Hard, but Good
Because every time I stand up and start to get back to the work of packing up my life, I freak out. My stomach churns and I can barely breathe and all I can think about is how much I don't want to leave all of this. I don't want to leave the only home I've ever known. I don't want to leave a city that I know like the back of my hand. I don't want to leave my church community, my routines, my best friends. I don't want to leave home and family and dinners with my parents.
But alongside these thoughts of fear are the thoughts of confidence that scream that this move is EXACTLY what I need to be doing, and I haven't doubted that for a second. Daily, often hourly, there is clarity & peace & confidence & reassurance that following Jesus looks like moving to Indonesia for now.
Yet at the same time, it's terrifying. These fears coexist with confidence and peace, and it's an unusual feeling.
& I think a lot of this freaking out happens when reality hits and I look around at my life in piles, and I make comments like "won't need these boots again for two years", and I walk to my empty closet. It's most difficult when I realize how vastly different my life looks now from how it did a year ago or even six months ago.
Life now is so very different from my original plans for my life. Life now is so very different from anything I've ever walked through or experienced before.
And no, to be honest, I wouldn't change any of this. I wouldn't go back, I don't want my old realities back, I wouldn't choose comfortable over this uncomfortable place of stepping out into unknown, knowing that this is where God has me & what he's been preparing me for all along.
But yet.
Yet this is still scary. I still freak out. I still have to stop and sit and breathe deeply. I have to take breaks from packing before I'm too overwhelmed. I have to ask friends to hold off on goodbyes until I'm in a better position to handle them. I have to ask for a lot of grace. I have to press pause on the "what if's" constantly on my mind until I'm at a better place to deal with them.
There are a lot of fears and unknowns in my mind currently. Which is tough for me, really. I like things to make sense, for me to have at least a basic grasp on what's going on, to have an idea of what to expect. I like routine, consistency.
This is none of that.
I can't plan. I can't picture what life will look like two weeks from now. Legitimately-- I have no clue.
And that's so hard.
But it's good for me.
Because when it comes down to it, I've just spent 20 minutes sitting and breathing and praying and listening to worship music and refocusing my heart.
20 minutes that otherwise might be overlooked and not prioritized. & I've seen how the hard things are really the best things, because they push me towards the heart of God like nothing else. And I know that I'll stand up from this corner of my room with a stronger confidence and deeper trust in the Father, and a more resilient heart.
And so it's worth it all, to know Jesus more.
Also: this is my last post on October Grey. Come the new year and a new season for me, I'll be launching a new website & blog that I'm thrilled to share. But worth noting: thank you so much for making my college years of writing on October Grey so great. And keep an eye out for my new site-- it'll be great.
I'm Really Going (& how you can help)
It’s an odd phrase to let slip from your lips, even when I
probably repeat it near-daily:
“I’m really moving to Indonesia.”
Yeah,
I’m really getting on a plane at the beginning of January
and moving to an island among 17,000 others on the other side of the world.
I’m really moving to a country that, according to a quick google
search, is known for beaches, volcanoes, coffee, Komodo dragons and jungles sheltering
elephants, orangutans and tigers.
I’m really moving to a predominantly Muslim area,
really learning the Indonesian
language,
really learning to
live and work and thrive there.
I’m really spending the next year and a half with a group of
about six children, teaching multiple grades and multiple subjects.
And I’m really convinced
that this is exactly where God wants
me.
As this semester began and I was transitioning from full
time student to full time teacher, I got a text from Sarah. She asked me to
meet her for coffee, and before we even met I knew this could be the answer I had
prayed for.
And then as we sat down and started talking over warm drinks,
Sarah laid out their family’s need for a teacher, their heart for the nations,
their plans to return to Indonesia in January—and an invitation to join them. I
listened, and I realized this is it. This
is exactly what God has been preparing me for all along. From the moment I decided
that yes, I’ll go, I have so clearly
seen the way that all these mismatched pieces of my story are beginning to fit
together, the way they were meant to all along.
Yet as you can imagine, though I’m fully convinced that
Indonesia is where I’m meant to be, there are mixed emotions. This is a big deal—and
many days, it can be a scary thing. To move to other side of the world, knowing
almost no one, embracing a completely different culture—who am I kidding, even
just getting there is scary.
Without this being a paid position, there will be quite a
few things that I need to raise funds for—for one, airfare to get there; visa
expenses to stay there; insurance and other necessary expenses to survive and
thrive there. It all comes out to be about $550 / month – or $10,000 for the 18
months that I’m in Indonesia.
Would you consider helping in this? If you’re here reading
this, I know that it’s likely because you know me personally through my church,
my school, my parents, or some other connection. And I don’t take that lightly—I’m
so thankful for this community. I’ve seen and experienced the incredible beauty
of the body of Christ. Community is a powerful thing, and it’s such a good gift
that God has designed.
In this, as with many things in life, I legitimately cannot
do it on my own. I need Christ’s body. So as humbling as it is, I’m asking for
help. I’m daily praying that God provides—and
I know He will, because I know this is where He wants me.
You can give here (just write “Molly Barron, Indonesia” in
the comments section), or talk with me personally about other ways.
Even if you can’t give, and even if you can—please pray? I
won’t pretend that this is an easy journey—there have been days where this has
felt impossible, felt overwhelming, felt like it’s too much. I’m convinced that
this is exactly where God has been leading me for a long time now, but even
still, I need His grace to keep moving forward in this. It’s a scary thing to
realize that in less than 80 days I’ll be away from everything familiar,
settling into a new normal. It’s scary and exciting all rolled up together, and
it brings emotions with intensity that I’m not used to dealing with. So pray?
Pray that I’d be strengthened to keep going. Pray that God will provide the
funds I need to move. Pray that once I’m there I’ll be effective and useful to
Him.
I still am in complete disbelief at my Father’s kindness in
bringing me here. It’s going to be quite the journey as I follow Him to
Indonesia. I’m excited to see what the next years hold, how I’ll learn and
grow, how I’ll experience more of the beauty of Jesus.
Also worth mentioning:
you can subscribe to this blog, the best way that you’ll hear updates about
this move. Any new blog posts will slip into your inbox so that you never miss
one and so that you’ll remember to pray.
On Courage & Transparency
A few weeks ago, I found the words,
“Real
courage starts with showing up, seeing God, and knowing he sees us—even if no
one else ever does.” It’s been at least three weeks, and that quote is still sitting on
a post-it on my desk and is still working its way through my heart. I'm slowly
learning the rhythms of this. I’m learning to lean into it. When things get
hard and it’s easier to quit, where do you go? How do you keep moving forward?
I’ve been searching for that answer, and I think it’s here in this unseen.
II.
Autumn has been a hard season for me throughout
my undergrad years. Beginning with fall of my freshman year and major
adjustments to college, it has seemed as though the calendar turns from August
to September, and I’m a mess until December. Sophomore year’s fall was rough when I crashed and burned hard after
an incredible summer at camp. Junior year, an ant bite turned into eight weeks
of sickness while I grew apathetic about my sin. I spent that entire fall not
caring a thing about my relationship with God—and it showed. Fall of last year,
my senior year, I was reeling from a long, intense summer in Nepal. I had no
idea where to begin processing the hard things, no idea how to move forward in my
new normal, no idea how to keep believing and trusting in the goodness of God.
Each fall semester, I look back and trace patterns of doubt, discouragement, and fear throughout those months. Though autumn is still somehow my favorite
season, it’s a consistently difficult one.
Knowing this reality, these patterns, I
determined this summer that I wouldn't let this fall be that way, that I
wouldn't slip into discouragement and apathy again, if at all possible. I determined
that I would press in to the uncomfortable things, whatever they would be. I
didn’t have a plan on how I would break the cycle, I simply knew something
needed to change.
III.
I've always been an encourager of honesty,
transparency, realness—in face-to-face conversations, and especially on social
media. I’ve foolishly criticized people for only posting their picture perfect moments instead
of recognizing the reality, the difficulty of life. I’ve been a proponent of admitting
that life is messy and hard and that it hurts. I hate small talk—and it shows
in both my conversations over a cup of coffee and in the way I approach social
media. Honesty and transparency, always.
But you know, I'm realizing that complete
transparency isn’t always best, for me or for the people I’m interacting with. As
life gets real and gets messier (beyond just the stress of a busy school year
and the day to day mess that being human brings), I’m realizing that there is a legitimate place for edited and curated photos, for small talk, for surface level
conversations. Not always, and not necessarily as a pattern of my life, but as a chance to
breathe. As a chance to recognize that yes, though life is hard and painful,
there is grace and kindness in the midst. There’s enough grace here and now to
be content with a quiet afternoon at my favorite coffee shop, even though the
moment before I came and the moment after I leave I will feel as though the pressures of life are too much to handle. There is a place for a dumb, cheesy caption. There is a place for
simple conversations about the weather. There is a place for keeping things to myself rather than sharing every detail of my life for hundreds to see, flung out
under the banner of transparency.
The choice for simplicity and curated photos is not to mask the pain and pretend that my life is perfect, but it’s to acknowledge (to myself, mostly) that there's grace even in the painful day, that I’m deeply grateful for calm moments where I feel some semblance of normal, that I don't have to focus on the messy side of my life.
The choice for simplicity and curated photos is not to mask the pain and pretend that my life is perfect, but it’s to acknowledge (to myself, mostly) that there's grace even in the painful day, that I’m deeply grateful for calm moments where I feel some semblance of normal, that I don't have to focus on the messy side of my life.
IV.
This summer and this fall, they've been the
hardest and most growing, challenging months of my life, despite my efforts to make them otherwise. I’ll spare you the details if you’ll just trust me on this one— I’m not exaggerating when I say
I’ve walked through darkest days and deepest waters. I’ve asked hard questions
and I’ve dealt with the harder answers. It’s left me feeling weak and
vulnerable, hurt and exhausted and insecure. Yet, at the same time, I’ve never been more
peaceful, more confident, more secure. I’ve never valued Jesus as much as I do
at this moment. I’ve never grown this much, never felt this healthy in every
way. Oh yes, there is still deep hurt I’m dealing with and uncertainty that I’m
facing, but there is also Jesus who is holding me through every bit of it. And,
for once, this fall season I am embracing Him—choosing to do this well rather than
quitting.
V.
For someone who values transparency and honesty as much as I do, it's actually difficult for me to know that only a very small
handful of people know, truly, what I'm going through and how hard most days
feel. It's hard to know that no one sees, that people I love most don't get it.
Transparency is valuable, but it’s not the ultimate goal. Resting in that fact
has been a learning process, one I’m still growing in.
VI.
So, I guess this is all just to say (to myself and to you): have
courage. Keep showing up and keep pressing in. Whether that looks like
transparency over coffee and praying with a close friend for strength from the
Father, or whether that looks like posting an edited picture on Instagram of the
one pretty moment when you felt like your life wasn't falling apart today. Whatever
it looks like, keep showing up. Even if no one else sees. Jesus sees, He’s here
in this, and that’s enough. Truly.
I know that the difficulty is intense and it’s easier to feel the hurt
than to feel the nearness of your God, but keep preaching the gospel to
yourself. Keep preaching it until you see the real beauty and treasure that it
is. And even then, don’t stop. One day, you’ll see--- this is worth it all. It may not be something
you see today or tomorrow or next week or next month. But one day, you will see. Because
one day you will see Jesus and I promise you, in that moment it will all
be worth it, because He is worth it. But for now, until then: keep showing up. Keep seeing
God. Keep resting in the truth that He sees you, even when no one else does.
Keep believing that that’s enough. (Because it is.)
Worth It All
If we had met for coffee seven months ago, the last time I was in this space on the internet, I would have told you that I had my life figured out. I knew, at least generally, what I wanted to do and where I wanted to do it. I knew who I would be with and how I would spend my life, and that was that. It was as good as done forever, in my mind. Though I didn’t see it at that time, my hands were tightly clenched around my idea of my best-case-scenario. Though I never would have admitted it, it didn’t really matter to me what God thought was best for my life—I was convinced that my plan was God’s best, because it was my best. I wanted what I wanted. End of story.
Except, mercifully, it isn’t the end of the story.
This afternoon, if we had met for coffee, I would’ve been
stifling yawns and wiping the remains of a second grader’s lunch from my pants
(evidently he didn’t see me standing there?). I would’ve told you how much I
love spending my day with 25 seven year olds, how I love teaching in a
classroom, how I’m thriving. (I also would’ve admitted that that’s something I never would have expected to come out of
my mouth—though I know the entire rest of the world is convinced that I was born to teach; I just never wanted that for
myself, until now.) Just as I would have at the beginning of the year, today I
would tell you about my plans for the future, or at least for the next eighteen
months. Yet I can guarantee that there would be a change in me as I shared my
heart.
Maybe the change is subtle, maybe it’s something that only I
notice. But I look back and I can trace so
clearly how God has led, how he’s grown and matured and shaped me over this
season. It’s been hard—the hardest months I’ve experienced in my life. But
they’ve genuinely been some of the best months I could ask for, because God
slowly and gently pried my rigid hands from their grip on my life and the plans
I had made. Over the past months I've slowly realized the
deep beauty of Jesus, and how He’s better than everything—even my
best-case-scenario.
And I’ll be honest with you: this was not an easy process. Surrender isn’t easy—especially when you’re giving up the things you love most. Especially when you don’t know how this will turn out. Especially when we’re talking about saying goodbye forever to a serious relationship. Especially when you’re walking away from the beautiful plans you laid out for your life, and stepping into unknown, difficult, and different. It’s been a season full of tears, full of deep hurt and pain and rejection.
It’s been full of days pleading with God for a different way forward, and full of nights crying out to Him
for comfort and healing. There’s been a lot of confusion. A lot of tears. I’ve
walked through so many changes. I spent a summer in a new role, doing something that shoved me so far out of my comfort zone as I worked as coffee shop manager + camp photographer/videographer. I’ve experienced most of the core relationships
in my life shifting, changing, or ending. I’ve entered an entirely different (last)
semester of my undergrad career, teaching in a real classroom in a public school. I’m moving forward with big plans for life after graduation. It’s
busy and exhausting at best, overwhelming and crushing at its worst.
But through every bit of the struggle, I can sit here today
and tell you, with complete confidence: it’s been worth it all. Worth every
moment of pain. Through the stress and the heartache and the confusion, Jesus
is better. He’s faithful. He’s worth it. I wouldn't change a thing about this season, because it's drawn me closer to the heart of the Father, more deeply in love with Jesus, more in tune to how the Spirit is working.
Though it looks drastically different than my own
best-case-scenario, God has been working His
best for my life.
And for the next year and a half, it’s taking me to Indonesia.
Yeah, you heard me right: at the beginning of the new year, I’m up and moving my life to Indonesia for eighteen months. I'll live and work
alongside a really great family. I’ll be teaching their children and soaking in
all I can about life in Indonesia. (Bring on the culture shock and everything I love about that Southeast Asian culture.)
It’s both unexpected and yet not at all surprising. I'll perhaps share more specific information (including how you can support me!) in the coming days, but really? This is all just to say that though this was
not in my own plans—to be single, to move halfway across the world for over a
year, to spend my days teaching, to step out confidently into a big, often scary unknown— I’m immeasurably thankful that this is in God's plans. I'm thankful that my God didn’t leave me to
my own, broken way and call it the end of the story. I’m thankful that He
gently stepped in to help me release my hold on my life, though at times I came kicking and screaming. I’m thankful that He opened my
blind eyes to His beauty, showing me that He’s worth it all. I never would be here on my own— it's all because of the kindness of my Father.
I’m glad to be back in this space on the internet, sharing my heart more often.
I’m thrilled for what the coming months hold in Indonesia.
I’m so, so excited to see how God moves.
It’s worth it all, just to know Him more.
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