Marriage: Leaving The Buts Out Of It.

I'm watching him play ping pong with the guys, laughing and complimenting, counting in German and beating most of them.
I try not to brag about my Husband too much because I know all the girls will get jealous, but it cant be helped anymore. We work together and I get to watch him every day, all day. We get to stare at each other from across the room, it's so fun to catch his eye and share a smile. This man is the only man I've dated. The only man I've kissed. He started to open doors for me when we were friends and continues to this day. Sometimes it means I stand beside the car door waiting, but it's always worth the wait. There have been a few times when I've seen a man walk into a room and my initial thought is-"he's attractive" only to realize that "he" is all mine! Sometimes he gets me giggling so hard that I can't stop. Other times we banter back and forth and surprise each other with how clever we are! I can  identify his walk and his deep, loud laugh can be heard anywhere in the house. He has on occasion cleaned the bathroom, and just today finished the laundry! I love being in love. I miss him when he's gone, even if it's just for a few hours.
We've only been married for two and a half years. We are rookies at this strange dance and have no idea what we're doing most of the time. Marriage is hard. Fabulously hard.
I wish someone would have told me that before we were married. Sure I got lots of -Marriage is hard, BUT it's the most exciting and wonderful thing you'll ever do!
And predictions- Your first year will be hard, BUT it keeps getting better after that!

Can we leave the buts out of it for a moment please? Marriage is hard. It's excruciating and vulnerable. I've never felt more pain. More shame and more stress. I've never stayed awake sobbing quietly so often before, argued so frequently, gone to sleep angry so much (that's right, we occasionally let the sun go down on our wrath, I told you we were rookies), been so deeply hurt before or so angry at one person this often.
I have friends who tell me they've never argued with their husband before, and hey, that's great, I'm
happy for them, that's not us. And that's not the norm. But I'm sorry to say that's really what I was expecting when we pledged our lives to each other, that we would be different, unique, set apart as a holy, beautiful union. When we had our first real fight and Jordan stormed out of the house while my hands were deep in dish water, I cried and told God that this isn't what I had signed up for.
Our next fight I was the one to slam the door and wandered down the train tracks, angry and confused. 'God, what is this?' I asked.

Since then I've come up with a few realizations.

This is learning that marriage was not meant to make me happy. It was meant to make both Jordan and I holy. Think about that for a minute. That goes against everything that the world tells us.
This is looking into the eyes of my husband and seeing who I really am. I can't hide from Jordan. He truly SEES me. He loves me in spite of me.
This is knowing without a shadow of a doubt that we will fight and cry and say things we shouldn't to each other and even leave for an hour, but every night, there he is beside me, in spite of it all. That is commitment.
This is having someone who will witness my life. There are billions of people in this world, which of them really care about how my day went and what my dreams are? Jordan does. And I care about his.
This is clinging to Jesus more than I ever have. I run to Him more often and need His direction when I'm falling apart. The more I realize how much Jordan and I let each other down, the more I realize that God never has, and never will.

We spent five silent days together in the spring. I was so mad I didn't want to touch him. It was the same fight that made me walk the tracks a year and a half before. I still made his meals. He still held the car door open for me. Ice palace. In the early morning of the last day I couldn't sleep so I tried to quietly slip out of bed. Jordan sat up, grabbed me and held me. "I just miss you" he whispered. The next morning I cautiously asked him if he remembered saying that and he looked up clueless. We
started to giggle and immediately the ice was broken.

We fight. We argue. He doesn't always bring roses home and I'm not always waiting at the door with a dress on and lipstick, puckering up. Actually...that's never happened...
Sex isn't like Hollywood portrays. Kissing isn't always a magical moment.

Marriage is filled with normal days, hard days and wonderful days. With all of those moments in between. If this was all that there was to live for in life, I would be completely depressed. It's truly not enough. That's why Jesus has to be number one, for both of you. I'm learning that Jesus is all that there is to life, and slowly everything else is starting to make sense. It all matters. Every argument, every giggle, every tear. It's all making us holy.

I am so excited to grow in this love that feels (and is) so new. I'm thrilled that Jordan is the man who witnesses my life, who sees all of me, and who points me to Jesus every single day, whether he knows it or not.
So let's leave the buts out if it and embrace all that marriage is. I love telling newly dating girls and engaged girls that- Marriage is hard! And it's ok. It's all ok, but it will get better (That was a little joke).

I'm Supposd To Be Miserable?

I have been pondering what to write for my first blog in Germany. I want to write before all of these experiences mold together and I forget specifics. As an International Worker going to Germany, we had to raise the money we needed to work and live here and with that comes many, many wonderful people who have donated so that we can be here! I grew up in a Christian community and therefore have a few ideas of what an international worker's life should be.
#1- They have to suffer. Probably be very sick for a long period of time and miserable for the rest. After all, they are doing the Lord's work.
The problem is, I'm struggling to find things to be miserable about.

I walk into the living room and one young man is trying out Kung Fu on another. I sit in the hall monitoring the first study hour and a young man sits beside me on the floor to read his mystery novel, then an hour later pulls out a plastic gun that he had in his pocket the whole time, just because. When the book is later lost, he becomes Sherlock Holmes and retraces his steps. I am living in the most gorgeous little village I've ever seen, with the church bells bringing in every half hour and the green hills enveloping the dorm. Ping pong is happening all the time. We move into our apartment on the third floor of a house that is 150 years old and I get to name the rats that are making their (I'm sure) lovely house in the wall beside our bed (Tarzan and Jane by the way). I'm driving three seniors up the hill and we sing Michael Buble as loud as we can. The first day Jordan and I are asked by a Freshman if we are siblings and Jordan grabs me and kisses me, the poor guy stares in shock then relaxes when we tell him we're married. I learn to drive a 9 passenger van through narrow streets that were built around houses and trees. France is an afternoon trip for school supplies. I make cappuccino cookies. I last about 3 minutes in the gym playing dodge ball with 26 men, then run screaming for cover. Laundry is now work...what? It used to be something I did for fun. We marvel at being a part of a community, finally.

For those who think that International Workers do indeed need to suffer all the time to make an impact, I could comfort you with things that we have gone through as well. My dear Uncle Lauren passed away when we had been here a week. It's hard to mourn around people I have just met, while being in the town my Uncle grew up in. He was so much a part of why we came here and I see him everywhere I look. He was the fourth family member to die in a little over a year and heaven is looking sweeter now then it ever did. And I can't help but hear his laugh if I told him my fear that people will think we're not being useful if we're having a good time, he would laugh and then ask if I've been eating enough chocolate, and have I started liking coffee yet? I ought to start liking coffee.
Loss happens even in the most beautiful of havens.

These 23 young men are why I'm here and here happens to be in the middle of God's beauty and grace. I've come home.

Dear Miss Smith,

You had me in your classroom for one year. All I remember you teaching me was that I was stupid.

You called me 'The Daydreamer" and would stop class to pointedly ask me sarcastically if I was daydreaming again.
I was a little girl. I believed in dragons and fairies and Aslan. I believed the whole earth and everything in it was alive. I would whisper to rocks and leaves as I passed by.
I was a little girl and I was a daydreamer. I could travel to other worlds from that classroom desk and to other places in this world. I made up the most fantastic stories. I loved to escape you, the fear of you.
I was a little girl and I was discovering love for the first time. My very first crush. I would sneak glances at him across the room, willing him to notice me.
I was a little girl and I was vulnerable. I knew you knew what you were talking about and I must be stupid. I have a very vivid, terrible memory when I suddenly realised just how stupid I must be. You were looming over me as you made me count my folders. I was so nervous with you standing there that I counted nine when there was ten.
"You can't even count to ten?" you asked, exasperated with me. I cowered and didn't respond.
My heart screamed in protest. "Yes I can!" I yelled inside. "I am good at counting. I can also write stories better than anyone else in this room if you gave me the chance, if you encouraged me. But I am being taught to mute my imagination."
Creativity is not as important as sitting still and paying attention, being a good girl and answering the question right. You taught me that.

Do you remember dumping me on to another adult for a 'special reading class'? I was special enough to leave the others and go with him to a small office. I remember those times of freedom from the fear you instilled in me. He was kind and funny and under his tutelage I learned. But then I would be sent back into your classroom and once again into silence.

I am shaking as I type this. I am not writing this letter for you. This is for me. I need to leave these things on the page. I need to tell myself that you were wrong. I am not stupid.

I had many amazing teachers growing up, but your voice is the loudest. It is you I hear late at night. You I hear as I write. You I hear when I'm struggling to speak and can't get the words out. What you instilled in me has affected every area of my life, my marriage, my faith. By teaching me it was wrong to use my imagination, you taught me that I was wrong, that I was made wrong.

You were wrong Miss Smith.

I am a woman and I am a creator.
I am a woman and will no longer be afraid to create.
I am a woman and I will no longer be afraid to speak.
I am a woman with presence.
I am a daughter of the King who made me.

And I will no longer let you into my head. I forgive you Miss Smith. For both of our sakes.

The Proud Daydreamer

I'm Here

Sometimes I think late at night. Or early in the morning. When I was younger and Dad knew I inherited his insomnia, he would tell me to remember that if I was awake, he was awake and God was awake too. It was like a party.
So when my Husband is doing that deep breathing thing, I'm actually having a party with God.

It's times like these when I realise I let God become a stranger today. I didn't tell God that I'm here on July 27th. For the past busy month I've been saying "I'm here." to God. Then I realise that I'm here, and He's here, and we're here together, doing whatever I'm doing, together.

I'm here, with Him when I'm singing next to my guitar playing Husband at a youth camp.
I'm here, with Him when we're living at a dairy farm for a week and there's a scary doll downstairs that is stopping me from retrieving the frozen chicken.
I'm here, with Him with I'm listening to my husband vomit for the 6th time that day.
I'm here, with Him when I'm driving my Husband to the hospital where they inject him with 4 litres of fluid.
I'm here, with Him when our trip home is delayed for three days.
I'm here, with Him when His unexplainable peace seeps through my tortured thoughts of cancer and all things evil.
I'm here, with Him when we arrive in Three Hills with essays to write and thank you cards to mail and people to see and a life to pack and health to figure out.
I'm here, with Him when we get the call that it was food poisoning, and he'll be fine.
I'm here, with Him when my Husband is breathing deep and it's morning but I'm awake. Having a party.

This post might not be too profound, I am sleep deprived after all. This is my life, the mundane life of Rachael Culp world traveller extraordinaire (I tried to make things mundane Rebecka Boys, but then I go and throw words like extraordinaire in the mix and I fail miserably).

I am surrounded by all of my earthly possessions that are packed up and against walls. We are leaving in a week and a half and I may never see them again, but I could care less! Are you trapped by your possessions?
God is here with me, and I am with Him. God is there in Germany too and will be going there with me, and I with Him. Never one without the other. What a beautiful-far-from-mundane-crazy-truth- reality that is!
My prayer reader, is that YOU are able to practise this small Spiritual Discipline of being here with God, wherever, whenever. Now go have a party!

Constant Eyes

My first trip to the Dominican Republic was when I was 17 years old. We went as a family with Compassion International to see for ourselves what they were doing around the world and how we could be ambassadors. 
The last few days were spent at the resort to rest and process all that we had seen. We were with another family who has a daughter my age. She is very adventurous and I am...not. But I aspire to be! So when she asked me if I wanted to go scuba diving with her of course I said a faltering yes. We signed up with two others in her family and we were trained by an instructor in the pool. The next day we woke up way too early and geared up in some sexy suits to meet Sebastian and Flounder.

The boat stopped in the middle of the ocean and a rope was dropped down into the water. We jumped in and went one by one down the rope with the instructor. When it was my turn I grabbed the rope and went under, but the instructor and I had barely descended when what I was doing suddenly hit me. If you have read some of my earlier posts about fear you know the kind of person I am and how utterly out of character scuba diving is for me. I started to panic and race towards the surface but the instructor grabbed my shoulders. He motioned for me to look into his eyes and all I saw was calm inside of them. My fears immediately abated and I gave him the OK sign. We descended and I was not prepared for the beauty that met me. The ocean floor is another world. We know less about the ocean then we do about space (Just a little trivia there for you). I was blown away by the colours I had never seen and the creatures swimming around me. It was incredible. 
It ended too soon and I came back to my family shouting "I SCUBA DIVE!" ('What About Bob' anyone?) 

To think what I would have missed out on had I given my fear a foothold. 

When I look back at this year and all that changed, I can't help but think of God as that instructor. We are in transition right now and until a few days ago didn't know where we were going to be in the coming months. I was certain that we wouldn't be able to raise $31000 in 2 weeks, but thank God that He doesn't agree with our certainties. 
My God is incredible. While my whole world has been caving in around me, He has grabbed my shoulders and motioned for me to look into His constant eyes. 

Nothing about our current situation troubles Him, though suffering will come, He has promised to never leave us or forsake us. That's enough for this learning girl right now. I pray it is enough for you as well, and that in the midst of whatever you are facing, you will never lose sight of His eyes. 

 

International Workers

      

We were sitting in a cafe in Caledonia sipping tea and trying to get some work done when the call came. For two days we had been on pins and needles waiting for this call, feeling discouraged and letting our minds wander to 'what if?' What if we had this all wrong and it isn't God's will that we go to Germany? This has been a crazy year, we are very tired and have been through many transitions (Trochu-Three Hills-Belleville ON-Hamilton ON-Caledonia ON-Belleville ON-Toronto-Caledonia etc.), but the wonderful thing is that God is always constant! He has wonderful plans for us and for you, plans you cannot even fathom right now. 

So as we sat in that Cafe trying to take deep breathes, and trust that God is Sovereign, our contact from the C&MA in Calgary called and told us these wonderful words- 

"You have been given the go ahead and are now fully licensed as International Workers with the C&MA!"

Relief, tears, more relief, smiles, jumping up and down, thank you's and a lot of hugging proceeded. A man came up to us after and said- "Excuse me, you two are just exuding some crazy energy and I'm wondering what is making you so happy?" So we laughed and exuded some more as we told him. 

A picture of Kandern Germany where the school is

We are both feeling overwhelmed with joy at this point and are now getting down to fundraising! Check out our website for more information! www.jandrculp.ca. 

A Piece of His Puzzle

It's the movie "Les Miserables". It's the story I know so well. I have seen it live, I have read the book, and watched two versions of the movie before I watch this one.
My husband and I sit in his parents house watching the new version late into the night. Have you seen it? Have you truly seen it?

Have you seen the young, sweet girl, forced into prostitution because of desperation to save her daughter? I saw it. Hollywood doesn't miss much.

I will be the first to admit that I am desensitised to much. I see blood on screen, it's normal. I see sex, I close my eyes or fast forward, as is proper. I see war and am not shocked. This life of living with movies.
So I know that when I am shocked, when I am appalled and the tears come, that Jesus is showing me a glimpse of his heart.
I couldn't sleep after the movie so I prayed. I asked God why. Why has sex become a nightmare in most of the world? For millions of women?
Why are the innocents suffering?

It's the book called "Girl Soldier" about a young girl in Uganda that is stolen along with a hundred other girls to be "wives" to the officers in the "Lord's Resistance Army." It is her words of praise to God for delivering her, for being her comfort and help during that time.

 

“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame."

-Isaiah 58:9-11

 

 



These are the things I am filling my mind with on our trip to the East. If this Bible passage is true, if He will truly guide us always and strengthen us and satisfy us if we love the oppressed, then why would anyone who follows Jesus not do what they can? If we step out in faith, He will take care of us and guide us.
There is suffering all around us, you don't have to go to Uganda, or the streets of London to find those whom Jesus loves. They are right there with you.

We are going to Germany (Lord Willing) in August to live with a dorm full of boys. At first I asked God why He would send me to boys when He knows my heart is with discipling young women. But as I read books like "Girl Soldier" and watch movies like "Les Mis" the question becomes, who will teach my sons how to honour my daughters?

 

And my answer becomes, I will. I will go, if it be your will.



I will become a piece of your puzzle to bring Your love to the world! For You are all that matters.

Shout for joy, you heavens; rejoice, you earth; burst into song, you mountains! For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.

-Isaiah 49:13

Jumping

I am packing again. I pack, Jordan hauls. It's a perfect strategy!
These past few months we have been living with friends who have gifted us with their basement suite! What a massive blessing.
Now we are getting ready to say goodbye to them and so many others in Three Hills whom we love. Our car is going to be loaded down with 3 guitars, loads of scrap booking materials, a box of books and all of my clothes (still unsure how that is going to happen) and we are driving the 40 hours to Belleville Ontario!
It's a good thing we like being together.

God is teaching us how to jump off a cliff and trust Him to land us. Do I hear an amen? Nothing new...just walking with Jesus.

This past year we have been taking steps towards living in Germany. A place we believe He has called us to. Black Forest Academy is a boarding school for Missionary kids (Here is the link if you're interested in more info! http://bfacademy.com/).

Last April I was reading a book called "Too Small to Ignore" by Wes Stafford, the then President of Compassion International. He was a missionary kid in Africa and was sent to boarding school far away from his parents. Atrocious things went on in that school in the name of Christ. The kids were abused and sexually violated. I read aloud to Jordan some of the worst parts and broke down weeping, too overcome to continue.
God started to speak to our hearts. I remember thinking, "God, may we be people who protect and love children, show us how to bring hope to kids like these. "

Black Forest Academy started to enter our life. It happened randomly, again, and again, and again. Jordan was in a wedding and a bridesmaid was from Germany, so I asked her where, she told me "Have you heard of BFA? I live in that town." I remember going cold and hot all over.

A friend started to tell me of her journey as a missionary kid and without knowing we were thinking of BFA, told me how much impact the Dorm Parents make in the life of a student. She said they are the difference between a good and bad school year.
I could almost hear God saying "Is that enough, or should I give you more hints?"

We sat beside each other on the couch last summer, filling out the application to be RA's in a dorm at BFA, counted down and hit the send button's. Then we stared open eyed at each other, wondering what this would mean.

It would mean leaving Trochu. It would mean not knowing where we were going to live next. It would mean months of wondering and panicking and doubting and being flexible (I'm not so good at that). It would mean praying, long and hard. It would mean the image of the white picket fence in suburbia would be demolished and the 150 year old dorm of high school boys in the mountains of Germany erected.
Whoa.

God knows the plans He has for us.

Over the next four months we will be fund raising. I like to call it humble raising. We have a very short time to find the money we will need to get to Germany. For some, 1 year is not enough to fund raise. Others, 6 months is not enough. For us, we are trusting God to bring in the needed funds in 2 weeks.
That's all we have. If we are on that plane to Germany in August, it will only be by the hand of God.


"For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and who says to you, "Do not fear, I will help you." Isaiah 41:13


Right now we are placing one foot in front of the other and going down the path we believe God has put us on. Please, please pray for us and if God has placed it on your heart to help us financially, contact us by facebook or email- jordanlovesrachael@gmail.com.

I'll keep you all updated on this crazy adventure!