Today I choose.

The last thing I want to be today is thankful. I’m rolling my eyes at the cliche’ of it all because on a day that is literally dubbed “Thanksgiving”, the thing to do would to be go against the grind and say that I’m not thankful.

I mean, I am thankful. It’s the machine that I operate out of on an (almost) daily basis. I grew up with a mom who, when I had a bad day, would tell me to write a grateful list. And for as many times as I rolled my eyes or got angry I did it. Because 9.5/10 times I have more to be thankful for then I don’t.

But if I am being honest, over the last three weeks I’ve just wanted to not care, I have just wanted to write emo-sounding song lyric Facebook statuses. I have wanted to curl up in a ball and zone out to some mind numbing show and shut off my brain and let the to-do lists and the emotions and the feelings I have overwhelm me.
I haven’t sat in front of anything long enough to write anything because I haven’t wanted to know what was going to come out.

I have wanted to call in sick even though I haven’t been sick.

I have wanted to not show up.

Good lord, I have wanted to have a bad day and not care who I effected in its wake.

But that’s not who I am.

Even this morning as I woke up all I wanted to do was stay in bed and be checked out of a day that is meant for telling others that you are thankful for them. I wanted to give in to the weight that has been perpetually on my shoulders for about three weeks and let it crush me for a moment.

But that’s not what I did.

I woke up at 8:30 and laid in bed texting some long messages to my hometeam because I didn’t know them three years ago and now don’t know what my life would look like without them.

And then I cried.

I wiped my tears, made coffee and chopped five pounds of potatoes to make some soup for people stopping by today.

And I cried some more.

I’ve been slowly texting people to speak words of gratitude. Today it’s coming out of a place of me choosing to show up for other people and remind them and show them that while being grateful is a feeling, it is also my choice to be grateful.

And when it comes down to it though it doesn’t FEEL easy it isn’t a hard choice. Showing up for fourteen one year olds on the daily FEELS hard. Showing up for the people around me, for the community, when it’s weighty and heavy and filled with stuff FEELS hard.

But the choosing is easy.

Because, man, those kiddos brighten my day when they say my name and come at me for a hug when I walk in the room and getting the chance to see them learn to walk and talk and smile and laugh is everything. 

And the people in my life, as close as the room next to me and as far as across an ocean, are worth it for me to make that daily choice. Because seeing them be known, and achieve dreams, and have others see how freaking amazing there are is literally the greatest thing. 

So, that is why I choose to be grateful today.

That is why I choose to be grateful everyday.

That is why I choose to show up. When it’s hard or easy and everything in between. That’s why I check my mood and choose to not leave a path of destruction behind me as best I can.

So I will choose.

{so today while I have so many different physical things to be thankful for; today I choose to be thankful for Kingsburg and Costa Mesa. For Bangkok and Chincha and Nsoko. For Mijas. And of course, for Bellingham. 

They aren’t places in my mind. 

They represent story and truth and moments that impacted my life.

Today I choose to be thankful for people.}

blank journal revolution

By 8 every morning my kids have taken out the animals and Legos and dumped them out at least 3 times. By 8 every morning I have helped put the animals and Legos back in the basket at least three times.

Because if the toys are cluttering the room then we don’t have space to play, or in Teacher Meg speak:

We need to pick up these toys and put them away so our friends can have safe bodies and We need to put these toys away so we can get something else out to play with!

We can only get another toy out if we put another away.
We can only have something new come if we make space for what is to follow.


This past Sunday I yelled at God a lot. I yelled on behalf of myself, my roommate and our community.

{God can take my yelling and he did.}

And then Monday, with gritted teeth, I went and bought a new journal. I then took a page out of the Patty Reed book on declaring (that, of course, has a foreword from Tiffany Handley) and I wrote:

“I am here”.

And then I flipped through the glorious, beautiful blank pages.

I was introduced to the blank page when I went on the World Race and the unicorn that is Betsy Garmon doodled and painted her creativeness into my being.

To some the blank page is daunting. The emptiness, the space of it is scary. Having no structure, no lines, no one telling you what picture to color.

But may I change the way you see things?

When you have space it means you have cleaned up, set aside, organized, moved. You deliberately did something in order to have that space. You rolled up your sleeves and did some work. And sometimes, yes, the Legos get dumped out again, but you get quicker at putting them away and making space.

So, basically, a blank journal, is a place to make space for even more. It’s a space to put clutter and thoughts and things that don’t seem to fit anywhere, to make room for lovely and goodness and things that do make sense.

It’s a place to put all of those pieces together; the ones that don’t make sense and the ones that do and have them make sense together.

And then once they make sense, you have space to do more, be more because you have organized what feels like clutter in your mind.

We need space to have the more that God wants to put in our life.

And man, does he want to do that. The more is there for the grabbing, but we just need to make room for it. We need to roll up our sleeves and clean up the damn Legos one more time and put them back where they belong.

Because even the things that seem gritty and ugly have a place in our story. We just need to pick out what’s good and put it back on the shelf in a new box with a new name.

We need to make space to have space to have more.

So this is my challenge; join me in the blank journal revolution. Get your own space to clear out the mess to have more.

And if that seems scary, blank pages with no lines, holler at my roommate and I and we will pray some journal freedom into your life.

Space is a good thing guys, let’s own it.

tomato soup

In search of: a kitchen table

If you are friends with my roommate and I here in Bellingham there is a really good chance that we have cooked or baked for you. 

Like last Saturday I literally spent the whole day cooking. I started with omelettes for 7. We crammed in the kitchen, me making omelettes, Joanna making waffles, we surged the power with the microwave and heater going, we drank coffee from the carafe that I found at a thrift store and then parted ways for the day slowly with my friend Jonathan doing all the dishes for me as we watched the Office. I quickly moved into planning on cooking dinner for the triumvirate that often is gathered around our kitchen island. The three of us ate, drank wine and talked about all the things as per usual.

Cooking and baking and gathering is the tree of life for me, for us.

Sadly, we are missing something from our house that is incredibly important. Yes, there are certain pots and pans and a garlic press that we want. And yes, we need all the seasons of Dawson’s Creek (with the original music, because duh) and our creepy, clown cabinet only has like an 8th of a bottle of gin.

But, what we are lacking above all of that, is a kitchen table. We have a spot for it. A picture of our G42 class in the center of a wall awaiting a table under it. I will admit, we are pretty picky. 

Because, it isn’t just a table to us. It’s so very much more than that. 

It’s a place to land.

A table that’s a little weathered, that maybe has the faint ring of a wine glass, maybe some flowers placed upon it says something.

It says, “come and be.” Come however you are, with whatever day you have had, with whatever you need to shake off, pull up a chair and you can be fed, nourished and loved.

A table says you are not alone. You are cared for in the most basic of ways, which are the ways that truly matter.

We need that symbol to go along with the spirit already in our home. We gather around a lot of tables here in Bellingham. At restaurants, coffee shops, at the Liberty house.

We gather at our little yellow house too. 

But we need that place to set our platters and lay our forks and clink our glasses.

So, without further ado:

IN SEARCH OF: a kitchen table.

Square, or rectangular with leaves that can expand the size, but can also be folded down to fit against our wall. Does not have to be brand-new, we value character and story in our furniture and our lives the same. Has to be able to withstand meals teaming with food and also lively games with beans and dice. Must be able to be the centerpiece for truth, life and laughter. Must be ok with tears and yelling. Needs to be a table that can double as a place for creativity. Where dreams can be dreamt and plans can be made and vision can be established.
And without a doubt, must be a place to gather, a soft place to a land and an easy place to take off from and come back too. 

And must be a place to live from.
The yellow house in Bellingham is searching for a table; can you help us?


I don’t always speak.

I don’t always write what I feel I should. {I mean, I also don’t always say what I should}

This is for a lot of reasons. Sometimes it’s because I don’t think that I can adequately explain why something is important, or why I believe what I believe with written words or with out specific questions. I don’t always write about revelations and triumphs in my life because they aren’t for everyone to hear, they are sometimes for me, sometimes for my home team and those like them and sometimes for the people who are in authority over me.

I also don’t always write what I want to write because to me words are some of most powerful weapons we have. And if I put it on paper for others to read it makes it real, more vulnerable and way, way more out there.

My brain is currently full of a lot of incomplete sentences. The last four months have felt like a lot and nothing at all. I find myself apart of a place, a family, a community, a home, a table that means so much to me. That I trust. It’s all very, very new to me; this trust.

{{TRUST: (n/v) the firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.
–a hope//expectation–to have faith or confidence}}

Trust is a weighty word. Have you ever truly thought of that? We are a people who throw words out like they are free; trust, love, safe. We can easily open ourselves up for hurt by using those words to quickly or not quickly enough.

Those are the words we stop ourselves from using.

But what about words like dumb, stupid, fat, ugly, hopeless?

I went through a long road of recognizing that words and phrases that had been spoken over me needed to be shaken off and thrown away. There were a lot of them and some of them still effect me and still cause me to be put in a place that is not the most fun.

Have you ever thought about that silly little rhyme “stick and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”? And yet we use words to instill in our loved ones how much we love them, care for them, and are there for them. So why wouldn’t the opposite side of those words hurt as much as the positive ones help?

As you can tell the power of words has been mulling around in my brain as prophecy and words of encouragement and of course, speaking to sweet one year olds all day and instilling vocabulary, positivity and safety through my voice.

I have always known the importance of words and for the last year, since a certain Irishman rattled some truth into my being, realized that I have powerful, rock-breaking words inside me.

I haven’t been writing a lot lately. And this whole time I’ve thought it’s because I haven’t had the words, but in reality I have had too many swimming through my brain.

And goodness, that’s ok.

I’m getting over not writing what I think I shouldn’t write. My discernment is moving and broadening and the words that hurt me are fading faster then they had before.

All this to say is this: watch this space for more.

The more is coming and it’s coming with words.


100 days home

100 days ago this weekend I did one of the weirdest, maybe even craziest things I have ever done. I got into a car with someone whom I had never actually met, and drove with him to a city I had never been to, to an apartment I was renting that I had never set foot in with a friend with whom I had actually never technically lived with.

I own my crazy well.

In 100 days I’ve made the city of Bellingham a home. Something that’s mine and mine alone. It isn’t the place I grew up, or where my family is from or the area I went to college in. 
It’s just my home. 

The last 100 days have been filled with a lot. A lot of laughter, crying, dancing in the hallway. Beer, prayer, time at church and time around tables. It’s been filled with snuggling kids to sleep everyday and learning a new language of communicating with tiny humans that I hadn’t really used before.

It’s been filled with choosing to live out of who I have learned I am.

So because of that I am going to make a lis. And as an homage to my most favorite late talk show host ever, David Letterman, here is a top ten of ten words about my first 100 days in the wacky city named Bellingham.

{but first, for those that just want the bluf; the bottom line up front: I not only love everyone in my path here in Bellingham but I am also so very loved here in Bellingham. And that my friends changes everything.}

1. LIVE (from the yellow house) I live in the best house with the best roommate. I met Patty Reed 3 years ago this week at World Race Training Camp. She was my seat buddy on most flights and other then that we never really chatted. She has become, in the last year and a half, one of the most treasured friends in my life. She speaks truth to me and helps me off ledges and doesn’t bat an eye when I stomp my feet. She’s one of the best people I know. She’s my home team and literally apart of every named group text on my phone and I am utterly grateful to live in this yellow house with her.

2. HAPPINESS: (In no particular order)Aslan Fryday //co-op hippie cookies//NYP brunches//NYP everything//avellino Fantasia// lettered streets// rocket donuts// beer beer beer//coffee coffee coffee
3. WORK:  For those of you who don’t know: I’m the lead teacher in a one year old classroom. I got the job two days after I arrived. I normally have 14 kids and two assistants and a whole lot of boogers and conversations about giving your friends space. But I also have dance parties at snack with co-workers to not only entertain the children but also to keep us sane and donuts when we take the kids on walks. I am learning that I have more knowledge than I thought. And I treasure moments with these tiny humans each day.

4. COLD: Mom you will soon be able to officially ask me if I am warm enough and know it’s not an illegitimate question.
5. CHURCH. I don’t know how to describe it really. Wait no, I do. ALIVE. That’s the only word for the church family I am apart of: alive. It’s been since high school where I attended a church where I felt known and seen like I do here. Where I have felt pushed and challenged and changed in the most lovely, gritty ways. I knew I was coming into something safe when I set foot in the church for the first time. But to come somewhere that feels like a continuation rather than something new is a feeling I can’t describe super well but that’s what it is. And that’s because it wasn’t starting over coming here.

6. LOVELY: one of the loveliest moments in our home has been when Andrew and Mo Shearman (founders of G42) were in town to preach at our church and we got to host them and a crew of our friends for lunch. I don’t know how to put to words the meaning behind having Andrew stand in my house and declare over it and speak in tongues and break bread at our table. It was a stacking stone moment. A memory to remember forever. To cherish. We have had those moments in so many different instances here from a road trip to Winthrop, to girls nights with Yessina, to afternoons that turned to evenings and coffee dates that turned to dinner.

7. COMMUNITY (that cliche c word) Like I said; I got picked up 100 days ago by someone I’d never actually met. Bellingham and A life is currently the church/city with the most g42 alum and also just some really awesome other people. There are so many people I can tell you about, but just know that the people who reside in the third row {center right} are some of the weirdest, wackiest people I know and I am so glad I get to sit around tables with them.

8. DREAMS. Since moving here I have realized that these dreams and passions and visions and hopes that I’ve carried so long are so very small compared to what I could do and accomplish. {which leads to…}

9. MORE. I thought I had met more before. I had but what I didn’t realize is that more gets even more then it was before. Even just today in church the reminder that I am the more. The hope. The life. And that I have great words and truth and voice inside me. This is another blog, another topic, but it’s building and growing and I am choosing to believe.

10. And one last word: TRIUMVIRATE. (Words also applicaple: sanity, laughter, truth, life, surprising and random.)

If you made it through this whole list, thank you. I am going to pick up my pen more and write the things in my mind and heart and the truth being pulled out of me daily. For your eyes too. I’m unlocking the more and the life and the wisdom daily and choosing to go forth knowing that I am meant for more.
{and yes, California, I do miss you and your people. You are so apart of the here it’s ridiculous}


who I know God to be (in under 700 words)

In the spring of 2014 I was going through a major crisis of faith.There were so many things that weren’t fitting into the box of who I knew God to be. So many conversations and Facebook reposts and articles I read that just didn’t make sense. It was that of a cold, sterile, guilt-filled, fear-inducing God.

I was beginning to see my faith come apart at the seams and I had no clue what to do.

But at the end of that journey I realized I had a new tool in my box. A prism. Something that I could look through and I could clearly see whether it was going to burst into color or not.

Things that are the character of God burst into color.

And if they aren’t they fall flat.

It’s literally as simple as that.

Because if I have taken anything away from the past year it’s that we were born to be loved. Period.
It’s not about changing everything about yourself or starting “fresh”.

That’s a mouthful and not a truth that a lot of people are ok with. I feel so many people in this world want to separate everything of themselves and just run. But there is good inside all of us.

We just have to flood the parts that aren’t life-filled with life.

When I clean my water bottle I fill it with water and scrub it as best I can. But to get all the soap out it takes more then just one rinse because soap leaves a residue that you have to flush out. I don’t just keep filling it up and rinsing it out. That doesn’t really solve the problem. You have to just let water continually pour in and flood the bottle and eventually all the soap particles will flush out and the bottle will be filled with solely clean water.

It’s a process and it takes maybe a little more water then normal BUT I know that my bottle is filled with fresh water.

The flooding process keeps the water moving, it doesn’t get stagnant.

That’s how the love of Christ works.

He doesn’t want to change us, he wants to flood our very being with his life and love so all that is Him is us and all that is us is Him.

And if I am being real that is hard to take in. I think sometimes it is easier to believe that we just need a new everything. That the previous model was no good so we just have to toss it.

But people-we gotta realize that we are humans, not the latest version of technology. You aren’t going to get an upgrade every two years.

You are you. That’s who you are supposed to be.

We were created just exactly how we were supposed to be. We weren’t missing pieces, they’ve just gotten covered or clogged up over the years and we need to flush them

I’ve had endless revelations in the last two months of being in Bellingham. I could write for days, but what I’ve realized above all is I’ve landed in a place that is focused on the love of Christ.

That doesn’t mean we stand in a circle and sing kumbaya.
It means we fight against hell to pour the light in. We don’t speak to the dark: we call in the light.

Let’s stop speaking to what is dark, let’s unabashedly flood in the light.

Push at the dark with a steady, steady stream of light that cleanses, heals and restores.

And THAT is how I view my God now.


what pressing pause looks like

I will never forget the moment I met Bekah.

I was sitting in one of the meeting rooms at RockHarbor for a communication meeting to map out writing and sermon recaps for the upcoming season and I noticed this lovely, curly-haired, blond woman who I hadn’t really ever seen. This, mind you, is not hard in a church with 5 services and thousands of people.

Chattering was occurring and I overheard her mention she was looking for a preschool because her family was moving and I, being the cheerleader for my place of employment, handed her the card for Lighthouse and let her know about all the wonderful families and kiddos that went there.
And I ended it there. I thought she seemed like a ray of sunshine and knew she probably had a handful of fantastic thoughts and ideas and whimsy under her surface.

Sometime later, on a random weekday at work, my boss popped her head in and said someone had mentioned me when they called and were coming to visit.

Bekah’s precious kiddo started soon after and wormed his way into my heart.

It’s been over 3 years since I had that last three year old class but Bekah has been a constant encouragement in my life.

She is a writer of truth and vulnerability and doesn’t settle for anything else. I have learned a lot from just reading the words she paints on a screen. When I am in need of truth and life I remember her and her heart and her words. Today, when my mind felt a little wacky I reached out to her. Just that act opened the floodgates. Drawing from the spirit and heart of those a few steps ahead of me.

Here’s the thing. I currently feel like my writing is on pause. Like I go to journal out what’s going on in my head or the things I am feeling and there is nothing. I had a heavy morning at church filled with a lot of goodness, a lot of me getting my “back off cloak” torn off and stomped on and a lot of my heart longing to reach out to the people in my life who need love. And a lot of realizing that there are a lot of things that I need to lay facedown on the ground with in my own life.

I’m surrounded by a lot good spirit here. Things that probably are always around me, things that I’m just beginning to notice and become even more aware of. And it’s a lot for the senses to take in. Because it’s not just seeing or hearing, but it’s tasting and touching and smelling. When you realize that you take things in with all five senses it begins to overwhelm. And when something gets overwhelmed or too full, much like an iPhone that gets too hot, it can potentially cease to work.

I won’t cease to work, that’s not the problem, but I am learning that my ability to take in things is actually coming from more facets then I thought.

So I do need to pause a bit, I need to lay on the floor, I need to dance it out and write sloppily in a journal. I need to turn to the writing and truth and wisdom of those around me.

Today, I am going to pause and let words get scratched out on my ipad, I will write some words for others. I’m going to drink coffee with vanilla creamer and I’m most likely going to cry in the hallway.

And that’s ok.

Because pressing pause is in no way passive. It’s the ability to ready yourself to take something in. It’s not stopping moving, but it’s preparing. I’m preparing for the breakthrough by actively allowing myself to move through the life that comes before it.

May I repeat?

It’s ok.

And if I didn’t know or think it was ok I could just look at people like Bekah and know that the mess, and the snotty noses and the not having words is ok. Because eventually the words and thoughts and revelations will come and I will pass those on to the next person just as she passed them onto me.

Now, if you don’t mind; I have some vanilla coffee creamer with my name on it.

(To read the whimsy and lovely and truth of this powerful woman check out her home on the interwebs Upcycled Jane)

…and so I will stand

I’ve started three different blogs today all around the theme of being in Bellingham for 6 weeks, all about the loveliness that surrounds me and the lessons that I’m learning and walking in.

But before I write that blog there is apparently something I need to get off my chest, something that sneaks up on me here and there and lately it’s been trying to steal from me and cause me to question truth around me.

There is something I just need to say:

Anxiety is a bitch.

It creeps up on me in the weirdest of moments and decides that it is allowed to make home here.

But to that anxiety I would like to say this:

Hell no!

I think we all have things, certain feelings, certain skeletons that are long since dead and buried that try to come up above ground and live normally with us. 

They sneak in the backdoor and hide in a crevice around the corner and just wait. They wait for that singular moment to sneak up on you and jump in.

And sometimes you don’t even notice. 

Tonight I was struck with anxiety sitting at a restaurant with friends and it began to bubble up. It grew like a weed, really fast because I just didn’t notice it.

We were having some spirit-filled conversation and the anxiety inside me started to react to it, started to push against it and all I wanted to do was run. I wanted to get out of that restaurant as fast as I possibly could.

I wanted to get in the coziest of clothes and get as far away from people as I could.

But I knew that’s not what I needed.

I needed to stand my ground. 

That’s what it was.

In the moment that I wanted to hide in my room I realized that I just needed to stand my freaking ground and reclaim my headspace and my heart space and remember that I have the ability to do that.

I can easily allow anxiety to have control over my emotion. I can allow it to cause me to spiral into the oblivion, to cry and to surrender to the chaos and confusion that I feel in my head.

Sometimes it is actually there. And when it is I do have to deal with it.

But tonight the moment I gave a “hell no” to the mess inside it began to subside and ease up.

When I stomped my feet and stood my ground physically the knot inside began to untwist.

My life isn’t easy-breezy right now.

I am working hard and jumping into community.

I have lessons I’m being taught and truths I’m being reminded of.

But I am also learning that I have the power to move mountains inside me and today as I told the anxiety inside me to go to hell I’m realizing that I can indeed to that.

So this is my encouragement, my challenge and my reminder: stomp your feet, stand your ground and remember that the person with the power to fight hardest is yourself. Your words to yourself are just needed as your words to others.

And the other part of that is this: surround yourself with good people. Because they will give you the courage to stomp your feet and stand your ground.

So I guess this blog does speak of the loveliness of this place because I am surrounded by truth, kingdom and love and I have the roaring voice inside me to yell back at what comes at me.

I have people around me on a daily basis that walk in who they are and because of that I am able to stand in who I am.

This community empowers me more then I can describe.

And man, is it lovely.


Find an exit buddy

To the interns wandering around Mijas;

Though our paths didn’t cross, I guarantee we’ve sat in same places all over that white washed village. (My favorite seat in the epi was the one in the center section next to the pole closest to the office just FYI).

It doesn’t matter that we’ve never met, we are apart of the same tribe, the same family, we share something even without knowing each other’s names.

So, I am sitting at the table and would love to echo something I’m sure you’ve heard whether you’ve been there 1 or 4 months.

Please, listen when they encourage you not to go alone.

Because, whether you believe it or not at this point, it changes everything.

I will never forget sitting at OCP with George Ridley during graduation week my first term. He asked me what my plan was, where I was going and I responded I didn’t know and the place really didn’t matter.

He told me four things I needed: people, a place to live, a job, and people doing something I loved. And when it came down to it if the three check marks didn’t include a job; that didn’t remove the place.

But it was logical and clear cut- go to people who were filled with life and love.

I was going to tell you my how. HOw I made the decision not to go alone.

But really that’s not what I want to tell you.
I want to tell you right now, to choose; to decide not to go try to do the thing alone.
Go TO people. Go WITH people.
Please, don’t try to save the world single-handed.

I left Spain in December with the knowledge that by August I would be living in Bellingham, WA with my friend and a member of my home team, Patty, and I’d be going to A Life Family church and getting to know the people there, some I’d met, some I’d heard about and some I’d (spoiler alert) stalked on Facebook.

What I’m saying is I had found an exit buddy.

I had a friend who knew the fears and the hardships and the goodbyes emotions I was feeling because she was going through similar things. I had a friend who reminded me in the ridiculous times of working retail that this was apart of our doing of the damn thing.

It’s August and I just paid my second month of rent. I’ve attended church and community group and gone and got beers or coffee with the people I’d only heard about. Each night my roommate and I recap our day, sometimes over an episode of saved by the bell.

And in the days when it’s hard, though I can and do text and FaceTime my people scattered over the world; one of my people actually lives in the same house as me.

It changes things.

Our home is filled with life, because we chose to have it be that way. Filled with truth, encouragement, wackiness and beer.

And had we come to a new place without community, we would have probably been ok.

But guys, GUYS, coming to a place and a community you already trust with people who you trust (Even borrowed trust) changes absolutely everything.

That advice George gave me that day in front of OCP fixed my gaze on the logical and that made it less scary.

Coming to Bellingham where there was already a community and people was probably the best decision we could have made for ourselves.

To quote both Andrew & Freddy “it just makes sense”.

{And in the days when you maybe almost get a concussion from hitting your head so hard on a cabinet at work and your roommate has to go to class, you can call someone, even though you just met him a mere 3 weeks prior and he can sit with you and eat pizza and make sure you don’t have a concussion.}

We came to a community that we trusted because those we trust, trust them.

And guys there are those people all over the country. We are here in Bellingham and in Denver. There’s a table in Chicago and one in Memphis and so many others in between.

I can guarantee there is someone from this tribe with a similar heart and vision, either already doing the thing or looking to start it.

We aren’t meant to wander aimlessly.
And the more people around you the less chance you will get off track.

Start those conversations now. We emailed with a friend here in Bellingham for months prior to moving.

Ask questions.
Ask the staff questions, ask who they know that have similar hearts, ask them to connect you.

Don’t be me for the first three months, believing I could end up just anywhere, which was basically true. But I was missing that I needed to end up Not just anywhere but with people.

It changes the good to celebration and changes the hard days to face to face conversations rather then over FaceTime.

It just changes things.

So if you read this whole letter I want to challenge you to have those conversations, ask those questions and decide to do the thing with people.

Reach out and grab it.

It’s so good.

If you have any questions or want to know specifically what’s going on here in Bellingham or our process of deciding to come here please shoot me an email. (Mmreeve @gmail) And if you are ever in the area we live in the best little yellow house and our door is open and there is normally beer & wine in the fridge and some emergency cookie dough ready to be thawed and baked.

I don’t know you guys but I do know you are amazing.
Do me a favor and love the staff really well, they are some of my favorite people on planet earth.
And please, PLEASE, go buy a bag of paprika chips from spar and eat them for me.

With love,


a life message at 30

I have realized over the last 6 months or so that I am developing words and phrases that are turning into what I can only classify as “life messages”. It was a concept I didn’t really know about until Spain, until I met men and women who have certain words and phrases that touch their hearts.
I think at 30 I am more then allowed to claim things as apart of my heart and as apart of something that I will always speak on or know.
One of those things is the concept and what I deem the lifestyle of borrowing trust.

Now, before I get into this I am want to be clear and say this: if you know in your knower in the deepest part of you that your trust or even your borrowed trust cannot be given then don’t do it. You know you know.

What is borrowed trust?

Have you ever been in a situation where you were sent somewhere or to someone by someone that you trust and you had to choose in that moment to trust that place or person before you had time to deem it trustworthy? You just knew that you couldn’t give your own trust time to develop and you just chose to dive in?

That’s borrowing trust whether you knew it or not. That was taking the trust of the person that sent you- the trust that they had in the person or place and claiming it as your own.

The concept and theme of borrowed trust is very important in my life.

At first I thought it was something that I first encountered going on the world race. Because I chose outright to trust the Garmon’s and Tiff, Kelly & Joshua with who I was because I had chosen to trust AIM and since AIM trusted those people then I could trust them too.

And then somewhere down the line I gave AIM that borrowed trust back because I had my own.

But I realized that going to therapy was very much about borrowing trust. My therapist was a preschool dad. He was someone somewhat well known and I had to choose to trust him from minute one.

I didn’t have the capacity to do so.

There were people I knew that trusted him. It was a spread out kind of trust but I was able to collect enough of it to hold onto until I had my own.

In a way borrowed trust is like the blankets and toys my little kiddos in my classroom have. They are a small reminder of home. They are a reminder of mom and dad. A reminder that mom and dad left them there and loved them and trusted us. So, even if it takes a moment for the kiddos to trust me, something in their blankie reminds them that their parents trust me.

And eventually the blanket gets lost in the shuffle.

Borrowed trust is important because it gives us the chance to live before we think we might be ready too.

Borrowed trust reminds us that we already trust something.

I don’t think I could have come to Bellingham without borrowed trust.

I had to believe that these people and this place was for me.

I had to trust that when I made this jump I wouldn’t get too bruised.

There are a good handful people in my life who trust this place and this people. They are people who I first trusted on a hell of lot of borrowed trust that I have since given back and replaced with my own.

And because of them and what they have done and who they are in my life I trust this place.

We need to find trust as much as we build it. We need to choose to connect people with trust from others.

You can’t borrow trust if you don’t trust in the first place.

Let’s choose to clear out the bad examples in our lives and replace them with piggy banks of trust that we can take and use.

It will not only change your life but I guarantee it will cause you to move in ways you never deemed possible.