shows us that he can't even move his arm without it hurting. As the Street Pastors talked to him, and find out what had happened with his hand they are slowly able to convince him to go to A&E (the ER). He hates any and everything relating to A&E, so as he gets into the ambulance it's like seeing a miracle unfold before our eyes. 

I watched all this at an awkward distance during this whole 30 minute discourse. Unsure what my role was in this situation. I was out tonight strictly as an observer, did that mean I was strictly to be "observing" in this situation? Why did I find myself wanting to be able to love homeless people like this team of Street Pastors was doing for this man. Wasn't that supposed to be  something that flawed naturally from me? Loving the homeless? 

My heart for the homeless is defiantly not a 'natural' heart. And yet my 'spiritual' heart does hurt to help the homeless. I find that both these 'hearts' tend to be at war with each other whenever I come face to face with homeless ministry. Which is really just a testimony of Jesus at work in me. 

The Cork Street Pastors break up their night half way through by heading back to base and having a cuppa and biscuits. And sharing with the prayer team there all that's been happening so far. 

Now is what I expect to be the tough part of the night. The mental game of staying awake and loving people. 

But much to my shock I actually get a "second wind" and as the night goes on my energy level actually increases. 

My senses are again assaulted by the sounds and smells of Cork at night as we head back into the city. 

My heart drops to my stomach when I see a man start to kick a girl. I realize it's only the angle at which I'm standing and he's simply kicking the wall next to the girl. 

Or seeing for the first time a man being punched. Hearing the contact of fist to nose. Then seeing the blood. Wondering at the ache in my heart, was it only because he was so incredibly easy on the eyes? 

I've been put in charge of the bottle count tonight with an actual button to push every time we get a bottle or come across broken glass that we sweep up. It becomes a game of "I spy", and a bit of a competition between the team to see who can collect the most glass. This game turns out to be a hard game to turn off after a night of it, and I constantly find myself wanting to pick up glass bottles from the streets of Dublin. 

The other bit of Street Pastoring that's hard to turn off is the desire to run across the way and help the man that's falling down drunk, the desire to just sit with him till he sobers up a bit. Or the desire to see that a group of underaged girls get home safe. Or that girl that's walking barefoot, to be able to offer her a pair of flip-flops, so she doesn't step on glass. Or the homeless girl in the doorway crying because maybe next year will be her year, (implying that this year wasn't), just wanting to hug her and hear her story. 

I have to wonder that this is such a struggle for me.... Just months ago I would have seen all those same people and simply stood in judgment of them. Why didn't that man know when to stop drinking before he was too drunk to stand up, or why are those school girls out?! Or that woman without shoes on... doesn't she know that's a dumb idea? And while we're speaking of dumb idea's, that homeless girl.... But now my heart aches to just love these people. 

"I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." Ezekiel 36v26

Gomie

Gomie with her violets

Just over a week ago my grandmother walked out of this world and straight into the arms of Jesus. 

My heart hurts that I'll never again see her this side of heaven. 

There will be no more chats. No more lunches of sandwiches, crisps and milk. With cookies and coffee afterwards. Or those late night ice cream raids. No more Blue Blood marathons. No more cooking lessons. No sewing lessons. No caining lessons. No violets. Or tomatoes. No more bragging on me. No more introductions to randomers. No more wisdom. Questions. Pictures. Gossip. 

They say this season is a season of hope. This is the first year I understand what that means. As cliche as it sounds Jesus is the reason for the season. Because of His birth at Christmas, I look forward to Easter and His resurrection from the dead, "The last enemy to be destroyed is death." (1 Corinthians 15v26) For that reason I am able to cling to the promise  of Revolution 21v4 "He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away."

And in the words of Hunter Dockery,"when it says 'He will wipe every tear away', He's not merely wiping a tear from the cheek; He is putting His finger in your eye to wipe every tears away."

My mind goes next to the people that don't have this hope, is it any wonder depression is so real? If this life really is it and death really is the end... how do you get up in the morning? 

Because of the hope I have that death is not the end, I am able to  rejoice, even though my heart hurts, that my Gomie is once again with my Grandad. After 65 years of marriage, with almost a year gap, they're together again for eternity in heaven.

Hark the herald angels sing

"Glory to the newborn king"

Peace on earth, and mercy mild

God and sinners reconciled

Joyful all ye nations rise

Join the triumph of the skies

With angelic host proclaim

"Christ is born in Bethlehem"

Hark the herald angels sing

"Glory to the newborn king"

Hail the heaven born prince of peace

Hail the son of righteousness

Light and life to all he brings

Risen with healing in his wings

Born that man no more may die

Born to raise the sons of earth

Born to give them second birth

Hark the herald angels sing

"Glory to the newborn king"

The YWCA on Lower Baggot Street

Almost since September and the beginning of this school year the residents at the Y have been divided. 

Divided between the German's and the Spaniard's. At points it's felt like WWIII was about to happen. As a neutral party it's been comical to me to see and just watch. 

But it has hurt my heart to see, and at points being asked to join a "side".

I would tend to spend more time with the German side of the division. Mostly just because 2 girls I've cliched with are on the "German side", (and also they tend to be better at speaking English than the Spanish people). 

That said though, my roommate, Marta, is Spanish. So, if for no other reason than her, I have to be a neutral party! 

At this point you're probably wondering why in the world is there a divide? What's the big deal? 

Good Question. 

Apparently there's something about German culture and Spanish culture that naturally causes division. Something about the German's and their time management and general orderliness, and the Spaniards general lack of those....? I don't know. 

Just tonight, I got to go to dinner with some of the residence for my room mate's birthday. I was so surprised I was actually invited. (I was the only blond/blue eyed person in the mix of Spanish, Italian, and Turks.) 

  

One of the Spaniards I would have judged wrongly wound up basically sitting across from me during dinner, along with a Turkish girl and a guy from Italy (English had to be spoken!). 

The group out for Marta's birthday!! (Marta's 3rd on the right)

The question came up about what I was doing here, I work for the church, charity work, I'm a protestant.... Then it came out the Turkish girl was muslim (I had no idea). So I asked her all sorts of questions about why she didn't have to wear a head covering, etc. Then she in turn asked me all sorts of questions about Christianity and Jesus. Then it came out that the Spanish boy is Catholic (confusion on the difference between Catholic and Protestant!). The Spaniard and I ended up tag teaming about Christianity, (which needless to say was really special). 

I ended up inviting her to come to church with me Sunday. She's very keen to come. Please pray! Totally God showing up, yet again! 

As the 3 of us are talking, I suddenly remember the Italian guy... I ask him if he's Catholic. Turns out he was raised Catholic. But now doesn't believe anything. Before we can get too far into talking the legitimacy (authenticity) of the Bible we have to pay and go.... But man what a can of worms I'd love to open one day. Please pray with me for these moments. Just planting seeds. Pray that God would water. 

Later that night Marta and I had an amazing, "adult" conversation about the divided that's happening here at the Y. (This would be the first time we've actually talked about it). It meant a lot to her that I'd been a part of her birthday dinner. She invited me to join the Spaniards anytime. Which, now that I've actually gotten to personally know them, I will defiantly be doing just that. I feel like our friendship has now taken a turn, just by these seemly simple steps. Now, I'd say we're actually friends, (more than just sleeping buddies). So thankful we get to continue as roommates in the spring term! 

Christmas at the Y

I do realize that Thanksgiving has only just come and gone and I've put "Christmas" in the subject line. Don't be scared away, or fooled that I'm super organized. (Because I'm not!)

Much like I imagine it is in the States at this time of year, Christmas is in full swing here, and has been since Halloween. After the first lights start to appear, I'm able to just ignore it. Well... that is until the 4 weeks before. This past weekend was that weekend. In honor of that, the residents and staff at the YWCA decorated the Y for Christmas, which of course included hot chocolate and Christmas music, followed by a seasonal film.

I'd totally forgotten this was all happening. That is until I walk into the Y Sunday night very hungry, late for dinner, needing a toilet, too hot and very brain dead from having just had a 6 hour discussion about Christian marriage, and I walk right into the middle of Christmas!

Needless to say my heart isn't in it.

But one of the residents, Polina, is having a totally different reaction. (Polina is from Russia). She tells us, face literally glowing, "I feel I am 5 years old again!" (She's about 28.) With wonder she asks what hot chocolate is, how do you put toppings on it? And the decorations... she was like a child in a candy shop! After she asked if this is what we did every year, she told us that in Russia they don't decorate till at earliest the 25th of December, but they don't celebrate "Christmas" till New Years. Then it's 2 weeks straight drinking of vodka. (Ya'll, I thought that was a stereotype about Russia, not a truth! )

As the other residents share about their country's Christmas traditions, Polina looks at me and asks me what traditions do I follow.

Typical me, I don't understand what she's asking and I just word vomit. Is she asking about American Christmas traditions or is she asking about my family's traditions? (Because America as a country doesn't have any traditions...!) Polina then asks if this (a special weekend to decorate) is normal, is this Christmas? (again, is she referring to me or the whole country?) In my mind I want to say yes, the weekend after Thanksgiving traditionally is when you decorate for Christmas. But she is from Russia, Thanksgiving means nothing to her. Then my mind goes to Advent, this weekend is also always the 1st Sunday of Advent, 4 weeks before Christmas. She's not a Christian, what is Advent? My brain... Thankfully I'm sitting next to another American, Sara, who at this point enters the conversation, clarifying and answering the question. As I listen to Sara explain Christmas for Americans and how it's different for all of us, I realize Polina could have gotten 2 very different versions of Christmas. One being the secular Christmas, the other being the Christian Christmas. It begs the age old question, what IS the reason for the season?

 Christmas Festivities at the Y

Why have I shared this long story with you? Because I realized I need you guys to be praying for me and opportunities to share the gospel with my fellow residents just in the next couple of weeks leading up to Christmas. Chances are that when I am going to be interacting with the other residents, I am going to be brain tired and just the thought of engaging makes me want to shy away, but please pray that'd I'd not shy away. But rather in my weakness, God would be glorified. (Because He's the one that's going to be having to give me the words to say!) But seriously, is there not a better time of year to talk about the gospel than Christmas?

Where we are now

With moving to Dublin and being placed with a city church that has 4 services all in a different language, and living at the Y with international students; I had no idea what life would actually look like, working and living with internationals. 

What it means now is that I have a Dutch friend, South African, Romanian, French, German, Brazilian, Spanish, American, Mexican, Canadian, and Irish friends. What this has further meant is that I get to be a tourist and see and do a lot of fun things, and be able to do exactly what I came here to do. (To be in relationship with people, and (hopefully) reflecting Jesus to people). 

What this also means is that I forget that I have actually been in Ireland over a year now, and things like potatoes with every meal, I don’t even notice anymore! That is till one of the American girls here goes on a long rant to the cook about the dinner being not just rice, 'but rice and potatoes. Two starches! There have been potatoes with every meal for the past 2 weeks! That is just unacceptable!' (I hadn’t even noticed). -Honey, you’re living in Ireland. The cook is Scottish.- Hello culture shock! 

Prior to this conversation about food this girl, Rena, had been ranting to me about something else - and then when she started going at the cook about the food; clearly, there’s more going on here! So I very quietly asked her if I could pray with her. She said yes, so I did, almost whispering! (This is me having lived in Ireland a year, where praying out load in public is just not something you do!)

Implications of all of this? My social media probably looks like I live such an exciting life! I would truly hate to give the wrong idea about how I live life, especially to people back in the States. Yet as I was scrolling back through pictures I've posted, it is a pretty accurate description of my life here. Life in community with internationals. Of which I am one. 

Day trip to Killiney Hill via
Dalky with some of the girls
from the Y 

Killiney Hill 

Girls night at the Y

Trinity College Library 

It's always fun when people ask what it is I do.... Not. Ah, ya know, I get to be a tourist. When I'm not doing any of the above, you can probably find me in a coffee shop reading, pretending I'm not actually a tourist. 

The reality of it is though that it's hard. A lot of what I have to do that just comes with living in community, doesn't come naturally to me. Sometimes I'm sick of being around people and don't handle being asked "how are you?" one more time! And so I walk out of the room, unable to engage, but leaving someone thinking they've offended me. Or I just want to blow up at my room mate, (because I just want to be by myself), but miraculously don't say anything and just breath. 

Sometimes I truly feel like I don't fit in anywhere and I hate eating communally. Sitting at a table hoping someone will sit with me. But then the next day I go and sit with someone and even though I know they're not native English speaking, I start talking to them in English and have an amazing conversation. I walk away wondering why it is I don't try and engage more often.... Really, once again, I am reminded yet again that it can't be by my strength that I do anything that I'm trying do. It has to be Jesus in me. Unfortunately I forget to even spend time with Jesus, and much less even remember that it's not by anything I do, it has to be Him. 

So much easier to say then do! And that's all just life at the Y. I never did go into what church with all it's nationalities is like! Stay tuned for that one. Till then. xx

Street Pastors - Belfast

For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men..... 

But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong. 

1 Corinthians 1.25,27 

It must be pushing 1 o'clock in the morning. I'm feeling very abominable snowmanish for all the layers I'm wearing. Trying to stay engaged in conversation while keeping an eye peeled for empty glass bottles. My contacts are starting to try out and all I can think about is a warm bed or a hot cup of coffee. 

We walk past a rather popular night club buzzing with people just out to have a little fun tonight. There's a girl engaged in an animated conversation with a fellow. She's taken her shoes off and is just wearing socks. I walk over and try to politely interrupt their conversation so's I can ask if she wants a pair of flip-flops. She says no. My desire to just walk away is overpowering as I ask her again if she's sure, I don't want her stepping on glass... either because she wanted me to leave or because she genuinely changed her mind, she took a pair of flip-flops. "Save 'em for later" I said as I handed them to her, and tried to make myself scarce. 

As we moved on from the club to a quieter part, I found myself breathing again. 'This is what the night scenes is Jes, what are you doing here?' I ask myself as I pray for God to use me, and keep me open minded. 

Just then an intoxicated, young, married man out on the town with his wife, comes up to our group. He puts his arm around me and asks me something but between his accent and slurring, and being just slightly distracted with a drunken man that close to me I can't understand what he's said. Another of the girls on the team with me translated by answering his question saying, "there's a good pub just up there". Why did I have to have a moment of paralyzing fear that kept me from engaging with this man further by just asking him to repeat the question? Even with his arm around me, he was harmless. 'God, seriously, what am I doing out here?" 

A little while later we pass another couple walking away from a bar. She was barefoot. One of the guys in my group asked her if she wanted a pair of flip-flops. She asked if we were serious? Yes! Please! She didn't want to wear heels, but her boy friend had insisted, saying "she looked sexier in heels, than boots". But now her feet were killing her. As I helped her get the flip-flops on; she told us how much she "seriously loved us!" Who knew that a pair of cheap flip-flops could make someone's night. 

Later we came across a group of kids, that looked to be somewhere between 16 and *18 years old, just out to have a good time. And from the looks of it, they were have a good time. Just a group of happy drunks. But the girls in the group were all barefoot. I obviously can't do anything about telling these kids to go home, but I can help these girls protect their feet. As I'm asking the first girl if she wants a pair of flip-flops, she asks if I'm serious and then tells me how much she loves me. Another girl wants to pay for her pair, "no love, they're free". Yet another girl asks if she can give me a hug, followed by her asking for a second hug. Hugs are one thing I can do! In my mind though 'love, just get home safe!'. After being told in five consecutive rows how much they seriously love us, they went on their way and we ours. 

Now it must be pushing 3 in the morning and my feet and hips are hurting from all the walking and standing. I'm struggling to keep my wits about me and pay attention to what's going on around me. As far as the bottle count is going we're up to 30 glass bottles collected and binned. It's been a quiet night, just by that count alone. The leader of the team is about to go ahead and call it a night. I'm trying to not get too excited when she says "we'll just do one more round."

On this last round we come across a homeless man. One of the guys stops to engage him in conversation. The man asks for a cup of coffee. I'm given a tenner and told to grab two of the guys from the team and go to McDonald's. After retuning to this homeless man, I give him his cup of coffee. I'm surprised by how young he is and wonder why he's out on the street. Thankfully one of the guys on my team ask the man that very question. Turns out he is Lithuanian, a fisherman by trade. He came over on a boat, fishing. But when the season was over, so was he. 

After this, we head back to the base, where we have a little debrief about the evening and find out how the other teams got on. 

As I colaspe in bed, I'm struck yet again by the goodness of God. He certainly doesn't need me to take care of His people out in the streets. But He invited me along, showing me how He is glorified by my weakness. 

Street Pastor's - the church out on the streets 

*Please note that the legal drinking age in Ireland is 18

Chips!

Have you ever just had this craving for something? 

That was me last night. I literally had the worst craving for some chips. Not the fish, just the chips. With salt and vinegar. Now I'm not talking about those fries you get from Burger King or McDonald's. Those skinny pieces of potato fried in oil, delivered in a cup ranging in sizes small to large. No I am referring to chips. Big and fat. One size, a whole brown bag! (I mean if you're going to have a heart attach, you might as well do it right and go all the way, right?) With the option of not only getting it with salt and vinegar but the possibility of getting it with EXTRA salt and vinegar! Or if you're feeling adventures, you can get it with curry sauce or cheese. Or if your from Northern Ireland, you just order mayonnaise with your chips and your as happy as a lark. 

For living in City Center now, it's amazing how hard it is just to find the littlest things like a Chipper (a fish and chips shop). If you want coffee, there's a coffee shop on every corner. If you want beer there's a pub for every coffee shop. If you want ice cream, there's at least 10 shops. The same can be said for pizza, Chinese and Mexican. If you want to have a nice sit down dinner, you've got options. But if you just want a simple fish and chips, for take away.... you might just be out of luck! 

Thank goodness for sketchy-Turkish-hole-in-the-wall-kebab restaurants that not only sell kebabs, but sell chips! 

Strangely though, they didn't put any salt or vinegar on my chip. Or maybe not strange, as they weren't Irish. Maybe the strange thing was that they had chips at all.... 

But seriously though, what does one do when they just need salt and vinegar? Well obviously, hide the evidence of the chips in your bag and walk into Burger King and ask for a couple of packets of salt and vinegar.

Yes, that is what I did. 

Worth.It.

Woman Up!

After an exceptional past 2 months here in Ireland, weather wise, I was rudely awaked to the reality of living in Ireland this morning while rowing up and down the River Liffey. The reality is it's wet. Which by itself is ok, but it's also cold. But no worries, I'm not made out of sugar, so I'll not melt. Because apparently just as rowing is not a lady's sport, (it is a woman's sport), so is living in Ireland, not for the weak of spirit. Woman Up!  

With the coming of Autumn and colder, wetter weather; is also the coming of becoming more familiar with Dublin City and more established in ministries. (!) 

Just last week I got to go home to America for my big brothers wedding in Colorado! Leading up to leaving Ireland there was excitement to see my family again for the first time in 9 months, but there was also an element of fear. Because generally speaking, it's a bad idea to go back to something as familiar as home while in the midst of a transition. But with confidence I went back to the States and a week later came back to Ireland. 

       
          

I think that was my fourth flight from the Sates to Dublin and it was by far the easiest. Just with landing in Dublin I felt like a girl on a mission. I knew how I was leaving the airport (what bus I needed and where it was) and I had a bed waiting for me to take a nap in. Going through costumes was also the easiest it's ever been. (I literally didn't say anything to the guard, just handed him my passport and my visa and he handed them back to me, sending me on my way. No words exchanged!) 

More than all that though I came back optimistic. Even though I still don't "feel called" to Ireland. I know this is where God wants me. Yes, I'm feeling restless, but regardless of where I am, I would feel that way. So my prayer is that I would be faithful to be here, fully. Be intentional and not hold back from loving the people around me. 

I've started attending a Baptist church called Grace Bible Fellowship Church. Right in City Center, about a 20 minute walk from where I'm living. It's a very international church, which I was needlessly hesitant about in the beginning. It's also beautifully multigenerational. Not so many young people my age, but that's where I get to come in. I'm getting plugged in with the youth. That's on a Friday night with youth group, then Sunday school on Sunday's. The youth group is pretty special, open to 10-15 year olds with junior leaders, 16-18 years old helping. After starting with games, someone does a teaching then we break into small groups. The junior leaders are paired with an "older" leader for this. I'm paired with a  girl called Harley. 17 and half, in her last year of school. Super easy to get on with! I'm ridiculously excited about the possibility of a friendship with her outside of church, as well as just leading a small group with her. Please join me in praying for this relationship. 

This past Sunday I participated in my first Sunday School with the 15-18 year olds. This is something new at Grace, as most kids at that age stop going to church. So I'm excited that a couple of ladies really saw this as a problem and are envisioned to change the way they do Sunday school in order to keep the older kids coming. So, like I said, I'm excited to get to be a part of this. Already though they've given me the reigns to run with it this Sunday (pray!). It's very humbling. The kids though, actually wanted to be there and were enthusiastic. And were totally cool with me coming along with them to get coffee and hang out with them. Please join me in praying that that continues! That the 2 other leaders and myself are able to shepherd these hearts and they would desire to know God this year, and it this would just be stepping stones for the rest of their lives. 

I'm also part of life at the YW. Which comes with it's ups and downs. To a certain extent I feel at a disadvantage because I'm not a student. Most of the residence here don't know anyone else here besides class mates and other fellow residence. I on the other hand do know other people, like, I have a life outside of the Y, which is sadly not true of any of the residence. Except for the RA's (resident staff), who are Irish and whom I've become friends with. 

Just last week I was chatting with one of the RA's about how 

unenthusiastic I was about being in Dublin (that whole restless spirit thing) and just through that conversation, she really convicted me (without even knowing it!) to be intentional here at the Y. Which was my plan originally, just lost incentive or something. But after that conversation I really felt to Lord prompt me to be faithful to not only pray for 3 girls I've become friends with here that aren't Christian, but to also be their friend. Then the obvious question is, how do I be a friend to these girls? As there are loads of ministry opportunities here at the Y, but evenings are also when a lot of my other ministries are happening, so pray for balance and energy for all! And as I change my normal body clock of early bird to night owl. 

But God has also brought across my path other girls that are Christians. One girl I "happened" to eat dinner with last night. I don't even know how we got on the subject, but turns out she's a Christian and hasn't been able to find a church here, and I was able to invite her along to church with me on Sunday. Wait, what?  

And now I must go woman up! *wink *wink Till next time! 

All my love. Xx 

New Beginnings

My new digs! 

Today saw my first Soup Run in the Town. Wait, what is that? Walking around the city center of Dublin with coffee and tea, sandwiches, chocolate, fruit, sometimes even toiletries to give to the homeless people of Dublin. 

They said it was a slow night tonight. So, maybe it was a false first impression? But really, it was brilliant! 

In just normal life, I would actually walk past most of the homeless people we were able to give tea or coffee to tonight. There are quite a lot of homeless people in Dublin. As I walk past them, I can't give money to them, you just have to keep walking. It's heart breaking, but after a time, you almost don't see them any more. (I'm not sure which is more sad; the fact that they're there, or not seeing them any more). 

So tonight was about being able to actually do something practical for them. Being hands and feet of Jesus. It just felt so right! 

I feel like I've spent the past couple of months talking about ministry, but haven't actually done "ministry" in what has been far too long. This past Saturday I participated in a day of training for Street Pastors Dublin. (More about what that's about later!) It was 9 nine hours of training! But it was the closest I'd been to practical ministry in "so long", I actually really enjoyed it! 

Then this past Monday, I went to a planning meeting for the youth group at Grace (the church I'm going to be part of here in Dublin for the next year). Getting to meet the team of youth leaders and junior leaders, and feeling like I might have something to offer. But it felt like it would also be a safe place to learn how to do youth ministry. (Which is ironic, because they found out I'm from the States and was part of youth ministry there, they're expecting great things from me! Yeah, about that.....)

I think part of what makes this so exciting is a a desire I've had for a long time to lead (facilitate) a small group/ Bible study. But it keeps not working out, or not being the right timing, or I simply have no idea what I'm doing. Even just last week I went to a meeting with a Bible Study Fellowship group trying to start a Bible study here in Dublin called Word in the City, geared toward 20-40 years old. I went to a Word in the City Bible Study in Belfast, loved it! So I was excited that they're trying to start one here. And even going to the meeting about it was exciting. But the reality of it is it wont be truly up and running till next Autumn. And I'll be back in the States by then. So, I'm excited to help get it off the ground. But the idea of having to walk away is hard. So I had just started praying about this desire I have to lead (facilitate) a small group/ Bible study, when I met the youth leaders at Grace and chatted about the possibility of leading a small group and mentoring secondary school age girls. (Prayer for this?) We even talked about the possibility of my leading a Bible study for the youth on Sundays. (Again, prayer!)

Honestly though, we'll just have see what all actually happens! Don't be surprised if the next time I write I'm doing something totally different! 

Joke's on Me

How is that every time I say I'm going to do better at writing regularly I epically fail?! 

I think last I wrote it was about spring... well let me just say, that was a long time ago! Summer's almost at an end.... 

I ran a marathon since last I wrote, like no big deal. I also moved country's and am now living in the Republic of Ireland! I've now been to both Spain and England. I've survived my first summer with Serge. But not only that I learned what it really means to serve out of weakness and to live in community. Actually how much I crave living in community. Oh yeah, and I also learned that I'm an extrovert... like who knew? (I always thought you had to be one of those loud people...) I also learned that college age young people aren't scary. (Actually, they're easier to get on with the high school students!) I'm learning how to forgive and to do constructive conflict.

Most recently I've been learning what it means to not only submit to God and His plans for my life, but to really trust Him. That He has my best interest in my mind. (What?!) 

Right at the end of April, I was trying to reapply for my UK visa. But was hitting a lot of closed doors.... There was no way I could get a new visa, without going back to the states. Ok, so a little inconvenient, worth it though! I talked to my team leader a couple of days later and he told me he wanted me in the South for my second year. (End of story). I mean, excuse me? 

Long story shorter, I moved South at the end of May. Then the next day went to Spain for Serge's mission conference. Honestly I went totally broken.... Not sure at all where I fit into the Ireland team, feeling very misunderstood by them. Like they didn't give a rip about Northern Ireland and what God was doing there. (To be fair though, I didn't give a rip about Ireland). 

God being the good God that He is just loved me that week. I literally felt like a butterfly! 

The Ireland Metro Team
L-R top row: Steven Nelson, Louise Hacking, Courtney Deakle
bottom row: Laura Pettit, Abby Demarest, Yours Truly, Vicki and Tom Gilliam  

After a week in Spain, meeting loads of people and hearing so many God stories, I came back to Ireland and straight into the summer program that the team does here called, "Encounter". 

Encounter
19 Irish and America interns, plus Serge and Irish staff and their families 

Basically the summer was pleasantly surprising. I learned that I am dearly loved in my brokenness and through that I am able to love anyone. 

Wait! What does that even mean?! 

Again, trying to shorten the story. (Don't worry I'll expand more on that later). 

After Encounter ended I found myself in one of those moments that aren't always a bad place to be in. That moment when you have to pray expectantly, because you got nothing! 

I had no where to live. 

Courtney offered that I could live with her till I could sort something out. But she's headed back to the states in September and needs time and space to pack.... So I needed to get something else sorted quick! 

Before Encounter started, I'd looked at a house that was perfect! I'd be renting with 2 other people. There was a garden and a kitchen! And if I ever needed a lift to the airport, I'd be sorted! And the rent was really good! But it was about 45 minutes, by bus into town (Dublin). So not at all ideal if that's where my ministry placement's going to be. But hey, beggars can't be choosers. Right? 

I told her I'd let her know by the end of summer. By the end of Encounter, as comfortable as it would be to stay in this house, I realized it wasn't right. Like it was too comfortable... that I wasn't trusting God by saying "yes" to this house. So, I said "no".

One of the Irish interns over the summer told me about another living situation, that again sounded perfect! So I finally checked it out (after I said no to the house!). The other living situation wasn't going to be available till February. It's August. I kinda just wanted to cry. 

Fatih or just stupidity? 

Courtney then reminded me about another option (see? That's the great thing about living with people!) of staying at a YWCA. In years past that's where apprentices would have stayed and Abby, one of the apprentices now, lived there when she first got here. I confessed I'd actually been to their website and didn't find out anything about staying there. Courtney then asked if they had a phone number, maybe I could just ring them? What? 

So the next day in between catching trains to go to the North for a couple of days, I rang the "Y". 

When I told the lady on the other end that I was with Serge and needed a place to live, she got so excited! They (the "Y") had just had a cancelation the day before (right when I thought I might actually be homeless!) and they had an opening for a long term person to stay there! I couldn't move in till the 28th (Exactly the day Courtney told me I needed to have somewhere else to live!) but I can stay till Christmas! 

So, sorted for housing. Inner City. Multi cultural. Young people. About 180 degrees the other direction from anything I thought I'd ever say yes to just 4 months ago! 

Where is this all going? One last story, and I'll get to the point. 

I've now talked with/met 2 possible Irish ministry leaders. Both inner city. Both with very big hearts for inner city mission. One asked what my weaknesses were, so that he could challenge me to grow there. The other asked what my strengths were.... Sounds like they may be a good balance, right? The thing with inner city is that you get a lot multicultural people. Which is cool that there are ministries and people with a heart to reach an ever changing Dublin. But I thought I chose Ireland over England so I could work with Nationals, not internationals (which is what Serge in England's ministry is). As I feel myself arching my back like a 2-year-old, rebelling and asking "why do I have to be inner city?! I just want to work with refugees! Why does my living placement, work and place of worship all have to be international?!".... yet I have a nagging feeling in the back of my mind... 

Remember, you didn't want to work with refugees, but you gave it a try and see what happened? Trust God, kiddo. He really does have YOUR best in mind. 

Then I have another thought. What if this whole time I've been fundraising and living in Ireland I'd only partially given my heart and will to God. Ya know, put a condition on it. Cool, I'll go to Ireland, but don't ask me to do... xyz. But what if it was God's plan all along? To bring me to this place where I am totally and completely out of my comfort zone, so that the only place I can serve is out of my weakness, so that God can be glorified? Because He's got bigger plans for me then I can understand now. God does not need me to do His work. But He wants me, and has invited me to join Him in what He'd doing in Dublin. 

So now I have the option to say "yes" and be a part whatever that all means, or to say "no". 

Spring in Ireland

The last couple of weeks have truly just felt like the Father smiling on me. Like warm sunshine after a long, wet and cold winter. 

The past of couple of weeks have honestly just been fun! Between an excursion to Dublin and getting to just be a tourist. Then getting to spend a day with my team leader and his lovely wife, going to Glendalough.

My team leader, Tom, and his wife Vicki at Glendalough

Or getting to have spontaneous guitar lessons one evening because I mentioned that someday I'd like to learn how to play. Or going on a spontaneous cycling excursion just to have an equally spontaneous hail storm. Or simply the adventure of making spaghetti bolognes for the first time. But never getting the chance to eat it because I got spontaneous dinner invitations all week! (Rough life, I know). Or going to a wee coffee shop that one of the lady's from church works at - just to encourage her-. But spending the next 2 hours there, just getting caught up on all the local craic in the village. (And getting introduced to everyone that came though the door!) Or getting sent home with knitting - because now that I have my own place, surely that means I have time to just knit. Or even just 2 hours of Somalian girls wanting piggy-back rides and to play with my hair. 

 Sunshine and snow all in one day, inspires nails and hair to get done! 

Or team meetings - just being able to gather together to pray! 

Team day with Courtney and Vicki! Yes, that is a cemetery we are standing in! 

Or getting connected with a Bible study in Belfast with my peers and discovering I'm just the class clown, who knew? 

Some of the girls from Word in the City Bible study met me for breakfast at 9 on a Saturday!! St. Georges Market. It's a must do! 

               Or getting to have my first Ulster Fry. 

Or simply getting to go to a playground, because one should never be too old for one! 

                            Martha and Joshe. He claimed he didn't want to go. Too old/cool... look at that grin!

Or an hour of Maffia with the youth. Or just chasing a perfect sunset up Slemish. Then trying to get back down before it was too dark! (See the picture at the top).