I miss Madagascar a lot today. What a lovely surprise to find this postcard awaiting me in my mail box from my gorgeous sister!

Word block.

Beautiful things have come my way over these last 10 weeks. Sometimes I don't see their beauty as they approach me, but as all hard things do, God resolves to refine me through anything and everything. I can't seem to find the time to write regularly on this blog anymore. It really pains me to know that I'm not able to share these experiences as I have previously done, but I feel that blogging might be a seasonal thing for me. Like the nature's Fall, so is my blog fading away like the precious orange leaves tumble to the dry red earth. Who knows when "springtime" will awake it back to life, but for now I'm resting in the quiet of these pages and embracing the new with open arms, one day at a time. 

Zip! Bang! OBU!

Well, dear readers, I am now fully installed in Kerr Residence Hall at Oklahoma Baptist University. Welcome Week is over and classes have started today. I can only say things all happened so very fast. In a moment I was moved into my room, given an ID #, saying goodbye to my family, and running around with a green and gold beanie.
Loneliness tends to try and creep its way into my heart lately these days, but the Lord has continuously reminded me in real ways that He is always by my side. "Do not be afraid, for I am with you" (Isaiah 43:5).
I have been forced to ask myself, "Have I really placed my complete and total confidence in my Maker? Do I trust Him to see me through?" Saying yes to the previous is only one part of truly answering the question, I now must let the manner in which I daily live out my life be in concordance with my words. And that part of answering the question is a daily fight against self.
I speak hopelessness.
He speaks new life.
I speak fear.
He speaks light that casts out all fear.
I utter, "How?'
He pulls me up, whispering, "Through ME. through ME. all things through ME."
I am your Shepherd.
You have all that you need.
Let's go for a walk. I will let you rest in green meadows, leading you by quiet streams.
When you walk through dark valleys, don't be afraid, for I am here. I am near. I am right...here.
My rod and my staff keep you safe, holding you close.
Put away your paper dishes and come sit down at my table.
Let me call you Chosen One, pouring out all I am for you 'til your glass overflows.
Abounding goodness. Infinite Love. No end. No goodbyes.
My House is yours. Forever.


(Ps.23)

Technicolor.

I really never thought this day would come, and now it's here! Tomorrow morning I move in to room 403 in Kerr Dormitory at OBU.

My bags are packed and everything I own is crammed into my own personal U-haul, otherwise known as Mooreland's church van. I'm really hoping that I won't be the only girl who has a seemingly infinite amount of stuff to carry up four flights of stairs. When you move from across and entire continent and ocean away, you can't exactly leave boxes at Mom and Dad's place.

The anticipation is like nothing I've ever felt before, like pioneering unchartered territory. This new beginning is my chance to start fresh. No old high school drama. No returning to the same dreadful teachers or classrooms. No, "oh that's the blonde missionary girl, from Oklahoma, who wears overalls and is really bad at Math!" ......  I now have the opportunity to courageously approach an unfamiliar face with one simple fact, "I'm Karrington." In fact the entire campus will be flooded with names tomorrow, and I am very much looking forward to discovering the beings that are behind those names.

There are worries too, but they pale in comparison to my excitement and curiosity.
God has faded all my fears to a grey and brought forth the newness that lies before me in technicolor. Now that's Artistry.

3,000 words.

Persistance.

I'm sure by now those who read this here blog have discovered that I am not exactly the most dedicated blogger on the planet. It has been quite a while since I have taken the time to sit down and write. 

Yet to write, one must live, and living I have been. A little less than a month gone by, and we've covered hundreds of miles driven down the 160 degree scorching highways of Texas and Oklahoma, including a whirlwind trip to Orlando where Mickey Mouse dubbed himself king. 

We go from proper sit-down dinners and the colossal malls of Arlington to the thirsty farm country and games of flash-light tag in Oklahoma. To say the least it has been exhilarating and exhausting. 

In all the chaos and transitions, I find myself being easily swayed this way and that. Pushed and pulled by each new difficulty and change. This past Sunday, my family and I attended the first Baptist church of Orlando. Urged to sit up close, I found myself on the second row of the extensive line of pews that seemed to be bowing down at the sight of the enormous organ pipes and impressionable baptistry. My heart hard, I prepared myself for yet another dolled-up service.

But I was in for something completely different... 

The worship band began to play. Songs I know and love, at a tempo that wasn't sleepy. The exact kind of music I had been waiting for all summer filled the room, and my heart let free. 

Then God slapped me across the face with a hard truth. 

The pastor stepped to the front, and looking the congregation dead in their eyes, he asked, "Are you worshipping God or are you worshipping a substitute?" He went on to elaborate that in the body of Christ there seems to be some confusion. Confusion about what "worship" really is, and how/who we are worshipping. Is it only because of the band played the right song, or because the lights were toned just right that we let loose and praise Yaweh? Do we lift our hands to God because we are in awe of the lead singer's voice, or because we desperately desire to hear His voice? 

As the pastor spoke, conviction rang throughout my entirety. I have let myself desire after my favorite style of worship music more than God Himself. I have sought to feel moved as I gaze out at a worshipping church, rather than seeking God to move within my own heart. I've fallen in love with worship, but pushed the only One worthy of it off stage. I let the means of worship become the end. 

Never have I felt the words of a pastor apply so clearly to my very situation. It was humbling. 

After he finished, something happened that I thought was impossible in an American Baptist church.... 

The pastor sat down and one single pianist sat down at the Grand and began to play this song: 

Then the piano faded and 3,000 people began to sing out to God completely acapella. No organ. No piano. No drums or electric. No lights. Just the undying words, "Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee. How great thou art! How great thou art!" 

And how great He is, that He would time such a sermon as that to speak into the lives of those who need it most. Justifying the ungodly and humbling those who think they've got it all figured out, He reminded me that He alone should be the object of affections. Not the things that represent Him, but Himself. 

This is getting to be a long post, so please bear with me as I tell you about the final "cherry on top". 

That evening that same church was having their very first worship service on Cocoa Beach. Our family was already planning to spend the day there and so we decided to go. About 300 people or so showed up, gathered on Cocoa's shores and sang praises to God who holds the ocean's His hands. The waves crashed, children were running into them like bumblebees delighting themselves in a botanical garden. What an abundant time of joy it was to witness the start of something so new and excited for this church.  I prayed that the grains of sand I stood on then and there would soon be walked on by new followers of Christ who might come to know Him through that unique outreach. 

So as fun as Disneyworld was, I have to say, that Sunday beat Magic Kingdom by far. I went to Florida expecting little more than a fun time at a theme park, and returned blessed beyond what I ever would have thought. One thought arose as I said goodbye to the sticky peninsula, "Almighty God has held nothing back from me. How then can I hold anything back from Him?" 

If you're reading this I just pray that you might ponder that conclusion and picturing the vastness of the seas remember that the abundant grace of God exceeds its extensive watery expanses. 

Raw thoughts to chew- Day 4

America has several striking features, some always grab me when I first return.

The heat. It never fails, and people never fail to talk about it. It's a constant clammer of continuous amateur meteorology; from the TV screens to the moment they step out the door. Part of me wants to lash out, "Do you people ever stop whining about the sun? It won't just go away. So head on back into your conveniently conditioned thermos." But that would just show how much the heat has gotten to my head. The swift change in seasons has rocked my boat a bit more than usual this time. I do believe I left both my voice and my common sense on that jumbo jet when we landed.

The Stoplights. I can't help but feel awkward every time I come to a stop at a red light. Is it the incredulous  organization of the road I'm driving down? Or maybe the absence of bustling crowds claiming the intersection for themselves? Either way, I do pray that I am able to overcome the strange uneasiness as I wait for the red to flash green. Besides, the soccer mom to my right who is busy texting, sipping her Sonic, and scolding the kids does not seem to mind.

The Food. Enough said, about that.

Church services. Traditions, vaguely familiar to me, but so deeply engrained in the practices of Christ's bride here in the U.S. They get under my skin. (see Isaiah 1:10-23) Except now I need to figure out how to look beyond them, and into the heart of His body, not the jewelry and perfume she adorns herself with. Because I can't turn my back on her. I am here to stay, and that means diving into the Church whole-heartedly, abandoning all self-righteous cultural barriers I potentially have built towards it through the years. I pray that Christ will help me resolve to hold nothing back from His bride and body as I prepare to seek out a church in Shawnee.

Some though are very new to me. Due to the fact that I am now seeing her through the eyes of an independent person trying to figure out how make adult decisions, and no longer through the eyes of a little girl leaning on her parents, I have remarked new aspects America holds.

Prices. Now that I am starting to exercise my consumer taste, I have discovered that it is actually quite difficult for one to be picky when it comes to purchasing. I had my mind so set on planning to boycott Walmart and seek out alternative more "friendly" options, that I failed to consider the most certainly considerable price difference that exists among suppliers. Things are not as cheap as I had imagined. And I am only beginning to understand the complexity of personal finance management. Two vital virtues are required: persistence and patience. Both which are, let's just say, qualities I don't feel I was naturally endowed with. Thankfully, "We can rejoice too, when we run into....[shop-aholic temptations]..., for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation" (Romans 5:3-5)

Expectations. This time they feel weightier. It's at the same time an intimidating challenge and an exciting honor, that those you care about could raise the standard so high for you.

It's easy to fall into fear in the midst of all this rapid change and shock. The enemy wants me to truly believe I'm on my own in this. But that is a lie as bigger than the oceans I crossed to get here.
If I go up to the mountains, He is there.
If I make my bed in the depths, He is there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
Or if I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there His hands will guide me,
His right hand will hold me fast.
Where can we go from His presence? (Ps. 139)
               ...nowhere.
For He is with us even to the end of the age...

Day 1- USA.

Six people + nineteen suitcases + three flights + twenty-two hours in the sky = Our trip back to America.

Incredibly relieved to be back on solid ground, yet I still cannot believe I am here to stay. We arrived yesterday in the Dallas, to see our family waiting there, as always, with beaming smiles and squeaky clean white tennis shoes (toto, we're not in Madagascar anymore). To top off the first evening, we all headed to Don Pablo's Mexican restaurant (my mother's ultimate fantasy). In a flood of foody ecstacy I gorged myself with root beer and tortillas. Spirit was willing but flesh was weak, I vowed that last night was 'special' and not to become a habit; or else, "Hello, freshman 50!" After supper, I found myself standing outside the restaurant gazing aimlessly up at a giat electronic billboard flashing random bogus ads to world. I must have gotten lost in its light for quite a while, as I turned to find both my cousin and grandmother asking me what I was staring at and if I was alright. Most likely it was a combination of extreme jet lag, the 100 degree weather beating down upon me (in contrast to wintery Madagascar), and the shock of America that never fails to appear every time I return.

Nothing I Hold on To by Will Reagen

"Nothing I Hold On To" by Will Reagen

This song fits this particular chapter in my life now. 

The Love of God

"Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky."


It's true no human tongue, hands, or heart could ever truly convey the love that God has demonstrated towards us. As I am finishing up my packing, sitting on my suitcases (hoping they'll pretend they're the "Biggest Loser" and zip up tightly) I am in awe of where God has taken my family and I. From the moment I gave my heart to Him until now, never has He ceased to lavish me with abounding love, or continually surprise me with His twists of adventure. It is humbling that the that the one who hung the stars daily invites me into His very presence to lavish me with His glorious light and love. 


Madagascar has been one His twisting adventures. To wrap it up in a nutshell and tie it with a bow seems impossible. Madagascar was much to take in, and mountains more to let out. I know now that it will be a journey to simply attempt to process and piece together my patchwork of experiences on this Island, and it is one I look forward to. 


Anticipation is mainly what I feel as I ready myself to board that plane tomorrow and kiss this red earth goodbye. A good anticipation, that is; a cliff-hanger, no doubt. Like home-made bread in the oven. The smell wafts through the entire house, stomachs growl, and everyone seems to migrate to the kitchen so they'll be the first to see it sliced and served. (Maybe I went a bit far with that analogy, but hey...) I guess, what I am getting at, is that I am extremely excited to see what God will do next, not only my life, but in the lives of my family, and those I will soon meet. What a grand adventure-writer God is. 

Today is America's 235th birthday, and possibly the last one I will celebrate in Madagascar, wearing sweaters and shooting off fireworks with a fire burning in the fire place. I have to say the distinct sweaty sweetness of July 4th is somewhat lacking here and that I do look forward to experiencing that once again. 

Destination: Manakambahinikely~Morarano-Chrome

No greater satisfaction is there than serving Christ. With each new offering we give, He fills our lamps anew with sweet oil, burning ever brighter. Only once I experiences this refill does my previous hoarding of time and energy prove to be the most foolish decision I have made. Some how I convince myself that by holding back from giving everything I will have some leftover. Little did I know, that those leftovers pale in comparison to the flood He pours on those who do not hold anything back.  This overwhelming truth continually resounded on a trip to two villages, Manakambahinikely and Morarano-Chrome, taken with a mission team from Mooreland, OK and my family. I entered the trip knowing that it would be my last time to travel to such a place (at least for quite some time), and I hoped that big things awaited me. God's big things are always so incredibly surprising.

On Sunday morning Debbie, a beautiful woman of faith from Mooreland, gave a short devotional to the children of the small church there. She told the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000. Beginning with the small boy's packed lunch, she did little but recount the tale. One packed lunch. 5,000 people on a hillside. Twelve doubtful disciples. A boy willing to go hungry. And one Savior who knew better. Simple yet so profound. The disciples objection to the boy's lunch, convicted me to the core. The boy's complete offering proved to be more powerful than they ever could have imagined. Christ took the entirety of the lunch, and then proceeded to pour out an overwhelming abundance on not only him but every single person on that hillside, including the men who first saw no potential in it. What a flood of provision and blessing Christ poured out on those present that day. A seemingly difficult sacrifice for the little boy became the best one he ever made. Debbie closed with a statement along the lines of, "God can use the little you have for big things" and a shrinking feeling came over me. Father, why do I convince myself that somehow I am fully satisfied with my five loaves and two fish, when you have demonstrated to the world that you do not ask self-sufficiency of us. You do not give us gifts for us to hold tightly to them, afraid they'll slip away. You did not die on a cross and carry the weight of our sin so that we could settle in on the hillside instead of running to you with all we have like the boy did. Open up the eyes of your children, that we might once again see your promise of an overflowing cup. One that cannot run dry, but continually runs and runs and runs. May we not become satisfied with stagnant water, but let all its contents flow freely outward, as we anticipate, thirstily, a flood from our Savior.

I returned from this trip humbled. Eight years in Madagascar, and still I learn more than I ever think I will. God's immensity astounds me continually. It's not a fair deal: my loaves and fish for His infinite grandeur. But I guess that undeserved grace is what is so astounding about Him.

Magical Mahajanga.

A trip to my favorite seaside town provided me with major bonding time with friends, as well as, precious moments of praise to God for bringing me to such an island, and allowing me to grow up here. I am a piece of glass stained by its red earth. 

10 Things I look forward to about returning to Oklahoma...

The reality is settling in now. Each day I pack up a little bit more of my room, the walls grow bare, and my shelves look less and less cluttered. It's bittersweet, yet growing sweeter. As I  ponder on all the newness that awaits me, I can't help but smile. God has got it under control, my worrying leads to nothing, and serves no purpose. And so I what else can I do but sit in this sweet spot of dependency on the One who hung the stars?
He has good things for His children, and these are some that I look forward to:

1. Family 

2. Antiques

3. The season called: Fall

4.Farmer's Markets 

(Oklahoma City Farmer's Market)

5.Snow

6. Starting school at Oklahoma Baptist University, in Shawnee, OK. 

7. The sunsets

8. Sonic Drive-In

9. Pick-up Trucks

10. Starting over

a wind chime souvenir.

In an attempt to string together the random trinkets I've collected over time here in Madagascar. I am trying create my own wind chime. 

Materials:

One rusty metal hoop. Made by welder up the hill from our house. 

Several giant wads of wild Malagasy silk, and believe they smell pretty WILD.  

Ribbon. 

In's and Odd's of the Island. 

Stones from the Greek city of Nafplio. 

Recycled wine bottle parts. 

Tune in soon for the finished product. 

Graduation!

I am officially finished with high school! June 3rd was our graduation ceremony, and what a freeing moment it was! All the moments when I didn't think the end would ever come, seem so far away now. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my time at the American School of Antananarivo to the fullest extent. Such an obscure little place, on an obscure island, with obscure people attending it (myself included). I truly believe that God used the wacky place to draw me deeper to Himself, to teach me how to love people of stark different backgrounds, and to prepare me for greater challenges ahead. Thanks be to the Master Planner who knew exactly what such a place would do for me; amounting to so much more than just knowledge of the Napoleanic Era and Statistics. 

ASA Class of 2011

Speech. (I was shaking inside)

Sarah Jane and I.

more seniors...

My big brother.

The options are endless now! I feel as though the entire world is an undiscovered sea, just waiting for me to dive into it and bask in the beauty bestowed upon it by the Creator. So many places to see, people to meet, jobs to work, organizations to join, ministries to pour into. The immensity gives me goose bumps. My heart beats faster and a smile breaks out each time I think about the new chapter that awaits me. 

10 Things I will miss about Madagascar...

And this is the impression the giant island has made on me... these are ten little windows into what I shall miss when  I find myself in the Northern hemisphere:

1. These swings. 

2. This way of life. (photo courtesy of Lydia Spann)

3. These trees. (photo courtesy of Lydia Spann)

4. The Lovely Angela.

5. Times like these. (photo courtesy of Sarah Nicodemus)

6. This church. (photo courtesy of Galia Naficova)

7. These smiles.

8. This ocean. 

9. These streets. (photo courtesy of Galia Naficova)

                           

10. This view.