My Blog Has A New Home...

In case you don't know, I will be returning to Southeast Asia in January 2013 and in an effort to prepare for this next season in my life, I have decided to move this blog to daphnecheryl.com to assist with rebranding.  Please check it out and begin following me there! Thank you for your continued love, support, and prayers!!!! :)

Sometimes my own words punch me in the face...

Found this blog on my computer and realized I never posted it either...should have though...

"A few nights ago I went out with one of my good friends here, at one point during the night she looked at me and asked “Are you afraid of forgetting?”  As random as this question may seem to you, it is one that I’ve turned around in my mind over and over as my time in the Philippines comes to an end.  I’ve been afraid of forgetting something for quite awhile but I haven’t been able to put my finger on what that “something” is.  Because you see, the people and experiences that I’ve had here, well honestly, they are impossible to forget.  I cannot forget the faces of the girls that I have come to love so deeply no matter how hard I try. They are forever a part of me.  It seems absurd to even think of a time before I knew them…what did I do, who was I before God revealed this immense capacity to love to me?  So forget them? Impossible! So what exactly am I afraid of forgetting?

Well, that night, when my friend asked me that question out loud, it hit me.  I’m not afraid of forgetting THEM, I’m afraid of forgetting ME.  This overwhelming joy, passion for life, I-can’t-believe-I-get-to-do-this feeling that I wake up to everyday, that I jump out of bed for, anxiously awaiting to tackle whatever comes my way and being completely thrilled out of my mind for every step that I am given to take.  There’s something that is so freeing in knowing that you get to live out your passion and love like there’s no tomorrow every single day.  And here, in the midst of blatant poverty, pain, and suffering, I can’t miss it, my passions surround me everywhere I go and the opportunities to love are right in front of me.  Being passionate and loving is easy here.  But what about when I go home, where everyone has a routine, where I will eventually settle into a routine…will I turn off my mind and heart to this madly passionate side of me? Will a routine and the tasks of the everyday “normal” turn me into something “normal”? Will I forget what freedom really feels like? Will I forget what overwhelming joy just being alive feels like? Will I wake up every day saying, “I can’t believe I get to do this” when what I’m doing seems “normal”?  Forgetting this me that this season in my life has revealed…now THAT is something to be afraid of.  

In an effort to not forget me, I’m writing this blog…probably the last one I write before I’m stateside and I see most of you again.  I’m begging you, the ones whom I love dearly, don’t expect to see the old Daphne.  The selfish, timid, confused, lost, and aimlessly wandering person who was bound by the lies of the past that you knew before is gone. When you see me, EXPECT someone different; EXPECT to get reacquainted with someone that you THOUGHT you knew; EXPECT me to be more passionate than ever; EXPECT me to love at a capacity that seems impossible; EXPECT me to show more grace and mercy than ever before; EXPECT me to change the world. Because even though I WILL fall short of your expectations, I need you to hold me to higher standards because only then will I not be able to forget me.

“Hi, I’m Daphne Cheryl Meeks. I’m passionate, loving, fearless, relentless, and unapologetic. It’s nice to meet you.”"

I dare you to challenge me...

So, I forgot to post a few blogs when I came back from the Philippines in June...apparently, forgetting to post them was a grave mistake.  You can't undo the past but in an effort to present a more hopeful future...I challenge you...

"I remember emailing my sister when I was in high school and she was here, in the Philippines, as a midwifery student.  Her words seemed to just flow off the screen and implant deep into my mind as I read them.  Every word carried so much weight that it could take me days just to process one paragraph.  The wisdom and experiences written in her emails left me dumbfounded every time. 

A couple years ago, when I was in undergrad and my sister was living with me, we looked back over some of the things she had written to me during her time abroad.  I remember her exclaiming “Oh! How deep and wise I was back then!” as she read her own words. 

At this point in my life, I can easily see what she meant.  Being here, away from all the drama and routine of every day American life, challenges us to think differently and the perspectives we can get on life while looking at it from the outside, are astounding.  It blows my mind the way I think and the way God so clearly speaks to me some days. 

As I think about my next step, I’m get nervous.  Not because there’s a specific city, state, or even country that I want (or don’t want) to be in or because there’s a specific job opening or course of study or even school that I want (or don’t want) to get in to.  Honestly, I’m really open to anywhere and anything that is placed before me right now.  But what scares me the most is that I’ll settle. That I’ll settle for routine. That I’ll settle for ordinary. That I’ll settle for mediocrity.  That I’ll settle for less than the best that God has planned for me.  And the worst part, that I’ll be happy with it.  Don’t get me wrong, I could be happy with ordinary and routine, I really could and I don’t necessarily think that I would be at fault for that.  But knowing what I know now and seeing what I see now, I don’t want to forget this side of life.  I don’t want to forget the dreams that are impossible on my own. I don’t want to forget what it feels like to be called radical or extreme.  I don’t want to forget the billions of people who don’t know God’s unconditional love.  I don’t want to forget that some days are made for the unexpected. I don’t want to forget that I’m surrounded by the sacred.  I don’t want to forget this place where I am, right now, at this very moment. 

So come June 21^st, when I’m back in NC and I’m being tempted to get comfortable and settle back into my old routine, if you see me, will you promise me one thing? Promise me that you won’t let me forget; that you’ll challenge me by asking me difficult questions and refusing to be satisfied until I answer them; that you’ll invite me to lunch just to sit down and talk about the things and issues that are hard to swallow; that you’ll make me look at my own pictures and tell you stories of everything I’ve seen and hand me tissues to wipe my tears as I walk through them; that you’ll call me out when my heart starts to harden because I’ve decided the pain is too much to bear; that you’ll make me stay sensitive and compassionate when sarcasm and cynicism become all to easy to hide behind.  Go ahead, I dare you to challenge me…"

GET OVER IT ALREADY!!!!

So I haven’t posted a blog since I’ve been back in NC, not because I haven’t had anything to say but because I’ve had SO MUCH to say that I haven’t had time to analyze my thoughts and sit down long enough to put anything into words. 

As everyone can imagine, 8 months in a third world country inevitably leads to many experiences that bring their share of both laughs and tears.  To say that the entire 8 months were filled with fantastic, bright, sun-shiny days everyone all-smiles every day would be not only a horrible lie but a terrible misrepresentation of the pain and suffering that those experiences held and the immeasurable grace and unending mercy that God grants to cover it all.  As my time here goes along and I find more time to process my time abroad, I will be able to share more about those heart-breaking yet enriching experiences.  However, just as (if not even more) heart-breaking as what I experienced in the Philippines is what I have faced while being back in the states.  And while there are many issues that I could write about like the early sexualization of pre-teen girls (which I could and probably will go on about all day) or the stereotypes placed on prostitutes in the US (once again, I’ll address this in another blog), there is one issue that I just can’t avoid these days.  I mean literally, it has slapped me in the face over and over again since I have returned.  Know what that issue is???

Yes, race relations—I mean really people?!?! Why are we still so stuck on this? Why do I have to drive up to the gas pump to find business cards for the KKK stuck in the credit card slot? Why do I have to sit on my hands during dinners with friends and family just to keep from slapping them across the face for making insanely ignorant comments? People are dying from starvation and easily preventable diseases, children are being sold into sexual servitude, lost people are living hopeless lives, and desperate circumstances are forcing people to turn to drugs, violence, prostitution, etc.. And yet, we’re still arguing about racial differences!

I found a book tucked away in our basement from when I was a child.  It’s called “God Makes Us Different” by Helen Caswell.

There isn’t anybody just like me,

because God makes everybody different.

I guess when God has to make so many people,

it’s more fun to make them different.

It would be boring to make them all the same.

So he makes us different colours—brown and pink and tan.

And he makes all shapes and sizes.

And he puts curly hair on some and straight hair on others.

And some are boys and some are girls.

God makes some noisy ones and some quiet ones.

But though people look different on the outside,

on the inside, we are not different at all.

Everybody likes to eat.

And everybody needs to sleep.

Everybody cries, sometimes.

And everybody likes to laugh.

So I guess God makes our outsides all different, just for fun.

But he makes our insides all alike, and he loves us, every one.

I suppose I can thank the books like this that I read while growing up, along with many other things shaped and formed the way that I was taught to love anyone and everyone.  But what gets me is if I could grasp the concept that we are all equal years ago, why is it taking everyone else so long to catch on?

I guess there are many reasons why this issue hurts me so deeply. Maybe its because I expect the people I love most and have known the longest to not be so ignorant and to fight for justice a little bit more. Or maybe its because I’ve been blind to the injustice for so long that I’m angry at myself for not recognizing it earlier.  Or maybe it’s the fact that I just don’t understand what the issue is because I can honestly say that when I’m around others of different races, I REALLY don’t pay ANY attention to race whatsoever! Or maybe it’s because this issue of race has been beaten to death for years and it is way past the MOVE ON point.  Or maybe its because my eyes have been opened to so many other injustices that it makes me downright sick to my stomach that we waste time analyzing skin color instead of coming together to work and end issues like the modern day slavery that is happening in our own backyards.