All post

Holy longing



Holy longing
a spiritual wrestling
as the sinner & holy
fight for control
in this body of mine
that acts as a temple
for something far beyond
this skin I wear.

This reminder
that I'm not whole -
that I’ll never be whole
while I live on this earth
is a constant, dull ache
muted by my distraction
and disposition to diversion.

Living in a constant state
of “not yet”
patiently awaiting
the return of the
One who saves

me from myself.

I'm Torn.



I love my job. Don't get me wrong. I'm deeply grateful for the opportunities I've been given, but it's not always easy. It's a blessing and a curse to live between these two countries - to constantly feel like I'm in an epic battle of tug and war between the Dominican Republic and the United States. When I'm in the US, I miss the culture of the DR - the people, the worship, the fruit, the weather, the list goes on. When I'm in the DR my heart aches for the big life moments I'm missing out on - friends getting married and babies entering the world among other things.

 I'm trying to live life wedged in the crack between these two countries I love deeply, and I'm trying not to get lost in the chasm. Sometimes it get overwhelming, always catching people up on what's going on, feeling like I'm constantly trying to explain my heart and experiences. How can I love both of these countries so much? And how can I choose between them? To be honest, it's really hard. I don't have many friends who have spent long periods of time in other countries and can relate to my experiences. 

I'm learning.
How to explain things well.
How to smile genuinely when people don't understand and give them grace for their ignorance.
How to give myself grace for my own ignorance.
How to live in the crack.
How to live life with open palms.

My Mission



Hi my name is Aunica, and I'm 22 right now. For some of you that may seem old, for others you see that I have a long journey ahead of me, but either way I've lived over 2 decades on this earth and with that comes experience. When I tell my God story, there are so many different ways I can do it. Do I talk about God's faithfulness and goodness even through great trial? Do I talk about praying a prayer and thinking I was going to heaven without truly knowing who my God was? Or do I talk about learning to live a life with open palms, never grasping things too tightly, praying that I could trust in my Father enough to allow Him full control over every aspect of my life? I could talk about all of those things, and I'm more than happy to share the incredible work God has done in my life over these past 22 years, but today I'm telling a different part of my story. Today I'm talking about my calling to love people passionately and advocate for those who don't have a voice. This is my call to missions.

I prayed the prayer when I was 5. Blah blah blah. But as a little girl, I really didn't know what that meant. Years went on, and playing Barbies with my sisters continued to be my favorite past time, having no idea that within my little heart God was moving and changing in ways that would effect me for a lifetime. When I was 10 years old, our church held a missions conference in which all of our missionaries that we supported returned to our church to share what God had been doing in their ministry over the past year. I was mesmerized. Story after story of the faithful pursuing God and loving on people in His name. As I sat there, my heart churned within me in a way that I can't describe, and as a little girl I felt God telling me that He had placed within me a passion for His people.

As the year went on, the images of the conference faded in my mind, and I refocused my attention to playing in creeks and jumping on trampolines, forgetting the calling God had given to me. Finally, it was time for the conference again. This time, with memory of that uncomfortable twisting, my little girl heart asked God "what does this mean?" and once again, my Abba spoke to me saying that He was calling me to live a life filled with a passion for His people.

With this deep fire burning in my heart, I eagerly told everyone that would listen about my calling into missions and began gobbling up any and all missions material I could get my little hands on. I read Revolution in World Missions as an 11-year-old and book after book about famous missionaries that had dedicated their lives to serving the Lord overseas.

As I continued to grow up, the missions conference didn't happen as often, and the fire within me became a dull throb that over time faded to a whisper. in high school, I gave in to my fears and determined that missions was too uncomfortable and inconsistent, and decided to pursue one of my other passions, graphic design. My freshman year of college I took a class called Perspectives in World Missions, but hardened my heart and refused to listen to the stirring that I had pushed so far down within me, determining instead that my role in missions would be solely one of support.  As college went on, I continued to pursue a career as a graphic designer and sought to enter the corporate world.

Well, God wasn't (and isn't) done with me. And we all know how "telling God what you will and will not do" goes. Through an internship that turned into a job, I'm using my degree in graphic design in addition to leading short-term mission trips in the Dominican Republic through a non-profit organization called Praying Pelican Missions. To say that God's been in control this whole time would be an understatement. You can read more about the crazy God instances that got me to this place in previous blogpost I wrote here. God is good. God is faithful. He doesn't give us desires that He isn't going to fill in some way, shape, or form. If you would have told me a year ago I'd be leading mission trips and doing graphic design, all while working with people that have become a sort of family, I would never have believed you. Praise be to our God for being constant.

Want to stay updated on my ministry? Join my e-mail newsletter list here!
Interested in joining my financial support team? Donate here!

If you'd like to grab coffee and talk about missions, Jesus, or life, I'd LOVE that! E-mail me at aunica@prayingpelicanmissions.org or message me on facebook to set up a time.



Willing Heart




Soft light dancing
Coffee steaming
Heart beating.

I stare out the clear window
asking one question of You
What do you require of me,
O Lord?
And silently wait.

A rush of peace descends
as the Holy mingles with the sinner
somehow living in perfect juxtaposition
within this body of mine.

From deep within me
the voice of peace
and a power unimaginable
speaks out
"A willing heart, my child."

And so I'm learning.
To be willing
to go places
and speak with people
and do things
that aren't comfortable
or glamorous.

I will always be learning.
To live with an open palm
not grasping too tightly those things
in which I place
so much value.

Learning to find freedom
in the unknown
and the trusting
that I wrestle with
day by day.

The Name




"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."
Ephesians 6:12

 I'm in a season where spiritual warfare is more prevalent than ever, so this symbol acts as a reminder to me that my struggle is not against flesh and blood. 

Sabbath looks different



Sometimes Sabbath looks different.
Like Bon Iver
and empty houses
and big sweatshirts
and giving yourself grace to just
be.

Sometimes Sabbath looks like
taking deep breaths
and soaking in the presence
of a Creator
that isn't holding an anvil over your head
waiting for you to mess up
so He can say "I told you so."

Sabbath looks like
finding rest for your soul
and taking time to slow down
it looks like a reminder
that everything in this world will pass
someday, maybe tomorrow,
but someday.

Sabbath looks like
finding joy in the small things
like the way the sun plays across the carpet
and the peaceful breeze between the leaves
that will take a journey
in the next couple of weeks

Sometimes Sabbath looks like
dancing slowly
and being grateful
for a body that moves
and that grace can be seen
in something so soft.

Soul.



Warm skin
and the promise
of the end
and the beginning
the day
I first felt
my soul 
within me.

I leaned over
and plunged
head first
into the abyss
falling
falling
falling
and still
I'm falling.

Ink a breath away 
from spilling
and threatening to 
never cease
hungry eyes
that betray me
and say more
that my lips could
ever express.

We mingled our souls.



We mingled our souls.
That's what missions feels like.
Community
on a deeper level
than forming my lips
into shapes and sounds
can ever begin to express.

We mingled our souls.
Shoulder to shoulder
baking under the rays
smiles surpassing lingual disparity
deepening understanding
as views are widened
and hearts are forever changed.

We mingled our souls.
Basking in the warmth
of the favor of our Creator,
rejoicing with a unified voice,
and returning glory
to it's rightful owner.

We mingled our souls.

Finding Home.



Flashback to freshman year of college.
You walk into a new building.
Full of excitement to meet new friends,
get to your new classes,
and open your new books.
You've chosen a major -
the path to your success in life.
Branding yourself as a
mathematician
artist
athlete
and the list goes on.
You think you know who you are,
or that you'll know by the time you get that signed paper
and a long list of bills
at the end of your time on those grounds.

But,
I can attest to the fact
that I still don't know
and I don't know if I'll ever know
what I'm supposed to do
now that school is over
forever.

I feel a strong urging
deep
deep
deep
in the places in my heart
that often get drowned out
by the chaos that surrounds me
in everyday life.
An urging to
GO
to travel
to explore
to experience
the people and cultures that my sweet Abba has created.
To learn more about His people
and in turn what brings Him joy.
I feel an urge to live life alongside others
who share the same desperation
that grips my heart.
The longing to KNOW God
to truly know Him.
Not to just show up to a building a few times a week
and shake hands with a few people
sing a song or two
and think about what's for lunch,
but to deeply and truly
seek the heart and passion
of the One who created all.

But where does this happen?
Where is my home?
Is my home amidst
tall stalks of green
or is my home in
the chilly city
or is my home
by the mango trees
and the people with the big smiles
who have nothing
and somehow everything
all at the same time.

I'm learning...
learning to find my home
in all of those places
and none at the same time.
To live in the gap
between my homes...
and in essence
find home within myself.
To find peace
in the chasm
while I seek and search
for what this lack of roots means.
Subscribe to: Posts ( Atom )