The first time I went to Cambodia I was 17 years old. Our team was building a house for a grandma who was living in a shack. We painted the house a bright blue color. It was stunning.
I came back a couple years later and found an entire row of houses had been built after hers. Each of those families had a house built by this same organization, each one was that same bright blue. They called it Hope Street. That street was a symbol to the community that there was hope, there are people who care for you and will love you when you have nothing to offer. That organization I worked with has now built over 50 homes throughout the provinces, and almost all of them are painted Hope Street Blue.
The time I spent with that organization sometimes seems like a lifetime ago. Lately I've been consumed with the tough work of healing, afraid I will never move past my own trauma. People have been telling me that if I want to pursue life as a missionary I will have to hide certain parts of me, and I was beginning to believe them. I started to wonder if god had a blueprint for my life and I took the wrong series of steps, now I was left carrying empty dreams.
Then this weekend I went on a mission trip to Mexico with my church of misfits. They allowed me to come with all parts of myself. None of us felt the need to hide or change to fit into this idea of "missionary". All we did was show up, embracing ourselves and each other. We gave one another hope and healing by bringing all of our hurts and hangups to the table.
As we painted a school together I looked down at my hands and noticed the paint was all over me. Much to my surprise, it was Hope Street Blue. A flood of memories came back and in that moment I realized how interconnected this whole experience is. The hope I saw in Cambodia was the same hope I saw in this Mexican school, the same hope I felt around the campfire with my church. My story has Hope Street Blue sprinkled all over the place, not a single experience has been wasted.
You see what I'm realizing is that God is not standing in the sky with a blueprint, waiting for me to make the right moves. No, God and I are creating something together. It's a grand tapestry, full of my darkness and my light... With strands of Hope Street Blue dispersed throughout.
I see now that I can keep creating the life I long for.
I came back a couple years later and found an entire row of houses had been built after hers. Each of those families had a house built by this same organization, each one was that same bright blue. They called it Hope Street. That street was a symbol to the community that there was hope, there are people who care for you and will love you when you have nothing to offer. That organization I worked with has now built over 50 homes throughout the provinces, and almost all of them are painted Hope Street Blue.
The time I spent with that organization sometimes seems like a lifetime ago. Lately I've been consumed with the tough work of healing, afraid I will never move past my own trauma. People have been telling me that if I want to pursue life as a missionary I will have to hide certain parts of me, and I was beginning to believe them. I started to wonder if god had a blueprint for my life and I took the wrong series of steps, now I was left carrying empty dreams.
Then this weekend I went on a mission trip to Mexico with my church of misfits. They allowed me to come with all parts of myself. None of us felt the need to hide or change to fit into this idea of "missionary". All we did was show up, embracing ourselves and each other. We gave one another hope and healing by bringing all of our hurts and hangups to the table.
As we painted a school together I looked down at my hands and noticed the paint was all over me. Much to my surprise, it was Hope Street Blue. A flood of memories came back and in that moment I realized how interconnected this whole experience is. The hope I saw in Cambodia was the same hope I saw in this Mexican school, the same hope I felt around the campfire with my church. My story has Hope Street Blue sprinkled all over the place, not a single experience has been wasted.
You see what I'm realizing is that God is not standing in the sky with a blueprint, waiting for me to make the right moves. No, God and I are creating something together. It's a grand tapestry, full of my darkness and my light... With strands of Hope Street Blue dispersed throughout.
I see now that I can keep creating the life I long for.
