can't

I realize it's been forever since I've last written and I'm sorry for that! Just to catch everyone up, I got married on November 9, the most beautiful day of my life, and am officially Mrs. Amy Woodell Bardi to my wonderful Mr. It's been an exciting, beautiful, crazy, joyful, chaotic past few months.

Just a week and a half before our wedding day, I was curled up in the fetal position in my bed, lights out, with the most massive migraine I've ever experienced. I used to have frequent headaches but nothing like this. I was out for a couple of days. I was frustrated that I couldn't keep going with my tasks for the wedding due to this inconvenience.

I might be pretty good at hiding it sometimes, but I'm a worrier. I crave control to feel at peace. I over-plan. I like my to-do lists, and they quite honestly could be considered an obsession. I like schedules. And I become anxious when my plan, my list, my schedule doesn't quite work out.

So you can imagine my frustration feeling completely helpless with the world's worst migraine right before my wedding.
What if it comes back on November 9 and I can't be in the daylight to even walk down the aisle?
What if I have a new chronic condition?
What if I caused this on myself and can't ever experience freedom from my stress, worrying, anxiety, etc.?

Yes, those were my real thoughts, no exaggerations whatsoever. I choose fear over faith sometimes. I overanalyze. I think I can control the uncontrollable.

But since that day, I've began to realize that I can't. 

I live in a world that tells me that I can be perfect, I can do it all: I can manage a successful business, I can be the best friend, wife, daughter, etc., I can work 24 hours a day and still get my 8 hours of healthy sleep and I can work out and eat healthy and craft and cook the perfect made-from-scratch dinners. I can save now to be rich later. I can make a 20-year plan to the last detail. I can self-manage, self-motivate, self-improve. I can do anything. Right?

I can't.
I can't be the perfect bride, free of migraines and stress.
I can't create more hours in each day.
I can't cook without a recipe.
I can't do 99% of what's posted on Pinterest.
I can't be the best friend to 50 people, much less 15.
I can't arrange pinecones in a hurricane vase to decorate our first home for Christmas.
I can't create cleaning solutions from scratch.
I can't always do my best with my work.
I can't raise $100,000 to grow Clothed in Hope.
I can't look perfectly pulled together every day.
I can't self-improve, no matter how hard I try.
I can't tell you where we'll be in 6 months, forget about 20 years.
I can't organize as well as I'd like.
I can't curb my obsession with Target.
I can't always love and respect my husband as I should.
I can't sustain my faith in Jesus by my own efforts, or lack thereof somedays.
I can't change the lives of 23 women in Zambia.
I can't always live by faith.
I can't catch up on my reading list, that's supposedly aimed to self-motivate, self-improve, self-etc.
I can't keep dust from collecting on every surface.
I can't support raise enough for my imaginary 20-year plan.
I can't go a day without having a negative thought and/or reaction (usually and).
I can't find time to do every Christmas thing I was hoping to do this season.
I can't overcome sin patterns in my life.

I just can't.

Anyone with me on this one?

I dare to say that I'm not alone. So overwhelmed by can'ts that I often find myself stuck in them. The world tells me that I can do it all, then tricks me into taking a bite of that apple. I then find myself trapped in guilt, shame, insecurity, failure that I couldn't do it. It's like a game that I've played for far too many days of my life.

But since that migraine, tides are changing. Slowly, but surely.

God's grace is in the can't.
God's provision is in the can't.
God's joy is in the can't.
Because only in the "I can't" do I see that He can.
He can. He will. He is. 

It's not up to me. He doesn't demand my perfection. His love for me is based on absolutely nothing I can or will ever do. His love for me is absolute, more unconditional than we can ever comprehend.

God doesn't care that my cooking is B+ at best. God doesn't care if I don't finish my to-do list most days. Because He cares about me. He cares about people. He cares about hearts.
Only when my soul is brought low, humbled, can I look up to see His sovereignty, His strength, His trustworthiness, His love, His compassion, His ability. That He can.
The pressure is off. The weight lifted. There is FREEDOM.


"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

face

There are only a few people who touch your life at its deepest, who inspire you at your core, and who teach you so much about life just by being a part of theirs. I’m lucky enough to have found one of these people in the newest Clothed in Hope training class. To respect her privacy and her story, we’ll call her Mary.

I’ve only known Mary for 2 short months. Yet these short months with Mary have changed me.

Mary’s life has been difficult. Harder than I could ever imagine. Oppression at every turn. But if you were to come to our center, I’d be willing to bet that you couldn’t pick out which one Mary is. I surely wouldn’t have pegged her for being quite possibly the most oppressed woman I’ve ever met on the day I met her.

I met Mary the first time I went to our new center to meet our newest class back in late June. Mary looked a little different from the other women, she was timid, but she was intriguing. There was something special about her. Before she left, I asked her how she ended up in this new class. Mary responded not with a typical closed-off answer of a victim, but she poured out her heart to me as a woman desperate for a friend, crying out to be heard.

Mary is HIV positive. Mary is a mother of 6. Mary is a widow. Mary is beautiful.

And the only place that people talk to Mary at any time during the week is at the center. She says that it’s at the Chikondi Community Center where she has made the only friends in her life.

Because Mary’s neighbors know she’s HIV positive. Her family knows. And culturally, she’s to be rejected and left alone. She has had curses placed on her life. Her own relatives have disowned her. And the rare occasion that she gets enough courage to visit them to say hello and extend immense forgiveness, they break the plate, fork and cup she ate off of in front of her, yelling at her that they don’t want her “disease.” They shame her. They embarrass her. The very people who are supposed to love her. All over a horrifyingly-misunderstood disease.

Yet she smiles. Yet her eyes sparkle.

Mary’s health has taken many scary paths. A few years back when Mary was very sick with her symptoms, she was taken into a hospital. She couldn’t move her arms or legs. She couldn’t speak. Her legs were swollen and her body so weak. Mary was vulnerable and trusted the doctors she believed would heal her. But these doctors didn’t care for her. They tried to poison her by crushing up 20 pain pills into her food. They told her she was better off dead so she wouldn’t be on their bill. They spoke hatred into her life. They killed other patients in front of her eyes as she was unable to speak or move to do anything about it. But Jesus saved her from that. He healed her body from the poisoning and weakness and she was able to walk again. Her life was threated by the very people who were supposed to save her.

Yet she laughs. Yet she gives the best hugs.

Last month Mary told me that her children came home from school and hugged her and laughed. They told her, “you used to cry every day and now you are happy, mommy!” Mary rejoiced with me in that moment. At our center, she’s loved. She’s told that what she does is valuable. That who she is, is a treasure. She’s free to laugh. She’s free to open up about the tough stuff in life. She’s free to create, to design, to learn, to be Mary. She experiences the hope, the joy, the love of Jesus, and she is happy. Happy so much that her children notice and their lives are blessed as a result.

But these past two weeks I noticed that Mary had been absent for every class. During a season change like we’re having now from winter to summer in a week, it wasn’t strange but I got that gut feeling that something wasn’t right. I called Mary and only heard exasperated whispers on the other end. “I’m not okay,” she said.  My stomach flipped over. What does this mean? She told me of a failed attempt to go to the hospital. After being poisoned the last time, she decided to return to receive care she desperately needed. The doctors turned her away yet again saying that she isn’t worthy of their blood, that hers is already infected. And that since she was poor, the best thing would be to go home. When Mary asked, “what will happen if I die?” they replied, “plenty of people have died before, and you won’t be the first.”

I was angry. I was hurt. I was confused. I only wanted to escape the pain I felt inside.

I called Elina asking her to figure out a solution and once I hung up I couldn’t hold back the tears. The frustration. The hurt I felt for Mary. Yet again she was betrayed by the very people who are supposed to be there for her. Yet again her health took a turn for the worse. Yet again she was oppressed for circumstances outside her control.

As the tears came, I wanted to run. To hide. To erase the problem.

But Jesus urged me to come closer. To go deeper. Enter in.

The next day I went to visit her at her home with a few other ladies. I was scared. I felt inadequate. I couldn’t fix this one with my bag of beets, liver, and juice. I couldn’t heal her body or reassure her. But I did want to love her as Jesus does.

I parked my car in a narrow alley way filled with trash and waste water. I walked around the grass fence to enter her home. Children were quietly playing on the doorstep. The compound eerily quiet. Heart racing. We knocked on the door and let ourselves in and found Mary there on the couch.

I don’t think I could’ve prepared myself for what I experienced in that moment. Mary was sitting on the couch, hair a mess, face completely sunken in, sweat covering her entire body. Body shaking with fever. Her ankles the size of a child’s wrist. Her face twisted in pain. Her eyes barely opened. Color gone from her face. Hands curled up. Unable to walk.

This wasn’t the Mary I knew. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

We tried to joke with her to cover the pain and the tension in the room of her condition. We tried to smile. We tried to encourage her but our words failed. Our efforts couldn’t fix it. So I was asked to pray and already-way-too-emotional, I knew it could only be the words of the Holy Spirit that would come from my broken heart. I prayed that Jesus would comfort her, that He would show her how special she is to Him. That the lies she has been told about her identity from family and doctors would be rebuked in the name of Jesus. That her health would be restored by the God of miracles. And on and on. Sobbing. Crying out to Jesus in this little room with my dear friends agreeing with me in the name of Jesus. Flies buzzing around, heat warming up the concrete block room, we brought Mary to the feet of Jesus.

And in that moment a miracle happened. The faces that I’ve only seen be strong and brave broke down into tears with me. Us four women, crying at the feet of Jesus for Him to rescue His daughter from the pain she’s suffered her entire life. Tears of release and freedom streamed down the faces of my friends. All because they knew they were safe in the presence of Jesus to feel what they felt, to be themselves and to be completely loved even in the pain.

At the conclusion of the prayer I looked at Mary. There was no sign of movement other than the shallow breaths she took and the tears that clung to the ends of her eyelashes. I can’t explain the feeling I felt, but I knew I was looking into the very face of God. Tender yet strong. Honest.

When Jesus took my hand to go deeper on behalf of His beloved Mary, He was taking me deeper into pain. Holy pain. The pain of humanity that can only be contrasted with the hope of Jesus and love of God. Entering that pain is painful, it’s scary, it’s difficult, but I believe when Jesus calls us to risk it’s because He wants to show us more of Himself even in the faces of pain.  

And when we feel that holy pain, God feels it too. He assured me that He was in that room crying and praying with us. That the tears on Mary’s eyelashes were His. And that after we had to leave, He would still be there holding her hand, changing her wet washcloth to calm her seizures from her fever, wiping away her tears, and holding her fragile body with strength and security. When the rest of the world rejects her, Mary belongs to Jesus. She is His.

We will keep praying. We will keep approaching the throne of Jesus on behalf of Mary’s life. I don’t understand why she’s had to endure more in her life than anyone I know. I don’t understand why she has felt pain and shame and oppression deeper than I can ever imagine. But I do understand and trust the Word of God when He says He will heal her and restore her. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe in Heaven some day, but He won’t go back on His promises. And His love can’t ever run out for dear Mary. Jesus will heal Mary.

As I left her house, I leaned down and gently hugged the bones that formed the only outline of her body. I told her that I love her and that I won’t stop praying for her. 

God filled my heart with gratitude for getting to be a part of Mary’s life today, tomorrow and forever, and for how she’s forever shaped mine in those smiles, those hugs, those sparkling eyes, and especially in the tears that clung to the ends of her eyelashes. How beautiful is the body of Jesus that we can know our present hope and future hope is in Jesus alone. How comforting to know that no matter what evil is spoken into our lives, even by the ones that we love, that Jesus’ voice of love is louder. And with every tear we cry and moment of desperation we encounter, we need only to open our eyes to the face of God before us.

engaged (pt. 2)

So back to that African-sized elephant in the room…

I’m sorry to have kept y’all waiting on this exciting part 2 of all things engagement between the handsome Mr. Bardi and myself. I promised I haven’t forgotten about y’all.

First the answers/explanations to the teaser dates:

1.     June 11: This was the day I jumped on a plane by myself for Zambia. For the very last time. The last overpriced meal eaten alone on a 36-hour-journey to this third world country that makes my heart skip a beat. The last awkward armrest battle with the person sitting next to me in the ever-so-spacious coach section. The last head-on-shoulder by a stranger who can’t control their neck after a couple doses of Ambien and a few mini bottles of wine. Oh how sweet it is. The very last.

2.     August 8, 2013: This day, one month from TODAY, my fiancé will be joining me in Zambia for the last 3 weeks of this trip. He’ll meet the ladies who have inspired me, challenged me, encouraged me, and have shown me so much of who Jesus really is. He’ll walk down the dusty dirty roads to the shouts of little children calling out in curiosity. He’ll taste, touch, see, hear, and feel what it means to be in Zambia. He’ll be doing all of this, right next to me, hand in hand. And every time I think of that my heart could just about burst.

3.     November 9, 2013: The biggie! This is our wedding day! After months, years of long distance, I get to say my final goodbye/goodnight on November 8 and walk down the aisle towards my man for a lifetime of togetherness, of unity in service for the mission God has for us, of joy, of grace upon grace. Sure I’m excited about this really pretty dress I found and to see all of the details come together with the best friends and family, but the moment I’m most excited about is the moment I become Wyatt’s and he becomes mine through marriage in an exchange of heartfelt, long-time-coming, probably ugly crying (by me) “I do’s.”

So that elephant’s still there right? What on earth are we doing? Does my “I do” on November 9 mean an “I won’t” when it comes to returning to Zambia?

I told y’all in my last post that I serve a God of miracles right? And you know that He does immeasurably more right?

Great. Then you should put on your party dress (or trousers) and do a little dance with me as I explain all God has for us in these next few months.

Sitting in that van with Wyatt over a year ago he told me of his heart for Africa. I thought it was some twisted way of me getting to like him and I hated when people just pulled the “Africa” card for a good convo with me. But boy was I wrong. This man’s heart has been ignited for a land and a people he has yet to meet. He always knew Africa was on the radar but needed some clarity as to where exactly God wanted him. Enter me and Clothed in Hope and my adoration for Zambia.

Right off the bat we had to be intentional in our relationship. We prayed individually that God would guide us where He wants us. I kept hearing “Zambia” the more involved I became with Clothed in Hope in-country. But I also kept feeling my heart drawn closer to Wyatt. Little did I know, Jesus was preparing his heart for Zambia, not to chase after me, but to lead our family there through his own God-given passions to see Jesus lifted higher in the nation of Zambia.

Wyatt can tell you all about himself but for those of y’all who don’t know him, he’s quite the guy. Great with kids. Has served for years with Young Life and their middle school ministry, Wyldlife. His vision is to disciple teen boys to be men of God in word and deed, raising up godly husbands, fathers, brothers and friends in Jesus’ name.

Through my time and connections (aka best friends) here, God opened doors for Wyatt to intern with a ministry in Lusaka called Family Legacy Ministries International (familylegacy.com). Straight out of college with a youth ministry degree, Wyatt is pursuing the calling on his life through his passions in the neatest of ways. God is preparing our new family for a life in Zambia through our unique giftings and passions. For me it’s Clothed in Hope. For Wyatt it’s orphan ministry. In the same city in the same nation with the same mission- to see hope spread through Zambia through the empowerment of its people. It’s pretty incredible stuff.

Practically what does this mean? Wyatt will start his 3-and-3 internship with 3 months in Dallas after returning from Zambia early this fall. He’ll be working at their corporate headquarters to learn the ropes about all things Stateside operations. We’re still working out timing but most likely it’ll overlap to last after the wedding where I’ll be joining him in Dallas as his bride and greatest fan. He finishes the last 3 months of his internship in… drumroll please… Lusaka, Zambia!! We’ll be jumping on a plane together in January for 3 months of Zamlife, feeling God’s calling on our lives to be much longer in that nation. We’re taking it one step at a time but feel like our family will be establishing our roots in Zambia for the long haul.

Wyatt and I are not doing this for the adventure. We’re not trying to make a statement against conventional American newlywed life. We are simply responding to the call God has on our marriage to serve the people of Zambia better as we’re together than if we were apart. The waiting game is over and I could not be MORE EXCITED to be experiencing the first months (and YEARS) of marriage with Wyatt leading us in Zambia. Joy. Joy. Joy!!

This already super busy season of wedding planning, running a nonprofit and hosting volunteer teams is getting crazier as we prepare to move our lives to Zambia right after getting married. This includes a luggage scale instead of a blender on our wedding registry, lots of unknown, and a season of gypsy life together until we get settled in our Zamhome (which is still TBD).

We are grateful that you care for us and about us. And through this season of quite the transition of getting married and moving to a third world country with a 6-suitcase limit, we are asking for your prayers. Prayers for peace, for joy, to see more of God in the crazy instead of worshipping the crazy, prayers of unity for our marriage, and for God to be glorified through every step.

And with our calling to enter into two support-raised jobs, we’re stepping out with greater faith than we feel possible sometimes, but God is faithful in what He’s promised. We’ve decided to support raise for our life together under Wyatt’s organization, Family Legacy, for training in Dallas and beginning Wyatt’s work and our lives together in Zambia. Wyatt has to raise over $14,000 for this next season and we would like to invite y’all to prayerfully consider partnering with us as we are sent from America to Zambia to pursue Jesus’ heart for the orphan and the widow. For you to send is just as blessed and called by Jesus as for us to go, and we would be so ecstatic to partner with you, sharing what your ongoing contribution is doing in the lives of Zambians as we begin our married life here.

This blog wasn’t a shameless plug for fundraising but rather an exciting opportunity for you to celebrate with us in where God is leading our (future) family (the one we like to refer to as the Bardi Party FYI). Thank you for your prayers to this point and your continued prayers. To God be all glory and praise.

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If you are interested in supporting us monthly or with a one-time donation for our upcoming ministry in Zambia, you can give at donate.familylegacy.com/wyatt.

Complete the form and click “Donate Now” knowing you are showered with our gratitude, the gratitude of all who we get to serve, love, and be loved by, and the joy of Jesus.

Zikomo (thank you) for walking alongside us in this new, exciting, grace-filled chapter of life as I become Mrs. Bardi and the Bardi’s take on Zambia together as newlyweds. We love you and can’t wait to continue to share all that God does in and through us along the way!

...and 4 months from tomorrow I become his wife! 

grow

This blog entry has been imagined, prayed for, and hoped for, and with a huge exhale of relief, I get to write it this morning.

Let’s rewind first.

Six days before I flew out of Raleigh, just 2 short weeks ago, I received an email that threw my already-anxious heart for quite the loop. It was short but not quite sweet. It was from the folks I planned to rent a house from for this trip to Zambia. We made an agreement back in February for me to have a furnished house in the neighborhood next to the compound of our Chikondi Community Center. A team of 3, followed by a team of 7 were all fundraising and preparing to live in this house with me. The email stated that I could no longer stay there.

6 days before I left.

In a country where Craigslist doesn’t exist, my friends’ houses are all booked up, rentals are skyrocketing due to inflation, in the 3^rd most expensive city on the continent.

Why??? Why me? Why another hurdle? Why was I being “punished” for stepping out in faith and following the call God had for me? Was this a “no” or a “red flag” or any other code word for it not being God’s will anymore? Why hadn’t I seen this one coming?

Questions, lies, doubts, fears flooded my mind. I emailed tons of people and only got a few short-term solutions for myself. What about our teams? Why?!

I grew bitter, frustrated, even angry at times preparing for the trip that was supposed to be all joy. Finally I was being joined by people I love in the country I love to also witness how life-changing CiH is to its members and to us. Finally I wouldn’t have to live alone. Finally my friends and our staff would understand the context of my life and CiH. The joy quickly faded and I chose resentment. I knew God was good, but how come every step forward I make with my life here in Zambia is met with resistance and difficulty? Couldn’t it just be easy?

In that I’m met with Amy from 2 years ago, the Amy begging to be rid of the idol of comfort to see Jesus for who He is, not just what He gives. Begging to be stripped of an apathetic, easy Christianity. To be poured out by Jesus only after being completely filled by Him, no matter the circumstance.

Where did that Amy go? Why was I angry? Yes, the enemy comes to steal, kill and destroy, but God is ultimately sovereign. I know satan hates when I want Jesus and he throws things in my path. But what if God had His hand in this one too?

Ridding me of any control I had over my life here in Zambia (as little as that is), God was showing me that He’s the only One who sustains, provides, and LOVES. I can do no good apart from Him. This organization can be nothing without Him sustaining it and giving His hope to all of us.

Most importantly, rather than punishment, God has graced me to grow. To be pruned, however painful, to bloom for Him above myself. He’s not mad at me. The housing situation wasn’t out of anger. It was out of the richness of His love that He wants better for my life than my sick need for control.

One morning I get an email from a listserv here in Zambia that lists ads of things of interest to the expat community, and I got this funny feeling with this one. Like “this is it.” But still my trust couldn’t completely cover the pain in my heart. Taken by the hand of the Savior of the world, I looked at, interviewed for, and signed on for a house for short-term lease in a matter of 4 days. If that’s not a miracle in Zambia, I don’t know what is. It’s furnished. It’s in the neighborhood I wanted. It’s safe. Sure it’s more expensive, but God will provide for that too.  He has never been unfaithful to me and He won’t start now.

When we see barriers in our way when we risk for Jesus, let’s ask Jesus for His way around it, the way that makes us like Him with our roots planted firmly in the truth we know above the feelings we feel. He will never stop loving us. And our growth, though painful at times, will bring about a harvest in His name for the world. I don’t know how many difficulties it will take for me to live in Trust, in peace with that incredible promise but I pray only for the grace to keep on learning.

For me it was hopping on an airplane without a place to live to prune me of myself and trust in the sovereignty of God. What is it for you?

engaged (pt. 1)

I sense that there’s a huge, African-sized elephant in the room (or in this online world), and I want to share my personal life with y’all a bit to clear that up and let you share in all that God’s done in my relationship life.

For those of you who don’t know, this incredible man, Wyatt Bardi, got down on one knee on April 19 and asked me to marry him!!

Here he is. Handsome, hilarious, wise, humble, creative, steadfast, godly. My future husband.

But let’s rewind before we get into the details of our engagement and our future...

I started Clothed in Hope in January of 2011 after a broken heart led me deeper into the heart of Jesus. I took that leap of faith and I had to count the cost of this crazy thing I had stepped into. I knew CiH was God’s calling on my life for me to share His hope and love with the people of Zambia, but that’s the main calling I felt.

And I underestimated God’s ability to perform miracles and lavish abundant grace upon His children while I was narrowing my view of the future.

I concluded that His call on my life to Zambia meant sacrificing the one thing I had dreamt of since I pulled that plastic and pearl veil out of my dress-up box when I was 4 years old. That one thing that kept me up until 2am with my college girlfriends over a pan of brownies and Pinterest boards. Y’all can think this is crazy but I’ve always dreamt of being a wife. And I linked my “yes” to Zambia with a “no” to marriage.

I grieved the loss of that dream. But I knew deep down that I still desired a husband, a life partner, a best friend. It just couldn’t possibly happen now. It just didn’t make sense on the 5-year plan I mapped out in my mind. So I set that dream aside, I went on with my plans to leave for Zambia after I graduated, and I didn’t dare feed that desire that still burned within. If a desire isn’t reality then it must be wrong, right? Incorrect. God can plant desires within us that are good, even if they don’t come to be immediately. And I found that out last March.

For my last college spring break trip I had dreamt of going on a cruise with friends, but plans quickly changed when I was asked to be a student leader for my church’s college spring break trip to NYC. I mean, it’s NYC. How could I pass that up? And one last hoorah with the church that played such a huge role in developing and strengthening my faith in Truth and community. So I traded my bikini for a peacoat and agreed to co-lead 10 other college students through the streets and subways of New York City. Each female leader was matched with a male leader to compliment each other and provide healthy dynamics for the group, but I had just one issue. I didn’t know my co-leader.

Our first leader meeting arrived and I finally met this mysterious co-leader with mutual smiles and some corny jokes to break the ice. His name was Wyatt. A couple more leader hang outs and then we were off in a van for 16 hours to NYC with our group of 10 unique, dynamic, friendly, and fun students. Wyatt was the van DJ and I was the group mom, sharing my Sour Patch Kids and pretzels with anyone who even felt a tinge of hunger.

I knew I was to be single forever. Okay maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but I knew I was going to be single for years, so there wasn’t the usual tension of me liking Wyatt or vice versa. I was free to be his friend and his co-leader. And in that freedom I was so very encouraged. I witnessed a man lead others in life and to Jesus in a very real, honest and humble way. He protected us as we worked our way through the subway system. He led us in prayer. He checked in on my well being as his co-leader. He woke up early and stayed up late to be prepared for the day. He even walked me to my room after each long day. I saw Wyatt as a goofy guy, but as an incredible leader. And I noticed that we made an incredible team together. The more I stepped back out of my usual tendency to over-control and take charge of group activities, the more I witnessed how it should be. Wyatt stepped up and thrived in his role of leadership. He loved it and I loved getting to be on his team.

And at the end of a long day in NYC when the filter was long gone from my mind, I laid on my deflated air mattress in a hotel room with my 2 best friends and let slip out, “Guys, I think Wyatt is kinda cute.”

That’s where it all began. A fast friendship.  An encouraging, challenging, and Gospel-centered partnership as a team. Laughs till 2am. Intentional time sharing what God has done in our lives. Prayer. Oh and chatting almost all 16 hours of the van ride back after he (smoothly) changed seats to sit next to me. And best of all, discovering his shared passion for the continent that warms my soul- Africa.

I had entered the unknown. I hadn’t planned for this. I was supposed to be single. I looked for every excuse to run away out of fear of getting hurt again. I couldn’t tell him that I liked him too during our first date because I didn’t want to open the door of vulnerability. I had my plan in life and nothing was going to change that.

Little did I know that Jesus wanted to change it for our good. For His good. To create a team of two people who are better together than when they’re apart. To refine two people to be more like Himself through their differences.

On April 19, 2012, sitting in my little house in Columbia, SC after watching some good quality television (Swamp People), we decided to move forward with this relationship, walking into the biggest unknown yet. We knew I was leaving that July for an undetermined amount of time. But we also knew that if this was what God was calling us to, then this would be sustained and enriched by Him no matter the distance.

Jesus did in my life what I didn’t even think He could do. He proved His miracles are for His glory AND our good. Maybe they don’t always come in the form of a man and marriage, but in this case it did. Too many days I talk about our relationship as if it was normal but it’s everything but. Wyatt is God’s miracle in my life. My partner. My best friend. My teammate.

I knew Zambia was what God had for me but my limited scope kept me from seeing the big picture. The immeasurably more than all I could ask for or imagine. My plastic and pearl veil transforming into a real one. A love story that can only be attributed, created, and sustained by the Savior of the world. The most tangible way of experiencing His love through seeing how Wyatt loves me when I’m most undeserving. The Gospel on display. Two sinners united in grace for His glory and for their resulting joy.

I can’t wait to share with y’all all that the future holds for us. I’ll give y’all a little teaser for now and it includes three dates:

1.     Tomorrow (June 11)

2.     August 8, 2013

3.     November 9, 2013

Be on the lookout soon for part 2 but in the meantime, give God the glory He deserves in this miracle He’s performed in bringing one brokenhearted girl to a place of marriage with a man who humbly pursues the righteousness of God every single day, all by His grace and mercy. And just how much Jesus loves the two of them and you, regardless if the desires He’s planted in your soul have grown into reality just yet.