I'm used to being stared at.

I am used to being stared at. 

Before you think this is a very arrogant post, please allow me to further explain. 

Because of the different circumstances that I have and have not been able to control, I am used to people staring at me. At school, I would break their trance with a smile that indicated I was waiting for their question that was obviously on their mind, hence the staring. The question was usually a stuttering statement; "You...uh you're uh...you're so white. Have you ever been to a tanning bed?" 

Some of these questions were excellent conversation starters. Some would innocently ask personal questions out of curiosity and I was always happy to answer them. Questions like, "Why is your hair so long? Why do you always wear skirts? Why are you so short? Why are you so white? Why are your glasses so big? Why do you talk like that? Where are you from, the sticks?" 

I always smile. I'm used to staring. I also have a sick and twisted sense of humor that pushes me to catch their eye and smile/stare back whenever they try to steal a second look. This often happens in grocery stores with the soccer moms that just can't understand my wardrobe. They give me a silent stare that screams "oh bless your heart.." and I give back a smile that screams "not a good time to ask you to church? Ok. I'll try next week!" 

In a world that is eaten UP with insecurity, I have managed through God Almighty to be very secure in my lifestyle choices. Don't get me wrong, everyone has insecurities to work through- I quit counting at 94 of the insecurities I have to give to God every day. But as far as the reason behind the things I'm stared at for- I'm pretty immovable. My white skin I can't help, but my sacrifices in my personal walk with God that just so happen to change my outward appearance, those can't be touched. 

So, back to what I was saying. I'm used to being stared at. Yes sometimes it gets old, and yes sometimes I want to ask them if they can stare somewhere else. But in 22 years it's become very common. 

Again, please do not think this is arrogance. These are just facts. And any woman with the same background or lifestyle preferences/convictions/what have you are probably waving their hankies reading this. It's something that the men in our lives aren't trained to look for- and that's fine. We still love them.

All of the reasons for staring stated above disappeared when I landed in Manila. The Philippines is an overall very modest nation- even in the hottest of temperatures you will see long sleeved blouses and pants. They have me beat for sure- my short sleeves are my saving grace some days. 

The new reason for staring is not that I am just an American and they think I'm loaded (which is HILARIOUS), but it's because I'm white. 

And not just white. 

Translucent white. Snow white. Xerox paper white. In a nation with beautiful caramel- chestnut skinned people everywhere you turn. 

So they stare. And I catch them. And they don't stop staring. And then I smile. And then they smile back. And they say "Hi ma'am!"

The children come up and take my hand and put it on their forehead. It's a sign of respect, and it's also them thinking that I am old. I'm trying to get over that. 

Some shy children slowly reach out a finger to touch my arm. They are afraid of someone so white...so imagine their surprise when I reach out to hug them- it's like they have found the real, live, white Bigfoot! :)

As my schedule allows, I will walk to the nearest mall about a block or two away to eat lunch/dinner and study at a coffee shop that has wireless when it is in the mood to have wireless. I try to eat at the same places to build relationships with the waiters and waitresses so that the Bible school students have contacts for Bible studies after I leave. I have met some incredibly hard workers in these restaurants that are so hungry for God. And yes, they stare too. But I don't mind. 

Today I had a few hours free before I resumed my duties at the school. I walked to Robinson's and asked for a table at a place that has great beef. Ladies and gentlemen, it's hard to find fabulous meat here. I will just leave it at that. 

I greeted my usual waitress and we made small talk about the day. She then reached for two menus to seat me. 

"Table for 2 ma'am?" 

I smiled, "No ma'am it's just me today." 

She formed this puzzled look on her face and looked behind me. 

"Table for 2?" she asked again, very confused. 

I laughed and held up my index finger and said, "One."

 Still so puzzled, she nodded and went to check availability for a table for one. "That's strange," I thought. 

Then all of the sudden, I felt a tangible brush on my arm and looked behind me. No one was there. 

"I bet the Bible school kids followed me and their playing a joke," I wondered. I walked around the corner, then the other to check. No one was on this floor of the mall. I stood and waited for the waitress to return. 

Again, a breeze swept by, like a person was hurriedly walking. I looked around and saw no one. I closed my eyes and said, "Ok God. It's been a long day and I'm a little slow sometimes but I promise I'm listening." All at once, a scroll appeared as soon as I closed my eyes of the scripture I have read so many times, Psalm 91:11. My eyes tightly shut, I read and whispered, "For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways." Instantly, I felt the brush again. I knew I was finally understanding. A cloud of peace instantly overtook the atmosphere where I was standing, and I couldnt stop the tears as they begin to fill my eyes.

 The waitress came back, still slightly puzzled and said, "Table for one, ma'am?" 

"Table for t-t-two," I stammered, "I..... think someone is meeting me here."

She glanced over my shoulder and stared. I don't know what she was staring at...or who she was staring at....but I do know that I was not alone today. 

I'm used to being stared at.

God help me to never fall so deep as to lose His presence. My flesh will always be my HUGE stumbling block, but may God go before me to help me choose to chase after His spirit and will- never my own. 

Galatians 6:14 "But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world." 

Let them stare. 

-kshock. 

First step of the journey- and painful goodbyes

It was a muggy morning in August of 2009 when I started for the airbase. I was taking a few classes there for the time being, trying to get a good jump start to any kind of college education that I desperately needed after a year of delays. 

I would watch the planes take off until I couldn't see them anymore in the clouds- and I would angrily whisper at God, "When is my turn? When will it be my turn to not have to go into boring classes and drive to that airport knowing I won't be back for a few months-year?" About the time I would pray my impatient prayer, it would be time for me to get out of the car and walk into school blind due to the humidity of Louisiana and the large glasses that I wear every day. Some times it just isn't worth unfogging them. Jordan Mallory understands this. 

It was a muggy August morning when I actually was headed to the airport instead of school one day. The destination was Mattoon, Illinois for the funeral of a hero, Barbara Willoughby. A funeral that I still can't talk about because in my human, non-eternal, selfish opinion, should have never happened.

It was a muggy October evening taking some of my kids home from POAKids when little Davontae asked "Miss Kendra, are you going to move to the Philippines one day?" A lump in my throat began to form. "Yes I am. But don't worry little man, that won't happen for a long time." About that time, Kayla popped up from the back seat, "Are you gonna love those kids more than you love us and forget about us?" The lump in my throat shot to my eyes. "No Kayla, I would never forget you- but I do love the kids in the Philippines as much as you guys and pray for them just as much too." Suddenly the bitterness of being "stuck" in my will had turned into the fleeting thought of "Wow, it's going to be hard to leave this place and these kids." But that was so far away. Too far away. I had a secular plan I had to complete before I could go to the Philippines. 4 year degree, then a blessing from my parents and pastors in order to go. I hated it, but I'd hate to suffer the repercussions of not being submitted to my pastors and parents rather than studying hours and writing a few papers. 

It was a clear day in Louisville, Kentucky when a few random friends/acquaintances piled in a car after a General Conference day session to journey to eat at P.F. Changs. I sat at the table full of girls and began to survey my surroundings. A girl, sitting down the row who had an excellent job working with something in fashion that she was just so pumped about. Another, I'm front of me, who was 22 when she got a jump start on her Masters degree and was already student teaching secondary education. Brilliance everywhere. Couldn't hurt, right? You are what you surround yourself with, right? Another girl down the row was also accepted and working early on an amazing degree in a prestigious university. Chit-chat died down when the appetizers arrived, but the daunting question that I just didn't feel like answering was headed my way. I could feel it. Not but a few seconds later, "So Kendra, what are you doing with your life?" I wish I could tell you that I felt inferior and insignificant. I'm sure deep down somewhere I did- but at that moment those feelings were absent. I took a sip of water before I began. "Well I'm a Religion major doing online classes and I'm working at the church on this huge project based on Hosea 4:6-" Someone broke in, "So what can you do with a religion major?" Gripping my napkin under the table I smiled and said, "Not a lot, but I enjoy it very much." Silence began to fall around the table. A girl I had seen for years but never had much interaction with asked, "Weren't you like obsessed with the Philippines at one point?" I laughed, "Yes I still suffer from that. The next step for me is missions work there whenever God says that it's time." Again, silence at the table. Thankfully I saw our waiter emerging from the kitchen with our food, so I could at least think about lettuce wraps instead of how I felt like my life was at a standstill. Someone blessed the food, and all of the girls picked up their forks to begin eating. Sophisticated, well dressed, successful girls with degrees- and here I was with what? Faith and hope in "maybe one day?" I bit my lip holding back hot tears as I took the chopsticks out of the silverware and dove into some brown rice. The irony was almost tangible sometimes. 

The same evening I was invited to an MK dinner in the hotel. I felt a little out of place seeing as how I wasn't a missionary kid, but right at home all at the same time. I sat by a friend from Africa that I had connected with years ago. Just being around these people gave me an energy I had never felt before. They didn't care about status or position, they cared about each other, they cared about unity/community. They cared about the anointing. They cared about the fact that Jesus is coming soon and there is still so much yet to be done. 

Cylinda Nickel lead the prayer that roared in my ears for months after I had left Louisville. MK's began to lay hands on each other and pray for anointed prayer cloths, mind battles, spirits coming against their countries, etc. My mind was blown. I had never in 21 years felt the power of God like I did in that room almost instantaneously. 

I tweeted about it. 

James Poitras tweeted me back. I felt so cool that he tweeted me back. He's the fearless leader over the Aimers and a bunch of other official things that are on the official website if you want to go check it out. I don't even have a link to that. But just take my word for it, he's great. 

I went back to my room that night, and I noticed that my usual prayer  had the bitterness totally strained out of it. I prayed "God, you know my heart. You know where I want to be. You know where I am. Help me to be PRESENT, wherever I am, until your ultimate plan is fulfilled." 

It was a cold December morning when my parents called me downstairs and told me that they felt that the season for me to go was upon us. My degree was nowhere near complete. I was just getting to a comfortable point in ministry. I had fallen in love with my kids. I had fallen in love with my church. I was FINALLY OKAY with where I was in life- and now this. Don't get me wrong, it was clearly my dream and the will of God- but now? So I did what any girl would do. I cried. And ate Frosted Flakes. And stared out the kitchen window in amazement as the process quickly began. 

This blog is already too long. If you're any kind of English or marketing major you've probably shot this up 27 times already. I understand. I'm trying to wrap it up. 

The point is that this morning, a muggy August morning, I finally got in the car and headed to the airport to get on the plane that would take me "home" for the next 5 months. I cried the entire way there. Bradyn put his arm around me in the back. Only made me cry more. I get out to see friends at the airport with tears in their eyes who have heard me go on and on and on about the Philippines for years...and I silently wondered, "Why did I never factor in all of this?" 

Hugging my family goodbye was worse than anything I could have ever imagined. My dad told me he was proud of me. My mom told me she loved me. My brother asked if I was okay. Am I okay? I wanted to knock him upside the head. I hugged him tight and said "No." 

I walked through security and turned for one last look at the people closest in my life. I tried to hold it together and smile, but as soon as my head turned, the loud sobs came out of nowhere. The kind of crying that makes even you uncomfortable but you can't control it. The flight attendant at the gate looked at me with pity and followed me into the plane. Now that, my friends, is when you know you're a hot mess. I sat down in my seat and just gave up on wiping the tears away as I whispered, "Oh God, what am I doing? What have I done?" My friend Bridget that AIMed in Japan described it the best, "It's the most helpless feeling in the world." 

You'd think the sobbing would stop after a 45 minute flight. Negative. It continued through Houston and I didn't care who saw. I racked my brain for an uplifting song to hum or a scripture about peace to recite. I started humming one of Israel's- "I won't delay, I won't hesitate, I will obey your call and abandon all to see the power of God, your glory revealed, my nation healed." 

Probably a bad idea. More sobs. But it brought a peace and stability that was absent for the last 3 hours. 

I know this is lengthy. I do apologize. The other entries won't be this long. 

Some people dream of being the President of the United States, some a big CEO or a famous athlete. Some people dream of their band taking off the ground and charting in the top 10 of iTunes. Some people dream of being a doctor or studying at a prestigious university. 

I dreamed of being a missionary. To one of the greatest countries in the world-ripe for revival and full of life. 

My education isn't finished. I don't bring in 6 figures. I'm not a prodigy or a genius. But I can honestly say that if I died in the next week, I will have lived my life with no regrets. 

Many have chuckled and said, "Ha, a missionary?! Well, to each their own. That's just such a hard life." 

Yes to each their own. And to me, today, I feel like a 5 year old that has been named queen of the world for 5 months. Better than 6 figures and a wall full of certificates. I'm going to be a missionary. God directed it. God is here. He's with us in no matter what path of life we are in. 

My plane is about to land in Manila on a hot, incredibly hot, muggy, rainy evening. I've already had quite the chat with Satan, the accuser himself. For those of you that don't believe in letting the devil know what's up, I encourage you to accept Christ's DNA inside of you and let him know. I've reminded him of where he belongs and where he will wind up when it's all said and done. I've also let him know who the King of Kings is for good measure, just in case he forgot. I've also told him about many of you that he's tried to destroy and failed miserably. Then I recited some scripture to him and he cut the conversation short. 

America, you're not ready for what is about to come out of Asia. And I'm praying financial blessings every day for those of us back home that can fund the heroes on the field ushering in this end time revival. 

"Some pray, some give, and some go. But it takes all of us." -Genny Miller, missionary to Asia

"Here am I. Send me." -Isaiah

"I won't delay, I won't hesitate; I will obey your call and abandon all to see the power of God, your glory revealed, my nation healed......"

-kshock. 

Underdog

In the movies and old storybooks, there are tales of the underdog and how it rises to the top. The underdog always wins. The rule of ancient literature is that a story usually ends in a wedding or a funeral- happy or sad. Usually though, the underdog always wins because the reader needs to be satisfied.

That isn't reality.

The reality is that everyone thinks they are the underdog, and no one thinks they are the enemy.

So I can imagine the pickle that is presented to God  (He is never in a pickle by the way, and no the Message version did not tell me that) when a few of his children read Psalms and cry, "Give my enemies what they deserve God! I will wait on you!"

There's nothing wrong with reading Psalms. Or the Bible. Or praying Psalms.

But past Psalms, there are the 4 Gospels that tell the story of how Jesus died for all.

Kinda throws a curve ball into the whole "Avenge mine enemies, O Lord" thing, huh?

So imagine the pickle when God's children are looking up at Him begging Him to kill the other and vice versa. I wonder what God thinks?

God said something when He was teaching one day on a mountain about this whole situation. He said "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you, and persecute you. (Matthew 5:44)"

Those are the hardest words I've ever eaten. And I am determined that I will not pray the Psalms prayer until after I make the Matthew prayer the Bread that my body depends on.

 ...because in the end...the underdogs...ALL of the underdogs win. And the enemy will be defeated. It will be his funeral, and afterward there will be a wedding and a feast...

Because HE wins. God wins. Forever.

One day.

One day I will build an orphanage with a similar view surrounding it. One day. 

Peace

-kshock.

And when words fail...

....sometimes you just have to try and tell the story with a picture.

Divide and conquer. OR. Just let loose and conquer it all.

-kshock.

"Go to your happy place."

They tell you right before they're about to give you a shot, "Go to your happy place."

Your therapist advises you when you feel that sudden urge of rage to, "Go to your happy place."

"Go to your happy place."

For some people, it's a beach with the perfect mixture of warmth and a slight breeze.
For some people, it's Heaven with a loved one that they ache to see.
For some people, it's sitting at a donut shop in a world where calories are non-existent.
For some people, it's a care-free life.
For some people, it's a world with no problems, crime, heartbreak, or fear.
For some people, it's a never ending path to jog with nothing but them and the concrete.
For some people, it's a really, really long nap.
For some people, it's a huge raise.
For some people, it's being debt free.

Everyone has their idea of their own "perfect world" or "Heaven on Earth" or "happy place."

Now imagine with me for a few seconds that your happy place....is real.

No really, imagine with me.

Imagine that you're out of debt...imagine that you woke up every day to everyone happy, every loved one alive and well, every relationship fully functional and healthy, and no regrets in your mind.

Seriously, imagine with me a world where maybe it rained Hershey bars every now and then. Literally, Hershey bars. Or maybe we could all fly instead of drive cars. I'm serious. Keep imagining.

Imagine a world where you could wake up whenever you wanted, tend to responsibility whenever you wanted, ate whatever you wanted, had as much money as you wanted, all of this. Imagine it.

NOW....

Imagine someone looking at you in the midst of all of this "personal Heaven" and saying, "Okay. Time's up. Time to go back to reality."

Excuse me?

Someone would get punched.

____________________________________________________________________

I find comfort in the fact of knowing that the human mind can't comprehend Heaven. It makes me feel less guilty about "dreaming up a happy place" because I know God has to chuckle and say, "Oh Kendra. You're just not going to know what to even do with yourself when you get here."

True. Very true.

But what if I told you that I found my happy place?

What if I told you that I have found a place where reality still reigns supreme, but it's almost like Heaven?

I'm sitting in the lobby of a hotel smack dab in the middle of this place right now.

The beds and showers and people are all my size :)

They smile, I smile. They love, I love.

I guess what I'm trying to say (if you're still reading), is that I've found my happy place. I've found my personal Heaven. And the incredibly odd thing is that reality flows through this place, and it's still Heaven.

And on February the 28th, they will look at me and say, "Time's up. Back to reality. Leave your key on the counter on your way out."

No spiritual meaning this time. Just raw. Try me again tomorrow.

-kshock.

P.S. His ways are not our ways, and His thought are not our thoughts....

But when they just happen to collide every once in a while...there is an incredible suffocation of peace that you experience. And that feeling, is better than drugs. I can honestly testify to that.

Until next time, Mahal Kita-

Elf.

"Elf" is a great movie.

That's all I have to say.