la casa de huespedes

I sat on this bed for the first time in March of 2009. I was 20 years old, excited and terrified. This bed is in Quito, Ecuador, a place that I've come to consider home, but at the time, I had no idea what would come of my connection to this place. The people I've met here, the conversations in Spanish and English that have peppered my memory, the mountains we've climbed, the tears I've cried and the awe I've experienced. This is a magical place that caught me by surprise my junior year of college as I was seeking to know myself, my God and his people more fully (aren't I still?).
Now, six and a half years later, I find myself back in the same bed, mulling over new thoughts and understandings, supporting those students, who like me, are seeking something more than what they know. I'm overwhelmed differently now. 20-year-old Kelli was overwhelmed by the language, the busy-ness of the city, the one other student I shared this experience with and the lack of familial connection. 27-year-old Kelli is overwhelmed by how much this place has changed me, the opportunities and friendships I've been given through my time here and how natural it is to live here for a month and a half at a time.
I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the difficulty of being here for this amount of time, separated from my "real life" in California, missing precious weeks with newborn babies and dear friends. It is still a challenge; a challenge that I struggle with before flying away from the States, am able to ignore a majority of the time then come to grips with as I see the reverse coming into view. I'm leaving in a week. Traveling back to the States and away from Ecuador, again, for an uncertain amount of time. The last time I left this beautiful country without knowing when I would return resulted in quite the somber viaje home, to English-speaking turf. It's reality. I'm not sure when I will be back, but I certainly cannot imagine this being the last visit. There are mountains to scale (and share), friends to reconnect with, streets to wander, cafes to stumble upon and Spanish to be spoken.

My reality is quickly shifting and I'm afraid. Yep, I said it. I'm afraid. As exciting as newness and change is, it's absolutely terrifying. 20-year-old Kelli creeps back into view to provide a little empathy on this situation. It's el opuesto (the opposite). I'm not excited and terrified by Ecuador right now. It's the other hemisphere that scares me. So many reasons to feel this way creep into my mind, but are thankfully silenced quickly when I realize - I didn't put this plan together. But, really. Sure, I put pen to paper and I followed through with the decision making of my next step in life, but the pieces were laid out for me quite clearly. Georgia beckons and I trust in the goodness that I've been promised for what is to come.
I've recognized this before, but the range of emotions that can flow through my mind/body in a given day are astonishing! I look forward with an interesting chaos of thoughts, questions and feelings.

To quote Rainier Maria Rilke:

"…I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."

To put it plainly, I've never felt like this before. I'm sure it can be attributed to a multitude of factors, but it's clear that I haven't sat on this bed in this state of mind before. Sure, excited and terrified describes the base of my feelings, but it's different this time.
I know that once Winter comes, I'll never be the same. Maybe, it's dramatic. But more than anything it's real. I believe the future holds answers that I'll be ready for as they come, but I can hardly catch my breath when I consider them now. To think about the changes, the growth, the challenge, the preparation, the joy and the sorrow that I've endured since Spring of 2009 draws me into a state of great appreciation and peaceful expectation of the next six years and beyond. Again, as I'm sure I've revealed previously, I believe in the perfect preparation that God provides and that we are invited to ask for as we look towards where we're headed. Sometimes the vision is clear and sometimes it's mottled beyond comprehension, but it's incredibly breathtaking when people, places and things are prepared by the one who loves us completely. Sure, it's not always a field of lavender, but even when it's a patch of briars I am pulled to trust that this too shall be made well.

Love. I find it fascinating how deeply we can care for one another and how that looks so drastically different in each of our relationships.

“For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks… the work for which all other work is but preparation.” -R.M.R.

I'm grateful for the ways through which I have come to know and am coming to know love.

reality is hard

This post was started in May. Decided to pick it back up today... it seemed fitting.



What do I have to be thankful for? Too many things to mention.
Why, then, does sorrow still come?

Reality is that we are human, we are imperfect, we fail and we love. Those things are hard. I desire to save myself and others from pain, but that is not possible.

People we love leave this life and people we love live this life differently than we would hope.

This may seem negative or sad, but it's a process. I'm in the midst of processing some aspects of life that aren't incredibly smile-inducing and that's OK.

Here's the update portion that those of you that know me will be able to connect:
My Grandpapa passed on to life eternal this month. I went home to see him off and be with my family as we made preparations for his memorial service. I parted ways with a man that I love tremendously and am trying to respect the hole he left in my heart all while continuing to live my life. My Grandpapa was present. I grew up with him as a constant in my life. Many childhood weekends and afternoons were spent with Grandpapa. He was the Patriarch of the family, and as stubborn as he could be, we placed him in power. It was deserved him. He worked hard to love his wife, raise his family, be engaged in life fully and make his mark on this world. I trusted my Grandpapa fully. Sure, I learned things in college that made me aware of our differences in opinions, but that didn't change my willingness to sit with him and hear his piece. He mattered. I learned from my dad that Grandpapa was important. The time and energy that my dad invested in Grandpapa was astounding. He always knew how he was doing and what was new in his life; Grandpapa felt the same way about my dad... they let each other in. I watched my dad carefully during my time at home. There were times of deep sorrow and times of joy as he attempted to move through this gaping hole. I respect him even more now than I did before.



The seasons are changing here. The trees and lakes show no sign of it, yet a transition is in the works. Another summer has ended to make way for the approaching autumn. Most of the summer staff have made their treks homeward and I find myself left in the wake; again, navigating that gaping hole. In less than 3 days we'll be welcoming students to spend four months with us and I'm not sure if I'm ready. This semester marks my last season with Summit Adventure. Come the New Year, I will be trekking homeward as well. Opportunity, family and the unknown beckon me. Georgia will be home again and life will look different.

I'm surrounded by newness. Six families in my life are getting ready to have their first baby! Four of those are in my community here, in California. One is in North Carolina and one is my brother and sister-in-law in Georgia. With this, I feel a bit of a rejuvenated hope. I could move into talking about hope for the future of our world, but that would take too much time and energy at this point. Two things I'm lacking at the moment. The short-term hope is beautiful, too. Hope that I'll get to meet these Californian babies before I go and hope that I'll get to have a special relationship with my first niece through being closer to them in Georgia.

The cohesiveness of this writing is going downhill fast, therefore I'll call it complete. Even though, it's quite imperfect and quite unfinished.

this one's for you

I suspect I know who the first to read this will be. She needn't be named :) Thanks for the encouragement to put "pen to paper" and I hope this will open up a notebook for you as well.

My recent readings include mostly scholastic works centered around communication and leadership... working towards a masters degree will do that to your bookshelf. Today I read a few chapters in our next book, one that focuses on multicultural leadership. I want to share a pretty hefty quote with you and explore where it took my mind:

"Author M. Scott Peck, after searching for the keys to human fulfillment in his classic best seller The Road Less Traveled, turned his attention to the role community plays in people's well-being. Peck found that people thirst for a sense of place and belonging. He envisioned a world in which a 'soft individualism' acknowledges our interdependence. Rugged individualism demands that we always put our best foot forward, hide our weaknesses and insecurities, and don a mask of self-sufficiency. This leaves people feeling inadequate, exhausted, and alone. Peck believed that humanity stands on the brink of annihilation if community and interdependence are not rewoven, stating 'In and through community lies the salvation of the world.'"

The author goes on to explain how cultures embodying Peck's opinion value generosity and taking care of one another. Finally, claiming that this type of orientation can heal much of the social malaise that unbridled individualism, overwork and materialism have spawn. To paraphrase Alexis de Tocqueville, balancing individualism with the collective good will reinforce the social context and fabric of community because unchecked individualism has lead to emotional isolation and fragmentation.

As I was reading on my couch this rainy morning, I caught a glimpse of something probably eight feet away on a shelf: a wooden, hand-carved "Peace on Earth" that my mother gave me for Christmas this year. That's it. I'm not sure if Mom knew what she was giving me, but it embodies my desire for this life and what I believe to be a universal desire that gets clouded. If you were to ask anyone, a random stranger, if they desire peace on Earth, don't you think they'd say yes? I do. Wouldn't you say yes?

We are lacking peace. Not only do we inflict a lack of peace on others through our actions and words daily, but look at the world news today... it's not about one person causing harm to another, it's about natural disasters striking the nations one after the other. In the last three days, a major volcanic eruption in Chile and the largest earthquake of record to hit Nepal in the past 81 years are causing chaos across the globe. We are lacking peace. These natural disasters took over the news after over a week of stories surrounding the world's views on what the Ottoman Empire did to Armenian Christians in Turkey from 1915 to 1917. We are lacking peace, but maybe effort is and can be made to restore it?

Reading Peck's words about 'rugged individualism' makes me cringe a little bit. I recognize those tendencies in myself even as I attempt to extract myself from the U.S. individualism lifestyle everyday. I have felt the negative effects of living an individualistic life and I want to leave that behind. I want us, as a people, to drop our false-perfections in order to live realistically with people who come alongside one another through love and compassion as they encourage each other towards growth. We are a people created to be in relationship. Relationship with one another, with our Creator and with creation.

Ok, let's think metaphor. Fragmentation, as mentioned by de Tocqueville in relation to what will happen if we continue to live a life of unchecked individualism, still has the same definition now as it did then: "The process or state of breaking or being broken into small or separate parts." Who would admit to wanting that? Fragmentation happens when marriages end, when families are split, when bones are broken, the list continues... None of these events have positive connotations in our society, yet we continue to involve ourselves in lifestyles that lead to them. The change won't happen over night, but it takes individuals willing to sacrifice their individualism for community every day.

I moved back and forth with the above-mentioned reading and Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire. In his introduction, Abbey cautions readers, "Do not jump in your automobile next June and rush out to the Canyon country hoping to see some of that which I have attempted to evoke in these pages." He goes on to explain that most of what he includes in the following pages no longer exists. This book, that dives into the Canyon country and the mystery within, is a memorial to what used to be. We have the chance every day to let what used to be lie and to see what is for the first time. We must walk into that. We must appreciate and learn from what was, and let it launch us forward into what is to come. There are days that I find myself afraid of what is to come because the outlook seems so grim. There are other days where I am elated with the thought of a distant or not-so-distant future that seems hopeful. As someone striving to live as a 'little Christ' in this life, I'm called to choose hope. To pray for peace. To walk boldly into this artistic creation that has been tainted by its inhabitants and still call it 'good.'

--With all do respect, E. Abbey, I will jump in my car and drive to the Canyon country. I will heed your careful advice, though. I will not expect to find the lands you describe. Nor will I expect to see perfection. That's where my understanding will shift and grow and morph. I will see it for the first time, knowing that it was different yesterday and will be different tomorrow, but trusting that God, in all God's glory, will show God's self to me within it. We may be really great destroyers, but somehow God sustains us and God's creation. I pray that I will always have my eyes open to see what the Lord has made.

Salsa, Soul, and Spirit: Leadership for a Multicultural Age by Juana Bordas
Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey

kitchen table. tea and toast.

Bundled up with a bit of snow left outside my window, I sit at the kitchen table. Alone. I’m still buzzing from the flurry that was my day. In an attempt to recollect my calm, I’ve made a steaming mug of tea and toasted a slice of homemade bread with my very own apple butter lathered on top. Dessert.

The days run out quickly as there is more dark than light this season. Winter is here. Pretty sure we’ve already gotten more snow than in full seasons prior. Eight inches could be an understatement; I didn’t get out the ruler. Actually, I don’t have a ruler.

(Regularly I walk the tightrope of living simply and being prideful about living simply. Hence, I almost deleted my sentence about not having a ruler.)

Life, my life, is in a constant state of change. That seems a bit ironic, I know, but completely truthful. Just when I think I’m rolling into a season that I’ve done before, that will give me more rest than the previous one, something shifts. Some outside force (not usually to be reckoned with) mixes up my life again. I hope I can always be, and come across as, grateful for these seasons, no matter how surprising or challenging they may be. Just as I breathe a sigh of relief that my fall filled with traveling to unfamiliar places filled with unfamiliar people is over, I realize I’m only sleeping my own bed for three weeks before I leave again. I’ll be headed to spend the Holidays with family back east.

For all of the abovementioned travel, I am unquestionably thankful. Getting to travel to faraway cities and states in order to build relationships with people as I introduce them to the organization for which I work, is quite spectacular. Conversation is most rich when it’s filled with passion, and I get that. After a long chat with someone hearing about their lives and sharing with them the opportunities that I believe could offer them even more growth, I am energized. Sure, after a week of those conversations interspersed with not-so-passionate conversations, I’m stinking tired. I wake early to carry my weary bones to the airport and unlike in the past, I hardly say a word to anyone I meet along the way. By that time I’m ready for rest. Ready for the comfort of a bed with month-old sheets and a hand-me-down couch. And quiet.

As far as the travel I’m about to do, it’s hard to explain my feelings towards it. I’m eagerly awaiting time spent with seldom-seen family… tossing little cousins in the air, cooking with aunts in the kitchen, joking around and drinking a bit too much with uncles and cousins-turned-friends after the kids go to bed, and most of all long mornings at the kitchen table with my folks.

Thankfully, even though the house isn’t the same, the kitchen table hasn’t changed. It’s the same kitchen table where we grew up having dinner at every night, blew out countless (well, I guess if I tried hard enough) birthday candles with friends and family gathered around, hid underneath when you couldn’t think of a better spot for hide-and-go-seek, did homework at until you cried because you just didn’t understand, and laughed, a lot.

Back to the point at hand, before I reminisced about our kitchen table… I’ll be spending two weeks back east for the Holidays. These are two of the three weeks I usually spend there each year. It seems like such a small amount of time when I put it into words. Yet, I recognize that I have a family here as well; as I’ve mentioned before, I have a home here too. There are people that I’d like to share more of this season with, families that have loved me really well, friends that have invested in me and visa versa. It’s a beautiful pull to have. With all of that being said, I know I will want to freeze time and stay longer once I get there.

Kathleen Norris has taken over a large percentage of my reading these past few months.

To quote Norris, “I have learned to trust the processes that take time, to value change that is not sudden or ill-considered but grows out of the ground of experience. Such change is properly defined as conversion, a word that at its roots connotes not a change of essence but of perspective, as turning round; turning back to or returning; turning one’s attention to.”

Followed by the ever-inspiring T.S. Eliot, “The end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time.”

Perspective. If anything changes more frequently than our perspective I’d like to become more aware of that thing. If I allow myself to venture down this road, I realize that my perspective changes with every experience I encounter. My perspective on God changes every time I read scripture and allow it to brew thoughts, during each service I attend and seek meaning and truth from the words being spoken, through conversation about life choices and direction with friends, when I see something or someone in a different light than I had before. My perspective on relationships changes every time I engage in one, whether it be new, old, challenging, exciting, scary, uplifting, draining, uncomfortable, passionate, fulfilling, confusing, what have you, because it’s real. And the next time I embark on that journey with someone, my perspective will be different than it was the time before, because of my experience, because of what I learned.

One frustrating thing… I’ll never fully understand someone else’s perspective. No matter how well I know them, no matter how open and honestly they share, it’s like trying to get behind someone’s eyes. Like trying to see the world through the lens that has been molded throughout their lifetime. It’s a bit disappointing. I treasure relationships. I enjoy investing in people that I care about, and being invest in by them. I have to remind myself that I will never fully know the inner-workings and the hidden perspective that has been so delicately woven into every ounce of their being. Hm. Will I ever fully know that of myself?

one of the stunning perspectives from Dewey Point

autumn arises

The fall colors surprised me. Driving from Oakhurst to Lone Pine, I wasn't ready for the aspens in their fiery state. I'm not complaining. The changing of leaves in autumn has always (for as long as I can remember) been a pretty special time of year for me. Growing up in Georgia, in a home surrounded by maples and oaks, I got used to watching the leaves make their shift as the air turned crisp until we gathered them all together on the ground and looked up at the naked trunk left in it's wake.

This past week gave me the opportunity to explore with a sweet friend of mine. We explored the depths of thought and experience as we traveled through the Eastern Sierra. We individually met with God at Convict Lake (pictured above) and then came back together in awe of our time spent there. We breeched conversations we'd never had, we found out things we hadn't known, and we shared wisdom with one another. It was life-giving. It was encapsulated by the greater experience of sloughing off the dead and dying leaves in order to give way to new growth. Aka, autumn.

psalm 25 - teach me your paths

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.

O my God, in you I trust;
    let me not be put to shame;
    let not my enemies exult over me.
Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame;
    they shall be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous.

Make me to know your ways, O Lord;
    teach me your paths.
Lead me in your truth and teach me,
    for you are the God of my salvation;
    for you I wait all the day long.

Remember your mercy, O Lord, and your steadfast love,
    for they have been from of old.
Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions;
    according to your steadfast love remember me,
    for the sake of your goodness, O Lord!

Good and upright is the Lord;
    therefore he instructs sinners in the way.
He leads the humble in what is right,
    and teaches the humble his way.
All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness,
    for those who keep his covenant and his testimonies.

For your name's sake, O Lord,
    pardon my guilt, for it is great.
Who is the man who fears the Lord?
    Him will he instruct in the way that he should choose.
His soul shall abide in well-being,
    and his offspring shall inherit the land.
The friendship of the Lord is for those who fear him,
    and he makes known to them his covenant.
My eyes are ever toward the Lord,
    for he will pluck my feet out of the net.

Turn to me and be gracious to me,
    for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart are enlarged;
    bring me out of my distresses.
Consider my affliction and my trouble,
    and forgive all my sins.

Consider how many are my foes,
    and with what violent hatred they hate me.
Oh, guard my soul, and deliver me!
    Let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you.
May integrity and uprightness preserve me,
    for I wait for you.

Redeem Israel, O God,
    out of all his troubles.

I find myself... rejuvenated

Reason #1 for rejuvenation: 14 hours of sleep in my own bed
Reason #2: the creation of or rekindling of relationships in the Pennsylvania, Ohio, and West Virginia area
Reason #3: I filed my taxes. It's only February. I'm getting $1 from the US government.
Reason #4: I am confident that I'm supposed to be where I am
Reason #5: some espresso

The past 2 months of life have been pretty crazy...
2 weeks in Georgia - family, friends, learning, coffee, Christmas, New Years, new news
less than 48 hours in California - repacking my bags, details, friends
3 weeks in Ecuador - friends (new & not so new), mountain climbing, summiting, partnering, learning, loving, exploring
1 week in California - packing in tons of friend-time, details, working overtime, repacking my bags
1 week in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio - relationship building, exploring, driving, smiling, coffee, learning, new things, new people, new places, connections

I spent a lot of time looking out windows like this :)

Those short descriptions don't describe the experiences fully, but they give you an idea.
I can honestly say that I enjoy traveling. Sure, it makes me tired sometimes and I miss whatever home I'm not at, but it's good for my soul. In my mind, traveling means relying on other people (and Google maps), making new friends, rekindling relationships, surprises (which I love), long days of conversation followed by quiet drives heading towards hospitable homes waiting to embrace me (when traveling for work), and wearing the same pants everyday without hesitation because I hardly see the same person twice! Travel means opportunity. I became overwhelmed by the realization of what great opportunity sits at my doorstep every day (no matter whose doorstep that is). With that realization comes great thankfulness and eagerness to share opportunity with others.

If you've ever talked to me about what we do at Summit Adventure (the non-profit, adventure and service-based ministry that I work for) I can assure you that my excitement is always genuine, that my passion is never fabricated, and that my eagerness to hear more about you and your life is because I really want to know.

A friend and I were chatting the other day (go figure) and I was telling him about my new found excitement for what we call 'recruiting.' It's all about relationship. My desire is to build relationships with people. I want to know who they are, what are their desires and needs, where do they want to be in their next season of life, and what kind of experiences they want to have? If I can learn about them, I'm more capable of talking to them about the kind of experiences that we provide at Summit and where those could fit in their future.
You probably could've guessed it - I'm understanding that this relates to my life overall. Again, I desire to build relationships with people. I desire to connect people. I desire to see people's lives enriched. I desire to grow and see others grow. I desire to learn and see others learn.

Soon I'll walk out of this coffee shop, into the brisk February air of the Sierra Nevada foothills, and take my quiet drive to my quiet house to complete a quiet evening of reflecting on what the Lord has to teach me in this beautiful season he has me in. My mind is all but quiet.