wanderer.
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writing

I’ve always been quite full of words.

so we are going to start here, with the beauty mingled in the mess, the tangled web of my brain blurting out metaphors and silly thoughts, heavy instrospection that might as well be put to good use rather than just lingering in my head.

onward then, to words of what I hope to be promise, bringing light and Hope from the good gracious Father.

 
 
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learn to grow in trust, in truth, in Grace.

and you’ll soon find, the words always will follow.


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the intrepid series

a collection of photos from the lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia paired with words of truth, promise and valiant hope.

 
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Intrepid has been a word that’s been on my heart and mind this past year quite a lot. It started as a personal mantra, a word of courage and bravery, something that yelled from the mountain tops “I EXIST I EXIST AND I BELONG I BELONG.”

I think belonging and purpose is a common denominator for every human, and through my faith in the HOPE of Christ the Savior, the HOPE of the eternity spent in his Presence, I am able to know that this world is not my home. So a word like “intrepid” gives my heart a lurch, you know one of the stomach-dropping, heart aching ones where everything in your body and soul resonates with it, and it sinks into your bones with an approval of “yeah, I have felt that many times”

Because we are set out here for a purpose. That’s where intrepid plays in. Life is long, but also quite short, and filled with good, with love and joy but eqaully with struggle, and pain and sadness. And the light and dark play along together like shadows dancing across the wood floors of your room, and often times it takes all we are to just make it through a season, make it through a year.

but we are intrepid, we carry on.

intrepid takes a thought like “who am I” or “I will never be enough” and replaces it with “here is where I place my identity, it’s picked up as I lay it down, at the foot of the cross, and there I am able to pick up the cross of servantude” and the intrepidness of the journey begins.

 
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so here I am, standing half way across the world in Ethiopia, surrounded by men and women carrying huge bundles of herbs, corn, pulling cattle to sell, women displaying beads and bracelets they carefully crafted with their hands, working to provide for their families, their responsibilities and duties.

and the word is on my lips: “intrepid”

and it holds so much weight here, looking around at these tribal people, living off the land, working with their hands, barely getting a moment to look up. But I see the Creator’s hand in their existence. He fashioned their bones like a carpenter, he molded their being like clay, each individual, each important, each loved.

 
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