As I lay me down to sleep

I am reminded of a time where messages of freedom were spoken to me in the midst of such pain that I could not fully hear to understand.

Looking back over the long days and nights, the stretches of which became weeks that turned to months all connecting to form a year, I can see with clarity and certainty what was meant by those words spoken with hope and promise. I can see the release from what I held so tightly to that I was held back in a place of voluntary captivity.

And now, more than ever, I am thankful for the broken freedom.

Lamentations 3

A Single Pursuit

There is a difference between being alone and being unwanted.

I live a comfortable existence walking through my days and weeks connecting with various people and keeping the connection at appropriate levels of depth determined by the strength of the relationship. Part of this is because I usually have the only say-so in my schedule and sole responsibility of my time.

And I rather like this funny life I am living. I do not understand it to say the least, but to watch it unfold in the different seasons has been, at times, excruciating, but always a revelation of beauty.

However, there are times as I walk this life alone that I easily confuse being alone and feeling unwanted; and these are two very different things. I have little trouble being alone and often escape to do just that. I have a lot of trouble feeling unwanted. 

So what do I do with that? When being alone seems to highlight the feeling and point to being unwanted.

First, I realize the insane whirlwind of emotional thought driving that  feeling- fear. 

Second, I own that fear: I do fear being unwanted. To be known and found wanting... that is about the worst feeling a person can experience.

Third, I look for truth. God promised he would never leave me or forsake me. I have to believe that is true, because when I cannot see the physical relationship in front of me in my quiet hours of solitude, or in the days when I am stretched so thin I can barely breath for fear of snapping, I have to believe in what I cannot see. 

Fourth, I get to chose to believe in that truth or continue to believe in my skewed perception of the reality in which I sit.

These numbers hold very little weight in the midst of that place of fear. When it's in black and white and reduced to letters strung together making the sentence make sense, it seems sensible. 

I do not fear being alone.

I fear being unwanted.

And that is to be human. That is to feel alive. That is to recognize my need- not just my need for relationships with others, but it shows my absolute need in a God who is not moved by my circumstance and is not shaken by my doubt. 

devotions of a mother in a waiting room

as I feel the tidal wave of pictures surge on social media, I am overwhelmed by so much new life and new beginnings- it is a beautiful thing to see

but this is an aspect of life I wonder if I am to only participate in as a spectator

those kids I always pictured in my future were visions resembling magazine cutouts and commercial clips

I was inspired by the idea of letting my son have a mohawk and go to the store in a super hero cape and letting my daughter wear her tutu and soccer cleats together because she wanted to

the visions I have of my future look nothing tangibly like that future I assumed I would step in to

what I see now opposed to then is a different kind of birth and growth-
a metaphor

I see a continued growth in myself- feeling the odd cravings to taste new and strange things I would never have had a taste for- or the immediacy of tasting what I know is good at all hours of the day and night, the onset of getting everything cleaned and straightened and in order, experiencing the joy in the hope of what is to come and the discomfort as that growth becomes almost too much to bear

there is the time when this new life needs every ounce of me - when I tend to it losing time, sleep and money having no idea if what I am doing is right and concerned I am missing something

there is a time as that new life grows and demands less and less of me and can function independently leaving me feeling superfluous



there is no way to assume this is the same as giving physical birth to a child
there is no way to assume this will be the only way I give birth

I don't know that I am built to carry the physical weight and wait of what it takes to create a new life and sustain that life
I don't even know what it is to live with the persistent and deep longing unmet, the void of a desire yet to become real and tangible in a physical way


I do know that I am in a place to build and work under the weight and in the wait of a new birth of vision

and as I wait, the weight continues to impress on me ever-growing into something I could not plan for or fully be prepared for
I hope and pray over this vision as a mother would a child - hoping that it grows healthy, plays well with others, is thought well of, is beautiful, would leave a strong legacy in it's wake

Hiding: a how-to guide.

Around the third or fourth grade, I remember playing Monsters in the Dark. I was at my brother's friend's house and the lights were all out and we would play hide and seek in the dark. I hated being the person seeking because I not only enjoyed finding a good hiding spot in the dark, but I was good at it. However, no matter how good at hiding I was, I hated waiting in the dark. There's an anxiousness in waiting to be found. And it was alone in the small spaces that the darkness seemed to envelope me in an almost mystical way that turned furniture into monsters and shadows into demons.

Now that I am an adult, I still hate the darkness; whether it is physical, spiritual, or emotional darkness. Having hidden in that darkness, calling the shadows my friends, I can more easily recognize when I begin to sink into those spaces, begging for someone to find me but not feeling able to call out for help.

Just like the game, hiding is unique to each person- to find that one spot that no one knows about or knowing just how to position yourself so that you blend into the darkness.

One of those spaces I have found to hide is in busyness. Being so busy that I do not have time to really be known, thus creating a safety zone of friendliness that provides an illusion of connection without any real relationship. Or, I use it as a reason to jump in and out of commitments. In some regards, my busyness has become a sort of safekeeping providing a barrier of protection to rely on. Even today, I swept in and out of church making sure to not stop moving long enough to really talk with anyone; giving the impression that I was needed to accomplish tasks and the vibe that the importance was too great to slow down.

One of the ways I used to hide was to shut off, shut out, and shut down. I would literally fold in on myself until I was on my floor or bed in the fetal position. I still struggle against this reaction. To play and replay events in my head trying to find a way to sort it out and find some understanding mentally so it feels manageable emotionally. This is a frustrating way to hide- behind intellect and psychobabble.

There are a lot of ways I hide and there is reason for this: fear. Fear of being hurt. Fear of being a dissapointment or being disapointed. Fear of not being right. Fear of looking foolish. Fear of being capable/successful.
But reason does not equal excuse and fear is not an excuse to hide. If it was, then it would be acceptable to remain as I used to be and God loves me too much to leave me as I am. He has called me out of hiding in the darkness. He has called me into the light. In so many areas, he has acknowledged my reasons but has not let them excuse me from his call.

He has called me to be known. I do not yet know what this looks like, but I am finding this day by day. In the interactions with my roommates first thing in the morning when I cannot filter out the rough edges of my natural tendencies. In my work as many of my fears and joys are interwoven throughout the day and my coworkers experience the truer versions of myself breaking through. In ministry as I work with amazing women and a great staff who see my desire for control trump my struggle to relate.

In all of these places, I have been called to come out of hiding in the dark. In doing so, in that fear and risk, I have experienced responses of grace that overwhelm my tired heart and renew my anxious mind.

Generous Grace

What does this mean? Generous Grace.
This came to mind after I read a devotional this morning with the main concept stating that to hear truth- the Word- is not enough. There is more. We have to believe it is true and let it change us- who we are at our core. This is not often done because it is usually really uncomfortable. Changing your behavior is hard- changing your motivation is harder. And God calls us to be holy because he is holy- what a command! But in this, he also provides grace.
If God provides grace for me, and I am called to be like him, I should then be offering grace to others- the way it is offered to me: generously. But I often find that I put myself in a place of judgement, puffing myself up, thinking I am in a place to offer grace- to extend it- as though it is mine to give. 
It is not.It is mine to live. 
The difference is that I am not sitting here hoarding all of the grace to parcel out as I see fit. I am to walk through my day in a gracious way- living, breathing, exuding grace so that others cannot help but be affected by the grace I experience and the graciousness that flows from me. 
As lovely as those words sound, it is an ugly process filled with raw emotion and mishandlings that often leave more than just myself devastated. Learning grace is not a pretty process. However, the process of learning grace produces beautiful results.
To walk through life is actually easier if it's just you. Only you know your thoughts and your heart. You can walk away or escape or explain your behaviors. It's the living day-to-day life surrounded by others that begins to call out the hidden areas in our lives. That is why we need relationship, we need community, and I think that is why it is also avoided. 
I love learning people. I love being learned. But there comes a point that each person is at a place where the vulnerability is real and there is a moment to accept that in grace or to walk away. I find myself constantly at that place, that precipice of relationship (whether that is in friendship, working, living, etc) where we can choose to go either way. It's that uncomfortable tension between the newness and the commitment. And I have experienced a lot of walking away- both from others as well as myself. I have heard and given some really good excuses too: I have a full time job, a full time ministry, friends, a small group, etc.- I do not have time. I don't want to be distracted from the ministry I participate in and lead- it's too important. It's not the right time- I'm not ready for a relationship. 
Hogwash.
Looking at the overview of Jesus' ministry- ministry is the result of relationship- not vice versa. I have been expecting relationship to come after the ministry is built. Once everything is in place, then women will connect and there will be relationship. Once the ministry is in place, then I'll have time to devote to a relationship. Once the ministry is going... what kind of ministry is that? One of plans and schedules bypassing the messy trenches of relationships. I think we, as the American church, have made ministry too pretty and flashy. We have made it more about attracting people than meeting people. Jesus did not run after people to try and convince them of who he is. He did not use fancy words or even a lot of words. What did he do then? With no real plan or agenda or sermon prepared? 
He loved on those who others did not. He saw the good in people, even those who hated him. He touched those who longed to be felt. No rules, no programs, no schedule. Just a lot of space, time and grace.
I don't do this. I shy away from people. I rationalize that the ministry I do within my church is good enough- messy enough.
I am living within a controllable mess. One in need of grace, but not in desperate need of generous grace. The kind of desperation for grace that knocks the breath out of you. The kind that not only steps on your toes, but crushes your selfishness. The kind that reminds you of the necessity to breath in the freshness of grace over and over and over again. 

I keep saying “I’m not that kind of girl”

Truth is, I am more that kind girl than I ever thought I would be.

I drive a jeep and bought camo seat covers for it. I have a hot pink kayak. I have an ever increasing number of tattoos. My nose is pierced as is a part of my ear other than my lobe. I wear a bikini bathing suit to the beach to lay out in the sun. I like to wear dresses and skirts and even high heels. I like to climb trees and walls and sometimes hills and mountains. I break some rules- mostly jaywalking. I lead Bible studies. I watch sermons in my spare time. I read before I go to bed. I brush my teeth first thing in the morning and usually before bed. I always make my bed. I live attached to my phone.  I cook more often than I bake, but I do both and usually from scratch. I spend more money on food than clothes. I love yoga but still find the need for a good run. I cuss sometimes, mostly on purpose. I break promises and hearts. I lose my temper and cause hurt. I am ever learning what grace looks and feels like. And I continue to practice the art of apologizing and humility of asking for help.

So much of who I look like is in line with who I am. However, I still get stuck. I get stuck in that place of anxiety that what my life looks like creates an unrealistic expectation of who I am. I am not always graceful. I am not always overjoyed that I drive a jeep. I sometimes even have a microwavable dinner. I waffle in my indecision of who to trust. I don’t always trust myself. I don’t always trust others. And, more often than I would like, I don’t always trust God. This is the place that scares me the most. This place of waffling and mistrust- this hellhole of anxiety. Want to know why I like to plan? Why I look at every detail? Why I am an avid researcher of the world wide web when I don't know something? Why I freak out when something is misspelled or I have something in my teeth? Because, I know what it is to live in fear. And if I'm not running from the fear, I become obsessed in trying to figure it out- most people tell me I over-analyze... everything. Once I get fixated on something, I think through it until I try and comprehend the mystery of it, which makes it feel like I am in control. This also makes me appear wise- because people rarely see me freaking out in the midst of this place.

And God has been kind in allowing me to experience the brokenness of such fear- to see the goodness in being broken in that place and broken free from that place. But even in the freedom, in the joy of trusting God and walking out in faith, of just "rolling with it," I still get stuck sometimes. I get lost and I break down and I cry like a girl.

The point of this is to remind myself: I am that kind of girl. But I get to choose who I am. I don’t think any of this surprised (or surprises) God. But it surprised me one day as I saw my tattooed hand playing with the wind outside the door of my jeep as I drove down the highway after church- that was when it all began to sink in. I am that kind of girl - I am every bit of myself with only the apologies necessary to continue to mold that person to be more in line with who God is, not who I think others or myself think I should be.