Eleven Months Later January 18, 2010

Tonight my sister came over to have dinner with my friends and me. She’d met my roommate Vanessa but had never met Kristin and Laura. Since all these girls are four of the most important ones in my life, I felt it was high time they all met.

Especially since praying for Staci has been a part of our weekly prayer time since last year.

I remember crying with these same women this time last year after learning that baby Callie no longer had a heartbeat. I cried, no sobbed, on our couch. On that night in 2009, these girls prayed for my family. They held my hands. They supplied endless tissues. They listened to my tear-ladened broken heart as I spoke of yet another devastating loss. They grieved with me, and I haven’t forgotten that.

So tonight (11 months later) when Staci came for a chicken and salsa dinner, I knew it’d be fitting to pray for her. After all, these girls have prayed for Brent, Stace, and baby since before she was conceived. After dinner and dessert (which included Stace telling funny stories about me and making wise cracks about my low-fat, “no pudge” brownies), she sat in the middle on the couch and grabbed both me and Laura’s hands. Vanessa began to pray, then Laura, and Kristin.

I clutched Staci’s left hand and then began to pray, choking back tears. I prayed that God would continue to protect this baby growing in my sister’s womb. I prayed that I’d be able to tell her about her older brother and sister, who are both hanging with Jesus. I prayed that God would keep using her life to grow our family’s faith. I prayed that He’d prepare Brent and Staci to be great parents.

When “amen” was voiced Stace said, “The baby wasn’t kicking till you began to pray, Trish.”

I stopped and smiled, in awe of how God is in the details.

Honorary “Keynoter” December 21, 2009

I’m a part of them, but, then again, in some ways I’m not.  

I have this group of friends in the Indy suburbs that, quite honestly, I never thought I’d have here. Part of the tough transition of leaving Ohio last year was because I’d established solid friendships after living in the Buckeye state since 2003.

I’m not just talking about having “good friends.” I’m talking deep, authentic, real Christian community in the Dayton suburbs that I called home for five years.

I’m one of the fortunate ones. I had this community both at work and church in Dayton. But if there’s one thing I’m learning by no longer being in full-time ministry, it’s that those types of work relationships are scarce and uncommon. To know that, all I have to do is ask one of my current co-workers who had a bad experience at another place of employment in the past when she shared too much about her life with others.

But I am blessed and found a group of people with many of the same passions and interests, men and women who make me laugh, love being social, and can engage in good conversation. They know how to be real, both in the ups and downs of life.

These friends here are different than those I left behind in Ohio. Most of these folks couldn’t care less if the Colts make it to the Super Bowl (even though they are pulling for the team!) or who won the Heisman Trophy. But they “get” at least one part of me, the part that’s been the most difficult to let go of.

This group of local Campus Crusade for Christ missionaries, who serve with Keynote (CCC’s creative arts ministry), have welcomed me with their musically open arms . . . even referring to me as an honorary staff member. They know what “MPD” (Ministry Partner Development or raising support) stands for. They spend hours each month writing, signing, stuffing, and stamping prayer letters. They ache to travel around the world to tell others about Christ and yet desire to do the same with their next-door neighbors.  They understand why I dream of moving to Fort Collins, Colo. They even know why the transition of “leaving staff” has been so incredibly challenging.

Most importantly, they value rich, deep, and honest authentic community with believers. How Jesus intended it to be.

And even though they travel with their amps, mics, and guitars, while my friends with Athletes in Action pack a gym bag with gym shoes, uniforms, and basketballs, I still enjoy them just the same. After all, conversations need not revolve around men’s college basketball or the latest news on ESPN (although I miss this so much!). These days, my musical and artsy vocabulary and knowledge are expanding. And that’s just fine with me.

Becoming Uncomfortable December 17, 2009

I didn’t want to go. Between Christmas shopping, cookie exchanges, social outings, and weekend trips, I’d hit my limit. All I really wanted to do was sit at home (by myself) in my sweats and read my book about Turkey, one of my favorite countries.

But I’d committed to serve at my friends’ church at The Christmas Store, an outreach in Indianapolis where some of the city’s neediest can purchase cheaply-priced Christmas gifts donated by church congregants. So I kept my word, scarfed down a quick, five-minute dinner at home, and hopped back into quitting-time traffic to (hopefully) get to the church on time.

Besides the busyness of the Christmas season, I think I dreaded going for another reason, albeit a subconscious one. I knew I’d be interacting with some of the people whom Jesus referenced in Matthew 25:40: “Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me” (The Message). That’s not easy for me. I live a comfortable lifestyle in an affluent Indy suburb that includes solid friendships, nearby family members, and a job in a Christian environment. And although I don’t make beaucoup bucks, I have what I need.

Rarely am I out of my comfort zone. 

No sooner had I settled in as a “gift wrapper,” with my friend Kristin sitting beside me, when a woman plopped multiples gifts on our table. She began belting out children’s names in her smoke-laced voice faster than my brain could compute. Then she walked away to do more shopping.

Twenty minutes later she returned to pick up her newly wrapped packages and I began to study her. She looked to be in her 50’s, although I’d venture to say she’s probably younger. (Perhaps a difficult, unwanted life had aged her.) She wore a faux fur coat with old tennis shoes. Her penmanship on the gift tags resembled that of a child. Her mouth moved even when she wasn’t talking, and her disheveled hair looked uncombed.

After my friends and I left the church we drove a few miles northeast and stopped at a local Starbucks where another friend works. He gave each of us a free cup of coffee and suddenly I felt comfortable again. At 9:00 p.m. the store was busy, full of upper and middle-class teens and adults, who busily chatted about their lives, seemingly unaware of the outside world.

The sudden notion that I was back in my comfort zone bothered me.   

In two hours’ time I’d wrapped at least 15 gifts and enjoyed conversing with plenty of folks of different ethnicities. But this morning I woke up thinking about the same woman whose name I didn’t even think to catch. What’s her story? Was she buying for her sons or grandkids? Is life difficult for her?

What I wouldn’t give to buy her breakfast and learn a little about the heart behind that tired face and raspy voice.

Although I naturally like my comfortable surroundings, two hours of wrapping gifts with snowman paper  for those whom God loves had an impact on this steadily comfortable girl. As a Christ-follower I am encouraged to not just communicate about Christ but also to be Christ in a needy world.

I pray that experiences like this continue to beckon me to exit the comfortable walls of my home and interact with the “often overlooked and ignored” just like Jesus did.

So Proud December 8, 2009

I recently said good-bye to Kristen, my youngest sister by four years. She left Indy to take a job as the editorial coordinator for The House Studio in Kansas City.

For 13 months all three Allen sisters lived in the same county, a feat that hadn’t been done since 2000 when Staci and I both left for Olivet. Let me just say that being with my sisters (and Brent, of course!) this past year has been a true gift, one that I tried so hard not to take for granted. I miss Kristen so much already but am thoroughly convinced that she is exactly where God wants her for this time in her life.

Check out her first blog post on the organization’s Web site. You’ll see quite quickly that she’s a talented writer who is sure to be an immediate asset at The House.

http://www.thehousestudio.com/wp/2009/12/08/coming-home/#idc-container

Getting Acquainted with Mercy and Grace November 20, 2009

Mercy and grace have become my friends in recent months. And not necessarily by choice.

Someone I once trusted has chosen a few times to hurt me in the last year with their words. (I realize using “their” is the improper use of a pronoun for a singular subject but some things aren’t meant to be obvious on the Internet.)  Someone who showed such care when my family walked through tragedy this year. Someone who welcomed me in their friend group with open arms upon my move to Indy. Someone who helped me open my heart up again after a rough end to 2008.

So many memorable experiences, conversations, and laughs “canceled out” as a result of cruel words spoken on a few occasions.

I so wanted to get back at this person after the second time insensitive words were spoken. Tell them how much their words had hurt me. And I did. Not the getting back part but the truth, intermingled with grace. “This is how your words made me feel. . .”

I was honest and got nothing in return.

At this point, my humanness reached its limit. I was seething with anger inside, a walking example of frustration, anxiety, and bitterness. The thought “I deserve an apology” ran through my mind so often that it became an obession. Had it not been for my sweet, and truthful, yet grace-filled, friends who listened to my words and tears both in person and on the phone, I probably would’ve done something I would’ve regretted later.

That’s where mercy and grace come in. I’ll spare the details but I have understood deeply for the first time in my 29 years what it means to exhibit mercy and grace when you sure as heck don’t feel like it. Being merciful and graceful isn’t humanly possible when someone has hurt you so badly that you just wanna hurt them as much as they’ve hurt you. 

And yet. . .

The power of the gospel and Christ in me compels me to forgive on no initiative of my own. This is how I know the gospel is true and real. Do I still get sad that things are the way they are? That someone I once cared about is little more than a stranger to me today? That I’ve initiated to at least show this person that I care about them (as a fellow believer and past friend) and get virtually little care in return? Do I still hope that we can be friends again someday?

Yes.

But only because the same power that raised Christ from the dead lives in me, enabling me to love as He does and extend mercy and grace even when the world would say, “Get back at them. After all, they deserve it.” And because the Holy Spirit kept reminding me that I didn’t deserve mercy and grace from Jesus dying on the cross. But I got it. . . lovingly and without reserve.

This heart is thankful for Christ. But I’m also looking forward to 2010, when hopefully mercy and grace don’t find me so captivating and choose to pay an extended visit to someone else.

Wednesday’s Wonder November 8, 2009

It sounded like being underwater, the sounds you hear when watching TV specials about the deep sea.

 

It was the most beautiful sound, one that I’d been dreaming of hearing for months. And just as sudden as the sweet music appeared, so did the picture.

 

There Baby was on the ultrasound screen, moving and squirming like mad as if to say, “Leave me alone; you interrupted my sleep.”

 

Behind me I heard a catch in Dad’s throat and he fought back tears . . . which he finally gave in to. I knew that was the end for me, and sure enough the tears rolled down my cheeks. Kristen too. Smiles erupted, gasps surfaced, and chuckles escaped in the tight exam room as the seven us (Brent, Staci, Kristen, me, Mom, Dad, and Staci’s college roommate, Sarah) observed the four-ounce developing body moving inside my sister’s womb.

 

The lab tech smiled at our wonder as well as our relief that Baby was growing and developing just as our Creator God intended. We lingered in the room for 20 minutes as she took pictures with the high-tech machinery and pointed out Baby’s body parts. I think we could’ve stayed all day but others in the waiting room were awaiting their turn to view their own bundle of wonder.

 

“You wanna know what it is?” she asked. We responded with a quick YES!

 

“It’s a girl.” More smiles, tears, and sighs all-around.

 

I immediately began to dream of the tiny niece I’ll hold in April, not once doubting that that would happen. After multiple losses, it’s finally fun to dream and trust that God wants that too.

 

It was so wonderful leaving the doctor’s office (located in an area hospital) last Wednesday with good news, where tears of grief had become all too common multiple times in months past.

 

That day was one full of celebration—a trip to Babies R Us, discussion of baby names, and all kinds of baby talk.

 

A perfect day with my family, one absolutely full of wonder, and more importantly, hope.

Faith in God’s Character November 1, 2009

“Faith by its very nature must be tested and tried. And the real trial of faith is not that we find it difficult to trust God, but that God’s character must be proven as trustworthy in our own minds.”   –Oswald Chambers

Do I believe God is who He says he is when my own human mind doubts?

“The highest and the greatest expression of faith in the whole Bible is–’Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him’ (Job 13:15).” (Mr. Chambers again)

Do I trust God’s character in my own mind? It’s a daily battle for me, especially right now. Oh that I would not be swayed or moved as my steadfast heart trusts Him (Psalm 57:7 & 112:7).

Amen.

 

Unlikely Friends October 25, 2009

Meet Laura (far right).

Musician, singer, and songwriter. Lover of good coffee, quality musicians, Nertz, and relationships.

We’re in the same small group here in Indy, a collection of four women that meets every Monday evening at 6:30 at my roommate and I’s apartment. Surprisingly, I knew “Pish” (last name Piscitello) before I knew many of my current friends here.

In 2007, I did a brief writer’s training/internship in Orlando with Campus Crusade for Christ’s magazine, Worldwide Challenge, and one of my first writing assignments was to write Laura’s story (click on link and scroll to bottom of page). At the time, Laura served as an intern with Keynote, CCC’s creative arts ministry.

We first “met” on the phone in January 2007,  and later in person when I flew to Indy for two weddings in June. She picked me up at my sister’s house where I was staying during my visit and we headed to McAlister’s on 116th Street in Fishers. Before I moved to Indy, we’d seen each other a handful of times but since I joined the small group with her, Kristin, and Vanessa in May, God has allowed our friendship to deepen. I love my new friend and couldn’t imagine life here in Indy without her as she now serves as a full-time Keynote staff member.

We chuckle when we think of how God is truly in the details–how our paths have crossed in this city when (for all we knew back during that initial phone interview) we thought we’d probably never meet in person. Isn’t that usually how He operates though?

In this case, I really am thankful that He cares about the little things, especially when it comes to details and friendships!

Like a Baby October 25, 2009

In June I had three dreams about pregnancy and babies in five nights’ time. I thought for sure that this was God speaking to me about my sister, saying a pregnancy was in her immediate future. (Turns out, she has gotten pregnant since then, but that’s beside the point.)

I kept thinking for weeks that these dreams were about my sis, till my confidence was shattered when I visited a dream interpreter at my roommate’s church. When she told me that the dreams had more to do with me than my sister, I wasn’t convinced. Honestly, I was terribly disappointed because I just knew those dreams had to do with my dear sister.

Then on our way home from church, my roommate confessed that she’d been sensing all along that my dreams were about me instead. Great. Two for two.

I’d all but forgotten about this till I caught up on the phone this past week with my friend Cathy who is pregnant with twins. She asked how was I doing, I bluntly communicated that I was struggling in Indy, and I thought that was that. After all, she needed to get back to her young son’s piano lesson.

I expressed that:

-I’m still not adjusted even after living in Indy for a year.

-My heart stirs constantly to be in full-time ministry again.

-I’ve not felt like myself in months.

-I feel like my passion has disappeared.

-My life feels unsatisfied, almost like I’m missing something unknown and better.

After expressing my heart, Cathy gave me the picture that immediately came to her mind. She immediately saw a baby…one being developed in it’s mama’s womb, just waiting for the day when darkness is replaced with light. A baby is in a place of waiting, after all, and although helpless once it’s born, that helplessness is magnified as he or she is living in the womb, waiting to make an appearance. Forty weeks in the womb is likened to a waiting period. What is characteristic of a baby waiting to be born? It’s solely dependent upon the mother for nourishment and safety. It can’t go anywhere. Substantial preparation and growth is happening.

What struck me is that God knows exactly how many days a baby needs in it’s mama’s womb before he or she makes an appearance. Each baby’s period of growth and development in the womb is different, and yet perfect, every day planned by the Creator.

Turns out, that’s me right now. Waiting, growing, being developed in what feels like a darkened holding place. It feels like I’ll be here for forever. (I wonder if that’s the way a baby feels after 40 weeks in a confined, dark space.) I have hopes and dreams that I want to see come true…and I picture those dreams coming true elsewhere: in the U.S. city in which I dream of living, having a full-time ministry position where my writing is making an impact and changing lives (Oh how  I miss that!), doing life with a spouse who pursues the heart of God, and perhaps living in an international city where I can share the gospel with others and experience God in another culture.  

None of those dreams involve living in central Indiana long-term. Unless God surprises me or works wonders in my heart. One of the two (maybe both?!) must happen to convince me.

So in the meantime I’ll wait, and try my hardest to give God the room to grow and develop me in this seemingly small, confined place. I bet when my niece or nephew is born in April we’ll have lots to talk about, and hopefully, by that time, the small, confined place I’m in won’t feel so tiny anymore.

-

Celebrating the Inevitable October 19, 2009

March 15, 2010, will be here before I know it, as will the age that accompanies it.

I was born in 1980, so do the math. Yep, 30. Just typing the digits is a bit excruciating, so, I’ve decided to do something about this big date on the calendar. I’ve asked two friends to take a trip with me somewhere in the U.S., an extended weekend to celebrate turning 30.

I’d like to invite you, my friends, to suggest some trip ideas, keeping these few things in mind:

-Short weekend (Maybe a Thursday-Sunday trip?)

-Cheap budget required

-A somewhat warm location since March in the Midwest is still undesirably chilly.

So have at it, friends! Send me your ideas so I can celebrate turning 30 rather than dread this big milestone in my life.