Part Three: Wildfire...
Part Three: Wildfire
I fully intended to write and share this part three much sooner than this; directly following part two. But, there’s something to be learned about waiting to write or tell a story while it’s still in process.
I leave for New York in three days. My two and a half (or so) months in Copenhagen will be coming to a pause. I say pause, not end, because for all intents and purposes, it truly doesn't feel like this is the end. I don’t see my time in Copenhagen as coming to an end but rather this is the end for this particular moment in my life.
From the moment God fanned the flame that he ignited in my heart to come here, as soon as I landed it was as if I was being propelled forward by a wildfire ever at my heels. I jumped right into life in Denmark: going on dates within a few days of my arrival, buying (not renting) a used bike, and becoming a regular at a church where the sermons are in Danish (no, my Danish is not that good to the point that I can understand an entire church sermon). There were so many moments within the first month that surprised me in the best way. Meeting people who would become friends I’d confide in in moments of true vulnerability, being able to dip my toes into the photo industry here, and seeing how God is building his church (God bless everyone who shows up when sometimes the congregation is but 10 people in total).
There were also many moments where I was brought to my knees in humility and looking back, that first month was the third time I can recall in my life where, at a very low point, I felt God showing me where I was not seeing myself for who I was meant to be.
Going on dates (for the first time after many months of hiatus) helped me to see that I am worthy of so much love.
Feeling “alien” in a city where, yes, English is widely spoken but to truly be part of the culture, an entire other language is needed, helped me see my own vulnerabilities as a human and learn to embrace the uncomfortable.
Not knowing anyone in Denmark before arriving helped me to embrace an attitude of “yes” – I was saying yes to meeting new people and visiting places I felt nudged to go because of the possibility of something great on the other side of my yes.
Those first few weeks, filled with all of the aforementioned trials and tribulations, the darkness seemed to be closing in. But I had been there before, and being somewhere before helps you develop a familiarity and a tenacity. I’ve grown to understand you can either embrace that same circumstance like an unwanted, artificial support blanket, or you can learn to try another way. There’s a verse in the bible that I love to read: “know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow…”(James 1:3-4a)
I let flames of the wildfire of my faith spur me on. I knew that God helped me get here (and get me out of my dark night of the soul last year) and so he surely wouldn’t leave me this time either. That’s not who he is.
Many people have asked me, “what’s next?” To which I reply, I simply don’t know yet. I want to stay (or rather, come back). I can genuinely see myself living in Copenhagen for some extended period of time. There are various obstacles and barriers on the horizon to get there, but I also know that whatever is to come, though it may not be easy, will surely be good (check out Psalm 84:11). I’ll be in NYC for the foreseeable few months after that, we will see. If I could do this, I’m truly excited for what else is possible for me and where else I can go.
To end, I wanted to share an entry from my journal that I wrote on a plane a few weeks before my trip to Copenhagen. I often journal my prayers and thoughts as a way to look back and see how God responded later or to see where my mind was at (I am frequently amused at how fickle I am).
--
Ellipsis
In the ellipsis, I wait for the answers to come.
I step into the space from where and who I was to the ever-present becoming. In the ellipsis, I hold things with loose fingers, willing to trust that some items may slip from my grasp (truthfully, they were always God’s to carry anyway).
In the ellipsis, I wonder if I’ve brought too much. Are my bags too heavy, did I overpack, overthink? I trust that as I move through the months, I can keep what needs to be kept close, say goodbye to the things that are ornamental, and still hold on to the questions that remain.
In the ellipsis, I want my yeses to be yeses and my nos to be nos. With each pause and each breath, I become more authentically me.
In this pause, I pause and rest. Simply because I can. In the ellipsis, I wonder how I say goodbye and hello. I recognize that some goodbyes will be periods while others will only be semicolons or commas.












