The Lone Tree That Would Not Falter

Hope deferred makes the heart sick,

but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.

Proverbs 13:12

I did it--I got through the darkest days of winter, I think to myself, as I peek through the textured blue curtains into the vast darkness outside. The light from my room casts a bright spotlight onto our snow-covered yard and immediately, my eyes lock onto the glittery white flakes streaming from the sky. It's beautiful out there. I'm so glad I'm up early to see this, I muse, as the rest of our family sleeps peacefully on. It's December 22nd, just one day after the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, and I'm grateful that some of the darkest days of winter have passed. My mind and my heart recognize the approaching light of spring and the hope that God brings with each new season.

And here in Alaska, Ken and I are to stay for however long God pleases. It's quite remarkable what the Lord has done in our lives over the course of the past six weeks. On November 13th, my husband received two back-to-back job offers for exciting engineering positions, and then the next day, I received a phone call for a job offer myself, with a well-respected logistics firm. That Friday, Nov. 15th, we both signed job offers and started our new positions. We were beyond excited by these unexpected work opportunities! It was as if God hand-picked these positions for us. And so many wonderful surprises came with our jobs--for example, we work the same weekday hours and commute the 30-minute drive together each way. Likewise, our offices are both downtown, only a five-minute's walk apart from each other. We can meet for lunch or coffee or even just a quick hug and word of affirmation throughout the week. It's so encouraging getting to spend quality time together in the midst of working full-time hours.

Along with the huge praise of securing jobs, Ken and I are now able to move forward in buying our own home. We've budgeted and saved over the past three and a half years of marriage in the hope of having a house someday and our dream is becoming more tangible each day. Looking back, I'm so thankful that we studied Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University together when we were first married. It inspired us to live within our means, save and give generously, and also to remember that "Discipline is remembering what you really want," in the words of Dave Ramsey.

As Ken and I walked through starter homes with our family's Realtor yesterday, I thought back to the first apartment that we shared as a couple. It was a studio--meaning no designated bedroom, about 495 square feet total, and basically, what you saw was what you got. Except of course, for the fact that our queen size bed was hidden in the large closet--it fit perfectly, so that we were able to jump in bed, close the closet doors for privacy, and curl up underneath all of our hanging clothes. How cozy that was! I'm laughing, because I do miss being able to pick out my daily outfit from the comfort of my bed.

Yet in family planning, Ken and I recognize that having a home with actual bedrooms would be much more comfortable for everyone. It's with this desire and many others that we continue to pursue buying our own place. Many of the things that are most important to us in a new home are fairly simple--a good neighborhood that's close to our workplaces and parks (for walking dogs and playing with children), open spaces with great lighting from outside, ideally three bedrooms, a yard outside with a few trees and space for a garden, and room for a dog! In actuality, yesterday, Ken and I may have found the place we want to purchase. It fits all those desires and has a lot of room for "improvement". It was also the most economical option we've come across with those qualifications. I'm a little nervous about the work we'll put in to make it our own but as Ken encourages me, it's also very exciting to make a wise decision financially by fixing it up as funds become available from us working. Rather than buying a house that is 'turn-key' (and much more pricey), we get to use our creative gifts to really make the house our own. That is exciting!

My thoughts circle back to the soft snowfall ushering in the start of increasing daylight. As a child, I was fascinated with the Summer and Winter Solstice. My Grandma would try to remind me of those landmarks each year since it meant so much to me. When she passed away a little more than five years ago, I felt a new-found sense of longing whenever these days neared as I no longer had my Grandma to remind me of them. Now, I mainly think of her and how I look forward to seeing her again one day. And yet this year, there is something at work that I can sense awakening in me with the advent of longer days. It is hope. God has given Ken and me hope that He will navigate us through any and every season--even the darkest. I'm reminded of the towering tree, with its gorgeous gold and yellow leaves, that I'd stare at through the dining room window over much of the fall months. While all the other trees surrounding it, were slowly or quickly stripped of their glorious leaves, this one particular tree would not falter and shed its foliage to the encroaching cold.

One afternoon, while on the phone with my older sister, I shared with her about the one tree that stood alone among the wide open forest of leaf-less trees. To me that tree embodies my resolve to not give up--to not stop trying to make living in Alaska work for us, I told my sister, seemingly on the verge of tears. I believe that God gave me a vision to be here and I think I just need to hold on and be strong, I continued, Just like that tree. 

My sister paused and then painted a picture for me that was quite different. She lovingly pointed out that perhaps instead of that tree 'needing to be strong and holding onto its leaves,' it needed to let go. The lone tree that would not falter was maybe a quite different picture of how God wanted me to surrender my desires, my hopes, my dreams, and my expectations--to let my leaves die and fall to the ground. It is only in dying that we can truly give our desires to God and let Him have his way, she pointed out. My immediate response was a sense of anger and frustration at a God who would want me to experience such pain.

Months later, I am still mulling over those words. The grand tree did finally give up its leaves. Now, as I look out across the horizon, I can't make out exactly which tree it was since it's leafless and covered in snow. Perhaps though, I don't need to find that tree. And I don't need to feel ashamed of having wanted to hold onto my own "leaves" so badly these past few months. God needed to strip me of them, so that in their place, He could craft my story to be even more beautiful than I could have imagined. God sustained me through this season of pruning and I recognize that in these challenges, He was preparing me for whatever is next.

"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." John 12:24

Bacon Maple Cake

Bacon Maple Cake. That's the exact response my husband gave me about a month ago, when I asked him what kind of cake he'd like best for his upcoming birthday. Immediately, visions of bacon-maple bars and donuts filled my mind, while the memory of once tasting a bacon-maple-donut-cake, with its sweet and savory flavor, flooded my senses. Yum.

"OK, I think I can do that," I rather naively commented, before realizing that not many recipes were quite in existence yet for this particular dessert. So, I scoured the internet and thought back to the heavenly experience of sharing a slice of a bacon-maple-donut-cake with our friends Kim and Eric, who had bought the cake from Frost Doughnuts in Seattle, a couple years back. It was rich, perhaps a bit over-the-top. But oh so delightful. I wanted to make a cake like that but not so sweet that I felt sick afterwards. I also wanted to incorporate the same crispy, thick cut bacon I enjoyed on that cake but in a way that paired perfectly with the creaminess of the frosting and the fluffy-meets-dense maple cake texture. Lastly, many recipes I found online used box cake mix and well, I wanted to give my husband something that was completely from scratch for his birthday. Here's what I came up with…I hope you like it!

Bacon Maple Cake

Ingredients:

For the Maple Cake:

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter at room temperature

1 cup maple syrup

1 cup brown sugar

3 large eggs

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon ground ginger

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 ¼ cup milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the Maple Buttercream Frosting:

1 cup butter (2 sticks), softened

1 cup maple syrup

1 ½ cups powdered sugar (you can use more as needed to build the exact frosting consistency you like)

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

6-8 slices thick cut bacon (optional, but not really)

Cake Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease two 8-inch or 9-inch round pans with nonstick cooking spray. *I like to use spring form pans and waxed paper for added ease of removal.

2. In an electric mixing bowl (or with an electric beater), beat the butter until creamy. Add the maple syrup and brown sugar and beat until combined, then add the eggs, mixing well.

3. In a separate large bowl, mix together the remaining dry ingredients: flour, baking powder, ginger, cinnamon, and salt.

4. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture to combine. Pour in the milk and vanilla extract. Mix well.

5. Divide cake batter between two pans and set pans in the oven on the middle rack. Bake cakes until a toothpick inserted in the center of each cake comes out clean, about 40-50 minutes. Watch closely toward the end of the time so that your cake comes out perfectly golden brown.

6. Cool cake pans on wire racks for about 15 minutes. Carefully remove the cakes from pans with a swift flip-over onto a flat plate and a gentle pat.

Frosting Directions:

1. Cream butter with an electric mixer for about 3 minutes.

2. Add powdered sugar and combine well.

3. Pour in maple syrup, vanilla extract, and salt. Mix on medium-high speed, with occasional high-speed use, until light and fluffy. (Add more powdered sugar as needed to get the exact consistency/fluffiness you desire.)

4. Once your frosting is made, set aside on a cool countertop while you cook the bacon slices. If you have a slotted baking pan/sheet, I recommend cooking the bacon at 350 degrees for 10-15 minutes, watching closely to avoid burning. Or, you can cook your bacon slices on the stove or in the microwave, depending on your preference. The key is to make sure that your bacon slices aren’t overcooked.

5. Remove bacon from pan and let it cool on a paper towel lined plate (to catch the grease.)

To arrange the cake…

Once your cake layers are completely cooled, frost them generously with the maple buttercream frosting, setting one cake layer on top of the other. And then—here comes the best part—arrange your bacon slices artfully on the top of the cake either in strips or broken into smaller 1/2-inch to 1 inch pieces.

Note: When slicing the cake, do try to give everyone a fair share of bacon as to avoid thoughts of favoritism or frustration on the part of your guests who all love bacon equally.

Enjoy! ;)

Special thanks to the folks online whose recipes I adapted to fit my specific desires—Martha Stewart and addapinch.com

Tackling Bear Mountain

Scrambled eggs with zucchini, onion, and aged sharp cheddar, alongside wedges of what was a giant whole wheat cinnamon roll fresh from the bread shop. When Ken and I started our Saturday morning with such a delicious (and substantial) brunch menu, I knew that the day was bound to be memorable. The temperature outside hovered around freezing and the bright blue sky beckoned us outdoors. After compiling care packages to send to our friends overseas, Ken and I packed up our hiking gear: camelbacks, layers of clothes, and bear spray, along with our other essentials (afternoon tea and cookies, and fish-flavored treats for Gracie, my in-laws' border collie), we were ready for an adventure! We decided to tackle Bear Mountain, one of my husband's favorite hikes in Alaska. It's been two years since we first summited the mountain together and what a joy it was to reach the top again! Honestly, there were moments when I considered turning back, especially when I slipped and slid along the half-frozen mud patches and felt the weight of my backpack increasing exponentially as I gained altitude up the steep trail, but I disciplined myself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. The view along the ridge line was spectacular, dappled with whispy wheat grass blowing in the breeze and dense clusters of wild blueberry and cranberry bushes lining our path. Although a cold wind greeted our arrival, we were prepared with snow pants and thick windbreakers, and were able to comfortably take in the beauty of the view. We had made it to the top! God reminded me through this tangible victory that He continues to give us strength for the journey ahead. Through persevering and trusting in His faithfulness, we will make it. God will give us the victory.

I hope you enjoy these photos from our hike!
(Click on each to enlarge.)

P.S. In case you missed it, here's a link to the recipe for Pumpkin Spice Chai Tea Cookies. We brought these on our hike and enjoyed them with warm cups of tea at the summit, around 3,000 ft above sea level. Feel free to enjoy them in the comfort of your own home at a normal elevation as well.

Pumpkin Spice Chai Tea Cookies!

Fall Greetings friends! As a cool, crisp Autumn wind blows swiftly through the Willow and Poplar trees outside, I'm warm in our kitchen, busily preparing my next batch of seasonal cookies. The fragrant smell of ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg, combined with a savory note of pumpkin, provides a cozy backdrop as I take in the ever-changing landscape outside.

I wanted to share a recipe I crafted a couple days ago, which is now my new favorite fall treat: Pumpkin Spice Chai Tea Cookies! Imagine the perfect matrimony between pumpkin pie and gingerbread--well, chai tea gingerbread. Mmm! I got the idea for these cookies as I thought back to some of the tasty treats I received from a friend a couple years ago at Christmas-time. She mailed me a box of chai tea cookies, which seemed incredibly exotic. I had never heard of chai tea cookies although I had been fond of chai tea lattes for quite a while. Thanks again, my dear! You know who you are...Also, since another dear friend recently gifted me with a care package full of seasonal delights from Trader Joe's (insert huge smile), I decided it was time to figure out how to prepare cookies that adequately reflect my love for all things fall.

Pumpkin Spice Chai Tea Cookies

I hope you enjoy these as much as I do! A word of wisdom: consider doubling the batch so that you can share them with others or you may want to lock yourself away in your home for a few days while the delightful smell of seasonal spices beckons neighbors and passer-biers to your doorstep. They're that good!

Pumpkin Spice Chai Tea Cookie Recipe

Makes about 2 dozen cookies

Ingredients:

1 cup butter

3/4 cups packed brown sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 scoopful (which is 3 tablespoons) of Trader Joe’s Pumpkin Spice Chai Tea Latte Mix

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

Directions

1.     Cream butter and brown sugar.

2.     Add vanilla extract and Pumpkin Spice Chai Tea Latte Mix. (Note: If you prefer a stronger chai flavor, you can add up to 5 tablespoons of spice mix.)

3.     Mix well, until all ingredients are thoroughly combined.

4.     Separate dough into two balls on cling wrap or waxed paper. Then shape each dough ball into a log and tightly wrap each log in its cling wrap. Refrigerate for an hour.

5.     Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (165 degrees C).

6.     Remove cookie dough logs from the fridge and unwrap them. Then, using a sharp knife, cut 1/2-inch rectangular strips from each log. Prick each cookie with a fork and then place on ungreased baking sheets.

7.     Bake at 350 degrees F for 10-12 minutes until lightly golden brown. Transfer cookies to wire racks for cooling. 

Muddy Boots: Recounting God's Faithfulness

Squish, squash, goes the sound of my rubber boots as I wade into the knee-deep mud at my grandparents’ farm, I read aloud to the 20-some classmates in my senior Advanced Placement English class on Maui, legs buckling and hands shaking, as I grip my essay with both hands. I’m nervous, obviously. It’s hard to be the center of attention when so much is at stake. My English teacher just moments before had told our class that she came across one of the best college essays she’s heard and that it beat out all other essays for the highest score. Anxious to hear whom the writer was, combined with the excitement of it being my 17th birthday that very day, I stopped chatting with my high school best friend and gave our teacher my full attention.

Maile, your writing is beautiful. Can you come up to the front of the class and read your essay to us?

My eyes shift across the room, glancing at my classmates, as I awkwardly fumble out of my chair.

Ok, I think I can do that, I replied, after what felt like a long period of silence.

I then shared the story I had lovingly crafted as a tribute to my grandparents’ taro farm and the magical childhood I experienced while working in the fields there—planting and harvesting fruits and vegetables, playing in the mud and climbing trees with my dear cousin Isaac, and learning the invaluable skills that my family ingrained in me during those times: a strong work ethic, diligence, reverence, and respect. We all worked together toward a common goal.

It was during these times that I grew in my love for adventure and exploration. I remember with fondness, the few times I snuck away from farmhouse chores with Isaac, to play hide and seek amidst the thick grass or run at full speed through the macadamia nut fields, pretending that we were being chased by robbers or some other form of evil. With a tinge of guilt, I can still hear Uncle Francis calling for us in a loud shout: “Maile! Isaac! Get back here—you have to do dishes! No running from chores!”

But his voice is hindered by the growing distance between us and him, and so Isaac and I run faster, laughing breathlessly, away from certain punishment.

It is stories that like these, which the Lord has been calling to my mind the past few days. Perhaps it’s because I turned 28 years old last Tuesday, and the life I envisioned for myself as a child has turned out to be very different than I expected. In reality, it’s so much better.

As a child, I dreamed that I would travel the world and live for God with abandon. I wanted to explore the wide, open terrain of this marvelous world and I wanted to learn about other people and hear their stories. But I wasn’t sure how that would all play out. I grew up on a small island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with very limited means. All I knew was how to work hard for the things I wanted and so I fiercely committed to my studies, in hopes of going to college on the mainland, far from home. During high school, I took as many advanced classes as I could. I also chose Japanese as my four-year language because it seemed like the most competitive option.

My work ethic carried over to other aspects of my life as well. Through rigorous training and perseverance, I won a seat on the crew team at the 2000 World Canoe Paddling Championships in Australia. This was my first time oversees and I was only 14 years old, competing in what was the Olympics of outrigger paddling.

My sophomore year of high school brought many more “God experiences” where I felt the Lord cheering me on through blessing after blessing. I can picture this moment clearly: I’m 15 years old, sitting alone with my cafeteria lunch tray, huddled in the farthest stall of the girl’s bathroom, praying for God to prove Himself faithful in my life. To help me get to college, through whatever means. Later that day, I found out that my friend and I won the title of “Best Senior Research Project” at the Maui County Science & Engineering Fair, the top prize awarded. We then won a scholarship at the Hawaii State Science Fair and were invited to compete at the International Science Fair, a top honor. At that same time, I was selected through an extensive essay and interview competition to take part in a selective exchange program to Okinawa, Japan. It was the summer of my sophomore year in high school and I was now headed to Japan for a month of total cultural immersion.

Looking back, I can see how God has been answering my prayers all along—prayers for adventure, travel, and personal growth. I have been a part of so many other stories, beautiful moments where God came through for me in abundant ways. I’ve won multiple essay contests in high school and college, where the cash prizes were just what I needed to support my college dream. But the stories I wrote were never just my own; they were glimpses into my childhood, shaped by difficult times as well as moments of rejoicing, and some stories were not even mine at all, in that they were shared experiences where I came in contact with other people who taught me something that I hadn’t known before—and I wrote it down, only to find out later that it spoke so deeply to something within us all. I was privy to others’ secrets and hidden sorrows, which formed the basis for my understanding of how to write and do it well.

I guess I’m sharing all these things because God recently put it on my heart to “Call to mind His faithfulness.” This morning I’m reminded of how God has blessed me immeasurably, through these blessings I’ve shared and also through the times of pruning and trial, which I’ve experienced in great measure lately. My cousin Isaac and his wife recently shared these verses with us: “And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us,” Romans 5:2-5.

What I’m challenged by in these verses is that we are called to ‘glory in our sufferings’ because it means that God is working on us. I think I’m surprised when I hear this, because along with our society, I’m tempted to commend those who look ‘glamorous’ and ‘perfect’ on the outside, who do so without any struggle on their part. Facebook is a clear example of this. I suppose this blog has been, in many ways, my response to that lifestyle. Rather than modeling only the ‘good things’ in my life, I’ve wanted to give an honest peek into how God is shaping me in both the good and the hard times. Nothing is wasted in His Kingdom. And yes, if I allow Him, God will gift me with suffering and the ability to truly enter in, and experience that He is enough—far better than anything else.

As I close today’s journal-like entry, I’m grateful for a husband who is loving and kind and cherishes the opportunity to grow together. We’ve experienced much loss and grief these past couple months, and there have been times recently when I’ve compared our lives and our marriage to the ‘beautiful people who are doing amazing things’ I see online or hear about in friend circles.

But then, as Ken reminded me a couple days ago, “They might be missing out on the opportunity to grow, and I want to grow.” He continued, adapting a Dave Ramsey quote: “I want to live as a person of discipline so that later I can be a person of maturity and strength.”

My husband wants to do the hard work now, instead of pretending that everything is just great on the surface. He’s committed to God’s best, and right now, God’s best is for us to grow into people who are more like Him, embodying love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control—the fruits of the Spirit that oftentimes grow best in the soil of adversity and suffering, through perseverance.

Transplanting ourselves in Alaska from Seattle has been an incredible opportunity to grow. As I meander through flooded trails along a nearby lake in this wide, open state, I can hear my new navy blue, rubber Bogs slosh loudly as my feet rise and fall in the deep mud patches.

Squish, squash.

I’m reminded of my childhood, and how through hard work, a desire to grow, and trust in a God who is greater than me, I’ve gotten to this place.

My Sand Castles

Much like an infant swaddled in its mothers arms, I'm comfortably slouched on my in-laws' faux suede couch sandwiched between pillows piled over with a giant, cotton-fleece blanket. Pretty kitties and butterflies--I didn't realize that was the linen design until just now. "Hmm," I think to myself, as I take a sip from my too-hot cup of jasmine green tea. "Who knew?"

I'm enjoying the stillness of my Saturday morning. Ken and his dad just left on a work errand so I have the house all to myself. As I reflect on the beauty of the fall colors outside, unfolding in bursts, as the morning sun rises above the tree tops, one of my favorite Switchfoot songs starts to play on the radio. The chorus softly beckons me in:

I wish I had what I needed
To be on my own
'Cause I feel so defeated
And I'm feeling alone

And it all seems so helpless
And I have no plans
I'm a plane in the sunset
With nowhere to land

And all I see
It could never make me happy
And all my sand castles
Spend their time collapsing

Let me know that you hear me.
Let me know your touch.
Let me know that you love me.
Let that be enough.

It's a song about a boy learning to grow up. And it's a painful process. I can understand how the singer must feel. It's been a few years now since he wrote this song and I wonder if things have changed--does he understand life better now? Or perhaps he's still searching for something--maybe elusive--that this side of Heaven will not fully be revealed to him.

In the past week, I've noticed that like the words of this song, many of my 'sand castles' are collapsing. I'm in a season of tremendous transition, filled with moments of intense grief, and conversely joy, along with the growing knowledge that while life events and circumstances are uncertain, there is a God who is not, and He is with me. Always.

Last Sunday night, Ken and I got word that one of his grandmas had passed away. It was bittersweet, as Grandma Alice was a big part of our decision to move to Alaska. Months back, God gave me a vision to pursue relationships with family by living closer and it was an honor to share in Grandma's last few days here. In retrospect, I didn't realize our time together would be so short.

I guess that summarizes much of how I'm feeling in our current stage of life. Ken and I are faced with many uncertainties. Without a steady income and no job prospects on the horizon, we are at the beginning stages of considering what that means for us. Realistically, can we stay in Alaska? Likewise, did God bring us to this place just for a season? If so, when is that season over--how will we know? As we review our budget based entirely on savings, we know at some point our money will run out. Our relative financial security that we've enjoyed by living frugally the past few years is not enough to postpone the inevitable. And so, in a spirit of faith, we are pursuing job opportunities together and I am placing my business endeavors on hold, while we seek God for what's next.

In many ways, I see dreams of mine being placed on hold, seemingly collapsing. The hope of starting a family, of living near family, and my desire to feel secure and have a place of our own. Right now, I have to release those things to God. I have to believe that in faith what He gives us is better than what I can take for myself. My prayers in the past few days have become much simpler. Lord, help me to know that you're with us. No matter what.

Let me know that you hear me.
Let me know your touch.
Let me know that you love me.
Let that be enough.

The Fog is Rising: Musings on Value and What Really Matters

“Try not to become a man of success. Rather become a man of value.” 

Albert Einstein 

My eyes dart across my computer screen toward the bright blue and silver mist gleaming outside our living room’s giant picture window. The fog is rising. Some mornings these condensed cloud formations hover softly above the valley below and seem to disappear; other mornings, they rise quietly—steadily gaining altitude until they blanket our wood cabin in all-consuming grey. I glance out toward the horizon and all I can see now are dark shadows of Spruce, Alder, Willow, and Birch trees; the faint outline of their leaves are vaguely yellow, and as the fog rolls in, even those colors disappear into gray.

Salt-water streams fed by reservoirs of discomfort and change, have become the new ‘normal’ for me in the days since I wrote last. The whimsical-optimist side of me sat down to tea with my analytical-realist self and my excitement over our recent move hastily became obscured by the reality of our living situation—hundreds of miles away from my closest connections in Seattle and southern California, and just as far in this season from my parents and sisters as the previous one. I recognize, intellectually, that moving to a completely different location should be like this—initially difficult, filled with moments of regret but also exhilarating—because I chose this, knowing, to a certain degree it’d be hard. But I didn’t know it’d be this hard. I didn’t realize that I’d miss my friends this deeply. Or, that I’d yearn for the depth of community and teaching that we experienced at our former church in Seattle. I didn’t expect that entering into family living would challenge my nature as an introvert as much as it has. I guess, in short, I didn’t expect things to be this way.

I am thankful that in this time of transition, when my hope for the future is blurred by current struggles, I am finding that a deeper foundation lies beneath the shifting sands of emotion. I’m rooted in who I am in the Lord, and I trust in Him to provide the things that Ken and I need to navigate this new season with grace and gratitude. I’m also learning how to wait, patiently, for the revelation of God’s promises—promises to go before us, to provide for us, to comfort us, to grow us in our faith, and to love us. He is Good. And perhaps, I would never learn how to unabashedly confess my weaknesses and inability to ‘make things happen’ on my own if it were not for seasons of adversity, where many expectations seemingly go unmet.

I suppose, in many ways, this blog has become a ‘safe place’ for me, where I am able to live vulnerably and admit that I’m nowhere near perfect. I’m a work in progress and I’m fighting to live a life that has value. Lately, as I’ve pondered the fresh beginnings my husband and I are embarking upon here in Alaska, I have noticed subtle changes taking place in my life. Especially as I launch my own business in a new state. A particular conversation I recently had with one of my cousins reaffirmed my sense of value in what I do for work. It also reminded me that who I am apart from my work is equally valuable, or perhaps more so, and that naturally, who I am and who I strive to be overflows into all areas of my life. The choices I make in who I market myself as in the business world must correlate with how I’m living as a wife, a family member, a friend, a believer. So, as I focus on what business goals I’d like to meet and what successes I’d like to see in my career, I’m drawn back to these words by Albert Einstein, which I stumbled on a while back: “Try not to become a man of success. Rather become a man of value.”

Living in the tension of who I am and who I want to be has value. 

Loving others well has value.
Discomfort has value.
Being honest has value.
What God is doing in me in this unique season has value.

“Praise the Lord! I can see something!” Ken exclaims as he peers out the window.

My thoughts are interrupted as my husband shouts happily that he can see a hint of light. He jumps up and down and repeats his words to me. I pause to take in the sudden transformation taking place outside. The sky is brighter; light blue patches start to appear in the distance, and I can tell that the sun is out.

 
It’s refreshing to finally see a glimpse of light breaking through. It was there the whole time, just hiding.