A Rocky Road: Lizziey's Long Trip Down Memory Lane

         Most are aware that the tree is my life symbol, serving as a constant reminder that I am to stay "rooted and established" in God's love because of the love He has for me.  I milked my tree symbolism for all that it was worth one summer when I found myself serving as a camp counselor.  

      After two years working in high adventure I found myself uprooted from my comfortable job and placed as a one-on-one counselor for a high school student named B.

      

       You couldn't tell B was in need of a special need counselor when I walked into the scene. She was sitting in the middle of the dining room floor playing cards with fellow campers. Within the first 5 minutes she got up, gave me a hug, and everyone began clearing the tables and cleaning up after dinner. We spent our days serving the other campers; working in the dining hall, picking up trash, cleaning bathrooms.  We sang Taylor Swift songs while the other campers played their guitars.  But in between those times, B suffered greatly. The girl struggled with hearing voices: voices telling her that she didn't deserve to live, voices telling her to hurt herself.
           So I did my best to distract B that summer. We found a Bible verse from Galatians 5:13: " You, my brothers, were called to be free. But, do not use your freedom to indulge in the sinful nature, rather serve one another in love."  We used that verse to find ways to serve others whenever she felt the urge to harm herself. We wrote notes to the staff, we picked up trash, we did whatever we could.

    One particular rough day, B and I took a walk down to a nearby creek with a couple other campers. The creek was icy cold, but we splashed and played in anyway.  This creek was especially beautiful, because it was surrounded by geodes.  I asked all of the girls to pick up a geode. Later that night, we debriefed our creek experience.  

The geode, at first look, is strange looking. 

                             It is wrinkled, orange, ugly. 

                                       Not smooth like the other river rocks.

Yet, when we crack the geodes, their insides are exposed. 

                              And what is there? 

                           Crystals, beautiful, sparkling, gorgeous.

    And together we broke open our ugly rocks. We sat there and realized that when we allow God to use us, it hurts.  We are shattered. When we allow God to break us, it hurts. We are shattered. But only when we allow God to use us as he wants can we see the beauty that is within.

When B left camp, she handed me a large geode she had found. 

B and I bonded even after camp.  We talked on the phone at least once a week.  One chilly November day, I sat in my car outside of Starbucks drinking a warm latte. The rain pounded on my roof as I stared out at US 933 and made plans to meet up with B in Chicago as she walked to her grandparents' house.  We said goodbye when she told me she had arrived safely. 

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There is something about taking the South Shore into Chicago that invigorates my soul. It always leaves me in a contemplative mode. Somewhere around Roosevelt, I picked up my cell phone to call B.

She didn’t answer.

            I went to my friend’s dorm early, anticipating B’s return call.

It never came.

Nor did she answer when I called the next day.

I didn't hear from her for a month. I would call off and on but never a response.

Finally, during the first chill blast of December one of my other campers sent me an email saying how sorry she was. "Sorry for what?"

My camper told me to go check B's Facebook.

I read pages of tributes to her life. But B’s own presence was distinctly absent. I finally found a post that said: "B took her own life on November 17th at her grandparents house."

I picked up B's geode: the first time I'd held it since move-in day.

It cracked into two distinct halves without my prompting.

Like a fault line erupts from the unseen depths of the earth, so stood my geode. Fault lines produce such simple, clean breaks, but manage to wreck havoc on our man-made and God-given world in such a way that it alters the way we view our lives from this day forward.

Closely, I examine my geode. I feel the two heavy pieces in my hands as the crumbs tumble to my dorm room floor. My roommates watch (listen) in bafflement. I barely take notice.

For the new crack has revealed the crystals produced from within, from the very depths of the being that created the fault line to begin with. My geode knew that it was time to shine.

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So you see, if a tree is my constant reminder to be rooted and established in God's love, then a geode is my reminder that God uses us even when it hurts. God thinks we are worthy and beautiful, even when we view ourselves as ugly.  The geode is my reminder that "God's grace is sufficient for me."  
It really shouldn't surprise me then, that the paths in Ghana are covered in geodes. I step on so many geodes every day that my footprints make a "crunch" "crunch" noise as I walk to and from.  
Serving in Ghana is rough.  Actually, it's just different. I struggle with things I did not expect, and things I expected to be difficult are strangely easy. 
My greatest difficulty is with myself. I never feel worthy, feel capable, feel like I am doing the best I can.  But then a geode gets caught in my Chaco, and I realize that God has placed me in a land with the constant reminder, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power made perfect in weakness." 
So I'm still here, letting the roughness of my exterior show, and slowly trusting God to break me so that the love and grace he has poured into me can shine through.

And all that being said, November 17th is quickly approaching. And so, I dedicate this blog post to my friend, B, who I knew for such a short time, but whose life continues to impact me on a daily basis.  My prayer is that I may trust God to use me despite my flaws, just as you always trusted Him.