Sun Comes Out
"Lord, please let the sun come out soon!"
I found myself longing for sunshine. A week of gray drizzle had clung to Chicago and my whole being cried out for spring, for new life, for freedom from the long, cold wait. Actually, it felt like I was crying out this way for more than the weather.
A year ago, I was anxiously awaiting a letter from Moody. I didn't know then that I would take a gap year. I didn't know about this at times frustrating and surprising road I would walk, about how my heart would be tested and strengthened in the exercise of wandering and waiting on God. And this week, I've come around again, still wandering, still waiting, still crying out.
This week, though, I have felt God's presence. I have looked back on this year, on my life, and seen His faithfulness, over, and over, and over again, realizing afresh that, in crazy ways, He has purpose in all of this year...
...
"Hi Jessi..." a friend messaged me over the summer in Colorado, fairly randomly. "I thought of you when I saw this blog and wondered if you might like it. She is your same age and taking a gap year. Her dad was an elder at our church until they went to Kenya as missionaries about 4-5 years ago. They have always been a really interesting family to me. Her parents helped her come up with an amazing plan for this year and she is blogging about it." And then she sent the link. That was all. A seemingly insignificant event.
I followed the link, though, and as I started my year of wandering and waiting, I lived adventure through the eyes of Emerson Slaughter. I joined her in Italy, as she made friends and tested her Italian and hitchhiked through the mountains. I followed her to Milan and into cafes to write and explore. I experienced Amsterdam's nonstop energy and joy alongside her. I hurt with her as she left all these places and tried to live in the present in spite of missing the past. And in every paragraph, I saw myself, reflected in this sister in Christ who I had never met.
But then one day she posted this quote from C. S. Lewis's Screwtape Letters:
God wants [us] to attend chiefly to two things: to eternity itself, and to that point of time which [we] call the Present. For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity…..He would therefore have [us] continually concerned either with eternity (which means being concerned with Him) or with the Present–either meditating of [our] eternal union with, or separation from, Himself, or else obeying the present voice of conscience, bearing the present cross, receiving the present grace, giving thanks for the present pleasure.” Satan wants the opposite- he wants us to live in the past or the future, in which we are robbed from fullest life and fullest communion with God.
This quote is never far from my mind. I found myself wanting desperately to know her, so, as I had on most of her other posts, I typed out a comment at the bottom...and left a link to my blog.
...
"Steven Slaughter: [On Sparrow's Wings] New Comment On..."
I read the subject line of the email and couldn't believe my eyes. Slaughter? As in, Emerson's relative? On my blog?
"Jessi," the comment read. "Just saw your comment on Emerson Slaughter's blog. So I went to yours and read the most recent post, noticing that you had a 'Love the Cubs' photo. Are you in Chicago? I am Emmy's dad and I thought I'd let you know that she just flew back there yesterday....If you are from Chicago, you should let her know. It would probably be fun for the two of you to meet. You seem like kindred spirits."
No. Way. A thrill of excitement ran through me. If Emerson's dad thought we could be friends, we must be destined for it.
Alas, how to get in touch with her?
"Mr. Slaughter..." I replied. "I am near Chicago....Since almost the first day I read her blog, I hoped somehow we could meet when she came, but I didn't know how to reach out other than blog comments. Is that the best way to get in touch with her?"
I posted the comment, and began, again, to wait.
...
Thirty miles away, Emerson Slaughter followed the link on one of the comments on her blog, reading random posts by this stranger who happened to be following her adventures...and she saw it. Her dad had commented? And this stranger wanted to meet her?
She typed out a response at the bottom of the post:
"You definitely seem like a kindred spirit and I'd LOVE to get together with you! One way to get in contact is...."
...
"Emerson Slaughter: [On Sparrow's Wings] New Comment On..."
I gasped and put a hand to my mouth.
"What?" My mom and sister looked at me across the kitchen.
I smiled, unable to speak in my excitement. "Emerson...commented on my blog...and she wants to get together!"
They celebrated. "Oh that's so exciting!"
As fast as I could, I followed her communication suggestion, and within minutes, we were discussing ways to get together. "I can't believe it," I said as my sister and I climbed into bed that night. "I might actually get to meet her..."
...
"Hey!" Emerson messaged me the next morning. "So here's an idea: my grandparents are picking me up tomorrow morning and we can go to Woodfield, which I believe is near where you live..."
I laughed. God obviously wanted us to meet. "I actually work at Woodfield, it's like ten minutes from my house."
"What?!" Both of us were in awe of how this fell into place. "Wow, that's amazing!"
We agreed to meet the next day. What an adventure, what manna in my gap year wilderness!
...
"Do you know what she looks like?" my mom asked before I left to meet her.
"Um...I've seen pictures. So, yeah, kinda." Something in me just had a sense--I would know her when I saw her.
I did. She pulled up in a little red car with her grandparents and I was suddenly nervous. How did one meet someone like this? Did I give her a hug or just a handshake? There was no manual for this kind of connection.
Thankfully, she solved the problem for me: She jumped out of the car and ran to give me an exuberant squeeze.
"Hi!" She smiled wide. "This is so crazy, I've never done this before!"
"Yeah, me neither." We laughed, still a little nervous. But I could tell it was gonna be good.
...
I had anticipated that we could talk for two hours. I could talk to almost anyone for that long, so I knew that even if we didn't get along like we'd hoped, or actually didn't have anything in common (not likely), I could plan on being gone that long.
Three and a half hours in, I was still at the mall.
We spent the entire time stumbling into connections. At the beginning of lunch, we sat in silence, taking refuge pondering our menus. I had just come from breakfast with my mom and wanted something light. My eyes wandered to the list of salads. I had never ordered just a salad at a restaurant before. What if it made her uncomfortable, like she thought I was some kind of health nut who would be offended if she got-- "What are you gonna get?"
"Um..." Her eyes swept across the menu. "Well, I've never just ordered a salad at a restaurant before, but I'm thinkin' I'm gonna get a salad." She looked up. "What about you?"
I chuckled. "I was thinking the same thing."
While we waited for our food to come, she looked around. "So I actually have been here before." Previously, she hadn't remembered. "I really like this one store...Anthropologie, have you been there?"
Only a thousand times. "Oh, I love that store!"
"I could literally send anyone in there to shop for me, and I'd like whatever they got. I walk in there and I'm like, 'I'd wear that, and that...oh, and that!"
"Yep!" I laughed. "Exactly."
After lunch, as we wandered around Anthropologie, I asked her if she knew what her name meant. "No." She picked up a candle and smelled it. "My parents just kinda picked it 'cause they like it, it's not a family name, there's not really any meaning behind it."
"Okay. I'm just fascinated by people's names, because even if they don't know the meaning, it usually comes through in their lives."
"Yeah, I should look it up."
I pulled out my phone. "We can look it up right now." I typed it in: Emerson name meaning. The result came up and I drew a little breath in. From all I knew of her, this was perfect. "Emerson means 'brave.'"
"What?" She looked at me. "That's such a theme in my life! I can't believe I never knew that! That's so cool!"
Later, we walked around the mall's art gallery and talked about Paris. "Hey." I turned to her. "Have you ever watched the movie The Hundred Foot Journey?" It was one of my favorites, set in France, and from what I knew of her, she would love it.
Her eyes grew wide. "This is so crazy...I watched it last.night."
"Ah! We actually are the same person!"
By the end of our time, I had plans to spend the night with her in Chicago some time. We hugged goodbye three times and as she walked away, I realized I wasn't quite ready for her to leave.
God is so, extravagantly faithful. I went home and realized that if I hadn't taken this gap year, this budding friendship would never had happened. So much grace for my resistant heart...
...
So much grace.
Less than twenty-four hours before meeting Emerson, I had come home in the drizzling gray. "It might have come," my mother said.
I gasped. "It might have!" No use getting hopes up. Holding the possibility at arm's length, I flew to the mailbox. "No...no..." I sorted through the stack. At the back was a small, thick envelope. I turned it over. "Ah! This is it!" I ripped it open as fast as my trembling fingers could manage.
"Dear Jessi," read the first line. "We are delighted to inform you..."
I wanted to dance around the kitchen. I was in! I got to go to Moody! So this is what it felt like when dreams came true. It was as if the clouds had cleared and the sun broke through.
The next day I set off to make a new friend under a cloudless sky and the love of a faithful, faithful, faithful God.
I found myself longing for sunshine. A week of gray drizzle had clung to Chicago and my whole being cried out for spring, for new life, for freedom from the long, cold wait. Actually, it felt like I was crying out this way for more than the weather.
A year ago, I was anxiously awaiting a letter from Moody. I didn't know then that I would take a gap year. I didn't know about this at times frustrating and surprising road I would walk, about how my heart would be tested and strengthened in the exercise of wandering and waiting on God. And this week, I've come around again, still wandering, still waiting, still crying out.
This week, though, I have felt God's presence. I have looked back on this year, on my life, and seen His faithfulness, over, and over, and over again, realizing afresh that, in crazy ways, He has purpose in all of this year...
...
"Hi Jessi..." a friend messaged me over the summer in Colorado, fairly randomly. "I thought of you when I saw this blog and wondered if you might like it. She is your same age and taking a gap year. Her dad was an elder at our church until they went to Kenya as missionaries about 4-5 years ago. They have always been a really interesting family to me. Her parents helped her come up with an amazing plan for this year and she is blogging about it." And then she sent the link. That was all. A seemingly insignificant event.
I followed the link, though, and as I started my year of wandering and waiting, I lived adventure through the eyes of Emerson Slaughter. I joined her in Italy, as she made friends and tested her Italian and hitchhiked through the mountains. I followed her to Milan and into cafes to write and explore. I experienced Amsterdam's nonstop energy and joy alongside her. I hurt with her as she left all these places and tried to live in the present in spite of missing the past. And in every paragraph, I saw myself, reflected in this sister in Christ who I had never met.
But then one day she posted this quote from C. S. Lewis's Screwtape Letters:
God wants [us] to attend chiefly to two things: to eternity itself, and to that point of time which [we] call the Present. For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity…..He would therefore have [us] continually concerned either with eternity (which means being concerned with Him) or with the Present–either meditating of [our] eternal union with, or separation from, Himself, or else obeying the present voice of conscience, bearing the present cross, receiving the present grace, giving thanks for the present pleasure.” Satan wants the opposite- he wants us to live in the past or the future, in which we are robbed from fullest life and fullest communion with God.
This quote is never far from my mind. I found myself wanting desperately to know her, so, as I had on most of her other posts, I typed out a comment at the bottom...and left a link to my blog.
...
"Steven Slaughter: [On Sparrow's Wings] New Comment On..."
I read the subject line of the email and couldn't believe my eyes. Slaughter? As in, Emerson's relative? On my blog?
"Jessi," the comment read. "Just saw your comment on Emerson Slaughter's blog. So I went to yours and read the most recent post, noticing that you had a 'Love the Cubs' photo. Are you in Chicago? I am Emmy's dad and I thought I'd let you know that she just flew back there yesterday....If you are from Chicago, you should let her know. It would probably be fun for the two of you to meet. You seem like kindred spirits."
No. Way. A thrill of excitement ran through me. If Emerson's dad thought we could be friends, we must be destined for it.
Alas, how to get in touch with her?
"Mr. Slaughter..." I replied. "I am near Chicago....Since almost the first day I read her blog, I hoped somehow we could meet when she came, but I didn't know how to reach out other than blog comments. Is that the best way to get in touch with her?"
I posted the comment, and began, again, to wait.
...
Thirty miles away, Emerson Slaughter followed the link on one of the comments on her blog, reading random posts by this stranger who happened to be following her adventures...and she saw it. Her dad had commented? And this stranger wanted to meet her?
She typed out a response at the bottom of the post:
"You definitely seem like a kindred spirit and I'd LOVE to get together with you! One way to get in contact is...."
...
"Emerson Slaughter: [On Sparrow's Wings] New Comment On..."
I gasped and put a hand to my mouth.
"What?" My mom and sister looked at me across the kitchen.
I smiled, unable to speak in my excitement. "Emerson...commented on my blog...and she wants to get together!"
They celebrated. "Oh that's so exciting!"
As fast as I could, I followed her communication suggestion, and within minutes, we were discussing ways to get together. "I can't believe it," I said as my sister and I climbed into bed that night. "I might actually get to meet her..."
...
"Hey!" Emerson messaged me the next morning. "So here's an idea: my grandparents are picking me up tomorrow morning and we can go to Woodfield, which I believe is near where you live..."
I laughed. God obviously wanted us to meet. "I actually work at Woodfield, it's like ten minutes from my house."
"What?!" Both of us were in awe of how this fell into place. "Wow, that's amazing!"
We agreed to meet the next day. What an adventure, what manna in my gap year wilderness!
...
"Do you know what she looks like?" my mom asked before I left to meet her.
"Um...I've seen pictures. So, yeah, kinda." Something in me just had a sense--I would know her when I saw her.
I did. She pulled up in a little red car with her grandparents and I was suddenly nervous. How did one meet someone like this? Did I give her a hug or just a handshake? There was no manual for this kind of connection.
Thankfully, she solved the problem for me: She jumped out of the car and ran to give me an exuberant squeeze.
"Hi!" She smiled wide. "This is so crazy, I've never done this before!"
"Yeah, me neither." We laughed, still a little nervous. But I could tell it was gonna be good.
...
I had anticipated that we could talk for two hours. I could talk to almost anyone for that long, so I knew that even if we didn't get along like we'd hoped, or actually didn't have anything in common (not likely), I could plan on being gone that long.
Three and a half hours in, I was still at the mall.
We spent the entire time stumbling into connections. At the beginning of lunch, we sat in silence, taking refuge pondering our menus. I had just come from breakfast with my mom and wanted something light. My eyes wandered to the list of salads. I had never ordered just a salad at a restaurant before. What if it made her uncomfortable, like she thought I was some kind of health nut who would be offended if she got-- "What are you gonna get?"
"Um..." Her eyes swept across the menu. "Well, I've never just ordered a salad at a restaurant before, but I'm thinkin' I'm gonna get a salad." She looked up. "What about you?"
I chuckled. "I was thinking the same thing."
While we waited for our food to come, she looked around. "So I actually have been here before." Previously, she hadn't remembered. "I really like this one store...Anthropologie, have you been there?"
Only a thousand times. "Oh, I love that store!"
"I could literally send anyone in there to shop for me, and I'd like whatever they got. I walk in there and I'm like, 'I'd wear that, and that...oh, and that!"
"Yep!" I laughed. "Exactly."
After lunch, as we wandered around Anthropologie, I asked her if she knew what her name meant. "No." She picked up a candle and smelled it. "My parents just kinda picked it 'cause they like it, it's not a family name, there's not really any meaning behind it."
"Okay. I'm just fascinated by people's names, because even if they don't know the meaning, it usually comes through in their lives."
"Yeah, I should look it up."
I pulled out my phone. "We can look it up right now." I typed it in: Emerson name meaning. The result came up and I drew a little breath in. From all I knew of her, this was perfect. "Emerson means 'brave.'"
"What?" She looked at me. "That's such a theme in my life! I can't believe I never knew that! That's so cool!"
Later, we walked around the mall's art gallery and talked about Paris. "Hey." I turned to her. "Have you ever watched the movie The Hundred Foot Journey?" It was one of my favorites, set in France, and from what I knew of her, she would love it.
Her eyes grew wide. "This is so crazy...I watched it last.night."
"Ah! We actually are the same person!"
By the end of our time, I had plans to spend the night with her in Chicago some time. We hugged goodbye three times and as she walked away, I realized I wasn't quite ready for her to leave.
God is so, extravagantly faithful. I went home and realized that if I hadn't taken this gap year, this budding friendship would never had happened. So much grace for my resistant heart...
...
So much grace.
Less than twenty-four hours before meeting Emerson, I had come home in the drizzling gray. "It might have come," my mother said.
I gasped. "It might have!" No use getting hopes up. Holding the possibility at arm's length, I flew to the mailbox. "No...no..." I sorted through the stack. At the back was a small, thick envelope. I turned it over. "Ah! This is it!" I ripped it open as fast as my trembling fingers could manage.
"Dear Jessi," read the first line. "We are delighted to inform you..."
I wanted to dance around the kitchen. I was in! I got to go to Moody! So this is what it felt like when dreams came true. It was as if the clouds had cleared and the sun broke through.
The next day I set off to make a new friend under a cloudless sky and the love of a faithful, faithful, faithful God.
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