From Helsinki to Home

June 28, 2016July 3, 2016 / Natalie Hunter / 10 Comments

I slowly smile as I look through the ferry windows and into the Helsinki harbor. I never expected to be in Finland, but then again, that’s kind of the theme of this trip. It’s hard to believe that tomorrow morning I’ll be on a plane to Los Angeles. I feel like this journey just started, yet at the same time, I feel completely ready to go home.

Rachel left us a few weeks ago, and since then, Katy and I have had some amazing adventures. We spent a week in Paris where we wandered the beautiful streets…

Visited with my college roomie, Renee…

Gained some culture…

Watched the opening game of the 2016 Euro’s (that’s soccer for all you Americans out there) from the Eiffel Tower Fan Zone…

And after many years, caught up with my old Annapolis friends Lisa and Elle Wells!

After France, we made our way to Berlin, Germany, where we took in the sites…

And studied the history.

After that, we headed to Tallinn, Estonia – one of my last stops on this journey. Coming to the end of this adventure made me contemplate the beginning, when I was so uncertain about the future and the world was yet to be explored.

Before I left on this Great Enlivening, I stood in the living room of my home in Virginia and prayed for the season ahead. I asked God to bless Rachel and I, to show us what steps to take, and to help us navigate the uncertainties ahead. When I finished my prayer I turned around and noticed one of Rachel’s signs in the living room that I’d never paid attention to before. It said “It all starts and ends with family.”

And that’s exactly how the journey began – with a month-long road trip to visit family and friends. And as poetically as only God can orchestrate, that’s how it ended.

After Berlin, Katy and I travelled to Estonia to see my cousin, Eve, graduate from her Masters in Cyber Security program.

My sister, Katie, Eve and I grew up together in Salisbury, MD. Katie and I like to joke that Eve is “our” little sis. We all had dinner together on Sundays, went to the same high school, and played for the same volleyball team. So it seemed fitting that I would spend my last few days on this Great Enlivening with Eve. Since nine months ago, I started this journey with my sister, Katie.

The differences between life today and life then seem unreal. When I started this trip, I was a ship adrift. I was lost in a sea of uncertainty, insecurity and broken heartedness.

Looking back on that season, all I desired was to be the strong, brave and confident woman who God created me to be. But just wishing to be different doesn’t make you different. So even though I didn’t feel ready, I jumped into this Great Enlivening anyway.

Lots of people were skeptical about this journey. Some were incredibly supportive. And others were outright against it. And I don’t blame the naysayers one bit. We live in a world and a country that values ‘the plan.’ And when you’re a smart and successful 31-year-old, it doesn’t make sense to trade in your life for a backpack and a one-way ticket. But sometimes, getting lost in this world is the best way to find out where you’re supposed to be.

So that’s what I did. I pushed past the boundaries of my comfort zone and experienced the world. Luckily, God gave me two amazing women to travel with. And we all laughed, cried and grew together. It’s safe to say that I am forever changed for the better by this experience. Now, instead of wishing to be stronger, braver and more confident – I am those things.

So to answer the popular question – what’s your ‘plan’ now? The truth is, that I don’t know. I spent a lot of my life making plans, some that came true and some that never will. And what the next season of my life looks like is trust, not blueprints. Trusting that God will lead me to the people I need to meet, the places I need to go and the future I’m supposed to embrace.

Sure, I have ideas about the next steps, and I have hopes and dreams for the future. But right now, what I have is a lighter heart, an emptier bank account and a shorter bucket list. Oh yeah, and a one-way ticket to California, where I get to see my amazing family who I’ve missed so much.

I may not have the next three years mapped out, but this Great Enlivening has shown me that that’s not what I need. Up until now, I spent the majority of my life striving to be everything I aspired to be and have everything I thought would make me happy. I achieved a lot, but at the end of the day I still wasn’t fulfilled. It wasn’t until I packed up and left it all behind that I found out what this life is all about.

So what does this mean for The Great Enlivening?

Katy continues to travel and will post about her amazing adventures.

Rachel is busy reconnecting with her niece and nephews in Louisiana…

But for me, it’s the end of this season. It’s time for a new adventure. I don’t know what it will look like or where it will take me, but I have no doubt that it will be more beautiful than I can imagine.

So thank you to everyone who read this blog, who wrote to us, who prayed for us and who supported our journey!

If you’d like to stay in touch (and I hope you do!), you can follow me on Instagram @nataliesactthree

-Natalie Hunter, signing off 🙂

The End is Really Just The Beginning

June 16, 2016 / Rachel Sherburne / 26 Comments

On a trip of firsts, this is my first time flying across an ocean solo. And while I feel a twinge of sadness leaving Natalie and Katy in Europe, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is calling me home.

The flight map displayed on the screen in front of me shows a long green line from Istanbul, Turkey to Atlanta.

I left Spain last night and flew from Rota to Barcelona landing just after midnight. My plan was to sleep in the airport and thanks to a yoga mat, neck pillow and a sleep sheet, it was a pretty impressive make-shift bed (if I say so myself), though still not really comfortable.

I donned my trusty eye mask and earplugs hoping for some good shut eye, but a few hours later I awoke to the sound of voices nearby. At 3:37 a.m. people were already lined up to check in for the 6 a.m. flight from Barcelona to Istanbul.

Despite my casual approach to travel these days, there are many others who clearly take the “arrive two hours prior to an international flight” advice seriously.

Four hours later I was in Turkey. And nearly four hours after that I boarded this flight back to the States. Staring at the world map, it’s hard to comprehend that only a year ago visiting far off places like South America, Australia and Asia seemed like a dream. And now, in just seven months I’ve completely circumnavigated the globe.

Of course, it didn’t happen overnight or effortlessly. It took months of hard work, research, planning and organizing to deconstruct the life I had built in Virginia and handle all of my physical stuff before Natalie and I embarked across the country for a three-month stint in Mexico. We started writing and called our blog, “The Great Enlivening,” because we hoped and believed our journey, wherever it led us, would be just that.

With nothing but a one-way ticket to Buenos Aires, Argentina, a backpack and a two-night hostel reservation, we left America on February 6, 2016, not knowing what exactly this adventure would look like, but confident we were supposed to be on it.

Since then, I’ve visited 15 countries and traveled thousands of miles by dozens of flights, taxi rides, buses, trains and two rental cars. I’ve stayed in countless hostels and hotels and converted currency more times than I care to remember. I’ve gathered an impressive collection of passport stamps, contracted two parasites and improved my language skills as I immersed myself in unique cultures around the world.

I’ve climbed mountains like Machu Picchu…

Gone scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef…

Enjoyed exquisite food…

A LOT of food…

Practiced yoga like never before…

Served others…

Laughed…

Cried…

Met amazing people from around the world…

Visited with long time friends…

And traveled with two incredible women with whom I not only shared these experiences, but also my heart.

It’s taken me a long time to get here. But I don’t mean 35,000 feet over Port-Cartier, Canada, where I currently am. I mean here.

For the first few months of the trip, I spent a good amount of time looking back at my life. There were unanswered questions I was still wrestling with. Why did my marriage end? What could I or should have I done differently? Where was God’s will in all of this, and how did mine line up with His?

Through lots of prayer, journaling, and hours of heart-to-heart conversations with Natalie, I gained clarity. Sometimes God gave me a fresh perspective and the ability to see things through His eyes. Other times, He encouraged me to consider different questions all together. And on a few occasions I felt Him asking me to let go and accept that there were some questions I might never have concrete answers for (at least on this side of Heaven) and that it was okay. That I would be okay.

During this time, He also brought to my attention several hidden wounds in my heart I didn’t even know were there. God walked me through those too, helping me to heal, grow stronger and open myself up to the possibility of loving again.

Through a completely divine appointment, He even sent a special person to guide me through this process. To this amazing man (you know who you are), thank you for being so genuine and caring with my tender heart. You’ve reminded me that marvelous men exist, that an open heart is a wonderful thing, and that the right man will want to fight for, cherish and protect it.

But during this season, despite some romance, God made it clear that it wasn’t time to be looking for a husband.

It was time to explore the world around me, to “see beyond” what I could see with my eyes. Sometimes it was rethinking my philosophy on life and the expectations I and others have placed on it. Sometimes it was considering the unique ways people live in other places and finding the best practices to adopt from those. But more often than not, it was peering into the eyes and the souls of those I met and discovering that despite differences in age, religion, race and socio-economic status, deep down we are very similar. We’re all human beings on this journey called life and we all share the same innate desire to be loved.

As my focus turned outward, God was birthing something within me: A renewed dream of being an instrument to inspire others to live a truly enlivened life. A desire to become the best version of myself and help others do the same. A longing to follow wherever He may lead and live for His glory.

And God was also helping me synthesize some of the lessons I’d been learning along the way, like:

There’s no such thing as a “normal life” and I don’t want to live one anyway
Sometimes it’s okay and really good to NOT have a plan
Happiness is an inside job
Life is short, an invaluable gift, and at the same time, not that serious
Where I am in the world isn’t nearly as important as who I’m with
Living presently, passionately and loving deeply is the recipe for a beautiful life
Every person has unimaginable potential within

These, of course, are just a few highlights. I could write a book about my experiences traveling the world and how it changed me. How I am physically darker (thanks Spain for the tan) but Spiritually so much lighter. How according to my bank account, I am poorer, and yet, my life is so much richer. How I am still “single” but I have more love in my heart than ever before.

Maybe one day I will write and publish that book, or I’ll be a famous speaker. Perhaps I’ll be a wife and mother. Or maybe I’ll live abroad in a big city, or end up in small town America.

Honestly, I don’t know what my life will look like in one month, much less one year or a decade. But I know that it’s time for me to head home and see my family. God has been whispering that in my heart for several weeks and He finally told me the time is now. That what needed to happen on this trip has prepared me for whatever is to come. That while I’m not still traveling with Natalie and Katy (who are currently loving life in France), this isn’t the end of of the Great Enlivening for me, it’s just the beginning of a new chapter.

I’ve learned living a truly enlivened life doesn’t require exploring foreign countries, but continuing to explore my heart and what God is showing me. That it’s not dependent on where I am but who I am. That it’s not about what I have but what I share with others.

I imagine one day I’ll look back and tell my kids and grandkids about this year of my life. I’ll show them pictures of unbelievable places and recount the story about how I left everything behind to find out what the world had to offer.

But what I want them to understand is that this Great Enlivening ended being much more than a trip around the world. That it was a deeply Spiritual pilgrimage that challenged me to think differently, act differently and love intentionally. And how ultimately, what I ended up finding was not only myself, but how to truly live.

Fall Outs & Forgiveness in Japan

May 2, 2016 / Natalie Hunter / 11 Comments

“Ok, I think we switch trains in Nishikujo and then catch the line for Osaka-Shin, and then we catch the bullet train… I think.” Katy says cautiously.

If there’s one thing we’ve learned since arriving in Japan a few days ago, it’s that the train systems are a bit complicated. Especially when you don’t understand or speak ANY Japanese. Well that’s not true. We each know two words – Konnichiwa (Hello) and Arigato (Thank You). And you’d be surprised how far this can take you!

Today, we’re traveling from Osaka to Hiroshima. A trip that would take about five hours by car, but thanks to a combination of subways, streetcars and the infamous “bullet train” we should be there in about two and a half.

It looks like Katy’s directions are right-on, because somehow we manage to flawlessly make our first three transfers and soon we’re riding the bullet to Hiroshima.

“I’m really not sure what to expect.” I say to the girls as we pull into Hiroshima station. All I know about Hiroshima is that this was the site of the first atomic bombing in human history – an event that sparked the end of a war and the beginning of an international arms race.

A few minutes later, we exit the train and walk out of the station. Soon, we’re at our first tourist site, the “A-Dome.” The A-Dome used to be the cultural exhibition center of Hiroshima in the 1940’s. It had a bright blue-green dome and was one of the city’s main landmarks. But today, it’s the only building in Hiroshima that was preserved to look exactly like it did on the day of the bombing.

Today, Hiroshima is a bustling Japanese city, with crowded streets lined with storefronts and restaurants. So as I stare up at the melted iron of the A-Dome, I try to imagine the entire city in this state. And it’s nearly impossible. I can’t fathom how in the blink of an eye, the entire landscape of a city could be decimated. But it can, and it was.

We walk a little further through Peace Memorial Park and end up at the museum. We pay our 200 Yen (about $1.75) and enter the exhibition. The first room details the events of the bombing on August 6, 1945. Pictures showcase the ruined buildings and the people with melted and tattered clothing.

In the next room I see a melted lunchbox, and read the story on the plaque –

Shigeru Orimen was exposed to the bomb at his building demolition site 600 meters from the hypocenter. He was 13. When he failed to come home, his mother Shigeko went into the city to look for him. She walked all around the city. At dawn on the third day, she saw the body of a child curled in fetal position. Because the name “Orimen” was carved into the lunch box he was still clutching to his stomach, she knew the charred body was Shigeru. There was a hole in the lunchbox and the contents had been burned to coal.

The room is filled with similar stories and fragments of lives lost. A melted tricycle, water bottle, and pocket watch all show the grizzly reality of that day. It’s a somber place to visit, especially as an American, but I’m glad we came.

As I leave the exhibition, I see a notebook against the wall and a sign asking guests to write their impressions of the museum inside. I open the book and it falls to a page where someone has written “Are the Japanese still angry about the bombing?” And below there are several answers, but one catches my eye. It says, “No, we keep forgiving.”

When I read this, I’m struck by a thought – forgiveness is a process. Simple, yes, but I never thought of it that way before. Forgiveness isn’t a “one and done” phenomenon. It’s continual. I experienced that first-hand recently. Sometimes I think I’ve mastered this “forgiveness business” and then someone sends me an email or forgets my birthday and BAM – I’m right back where I started.

I used to beat myself up about this. I used to think that when things continued to bother me it meant that I wasn’t forgiving in the “right way.” But forgiveness is a process. It doesn’t make the hurt go away, and it doesn’t take life back to “normal,” but it lets you move on.

Hiroshima was never the same after that August day, but they chose to keep forgiving. The same is true of my heart. It’s not the same as it once was, but it’s a city ready to be rebuilt. And while it took many years and tears to get to this place, here I am – an American, standing in Peace Memorial Park in Hiroshima, Japan. Still remembering the past, but finding peace in the present.

I turn to a blank page in the notebook, and think about what to write. That’s when I remember the Japanese Garden Wishing Tree I saw in Buenos Aires, Argentina three months ago. I pulled a wish from the tree and it said “Pax. Amor. Felicidad.” Peace. Love. Happiness.

So that’s what I write.

We leave the museum and walk by the eternal flame. It’s always burning in memory of the 140,000 lives lost from the bombing. Because that’s just it – forgiving isn’t forgetting. It’s moving forward. And if Hiroshima can do that, so can I.

Head Over Heels

April 17, 2016 / Rachel Sherburne / 8 Comments

How did this happen? It’s only been three days. I’m leaning against the lamppost and listening to a random street performer strum his guitar and sing lyrics that I swear are written for me.

“When the truth keeps searching for your heart…words that will never leave. Don’t say it unless you mean it…”

I close my eyes and though I’m in the middle of a crowded market, I feel as though I’m somehow floating ten feet in the air. There’s an unprecedented fullness in my heart that I didn’t know was possible. I breathe deeply as a contented smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. Goosebumps wash over my body in the most delightful way.

I know the three words this guy is singing about, and as crazy as it seems, I’m ready to say them. All the telltale signs are there. Rationality is out of the window. Nothing bothers me. I find myself laughing at things that usually annoy me and the mundane seems magical. I’m not really interested in food or sleep yet somehow I wake up each morning with supernatural energy and stamina for the day. It’s like being on a drug.

Yep. I’m in love….

With Sydney, Australia.

If someone asked me “why?” I would probably feel compelled to give a list of reasons:

1. It’s a runner’s dream with long jogs available through parks, botanical gardens and along the beautiful harbor

2. There are incredible beaches, like the one we visited in Bondi

3. Art museums here are free and feature stunning pieces

4. The Sydney Opera House and performances (we went to the symphony there) are exquisite

5. The food is delectable and you can pretty much have any ethnicity/type you want…including Irish tea and scones …YUM!

6. Every person I’ve encountered so far has been absolutely lovely, especially the cajun couple I met because he was wearing an LSU hat…GEAUX TIGERS! 🙂

7. Aussie men are hot. I mean, flat out HOT. (Remember Aussies Hugh Jackman and Liam Hemsworth?)

8. There are street markets, artists performing and always something to do or buy around the city…like my new lemon quartz ring!

9. You can pet and hold adorable Australian animals at zoos around the city

10. There is an energy pulsing in this place that is absolutely invigorating

But the truth is that beyond all the tangible and logical reasons why I adore Sydney, there is just something “special” about this place that I can’t quite define but has completely intoxicated me. It’s something I’ve never felt before and certainly wasn’t expecting.

In fact, when we first arrived in Australia, I wasn’t interested in staying more than a week. Just enough time to see some highlights and move on. But 72 hours later, I don’t want to leave Sydney…at least anytime soon.

I open my eyes to make sure I can still see Natalie and Katy. They’re busy shopping for handmade cards at a booth nearby, so I allow myself to slip back in the moment.

“I’ve been guarded underneath this heavy load. And a doubter, a cynic and I’ve been cold. But now you’ve warmed me like a gentle rising sun…”

The truth of these lyrics bring unexpected tears to my eyes. I’ve been so afraid to open my heart. So scared of getting hurt again.

I’ve been jaded and questioned if being in love is even real…or possible for me. But here I am in love. And while I can’t marry a city, the way I feel about it gives me hope for the way I might one day feel about a man.

I close my eyes and imagine meeting that special someone. The unexpected attraction, the first time our eyes meet. How we’ll smile at each other. How being around him will make me a little nervous. How eager we’ll be to get to know each other. How it will feel when he holds my hand. Hugs me. Kisses me…

It all seems so effortless. So carefree. So exciting. Yes, I’m ready for this, I think.

It’s a week later and I’m enjoying my last full day in Sydney. It’s not the big clear blue sky I love, but despite the clouds I venture to the beach. The tide is fierce and though I am brave enough to get in the chilly water, I’m too nervous to go out too far. The waves are crashing with such force that they hurt and I have to work to keep myself standing. They’ve knocked me over a few times, nearly stolen my bikini bottoms and flooded my nose and mouth with salty water that burns in the back of my throat.

After returning to my room I decide to go for one last long run in Sydney. The usual path I take each morning is different at dusk. I can’t see the vivid flowers anymore, just dark outlines and a lot of shadows as I jog to the Opera House. I have to be careful not to trip and the extra vigilance makes the experience much more challenging.

When I arrive at the harbor I pause to admire the view at night and reflect on my love affair with Sydney.

I still think this is the most incredible place I’ve ever been, but I don’t feel giddy and intoxicated anymore. I’ve grown to appreciate this city not just for all the things I like and they way it makes me happy, but also for it’s not so stellar conditions, like packed trains on Sundays, the stormy weather, sometimes violent waves and dark nights that chill me to the bone. This too is Sydney. And this too is love.

When I think about my Mr. Wonderful (wherever and whoever he is), I imagine falling in love will be the same. At first I’ll be head over heels and captivated by everything amazing he has going for him. But eventually over time, I’ll come to know his flaws and shortcomings and he mine. The novelty of our relationship will wear off and that’s when I have to decide whether or not to transition from “being in love” to “loving.” The former is an emotion, a feeling. The later is a choice.

I’ve learned firsthand that the words “I love you” are easy to say, but they don’t mean much if they aren’t based on action. On sacrifice.

I know that this kind of real love will challenge me, require hard work, sometimes cost me more than I think I can give, but also give me more than I ever imagined.

As I write this, I’m looking out at the Sydney skyline and listening to the song that evoked such emotion in my heart at the market a week ago. “Don’t say it unless you mean it,” Mark Wilinson sings. He’s right. These words mean too much to be thrown out carelessly. To be written in a card or typed in a text message but never lived out.

I’ve heard “I love you” from a few men in my life but looking back I think maybe it was just “I’m in love with you.” That’s not a bad start, but in the end I want more. So, I’m going to make sure that I differentiate between the two. That the next time I think about saying those three words I really mean it. Because when I one day hear “I love you” from that special man, I want him to mean it too.

The Kiss

March 18, 2016March 17, 2016 / Rachel Sherburne / 5 Comments

CAVEAT #1: So, I’ve never been one to kiss and tell, and certainly not in a public forum. And the fact that my parents (among others) read this blog makes me quite averse to writing this at all. But in the spirit of authenticity and sharing my heart, here goes:

It’s 10:30 p.m in Cartagena, Columbia, and Natalie and I are finishing a nice dinner outside in a plaza just off “Bourbon Street.”

As a Louisiana native I know that apart from a few bars and balconies, this street is nothing like its namesake in New Orleans. But being that it’s still 80 degrees with 90% humidity, it does make it feel a bit more like home.

Natalie steps inside the restaurant to use the restroom when an attractive guy about my age approaches the table. He’s the “maroon-shirt guy” that I’ve caught looking at me at least a dozen times over the last hour from across the plaza.

“Do you speak English?” he asks in a broken accent that I can’t quite place. I nod my head yes, inwardly amused that even when it comes to pick-up lines, some questions come first when you are traveling internationally.

“I just had to come over here and say hello,” he begins, “I noticed you earlier and….I….you are really beautiful,” he stumbles.

“Thank you,” I respond with a smile. I have to give the guy credit for his courage and honesty, and I can’t say that I don’t appreciate the compliment.

Small talk ensues for a few minutes as I learn how he is from Portugal and here on business.

His friend/wingman (who must have seen that he hadn’t ‘crashed and burned’) approaches the table as Natalie returns. After brief introductions, they ask to sit down and join us for a drink and we agree.

Meeting new people is one of my favorite things about traveling. I love learning about their lives back home, reason for traveling and hopes and dreams for the future. Plus, it adds a certain level of novelty for Natalie and I who spend just about every waking moment together.

Turns out we hit the random guy jackpot. They are interesting, great conversationalists, nice and funny. Score. We laugh, take turns asking questions and even decide to engage the random hat vendor who approaches our table eager to make a sale. Apparently the guy Natalie is talking to really wants to take home an authentic Colombian sombrero.

We spend the next 15 minutes trying on a plethora of Fadoras, Indiana Jones-ish hats and a few extravagant (and pretty incredible) ones, though Natalie and I make it clear that we are NOT buying anything. Of all the things I need on a round-the-world trip, a huge, Jackie-O statement head-gear piece is definitely not one of them.

We take photos and everything is fun and games until somehow the price is lowered to an unbelievable deal, the guys tell us how amazing we look in the hats and suddenly we are the not-so-proud owners of two, that’s right, TWO, gigantic hats that we have to find place for in our backpacks.

The irony of it all? Everyone BUT the guy who wanted a hat bought one. (This is why I can’t watch QVC or infomercials)

Needless to say, it’s now past midnight and with an eye glance and slight head nod, Natalie and I are in agreement. It’s time to head home. We’re a good ways from our hotel and considering that the streets were eerily empty earlier, when the guys offer to walk us back, we accept. Safety is paramount when traveling as young women and we try to be extremely vigilant – especially at night and with men. These two, I trust and I can tell Natalie does too.

With hats on heads we make our way down Bourbon street in pairs, me and maroon-shirt guy just behind Natalie and his friend.

We’re chatting and laughing like old friends. I’m genuinely enjoying his company until suddenly I realize he’s giving me “the look.” My stomach flips and my pulse quickens, but not in the way I want it to. I glance away immediately as multiple thoughts barrage my mind:

“Was that the look? I think that was look.”

“Oh no, I don’t want him to kiss me! What do I do?”

“Say something, Sherburne. Change the subject or at least make a joke….”

“Shit! Why can’t I think of a joke??”

I’m trying to come up with a way to kill the mood but before I have a millisecond to devise a strategy, he’s somehow found a way to access my face under my enormous hat and his lips are on mine.

SHIT! Abort, retreat, get away!

CAVEAT #2: This is not the first guy to kiss me in South America (sorry, Mom and Dad). And despite my reaction to this experience, let me just say that there have been others that I thoroughly enjoyed.

But in this moment, despite having zero desire to kiss this guy (though he’s perfectly nice and attractive), I let him kiss me. Why? Because I don’t want to embarrass him. Or hurt his feelings.

Yes, I know. In hindsight, this sounds totally lame. And though I claim to no longer need the approval of others, I clearly need to work on my ability to be assertive and speak up when someone crosses a boundary I don’t want them to cross.

CAVEAT #3: I do have boundaries! Despite the fact that it’s 2016, I’m a divorced, 34-year old traveling the world and casual sex is considered normal and often encouraged, that’s not what I’m looking for. (You can breathe easy, Mom and Dad)

So, after I’m free from the kiss I tell this guy that I’m a “Good Catholic girl” and “not going to sleep with him.” My turn to be direct. Thankfully he doesn’t push it any further and we join back with Natalie and his friend who are busy taking ridiculous photos with her new hat.

A few minutes later we are back at our hotel and things end on a friendly, but slightly awkward note as I quickly say goodbye and head inside. Even though I stated my boundaries, I get the feeling he is hoping he can change my mind.

But I’m resolute.

It was my Catholic faith and a “True Love Waits Program” I attended in junior high that convinced me to remain a virgin until I got married and continues to call me to celibacy until I remarry. But it’s also my heart. As much as I’ve enjoyed some South American romance, I know that I want so much more than a kiss on Bourbon Street after midnight with a dude I’ve known less than 2 hours.

I want a real connection with a guy, who, while he might have initially found me beautiful from across the courtyard, finds my personality, heart, and Spirit even more-so when he really gets to know me. I want a relationship with a man who understands and respects my boundaries and knows that a holy, Godly woman is worth the wait. A man who pursues me and my heart second only to Jesus. A man who inspires me to be a better person with his faith, integrity and selflessness. And a man who knows what REAL love is and is ready to share that with someone.

I’m not saying that I expect to find this after a few hours, a first kiss or even on this Great Enlivening. But I know this: if kissing is all I plan on doing before marriage, then I want it to mean something. Maybe that makes me sound old-fashioned. Maybe that means I’ll miss out on some make out sessions. Or maybe, just maybe, it means that the next time a man goes in for a kiss, the heart-pounding and stomach flipping will be a really good thing.

Water, Wind & Fire

February 26, 2016February 26, 2016 / Natalie Hunter / 3 Comments

“Gracias, buen dia!” I say as I shut the taxi door. I hear his tires roll against the gravel behind me as he heads back down the mountain.

“Ok,” I think to myself, “no turning back now!”

I look around for a sign or something to mark the trailhead, but there’s nothing. There aren’t any people around either. But that’s when I hear it – the sound of rushing water. There’s a stream nearby, and I bet that’s where I can find the trail.

Rachel and I arrived in Ushuaia, Argentina a couple of days ago. It’s the southernmost city in the world and is lovingly (and accurately) referred to as “the end of the earth.”

When we arrived, Rachel mentioned that she wasn’t sure why we came to Ushuaia. But after the first day, she said “I think we’re here for you.” You see, I’ve been carrying a love around in my heart that I just couldn’t shake. And I was ready to let it go. So in true poetic fashion, I tossed a token of that love into the sea, at the end of the earth.

But that’s a story for another day.

Today, I’m hiking. Alone.

Rachel wanted to come with me, but God made it clear that I was supposed to go by myself.

I can’t seem to find the trailhead, so I keep walking towards the sound of rushing water. I push my way through some trees and come into a clearing. I see the stream in front of me, and yes! To my left is the trailhead. Phew.

I put my headphones in and start listening to Ed Sheeran’s “I see fire,” which has been stuck in my head all morning. And now I walk.

The incline is pretty steep. But I guess that makes sense. I am walking up a glacier after all. There are only a few other people on the trail, and as I pass them I give the obligatory “hola” and hope that my accent doesn’t make it too obvious that I’m a foreigner.

Argentina has a heavy European influence, so Rachel and I blend in pretty well here. But we’ve been told more than once that our Spanish sounds very “Mexican.”

The trail is following the stream. Zig-zagging back and forth. Sometimes there’s a bridge to cross the water, and other times I have to navigate the slippery rocks. It’s beautiful. But it doesn’t look much like a glacier.

After twenty minutes of hiking the trail curves away from the stream. And there it is – a giant, snow covered mountain.

I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but when I thought of climbing a “glacier” I didn’t think it was a mountain. I can see the summit from here, and it’s at least 1,000 feet above where I’m standing. I take a deep breath and say, “ok, let’s do this.”

As I walk, the terrain below my feet changes. First it’s gravel, then mud, then snow.

I’ve been walking for about an hour now, and I need a break. As I gaze up ahead, I see a curve in the trail and a boulder that looks like a perfect chair. I sit down and take a drink. I can feel the chill of the water making its way through my hot chest. And then, for the first time on this hike, I look back at where I came from.

“Wow,” I say as I look down at the harbor below. My eyes lift and I see the mountain walls to the left and right. I feel a sense of awe wash over me as I realize that water and ice cut through this mountain and changed it forever. I don’t think I appreciated the power that water holds until this very moment.

I pull my rain jacket and hat out of my backpack and put them on. The higher I climb, the colder it’s getting.

I start walking again, and the trail is getting steeper. I need to slow my roll or I might slip. I’m thinking more about water, and my mind drifts to the other elements – air and fire.

They’re powerful in their own rights. Air gives life to everything on the earth and fire clears away the dead to make way for the new. I laugh at myself a little as I think “hiking always puts me in a tree-hugging mood.”

And then, two hours after I started, I’m here. The summit. “I can’t believe I’m on top of a glacier!” I say excitedly.

I look around at the land below me, the rocks, the snow, and the grass in the distance. I think about the earth and realize that all of the elements impact it. Water changes the terrain, fire burns the brush, and air breathes life into the plants and animals. The earth is at the mercy of these elements. And for a moment, that doesn’t seem fair. Floods, fires and windstorms are traumatic and dangerous. Why does the earth just have to sit there and take it?

But that’s when I realize, that without all of that trauma, this beautiful place wouldn’t exist. There would be no flowing stream, no lush green grass, no snowy mountain top.

When this thought crosses my mind, tears fill my eyes. This is exactly what God is doing with me. I’m like the earth. By letting me experience pain, heartache and trauma, He’s changed the landscape of my soul forever. And he’s turning it into something more beautiful than before.

I take one final look around at the amazing view and smile. I guess we did come to Ushuaia for me after all. I needed to let something go, so that God could show me something new – how he’s using everything for my good, and transforming me into the beautiful woman I’m meant to be.

Little Love Stories

February 19, 2016February 19, 2016 / Natalie Hunter / 12 Comments

Ever since we arrived in Buenos Aires, my mind has been churning, turning and burning with thoughts on one topic – love.

Maybe this has something to do with being single on Valentine’s Day. Or perhaps it’s because I’m still finding my way through recent heartache. Or maybe it’s because couples in Buenos Aires spontaneously burst into make-out sessions ALL the time, all over the city. Seriously.

Whatever the reason, the topic of love is at the forefront of my mind. Yet, when I think about “love” I tend to think of romance. And while romance is a beautiful facet of love, it’s not the whole picture. So in an effort to change my perspective, I decided to glance back at my Valentines week through a new lens. And I found some unexpected little love stories:

1) Elly’s Emergency

When we first arrived in Buenos Aires, we stayed at a hostel in the Palermo neighborhood. The location was great – close to restaurants, museums, nightlife, etc. But let’s just say that staying in a hostel in your thirties leaves something to be desired. Our room was approximately 45 square feet, sans air-conditioning (in 90 degree heat) and our continental breakfast included Cocoa Puffs.

Most of the other guests were in their early twenties and traveling on a shoestring budget. So after the first day, Rachel and I assumed we weren’t going to meet anyone who we felt a connection with. But that’s when we met Elly.

Elly is a fellow 30-something from Iran who’s taking a travel break before returning to Spain to finish her doctorate. Within minutes, we were all talking like old friends. But soon after we met, it was time to go our separate ways. Elly was heading to the Argentinian countryside for a few days, and Rachel and I were off to explore the city.

As Elly walked out the door I said “Hey, we’re getting an apartment, so when you get back on Friday, just let us know if you need a place to stay!”

“Ok, thanks!” She said.

And quickly I wondered if that was a really odd thing to offer to someone who I just met thirty minutes ago… “Oh well,” I thought to myself, “it’s nice to be nice!”

Rachel and I spent the next few days taking in the urban skyline, the expansive green spaces and the tree-lined streets that make up Buenos Aires.

There’s something about this city is completely energizing. We spent every night staying up later than we have in years. But after a few nights of that, it was time to catch up on our sleep.

So Friday night around 1AM, Rachel woke me up with a panicked voice. “Elly just messaged me. The hostel lost her reservation. She’s called a bunch of others but nobody has any availability!”

Yikes. The thought of being alone in a foreign country, in the middle of the night, with nowhere to stay is seriously scary, especially when you’re a young woman traveling by yourself. Oh yeah, and it was pouring down rain.

“Oh no… Tell her to come here!” I said groggily. Rachel agreed and sent her a message with our address inviting her over.

I started looking through closets to procure extra blankets and pillows. I found some and brought them into the living room. Rachel was standing by the couch, where she turned to me and said, “this couch is tiny! There’s no way she can sleep on this.”

I tried to lie down on the couch and had to prop my feet up on the armrest in order to fit. “Yep,” I said “way too small.”

So after a quick brainstorm we decide to create a makeshift bed on our living room floor out of yoga mats, blankets and throw pillows. We did this while we’re waiting for Elly to arrive. But after thirty minutes, she still wasn’t there, and we hadn’t heard from her

That’s one of the problems with international travel; you’re completely dependent on Wi-Fi to communicate. So there are periods of time when you’re completely out of touch.

But at this point, it’s about 2:30AM and we’re really worried. It’s late and she’s alone. So we did the only thing we could do at that point – we prayed. We prayed for her safety, and that God would quickly deliver her to her destination.

Just as we finish the prayer, my phone dinged with a text message, “Hey! I found a hostel with availability on my way over. Thanks for the offer, so sorry to keep you guys up!”

2) Ross da Boss

Ten days ago, we knew exactly one person in Buenos Aires – Ross. And we hadn’t even met him yet.

Ross is a friend of my good friends Megan and Jonathan. He’s an American who lives and works in Buenos Aires. And before we arrived, I linked up with him on Whatsapp. Which is apparently the only way that hip, young people connect these days.

He sent us tons of recommendations and information about how to spend our time in Buenos Aires. And he even offered to meet us and show us around the Recoleta neighborhood.

And as it turns out – Ross is awesome!

We all hit it off and ended up hanging out a few more times. On our last free day in Buenos Aires, we planned to meet Ross at the National Cathedral, before walking through the San Telmo Market.

So when Rachel and I got a taxi that morning, we told the driver to take us to “San Telmo” and assumed that the cathedral would be nearby. How big can one market be?

Huge.

The driver dropped us off at the opposite end of the market, and since we’re Wi-Fi dependent, we had no way to let Ross know that we were going to be late! So Rachel and I booked it to the other end of the market; which was at least two miles away.

We showed up at the Cathedral 45 minutes late, and luckily, there was Ross! He looked relieved and said, “Hey! I was getting worried about you two!”

So after many apologies and jokes about our inability to navigate the city, we walked through the market together.

3 – The Albino Bat

One of the perks of visiting Buenos Aires is its location. It’s perched right along the river’s mouth and on the Atlantic Ocean; which means it’s a one-hour ferry ride from Uruguay. We heard that Colonia, Uruguay is beautiful and since we’re eager to get as many stamps in our passports as possible, we decided to go!

When we arrived in Colonia, we found that the town was cute, but boring, and incredibly hot (97 degrees). And we were stuck there for eight hours waiting on our return ferry. Ugh.

The only thing to do in Colonia is walk. So we walked… and then walked some more. And as we walked, I said a silent prayer about our next steps on this journey. I knew with all certainty that God told us to go to Buenos Aires. I could feel it when we arrived. Everything about the city felt right.

But where to next? Our apartment rental would be up in a few days, and though we had some ideas about where to go, nothing felt certain.

We were thinking about heading to Iguazu Falls since, while we were in Mexico, Rachel had a vivid vision of a waterfall during yoga. But I was feeling unsure, so as we continued walking, I asked God to give me some confirmation about our next steps.

Just then, I turned my head back to the path in front of me and I saw a huge, white, winged creature flying directly towards my forehead. It came so close to me that I had to jump out of it’s flight path. That’s when I realized that it wasn’t an albino bat (my first guess) but the largest white butterfly I’d ever seen. In fact, it’s the only white butterfly I’ve seen since we arrived in South America.

“That was weird!” I say to Rachel, as the butterfly heads off into the distance.

We walk to the church in the main square of Colonia to spend a little time in prayer and shade. But as I’m praying, my mind keeps drifting back to the butterfly. It’s all I can think about. So once we find Wi-Fi access, I Google South American butterflies and learn that Iguazu Falls is one of the largest natural butterfly preserves in the world.

I smile to myself and say “Touché Lord. I guess we’re headed to Igauzu!”

Ok, I know what you’re thinking… where is she going with this? So here’s the point –

At first glance, these stories seem little… almost insignificant. There’s nothing earth shattering about them. But that’s just it – love is quality, not quantity. Love is opening your home to someone you’ve only known for thirty minutes – no questions asked. It’s waiting for 45 minutes in 97-degree heat for a couple of girls you barely know. And it’s having the faith that God will lead you to exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Love is giving, receiving and believing. It’s actions, not words. It’s shown through grandiose gestures or seemingly insignificant acts of kindness – but it’s all love. It can be palpable, or go completely unnoticed. But the result of loving isn’t the important part – the act of loving is what matters. And sometimes, I forget that. So when I look back at my Valentines week, I can see that I was surrounded by love the whole time, it just looked a little different than I’m used to.

Mexican Goggles and Matters of the Heart

January 20, 2016 / Natalie Hunter / 5 Comments

“Ok, was it just me, or were those guys actually cute?” Rachel asked as we stepped outside.

“I know! They were good looking, and seemed really nice.” I said with surprise.

When we arrived in Mexico, Rachel and I made a discovery – there aren’t many attractive men here. And while I’m sure there are plenty of eligible bachelors in this country, they definitely don’t live in Baja. In fact, the majority of the population here seems to be well over the age of 60. At least in the circles that we’re running in.

Sometimes we’ve mistakenly thought that someone was cute, when it turns out they were only under the age of 50, and/or really friendly. We call this, “Wearing Mexican Goggles.” So because of this goggle-phenomenon, whenever one of us sees someone who might be attractive, we need to confirm it with the other. And today, the two men we just met seem to fit the bill!

They’re in their early thirties, business owners and artists. Their English is better than our Spanish, which means it’s decent enough to hold a real conversation; and they were really polite and kind. So, they invited us to go out on a double date, and after we verified with Rachel’s running partner, Blanca, that they were in fact good guys, we said yes.

While this may not seem like a big deal to most, I don’t have much “dating” experience. I met my ex-husband when I was 18, married him at 22, and we divorced when I was 30. Since then, I’ve had two real forays into the dating world – the first ending with his broken heart, and the second, with mine.

So last summer, after my post-divorce dating bust, I prayed and asked God what I should do about relationships with men. His answer was clear – avoid them. Not forever, but for a season.

Since Rachel was recently divorced as well, we both committed to spending the last half of 2015 single and unavailable for dating. So that’s exactly what we did.

I was in awe of the peace that this decision brought to my life. I used this season to examine my heart, and I began to see it as something alive and beautiful. I started to think of it as a flowing, fenced-in meadow. When I was in a good place emotionally and spiritually, the meadow was really fruitful. It fed me. And the fence kept the bad things out and the good things in.

But throughout the past few years, I experienced significant heartache. And that pain started to wreak havoc on the meadow. It poisoned the lush ground that was once fruitful, and it bulldozed parts of the fence. And as that happened, I started to let the wrong things into my meadow.

It was clearly time for some repair work.

I thought that the best way to do this was to start from scratch. First, I re-examined and redefined my values, prioritizing honesty and integrity at the top. Then I started to align my actions. I became determined to lead a life where my beliefs and my behaviors are congruent. And this meant kicking everything out of my heart that didn’t belong there – the habits that weren’t making me the greatest version of myself, the people who didn’t have my best interest at heart, and all of the negative emotions that I carried around for years.

It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

And when 2016 rolled around, part of me felt excited by the prospect of dating, while another part felt completely terrified. The last thing I wanted was for anything to damage the meadow I spent so much time repairing.

But that’s where the fences come in.

Fences are my boundaries. Fences… not walls. My heart isn’t a fortress that needs to be defended; it’s a meadow that needs to be respected. Fences let people walk up to the border of my heart and gaze inside, and they let the light in my heart shine out for everyone to see. But they also have gates that only allow certain people to enter. And whomever I decide to date doesn’t get to waltz right in to my meadow and set up camp.

So when these guys asked Rachel and I out, I knew it was going to be a different experience. Not only because we were going dancing in downtown Tijuana, but also because I was in a new place emotionally. My heart is whole and complete, and my boundaries are strong and well defined.

Later that day the guys came to pick us up for our date. We went out to dinner in Rosarito and then, we tried desperately to go dancing in Tijuana. But it was Wednesday… so our options were pretty limited. We ended up at an empty club where the four of us danced like fools to a mix of Justin Beiber and Mexican Salsa. Then we followed that up with some good ole karaoke and a game of pool. The guys were sweet, fun and total gentlemen. I was surprised at how taken aback I was when he opened my car door, pulled out my chair at the restaurant and let me take his arm when I crossed the street.

While I may not have much dating experience, I think that this is the kind I need. It showed me that I don’t have to “date” in the way that the world defines “dating.” I don’t have to treat it like a job interview for a potential spouse or a litmus test for sexual chemistry. Dating can be about getting to know someone for who they are in their heart. And I’m so thankful that God allowed my first dating experience in 2016 to be with someone who felt the same way.

A Thanksgiving Toast

November 26, 2015November 26, 2015 / Natalie Hunter / 2 Comments

Dear friends and family,

To those near and far,

We’re sending our love

To wherever you are!

May today be a day

Where pleasures abound.

May you drink in the sights,

the smells, and the sounds.

May your turkey be stuffed,

And your cranberry jellied.

May you smile and embrace

The fullest of bellies.

May your visits be filled

With love and with truth,

And when it’s all over,

May your journeys be smooth.

But before we disperse

To our couches and beds,

Please raise your glass,

For these words must be said:

Cheers and Salud!

To friends old and new,

Please know in your heart,

We are thankful for you!

What Would You Do?

November 9, 2015 / Rachel Sherburne / 2 Comments

He is gangly, unkempt and expressionless. Over a camouflaged jacket are slung a few bags, carrying what I imagine is everything he owns.

I’ve seen a lot of homeless people in the 24 hours I’ve been in San Francisco and each time my heart aches a little. Over the years I’ve met, given money to, prayed with and befriended several people in the same position. I think of Eric, Deocito and countless other African American men I came to know through volunteering weekly at my Church’s soup kitchen.

Perhaps that’s why I feel a certain connection to this man.

As he approaches, I try to make eye contact and smile; something homeless people tell me they rarely, if ever experience, but he stares straight ahead.

When he is about 15 feet away from me an empty soda can falls out of his bag behind him. He turns briefly but decides it’s not worth going back for and continues walking.

I decide to pick it up after I pass him, but before I do, I make one final attempt at eye contact.

Nada. He doesn’t look at me. But instead I hear an unmistakable sound. And then I see it. In seemingly slow motion, a white ball of spit comes flying in my direction. It arcs in front of me and I watch in amazement as it descends and lands perfectly on top of my right tennis shoe. Then it disappears into the cloth.

Wait, did I just get spit on?

I search the ground around my feet wondering if perhaps my eyes played tricks on me but there is no evidence of any wetness on the pavement. Nope, this guy definitely just spit on me.

As I try to process what just happened my mind races. First with indignation; what did I do to deserve that? Then, when the initial anger subsides I think immediately of other people I know who have experienced something similar – in particular, Jesus, civil rights activists and Vietnam veterans. I feel sad, knowing many endured far worse than this and they didn’t deserve it. And finally, I am simply in awe. How in the world did he manage to hit my foot with such accuracy? Does he practice spitting with moving targets regularly, or was this just his lucky day?

I say out loud the only thing that comes to mind. “Seriously?!”

I turn around, hoping for some sort of acknowledgement, if not an apology. But he’s already well past me, nonchalantly strolling down the street. It’s as if he’s completely unaware of my presence or he’s simply relegated my worth as a human being to nothing more than a spittoon.

The feisty, fearless part of me wants to confront this man, question his actions and give him a piece of my mind. The logical, realistic part of me knows doing so is not safe, smart or likely to accomplish anything constructive.

I’m struggling with an urge to respond in some way when I recall that incredibly difficult and unpopular Bible verse: “When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to him as well.” (Matthew 5:39)

There’s no way I’m running after this guy and offering him my left foot to spit on, but I remember another verse in Matthew Chapter 5 that talks about loving your enemies and praying for those who persecute you.

Point taken, God.

So, I pray and ask Him to bless this homeless man, whoever he is.

There was a time in the not too distant past when someone spitting on me would have ruined my day, or at least my morning. But now there’s a resiliency inside of me because I know who I am in Christ. That no matter what other people say or do, I am invaluable because I am made in the image of God and loved unconditionally by Him.

As I continue walking I can’t help but think of the giant Red wood trees Natalie and I saw only a few days earlier.

Besides being majestic, enormous and ancient, I learned that because of the tannin in their bark, they are supernaturally resistant to insects, fire, fungus and disease. I like to think of God as a “tannin” of sorts – giving me thicker skin and protecting me from some of the evil and hate in this world.

Of course, there are some things that can and do hurt me, just like a strong enough fire will damage a Redwood. We saw this firsthand with one particular tree. There was a large opening along the base where the blaze had burned through the thick trunk and hollowed out a 8-foot-wide and 25-foot-tall space within it.

The park guide told us that one hundred years ago this space was actually used as a “hotel room” of sorts that people could rent to literally sleep in a tree.

Today, visitors can step inside to explore the space, which Natalie and I did.

But it won’t be this way for too long (relatively speaking). The guide told us that Redwoods heal themselves from the outside in and within 60 to 80 years, this opening will no longer exist, though the hole inside the tree will remain forever.

I kind of think the same is true for me. Going through a divorce was like a fire that penetrated my heart, leaving me open, vulnerable and hollow inside.

But God has and continues to heal me. And the new space in my heart has given me a greater capacity to be filled by God’s love and share it with others.

Which I think I have. Or at least I try to.

When I tell Natalie about the spitting experience, I do so with more amusement than anything else. Like me, she’s fairly shocked by the story, but considering San Francisco is a city where people to this day walk around completely nude, I guess we shouldn’t be.

I had all but forgotten the incident until just the other night when we watched the movie, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.” If you’ve ever seen this movie, you may remember there are two scenes in it where people get spit on….and it’s a good thing! Apparently in the Greek culture, it is a way to ward off the devil and wish someone luck or bless them.

While I’m pretty confident this homeless man didn’t spit on me with the same intent, it did bring a smile to my face and offered me a fresh perspective. Though it didn’t seem like it at the time, perhaps this experience really was a blessing in disguise. After all, it challenged me to a greater level of humility, allowed me to empathize with others in a new way and ultimately, offered me a chance to demonstrate Christ-like love and forgiveness.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get to the point where I want to be spit on or slapped in the check for that matter. But I hope I do become the kind of person that is willing to turn the other one. That I am willing to suffer if necessary, knowing that in doing so I am united with the sufferings of Christ.

Because even when I am burned and left empty and exposed by a “fire,” I know that God can heal me, if I let him. It may happen slowly, I may never be the same on the inside, but I truly believe this is how it’s supposed to be. After all, the empty place in my heart doesn’t have to be a wasteland of pain, regret and bitterness. It can become a storehouse of God’s love, mercy, peace and joy.

And that is a good thing.