Community

I joked to a few friends before leaving cincinnati, that this was my big "going away to college" life experience.  We've all seen the coming of age stories, or experienced them ourselves, where we grow up, move out, get random roommates, and have to make all new friends.  Some of you experienced that first hand.  I went not even a full hour away, roomed with one of my best friends, and didn't really do all that well in making new friends.  I made a few.  But I also learned how, at my core, I am an introvert and not very good at making social plans, which are often necessary for friendships.
Then I made the "big move" to Virginia after college; to work with some of my closest friends and live with my best friend.  Not exactly a stretching experience, community wise.  In fact, that was one of the hardest parts about leaving Virginia.  I had such built-in community that I knew it could never be replicated.  It was like a cruise ship where there's something every night, you merely need to decide if you will be in attendance.
Then back to Cincinnati, where I lived with and around my best friends and family.  Community was no Virginia, but it was wonderful and handed to me on a silver platter. (known as a small group I was annexed into and WCC leadership)  So when I first thought about coming out to Oregon, I was hesitant.  I can be a bit awkward and shy.  Some of you are confused and would say no no, not the case.  Others are glad that I am aware because they thought eventually they would have to have a conversation with me.
And so, three weeks ago, I was plopped into a built-in community of sorts.  You see, incase you didn't know, all of staff lives on property.  We all live in a little community of condos.  So, if you want to go to dinner, chances are it's just a few condos down.  And yet, when my roommate (aka social coordinator) was out of town for two days, I stayed in.  I haven't mastered the art of reaching out.  And if we're being honest, I'm completely okay with my own company, but I know that eight months is a long time, and community is a must.  It's not that I'm afraid or nervous, but that I'm perfectly content on my own.  But I know that with community comes growth.  We were designed to walk this together; as Chuck said this past sunday, as a tribe.
My big life adventure is definitely pushing me to grow, and ultimately that's exciting.  While it isn't always comfortable, I know that it is best.  Because Jesus takes us to places of new growth for our good, not for our comfort.  So be proud, any second now, the lady interns will be stopping by for a good 'ole fashioned ladies night.  And all that said, I give you free reign to call me out and challenge me.  Ask me if I've been faithful to stepping out of my comfort zone, and even out of what I feel like I need, because that's the joy of community with you.  You'll push me to grow, even if you are one of the many that finds themselves 2,500 miles away.

Antelope, Oregon

Incase you haven't heard, I moved to Oregon.  Two weeks ago today, I arrived at Washington Family Ranch.  My mom left the next day and I hit the ground running.  (Literally. I started work the next day.)  Life here at the ranch is wonderful.  I am overwhelmed by how wonderful, actually.  One might think the transition across the country, especially for a home body like me, would take some more time. But I know that the Lord has given me exactly what I've been asking for, and there is peace in that.

You see, the past four and a half years have been heartbreakingly brutal at times; the rest of the time, just plain brutal.  There was little stability outside of God and family.  Jobs, homes; these were fairly fluid and transient through this time.  So I waited, with frustration most of the time, for God to step in and make his plans clear.  There's no way you've spent any time on this blog...ever.. and not noticed that I have been asking and begging for him to shout out plans for our adventure.  He never did.  Even these plans for Oregon.  It's as if I was playing a marco/polo game without knowing it.  I would try to move one way, and his voice came from somewhere else.  So I'd do something else, and his voice came from somewhere else.  When I was almost positive I had finally gotten it right, his voice came from somewhere else.  And all signs pointed to Oregon.

So I packed my bags, loaded my stuff (and my mom) in the car, and drove across these great states to find the adventure and peace I had begged the Lord for for so many years.  I was terrified with his answer; don't get me wrong.  I wasn't running full speed here.  There was definitely a fair share of feet dragging.  I have wonderful friends that live in Cincinnati.  When I say wonderful, I am not putting that mildly.  And they came out of the woodwork to go over the top in my last month there.  And my family.  Well, if you know me at all, you know my heart for those four people. (not to mention the like 20 others that all resided within almost 20 minutes of me.) Making the move was not a comfortable decision, but gosh was it easy.

Because I don't pray for open doors.  Do you know how many could open at once?  And how ambiguous that would be? We are a family of indecisive people, so I have always craved decisiveness.  I wanted the Lord to make the decision and be very clear with what he wants.  So I pray for closed doors.  What he doesn't want for me, cut off the option.  Fill the posting with someone else, marry him off to another girl, do what you will, but close the door if it's not your will.  That's what I ask.  And while it is a painful undertaking, because he is more than willing to answer our prayers, it is so good when something is left open.  When my "last resort" is available.  When that same "last resort" calls with a job offer.  He was decisive.  And he had heard my cry for adventure, for joy in my job, for a sense of mission, for community, for grandeur.

If you're still with me, let me leave you with this: The Lord is faithful.  When I look at the things that I wanted, the doors that closed, I am grateful.  Because I was looking for satisfaction and identity in those things.  He knew all too well how miserable they would make me.  But in the midst of the sludge that was these past four and a half years, all I could seem to pray for was him to make himself known.  And when you are broken for an extended period of time, he is all there is.  He is the only place to find satisfaction, literally.  He is the only source of identity, truly.  There are no facades to hide behind in brokenness.  And he wept with me in that brokenness.  But he also wept while knowing how that brokenness would change me.  How it would allow him to mold and shape me differently so that I will stop chasing the things that don't matter.  So that I'm not chasing adventure for adventure's sake, but because life with the Lord is adventure.  Whether that's at the ranch or in a city.  So that I'm not chasing satisfaction in a job, but in him.  And being with him and serving him is satisfying.  Not because people like my cooking (although I am sinful and my pride is wounded when they don't) but because I know that the gospel is preached through that kitchen.

All that to say, Oregon is good.  The Lord is good.  Lean in to him.  He does not guarantee us safety or comfort, but dangit, he is good. Since I've got no good closer for you, I'll let CS Lewis do it with one of my favorite lines from Narnia.

"Safe?" Said Mr. Beaver, "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe.  But he's good.  He's the King, I tell you."


And just incase you're so inclined:
Amanda Stegman
1 Muddy Road
Antelope, Oregon 97001