I’ve tossed back and forth quite a bit in my life about how to best remember important events in my life. I’ll be honest in saying that I am pretty bad at remembering to take pictures. Even worse, I never remember to look back at pictures even if I remembered to take them. So as I am in my last 7 weeks of my Furman career, I am battling how I will be able to imprint this experience within my soul so that even the smallest of details will not be forgotten.

I have kept a list of memorable times at Furman since freshman year. Some items on the list are big like concerts or marching band shows. Others are small like conversations or dorm room numbers. Obviously, the list is fairly lengthy at this point. And I love it. Unlike the pictures I have collected, I look at this list almost every day. I love to name the importance of these pieces in the puzzle that is my life. After all, each item on this list has contributed to making me who I am. I love to laugh at old times and smile at how connected life can be. But I am worried this list will not always be so tangible. As I head on to my next steps, I don’t want Princeton memories to overtake Furman memories. Yet, I know my memory bank has limited space.

In light of this not-so-shocking revelation, I have created a new challenge for myself. Against typical Kelly fashion, it is not a challenge that can be added to a “to-do” list or checked off of reminders. My challenge is to connect these memories through mental pictures. It sounds crazy, but follow me here. We all have memories or visuals or events we can remember at the blink of an eye. One word or sound or smell takes us right back to that original moment. And those original moments are precious. So I want to see them, too. My memory bank of these mental pictures is relatively small at this point. I can close my eyes and see my house empty as we moved from North Carolina to South Carolina in 5^th grade. I can close my eyes and see my family jamming out on the front porch on a warm summer Sunday afternoon. I’m starting to be able to close my eyes and see the breathtaking sunsets behind the Furman lake. I’m starting to be able to close my eyes and feel the tingles of overpowering sound as the Paladin Regiment performs under the stadium lights. I crave more of that.

As excited as I am to move forward into my journey at Princeton, I long for the discipline to remember where I came from and to feel the power of the experiences and relationships I’ve discovered at Furman without hesitation. So if you see me wandering around campus or sitting in a meeting or stopping in the midst of things with my eyes closed in the next 7 weeks, you can know I am simply capturing the moment in a mental picture. For life is not measured in the breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away.

I’ve thought long and hard about what to do for Lent this year. Lent has been a new concept to me since college, but I have deeply fallen in love with it. I’m always up for a challenge, a to do list, a self-improvement. And the even better part is it’s about more than that. It’s about setting your heart and mind right to prepare for a Savior we don’t deserve, but comes anyway. He comes in the good times; He comes in the difficult times; He comes in the times we are moving; and He comes in the times we are still.

The last 3 years I have written a letter every day during Lent, recognizing different people in my life for the impact they’ve made. But now that appreciating influential people has been further ingrained in my DNA, I knew this year was time for a challenge. I need something to really shake me up. This is where my “New Years resolution word”, soul-stretching, came flooding back. I’m taking this upcoming season as a chance to remind myself of why I chose this word. I would even say I didn’t choose this word; it was given to me. I was scared to say 2017 would be full of “soul-stretching” because I didn’t know what that means and it sounded hard. But life needs those challenges. We must be uncomfortable in order for us to truly listen and truly care and truly love.

It was through a dear friend that I came to my resolution about Lent 2017: Rest. Starting at a minute on March 1 and growing by a minute every day until Easter. In the midst of endings and beginnings and some in-between, I don’t want to lose sight of what I’m doing, what I’ve worked so hard for. I refuse to let life pass me by because I’m tired. I refuse to let an opportunity pass me by because I’m distracted. I refuse to let my life be anything but my best because I’m unprepared. Here’s to a season of rest in preparation for all that is to come.

I’ve found recently that I am getting credit for things I don’t deserve. The list of recent accomplishments and recognitions in my life – all of it was not me. These things simply do not happen by the work of my own hands. I had help along the way…a lot of help. While family, friends, advisors, professors, bosses, and even strangers have held me on their backs for me to get to this point, a masterpiece of this magnitude could not have happened without a Master Creator sustaining life and all things good. So while I appreciate the thought that I am some kind of superhuman, I am here to set the record straight. It’s not me, but Him.

My only role is to wake up every day and choose. That is the power we hold: choice. I open my eyes every day and recognize the potential within these few hours. I will go to class today, even if I don’t want to, because I have something to learn. There’s always something to learn. And I will go to my job at Pelham Road in an effort to serve God’s kingdom just as I am called. Even when I feel unqualified or overwhelmed, I am given the gift of teaching students about God and I will never turn that down. I will choose to work out and eat healthily (just as Wellness Class is teaching me this semester) because my life is something worth protecting. I will choose to read books in those brief moments of spare time because I don’t want to waste a single second. I will think before I act, pray before I decide, trust before I judge, and love before all else. And above all, I will wake up every single day and choose to chase after the God who makes my choice possible and valuable. Within these choices lies the power we hold.

Trust me, there are plenty of days when it is not easy to choose what is right. There are days I am tired or worn out or underappreciated. Heck, there are days I don’t even know what’s right. That’s where this comes full circle. For every time we mess up or get lazy or fall flat on our face, we have to remember it’s not us. We don’t make the earth spin at the exact rate to make a year exactly 365.25 days while maintaining an entire universe that is bigger than the human brain can comprehend. That’s not our job – thank goodness! Our job is to do the best we can because no one can ask for anything more than that. So we wake up and we choose God every day because that is the power we hold.

Words have a lot of power. So as I sat down to discern my word for 2017, I was ready for something mind-blowing. I was ready for a clear word that would define my year – the parts I know are coming and the parts I don’t. However, that is not what I found. I struggled to even guess what this year will hold (outside of graduating from college and starting seminary in a new part of the country). I read through my favorite books and articles for inspiration. I found nothing. I listened to my favorite songs and poems in hopes of something special. I found nothing. I tried to think about anything but my 2017 word (reverse psychology maybe?). I found nothing. In this process, I realized I had to go deeper. Not depth like my 2015 word, but deeper into who I am and who I am supposed to become through the course of this year. That’s where I found it: soul-stretching. Soul-stretching can come in a variety of places. Faith, friends, old places, new places, physical strength, prayer life, academics. You name it; it can grow in 2017.

And that is why I believe in New Year words. It’s not a “yes I accomplished that” or “no I didn’t.” There is no failure in words. You will grow no matter what. That should be the one and only goal for every year. It’s amazing how easily we all forget that. We forget what we’re working toward as we get caught up in schedules and due dates and accomplishments. I wish I could say that won’t happen, but I know it will. So it’s not about avoiding failure, but rather embracing how we can move forward from it, how we can share our knowledge from it with others, and how we can glorify our Heavenly Father through it. That’s a huge responsibility, but it is a responsibility we are called to chase with everything we have.

So for all of the successes and all of the failures to come, I pray that we grow in 2017. Grow together. Grow in the ways we expect and the ways we never thought possible. Grow in the ways we need and are too scared/hesitant/distracted to name that we need. In 2017, I will graduate from Furman and move to Princeton while investing in friendships, reading books, and serving the most amazing and powerful God. Here is to a soul-stretching year of adventures like these and so many more!

I’ve recently been stuck on a line from the season 9 finale of The Office. While it always gets me in the feels because I love that TV show, it’s really been hitting home for me in the process of senior year. Andy says, “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.” However, I don’t think that I’m struggling to know that this period of my life is a darn good one. I know it’s an incredible blessing to have a 24/7 sleep over with my best friends while studying what I love at one of the best liberal arts institutions this country has to offer. That is not at all in question. I do find myself struggling with the question of impact, specifically expected versus actual. I came to Furman with the challenge to leave this place better than I found it. I have always taken that to heart, pouring myself into the organizations of which I am a part and jobs I have been privileged to have. I have kept this vision with me for the duration of my 4 years, my vision for what I could contribute. Never once have I substantially questioned my contribution in my time here. Until now.

As the series of “lasts” begins (particularly with marching band ending last weekend), I am forced to evaluate the effectiveness of my vision. Did I make the changes I believed in? Did I stay the course, not falling back into a cycle of just getting by? Can I move on with the impact I have made? Should I move on with the impact I have made? Do I even have a choice? The answer is no. And that’s a hard reality with which to come to terms. So it is in this time I make a statement similar to that of Andy from The Office, with just a slight change. I wish there was a way to know the times to make a difference before you’ve actually left them. As we come to the time where leadership roles and tour times and job titles are passed on to the next generation, you have to name that your time is up. You’ve done your best; and that is all anyone can ask of you.

You will never feel like it’s enough. But I have to tell you (because I’ve been learning): it’s not about us. Whoever told us that lied. It’s not about us changing marching band trees or making EVM stickers or passing mission trip ideas or receiving any recognition of the work we’ve done. Thankfully, my devotion reminded me this week of what it is about in a time when I needed to hear it the most. It said, “we often feel that life is a failure unless we’re getting a lot out of it: recognition, fun, money, success. But Paul considered life worth nothing unless he used it for God’s work. What he put into life was far more important than what he got out. Which is more important to you?” In light of this, I have realized the period of life that I am currently experiencing. I like to call it “the time of being humbled by God.” By the way, I don’t know if there is ever a time in life that we are not in this period. Nonetheless, I am being reminded every day that I will fail; I will miss chances to make a difference; I will let down the people I am supposed to be serving; I will be overwhelmed by great opportunities. But I am being humbled by God, and that is okay.

Seminary applications were a source of stressful yet redeeming exploration for me this summer. I poured all of myself into blank word documents just to end up with a 500 word identity. However, I felt as though it is imperative to share what I discovered about this calling before I reveal what’s truly on my heart (bolded at the end if you’re truly that impatient).

A dear friend once called me to meet up for lunch. After catching up on trivial happenings, she put down her fork and looked me dead in the eyes. “What is your vow in life?” she asked. To put it simply, I wasn’t ready for that deep of a question in the middle of my university’s dining hall. I felt like I needed more time, like I should have something monumental or substantial to say in response. Before I could finish telling her that I’d need to think on my answer, words were put on my heart. My vow in life is to be an ambassador of Christ through pastoral ministry, serving God’s kingdom with all that I have and all that I am. God has kindly asked to use my weakness, my struggles, and my brokenness in order to bring the world strength, joy, and unity. I have been called to listen before I speak, ask before I declare, read before I write, observe before I act, love before I judge, and serve before I am served.

To be fair, I didn’t always know this. It may sound crazy, but I heard my call to ministry in the eighth grade. God was planning even then to shake my perspective to bless me with His. I was in a “first priority” Bible study before school. We were talking about the passage in Matthew 5:14-16. You don’t light a candle to only put it under a bowl and let it go out. You put it on a stand to brighten the whole room. In that moment, God revealed to me I was going to be that candle. He was going to put me in front of others so they could see and feel the warmth of His light. My thirteen year old self had no idea what that meant, but that did not stop God from teaching me. Within months, I found myself attending a new church plant that met in my high school auditorium. My journey started with service on the church’s worship team, continued with mentorship with one of the strongest female pastors I know, and ended with a youth group full of genuine relationship and fellowship in Christ.

From there, my passion only grew. I found a university that fostered my heart while allowing me to press into difficult questions. I found a church job as a youth pastor that encouraged my calling while pushing me to never accept less than my full potential. I found books and sermons that opened my eyes while challenging me to prayerfully consider what it is I truly believe. The vow to pursue pastoral ministry for my life is incredibly clear, but I am careful to say I know exactly what that means. If I have learned anything along the way, it is that I am called to question frequently, read endlessly, love fully, pray constantly, and serve unconditionally.

All of this brings me to present-day decisions: After 8 years of hard work, sweat, tears, and lots of prayer, I have officially accepted a Seminary Fellowship covering my full cost of tuition plus a stipend to Princeton Theological Seminary in New Jersey. I am still humbled by the tremendous opportunities placed before me in the last few months. I got to travel the country and experience God in ways I didn’t know was possible. Prayer and absolute trust in God have brought me to this fully surprising and fully delightful next step in my life and in my ministry. Most importantly, I am overwhelmed by the love and support from so many people around me. There are many days when I stumbled, doubted, and just plain failed, and I could not have made it here without that support. From all of this, I gather these truths: Give 100% of who you are to who you are called to be. Love those around you with 100% because the world cannot afford anything less. And remember that God is good 100% of the time.

As we have returned from our 14 hour journey home from Florida for a full week, I’ve decided to share a list of things I have learned after leading my first mission trip. I’m blessed to have the job that I do, full of experiences that allow me to try so many aspects of ministry. 10 students, 5 chaperones, 7 days, 60+ campers, 3 beach trips, almost 50 camper timeouts, and 9 months of planning later, here’s what I have.

1) 14 hour bus rides cause serious physical, emotional, and psychological tolls on people of every age.
2) It doesn’t matter how much energy you have when you say something, guaranteed the students will not hear you the first 3 times.
3) Flexibility is the key to every situation because it never goes as planned, whether it’s simple room assignments, a logical schedule with built in time to be late, or trampoline park groupons. It will change, and that’s okay.
4) Your bus will be filled with sand if you even look at the beach from the road.
5) Studying for the GMAT while leading 15 people in a new place does not work out well. One will be sacrificed and it will be the studying.
6) There will always be drama. It doesn’t matter how many boys or how many girls; they all will find something to be upset about with each other at some point.
7) If you explain the responsibility and value in serving others, kids can step up to the plate and truly surprise you.
8) Communion on the beach is the coolest thing ever.
9) Kids care about other kids way more than you can ever realize. And it’s a blessing to see even just a small piece of that love.
10) We all have something to learn. No matte your age, your IQ, your personality type, or your level of faith, God can teach you through both comfortable and challenging situations. The more open you are, the better chance you have of growing.

I run every morning. I have a nice playlist that keeps me going and great back-roads that encourage me to go further every day. But this morning, I ran in silence. The world is too loud for me to simply add to the noise. Hate, violence, division, injustice, misunderstanding; it’s all too loud. I normally keep to myself with opinions about social and political issues. I do this because I don’t like to start fights; I don’t always have an opinion; and typically I don’t have a solution. But as I ran in the silence this morning, God put a prayer on my heart. It seems as if I don’t have much more to offer at the moment. So despite the pain in my gut for adding to the noise, I will follow the call to share what I can offer.

ALL-loving God,

I am terrified to wake up.

Every day brings another tragedy, the next more confusing and heartbreaking than the one before.

I hurt for the families and friends of the black community being wrongfully shot and beaten by police.

I hurt for the families and friends of the police officers gunned down at a peaceful protest.

I hurt for my family and friends whose only response to this pain is passive-aggressive social media posts and light dinner conversation.

In my young, white, female, upper-middle class perspective, it is impossible for me to begin to understand.

I am not scared to be stopped by the police. I am not scared to drive my car. I am not scared to go to a convenience store. I am not scared to go to work. I am not scared to serve my community. I am not scared of being killed today.

But I am scared of sitting back to watch injustice and violence rule the world You created.

So I pray for the strength, the guidance, and the heart to make this prayer more than a prayer.

I pray that I speak up even when I do not have words, I act even when I am hesitant, and I love without exception even when I live in a world that does not.

For peace and love, safety and courage, and liberty and justice for ALL, amen.

I opened my Bible to 1 Chronicles 17. I normally hate reading the Old Testament because I find it less familiar, harder to relate to, and frankly challenging to get through. When trying to get through the Bible in a year, I am required to read the difficult passages in addition to my favorite gospels. However as I look over the top line of divinely inspired words, I can’t help but to allow my mind to wander into the calm blue waves washing against the sand right outside of my hotel window. Outside, I see Cuba’s beauty.

I take a break to close my eyes. I listen to the variety of noises seeping into my room like darkness over a sunset. Languages representing multiple nationalities find their way to my ears. Some I can understand, and others I don’t even recognize. Blenders chop and ice is tossed at the bar to satisfy the thirsts of all passing by with the green, all-inclusive wristbands. Alcohol is cheaper than water here, which allows for the plot arc of the day to proceed with constant entertainment. The sound of rolling suitcases and shuffling feet remind me that Cuba is dependent on tourism, bringing a constant shift of money inflow. I struggle to comprehend what it’s like to rely on such a transient and unpredictable industry. A juxtaposed entrance of clave, voice, and guitar distracts my train of thought. Without even looking, I know the rhythmic movements and joyful smiles that always seem to accompany the strings of notes. Through the electric variety of sounds from my towering hotel oasis, I see Cuba’s beauty.

I force myself to break from Cuba’s colorful trance and return to the black and white pages in front of me. I make it through God’s words to Nathan without much thought or insight. When I get to David’s prayer, which finishes the second half of the chapter, I am suddenly more invested. I begin to read the passion behind David’s words to the Lord. David is the hero of Israel, elected by God to rule over the country after fighting with the Philistines. Mysterious despite being so well known, David has been given the challenging task of leading a country after extreme heartbreak and forceful domination. David gives praise with overwhelming gratitude for the journey on which he and his family have suffered. David describes his low status through the lens of his newly found promotion in God. Shockingly, David is starting to remind me of Fidel Castro. Fidel is a passionate leader given the challenge of ruling over a country after extreme anguish. He was chosen not by God, but rather by his people to lead Cuba after the Revolution. From my interactions with Cubans throughout the country, Cubans seem to take pride in their equally low statuses. Fidel is raised above the rest, similarly to David, because of his vision and promise for the country. For all that David received in money, recognition, and power, he gave it all back to his people. The many state-sponsored advertisements on roadsides, glorifying museums in every city, and t-shirts on nearly every Cuban body suggest that Fidel gave back to his people in a similar fashion. Because of David’s heart and service and its surprising relation to Fidel Castro, I see Cuba’s beauty.

Reigning in my focus, I return to the powerful book in my hands. David continues in his prayer to ask for sustain of God’s promises for Israel. He wanted to be able to promise increased stability, improved quality of life, and unbreakable presence of God. Once again, I am undoubtedly reminded of Cuba. The Revolution brought seemingly unending streams of promises about anything from political redemption and economic strength to bettered education and accessible healthcare. Because of the past, neither Fidel nor David knew for sure that these visions could be carried out. Even now as Cuba is being opened back up to the United States and the embargo is being lifted, the domination of communism and socialism is under question. The struggle for identity is strikingly similar as well. Israel has experienced a constant movement of leaders and gods while Cuba has been battling imperialist rulers and exploitation since 1492. Judging by past behavior, both David and Fidel seem to be rightfully terrified of their ability to serve in the position in which they were slated. This fear does not deter either leader, however, from continuing in combat for what they believe for their country. By the relation of Cuba and Israel through struggle, enslavement, and heartbreak, I see Cuba’s beauty.

I closed my Bible and lay in my bed, allowing the cross breeze to cool the sweat on my body. I figure I have to wait until I get back to America before I read these passages again because all I can see in the text is Cuba. Amazed, it occurs to me that 1 Chronicles 17 taught me more about Cuba than any museum guide or travel book. Sometimes it is through everyday activities that we experience purpose and understanding. I never thought that David could teach me about Fidel. I certainly never expected for Cuba to relate to Israel. But it is through these revelations that I see Cuba’s beauty.

“Socialismo o muerte.” I’m trying to soak in the beauty of my first moments in Havana, Cuba, but I can’t help but catch the revolutionary statement plastered on the brick wall coming out of the airport. The Cuban Revolution was 57 years ago, but I feel as if it was yesterday by all of the blood red propaganda and glorified warrior faces staring back at me along the streets. There’s never a lack of creativity for the presentation of this state-sponsored, one-way conversation. “Segue el combate.” “La historia me absolverá – Fidel.” “Patria o muerte.” “Hasta la victoria siempre.” As one of the first Americans in Cuba since the lift of the embargo, I can’t help but wonder how this system works. The road signs and constant monuments tell me exactly what the government thinks. I crave the real Cuban opinion.

I begin to ask questions of our Cuban tour guide, Raiko, as we sat in the breezy second story of the hotel in Santiago. He’s a tall, dark, slender 28 year old who loves to play the fence between government answers and truly revealing responses. Starting easy, I ask him about his favorite parts of the country. He quickly responds, “society. This is one of the only places I know of where neighbors truly help neighbors.” Nodding in agreement, I continue the inquiry. “What’s your least favorite part? Do the young people want more than Cuba can offer? Do you feel like Cuban citizens can truly have opinions independent of the government? Can you tell me about the CDR (Community for Defense of the Revolution)?” We had grown close enough that I could ask all of the tough questions, and I was more than happy to press in. He was very frank in return. Raiko told me about the CDR representatives that live in every housing complex in the country, how they evaluate every resident’s ideology, and how their reference is required when applying to any job. He expressed his frustrations with the education system as students are not invested because it is free of charge and all resulting salaries are the same regardless of performance. I noticed throughout his answers he seemed to pause a bit before responding to the next question, weighing the consequences behind his dark eyes. Sometimes he would even put air quotes around what he would say, implying the government would make him say that but he doesn’t necessarily always agree. By the end, I discovered that the current millennials represent the first materialist generation Cuban has ever seen. The young people want more, and it is creating a bit of panic as the government discerns how to react. Raiko finished by saying, “Socialism has good things and bad things, and capitalism has good things and bad things. I think we all need to find the middle.” We continued to sit together, playing dominoes and casually sipping rum, letting the conversation of immense difference and some slight frustration soak in.

It was through my Havana host mom, Myrna, that I caught more of the commercialist vibe of the young people in Cuba. She loved to catch me after meals as I brought my dishes into the kitchen. In asking about my day, she always added her snippets about her thoughts on our events. As a retired professor in her mid 50s caring for her 76 year old mother and 18 year old son, Myrna typically provided old and new perspectives on places and activities without solely landing on one specific opinion. As she folded my laundry, she picked up a pair of Nike shorts, saying, “all the young kids want these here,” in broken English. She described how the younger generation in Cuba is starting to want more than Cuba can currently provide. Spanish passports only allow Cuban citizens to travel to certain countries. Consequently, some Cubans travel to Ecuador with their Spanish passports and walk to the United States to buy material goods, coming back to Cuba and selling them illegally for almost 10 times the price. She explains, “I don’t understand it, but the young people just want more.” As I left the kitchen, Myrna’s words left me questioning whether the Cuban government will pull the rug out from underneath the young citizens or if the millennials have enough power to change the system.

Across the country West to East, from Havana to Playa Giron then Santiago to Santa Clara, the propaganda expanded. The agrarian presence intensified as the material availability lessened. With less chance to speak to natives in the area, the environment had to speak for itself. Increase of broken cardboard doors instead of iron fences, decrease in cars over horse drawn carriages, and increase in bare bodies rather than fully-clothed screamed for attention from me as a tourist and from the government as the controlling body. From my air-conditioned safe haven of a bus, I can’t imagine a life without the basic necessities. The blurred faces passing by suggested that the limited opinion Cubans are allotted to have doesn’t really reflect the true hearts of the people. I tried to imagine driving a tour bus of Cubans through American streets. What would they see? What questions would they ask to understand or defame our way of life? Recognizing the flaws in America’s heartless capitalism, I feel myself aligning more with Raiko than I believed I would. Both countries have heart-wrenching poverty, significant government presence, and severe problems in the educational systems that inspire the growth of the nation as a whole. There is little indication of the direction of these problems in the coming future, whether they will finally subside or only growth with continuing governmental conflicts. There is no telling where either country will end up within the next year. As I drift to sleep on the bus, seeing the blood red “socialismo o muerte” just before my eyes shut, my only thought is: what a difference 90 miles makes.