Working through your shit is sexy

I should be over this. I said.

No you shouldn't. Shouldn't doesn't exist. She said.

It feels so silly.  I said.

It's not. You weren't ready before. You are now. She said.

I'm too old for this. I said. 

You are in your 30's and prime for this self discovery. It's your new birth to self awareness. She said. 

Being in your 30's means now is your moment. This is the perfect time for you in your prime and it makes the most sense. She kept going.

And nothing is sexier than when a woman does the hard work to let all the bullshit go and starts to truly love herself. You pouring into your healing and really stripping away all the preconceived ideas and expectations, all the baggage you accumulated. It's inspiring to watch, and it's really sexy. She said.

I clung to those words like a life line. 

I need them to be true, because mostly... well... when you start pulling your life apart and let all your emotions and insecurities and bruised pieces of your heart sit there out in the open, all you can help but think is, "When did I get to be this twisted up? How did I not see how broken I was?"

The very last thing you feel is sexy. Or awesome. Or even capable most days.  

I emotionally, spiritually, and mentally crashed and burned last fall. If I'm honest, I was teetering on the edge for awhile. Sometimes I feel like those are big dramatic words to describe me, but it's how I really feel. I built my life on a lot of crazy expectations and lies that I believed about myself, a lack of self worth that I can't believe I have to own. Patterns and habits that hurt me and my family. I came to a point where I was so tired of trying to hide, or living my life in a way that wasn't honest or real for me. I was letting my life, my emotions, my choices be ruled by other people and their opinion of me. I could go on and on, but that's for another day. 

But now here I am. I now have the wreckage of cracking my soul wide open to deal with. It's just lying there all over the floor while I have to sort it out. And anyone who has been through the wringer, knows that kind of healing takes time. This is not a weekend project, clean a room time, but day after day, week after week, month after month, learning to choose different. It is a mind game unlike anything else. Nothing feels natural because natural responses got me in this place and I question every decision I make. My relationships all feel like they balance on a hinge. Normal interactions carry a different weight because exposing all your crap means you live more raw and tender, which again, strains relationships.  Every little thing takes immense strength and concentration, which brings you back to being tired all over again. Just for different reasons. Before I was tired because I was over stretched. Now I am tired from relearning myself every damn day. 

Because becoming self aware and relearning yourself can't be summed up in a meme. It takes more strength and time than that. 

Because even when if feels silly and small and maybe even that your own personal journey to real true discovery can't compare to others struggles, you know you have to keep going. 

My skin feels strange to me. My thoughts confuse me. My emotions feel like they can't be trusted. I want to drink more than I ever did before. I want to be honest but kind of terrified if people could really handle what really goes on in my head. 

Feeling strange in your own body and mind is a really good reason to want to stop this process, but I know I can't. I know that no matter what happens on the other side of the journey, I may not look any different to you, but I will find me. Mark my words, at the end of this grievous road, though I don't feel it now, I will claim my voice back, and I will feel sexy in my own skin again. 

The tale of Ms. Murphy

Mr. Roosevelt is a sweet old man who lives across our street with his daughter Sharlonda. Over the last couple of years, I see him walking to his semi parked down the street, or sitting on the porch enjoying a drink in the late afternoon. We wave, we say hi, we do neighborly things. Mr. Roosevelt always has a smile for me, and me for him. 

Yesterday I was getting out of my car, and he timidly called out to me to come over and chat with him.

"Ms. Danielle, I grew up in Alabama on a farm pickin cotton. We was poor, the whole lot of us. We spent our days as kids pickin cotton and hauling wood and whatever chores were needed. All us kids needed to work, so we didn't do no school. Then one summer Ms. Murphy from MN came down to teach the whole lot of us to read. We didn't even know how to spell Cat, and she gave us that. She would take us to the marches for Dr. King holding my hand the whole time. She told us this was history. This was our story and we needed to be there. She taught us to read and write and what was important.

I wouldn't be a truck driver today if it weren't for her. I wouldn't be able to provide for my family and put food on the table without her. I hoped when I moved up here, I might be able to find her. All I knew was her name was Ms. Murphy and she was from MN. I was never able to find her to say Thank you. I want so badly to say thank you to that lady who changed my life.

For two years I wanted to say something to you, but I was embarrassed and felt kind of shy about it. I see you all the time working out there in that garden, playing with those kids, teaching them to plant and work and grow food. I see you smile at everyone who comes by, stop what you're doing and visit with them. 

You remind me a whole lot of Ms. Murphy. You two have the same spirit. You got this openness about you, this way that wants to give back.

So I never been able to say thank you to Ms. Murphy from MN, but I want to say thank you to you. It feels kinda the same."

And what in the ever lovin crazy world does one say to that? 

I know I don't feel that way.

I know I don't see myself that way.

I know what I do feels radically different than that.

And yet. 

And

Yet.

I have been so deeply touched by this story. A story of love and devotion. A story of people seeing other people. And I mean, really seeing them. Not looking past them. Loving them. Sacrificing for them. Devoting time and care and kindness to them. To humanity. To a cause that draws us closer together, instead of pushing us further away.

I so desperately always want to be apart of that kind of love.

Now I know that every day I can strive to be more like Ms. Murphy.

That we all could.

And I am going to do whatever I can to start solving the mystery of Ms. Murphy, so that my friend Mt. Roosevelt can say thank you. 

The unseen things...patience with humanity

My son shyly approached me the other day. It was a moment that I knew held emotion and weight by the way he awkwardly didn't even know how to be in his own skin. He was uncomfortable and then, unable to keep it in anymore, he said,

"Mom I am scared of spring. The weather is nicer now and spring means storms. Storms mean lightening and thunder and tornados. I feel dumb because I'm scared of storms and they still bother me. I'm too old to be scared of storms. I don't want to be scared but I don't know how not to be."

It is the stirring of the unrelenting chaotic current that lies underneath our demeanor. 

I know it. 

I know many people who know this feeling well. 

It is the anxiety of what could be, what has been, what might happen. It is the unknown, sometimes based in reality, other times rooted in fear.

I forget sometimes how deeply effected my son was by that day 5 years ago. How that struggle stays with him as he tries to learn how to do life with this wound. 

I think about how already he is worried. I watch as his eyes follow the clouds. How he sneaks peaks on my phone to check the weather. I notice how he plans time with his friends around the weather to not expose his fear or weakness to the people around him. 

His fear and earth shattering experience through the tornado has altered him. 

It makes me wonder about all the others out there who are struggling with a fear, a demon, a ghost, a moment, a person. It makes me wonder how they change their lives to work around this scar in their own existence.

We all have them, yet we feel pressure or shame or anxiety about the timeline in which we should be healed. We have these moments that redefine who we are because these moments never leave us. We simply hold them differently.

Yet from the outside, it is easy to forget that someone else would have an internal scar that I can't see. I only live with your coping techniques, and the sad reality is most often we forget or don't understand so we cast judgements on one another. 

The wind was picking up and tossing and throwing items around the yard and my oldest son wanted to come inside and stop playing catch with his brother. He was embarrassed and so didn't explain why he wanted to come in, he simply left, to which it caused a rift between the brothers. There was angst and some name calling and lots of frustration. 

I saw it and knew. I knew it was  based in fear and panic, lack of communication and embarrassment (shame). It was all about deflecting and hiding and projecting. 

I think it's easy to forget the pain and scars others carry. I wonder how our friendships and relationships could be stronger if we held each other more gently and had patience for the healing process. 

I am no one to judge you and the process of how you carry your struggle, your wound, your scar.  We are all mostly simply trying to navigate our lives and emotional healing is a beast that takes much longer than expected to tame. 

I'm his mother and I forgot his scar. 

I want to take this moment with him and remember to hold him well, but also to reflect and remember that most around me carry scars as well. I am not responsible for all the pain and healing in the people around me. However, if we are in community and relationship as we say we are, then I deeply want to be a vessel for healing and peace. And in order to work towards that beautiful gift, we must be patient with one another and grant understanding. 

The power of presence

When we often are looking for the right words to say, I have discovered that simply being present is all I need to be.

There is something irrevocably powerful in simply being there.

The power of presence communicates:

I see you

I hear you

I want to be here with you

Your pain matters

Your joy matters

You are real to me

You exist

Your life matters

You are worth my time

There is nowhere I would rather be in this moment than with you. Right here. Right now.

You. Are. Not. Alone.

We can often do damage with the wrong words. But our presence is never a mistake.

It is our feet in the street. It is our statement of solidarity. It is our voice when words fail us.

The power of being present.

When Counseling enters your story

I am writing this post yes for myself to journal about this experience, but also for you.  The mom or friend or brother or child in the family where things get hard sometimes.  Or maybe lots of the time.

I am writing to tell you that even though, yes, we as a family have lots of funny stories to share, yes we get to travel the country together, and we live as a family grounded in faith and our house is covered in art projects with music blaring, we struggle with anger.

A lot it seems.

We live big.  I don't mean financially, I mean intense and passionate big.  We are big and passionate when we love each other and when we are angry with one other.  We talk loud, we dance every day, we run and don't walk, we eat a lot.  It seems everything we do and all that we are is just heightened a bit.  A little extra if you will.  I often call my children full.  This is not to imply that other children or families are lacking.  Not at all.  Somehow though my children have tapped into all their thoughts, emotions, creativity, and life's purpose all ready, at a very young age.  So they often feel like grown up people, just crammed in little bodies and they are screaming and clawing their way out.

This is all good and wonderful and you get really funny stories, until they get upset and even those thoughts and feelings are extra large.  That's when people start to get hurt.

I will often say we know how to do 80% of life well.  But we really struggle with that other 20%.   

Those times when the kids are not doing their homework and I remind them again for the seventh time and they get angry. The day you wake up on the wrong side of the bed and the next door neighbor hears about it. Or when you are still trying to teach your kid to tie his shoes two years later because he gets frustrated with himself and gives up and starts huffing and puffing and throwing a tantrum.

At 8 years old.

Our oldest has been gifted with direct access to all of my red hot issue buttons.  I mean seriously, buttons I didn't even know were triggers for me, he found them.  And he LOVES to push them.  He must, because he does it ALL.THE. TIME. 

So, we don't do the hard stuff well.

We don't argue well.  We can sometimes get hurtful.

We don't always do discipline well.  Sometimes it isn't patient and thoughtful, its just down right yelling to get you to go to your room, of which I am never proud of.

And for our oldest, it seems there are lots of things that make  him frustrated.  No matter how we have tried to work with him to find systems where he can find success in doing his homework and chores and helping his siblings, he really struggles anger and frustration.  He is incredibly vocal about it and so the negative energy permeates the entire house.

It's really hard to have frustration in the home.  I am weary of fighting it.  Tired of counteracting it. Researching ways to avoid it.  

I believe that some of the reason for this frustration is directed at his restricted diet to keep him off of meds for ADD/ADHD and sensory issues.  I know part of the reason for his fear (which fuels anger) is the weather after a tornado hit our home three years ago.  And the brutal truth is that living in the most crime dense neighborhood of Minneapolis posses an ever constant dull awareness that we are not safe.

I could go on and on about why I think he might be angry, or why I am angry with him, or why we yell more than we are proud of.

But the truth is that we are maxed out in our understanding of how to help each other.

So we are starting counseling.

We need counseling to learn how to do the hard stuff better.  To find tools in how to communicate with each other so that we aren't doing irreparable damage to our relationships.  I can't send my son into adolescence with all this fear and anger, only to add more life and insecurity that comes from school to the mix.  I don't want our relationship to continue being built on a mine field where we never know when he is going to explode. The prayer is that a counselor can give us ways to respect each other in our hard time and know how to handle it better.

I am not foolish enough to believe that we won't ever fight again.  That will most likely happen within the next 24 hours.  But what do I want?  

I want my son to know that I will do anything for him.  That I will find a way or a person that will help him love himself and life.

I want my son to know that talking to a counselor is not for crazy people, but for people who are ready to admit that the knowledge you hold alone sometimes isn't enough.

I want my son to know that asking for help is OK. 

I want my son to know that he is OK.  That he is funny, and compassionate, and thoughtful, and silly, and smart.  That he is all of those things, and he is frustrated.  So let's see how we can deal with the frustrated.

I want my son to know that we are a safe place where he can come and he knows we see all of him and love all of him.

I want to give my son the gift of self awareness.  This is a gift that helps you navigate faith, judgement, relationships and life.  The more self aware we are, the more compassionate we can be.

And I want my son to learn healthy communication in order to understand faith, God and others.

So.... we are going to counseling.  I want to encourage you, if there are some really hard things going on in your life, please give yourself the gift of counseling.  To have another pair of eyes and ears in your life that will encourage you in what you do well, and give you tools to handle the hard stuff.

The invitation

There is something powerful in an invitation.  It speaks an affirmation to the very essence of who you are.

I remember the first time I spent time with Paul.  We were sitting in a green room suite for the bands, speakers, and staff of a large conference we were both working.  We had only exchanged glances and small pleasantries up until this moment.  When he came and went from a room, I followed him discreetly with my eyes.  Then, as he was surrounded by people, Paul walked over to me and asked me to join the conversation he was in over at the other end of the room.

My response was filled with my usual awkwardness.  I think I just stared at him, confused by what he asked.  He smiled his patience with me (which oddly still continues 15 years later in our marriage as I try to keep up) and repeated his question.  

"I would love to have your input in this conversation we are having over there.  Would you join us?"

After my awkward silence, he was met with my awkward and insecure response.

"Me?  You're talking to me?"  See up this point, my best friend and I would joke at the reality that we were always the girls in the corner of the room with no one to talk to.  It was funny because it was always true.

He held out his hand to help me off my seat  on the floor and reaffirmed that I was the one he wanted to join him.

Let's put aside the fact that my husband is super hot and any girl would be honored to receive his attention, I was still figuring out who I was and hadn't found my confidence yet.  Let's be real, I wasn't even near the right track to take the train all the way to the other sphere where my confidence apparently lived.  Getting down that road took years.

I sat in that conversation utterly stunned and a deep feeling I wasn't sure how to describe settled in my spirit.

I was wanted.

Someone sought me out and choose me.

The power in the invitation.

Invitation is confirmation that who I am is valuable and needed.  And even more than needed, it is wanted and desired.

We each offer something unique to the human race.  Our very existence changes the course of history.

Invitation validates that uniqueness in each of us. 

That moment of being invited usually means that something is going to change.  

You can't accept an invitation and not be faced with the core issue of addressing the identity of who you are and what you offer.  Someone has seen something in you.  They are acknowledging who and what you are and expanding your territory.  When you are invited it is often within a territory that you have not chosen nor one that you often inhabit.  Otherwise, you wouldn't need to be invited.

So what happens when your territory is expanded?

Often you are asked to leave the comfort of what feels normal to you.  You are embarking on new experiences, new business, new dreams, new understanding, new religion, new books, new music.  

New space.

New culture.

New relationships.

Someone sees a value in who you are and that it contributes to this world outside of where you normally exist.  

That is powerfully beautiful, especially in a world where we are often seen and not known.  Where we are constantly surrounded by people and yet, more and more feel incredibly lonely.  Where everyone else seems to be doing something amazing with their life, why doesn't anyone see me?  

Know me?  

Want me?  

Value me? 

Saying yes to invitation requires vulnerability.  It as an awareness of who I am and an appreciation of what I offer to the world.  It takes courage to humbly accept your powerful existence in the world.  Accepting the invitation is an opportunity to absorb the gift.  To be in the moment and let go of the lie that you don't belong in this new space you have never before explored.  Big and powerful things happen when we say yes to the invitation.  Most of them are personal and internal digging out the deep rooted lies that you don't belong.  Saying yes frees you to enjoy expanding your territory.

When we say yes to the invitation our lives change.  

We grow.  

We learn.

We explore.

We learn to enjoy the moments, value ourselves, and contribute more and more of who we are to the world.

We should invite people in more.

We should say yes to more invitations of relationships and opportunities.

And when I think of the greatest invitation I ever received, I think of Christ.  I remember all the ways in which he continues to invite me into new territory, asking me to trust him and let him expand my territory.  

An invitation to enjoy rich relationships.

Invitations to meaningful ministry.

Invitations to mercy and grace and humility.

And every day he invites me to love more than I thought possible.

And that my friends has been my greatest journey and an adventure that hasn't stopped.

To be Gentle

I think its time we learn to be gentle.

Gentle with ourselves.

Gentle with others.

And by us....I mean me.

I don't do things gently.

I live intensely.  I love extremes.  

I love passionately, powerfully, loud and over the top.  I can be exhausting to be around. 

That can be good, but it can also be difficult.  I don't want to stop being those things, but I do desire to deal with people and emotions and myself outside of an extreme.

When I experience guilt, I hold onto it for years.  I treat it like its my favorite blanket that I can't live without and wrap it around myself, never being able to part with it.

I grip fear like a lifeline, trying to kill it so that I can be free from it.  However, the tighter I hold it, the bigger it gets.

Anger is birthed from fear, and so instead of actually trying to hold onto it, I just hate it.  It won't go away, almost like a shadow, though I would I love to be rid of it.  I don't want to learn about it, study it, discover it, I just want it to disappear.

I hide loneliness hoping that no one will see.  I cover it up so I can ignore the feeling and hopefully just move on without it.

When there is pain, and at some point there will always be pain, I run from it.  I pretend that I am stronger than I am and ignore the open wound in my heart.  

Ignoring and fighting are my tactics for dealing with unwanted emotion.

Not knowing how to be gentle I believe stems from being a bit of a control freak.  You wouldn't believe how much of this tendency I have been able to surrender to the Lord.  But it's still there.  It often feels like a slow and steady current under my "Let's take it easy" attitude.  As much as I have surrendered, I continue to hold my actions against this attitude and see where I have missed the mark.

This is my goal now.  Call it my "word" for the year.  Call it my New Year's resolution.  I am sure I will need more time with this word than just a year, so maybe it will become my life achievement.

Hold things gently.

Hold people more gently.

Hold myself the most gentle of all.

I want to open my hands and hold each and every one of these feelings out in the open.  I want to know how to understand them.  

I want to respect them.

Feelings... people... myself.

Holding them gently means that I don't hide or shy away from them.  I don't let them rule my heart, but I understand that by ignoring them, they grow bigger and dig deeper.  Holding them gently simply means I can experience that feeling, then when it's over, I slowly move on.

Holding feelings gently means I don't live in extremes.  I won't ignore what I think or feel, but I also won't feel bad about it.

I want to hold people gently.  I desire for my relationships with my friends, my family, my partners in life to live vivaciously.  I want them to be thriving and full of grace and love and passion.  If I hold my relationships gently then there is respect.  I can show grace because I don't have time to judge.  I can love because hate isn't gentle.  I can be compassionate, because understanding is at the center of what it means to be gentle.

I want to hold my mistakes gently.  

This is difficult.

I desire with both my hands wide open, to cradle the things I have done wrong that have hurt myself and others.  The disastrous way I can treat people.  The selfishness I exude to my children.  The way I lied to my husband.  The 100th time I lost my cool and took out on the innocents around me.  I want those mistakes to be laid bare in my hands and watch grace and mercy cover them.  I want those moments to teach me about God, not keep me from him.  I want them to be great lessons in life, and not the lock and key to my freedom.

I want to hold myself gently.

To appreciate the entirety of myself.  The ways in which I am strong, but not conceited.

The ways in which I am weak, but not self-loathing.

To love and respect my loud and crazy days, and accept my quiet ones.

To know I can be apart of changing the world, but it's OK to go to bed at 8pm when needed.

To hold myself gently means to be free from comparison, judgement, and fear of others.

It is a way to accept myself and you for who we are.

I desire to live gently.

I desire to teach my children to be gentle with each other and themselves.

I desire to hold my marriage gently.  To let it live in love and respect and give it the attention it is due.

I desire to hold faith gently, not letting legalism drive me but love.

I desire to hold strangers gently, allowing them to be who they are before I decide who I want them to be.

I desire to hold the earth gently, respecting it for the beauty and creation it is.  It deserves my respect as any other living thing.

These are my desires.

I am going to pray that we as a community can each learn what it means to live gently.

Imagine what could happen if we did.

Absorb the moments

I haven't done this very well lately.  

If you follow me at all, you would know this to be true with my lack of paying attention to my website and blog.   Life has slipped away as I pour myself into my kids, my husband, and the book.  There has been time for little else these days.

When life is lived at full speed, we are incapable of having the moments of our days absorb into the fabric of our life.   As quickly as the moments come, they slide off our skin the same way. 

I have produced a ridiculous amount of work, food, activity, sleepless nights, projects, frustration and disagreements with my kids and weekends away lately.  Over the last few months I literally have not stopped.  There hasn't been time.   And every time I hear people talk about slowing down and simplifying, it is another avenue for guilt to seep in and overshadow all other emotion, crowding reality.

I know the way things should be.  I know the way they can be.  Sometimes we are able to make choices to help us slow down, to enjoy, to invest, to participate.  If I was being truthful however, most days I don't feel that way.  That even the possibility of slowing down is a futuristic ideal that can't really ever be achieved.

So how do I intentionally live my life and not let it slip by?  

When slowing down is literally not an option for this short or long season in your life, we all have the capability of absorbing the moments around us, willing them not to leave us so soon.  If I won't stop to see the people and the memories directly in front of me, then I am destined to miss my life.

I live in a strong constant motion of doing.  Cooking, cleaning, baking, ironing, washing, picking up...well everything, creating, crafting, shopping, mending, gardening, driving, helping with homework, helping with getting dressed, helping take baths, helping find this particular day's specific super hero outfit.  The work is never done.  The moving never slows.

So how do I slow down?  

I am not sure I can.  However, I can take a moment to pause.

To absorb.

To stop.

To measure my life and hold on, even just for that fleeting moment. 

The fleeting moments of my life, my marriage and with my children.

My oldest son is hard for me.  I see his kind heart and his empathy, and servant attitude.  I see his creativity and love for music and sports.  However, in him I also see all my struggles and shortcomings.  He carries all the things of my life I wish I could easily fix.  It's really hard not to control him, and in someway try to control myself.  

One thing about Big, is that doesn't just wear his heart on his sleeve, He lives with all of his emotions draped over his body like overalls.  You know how he feels about everything, ALL THE TIME.  He shares passionately his opinions and attitudes.  It's wonderful, unless it's annoying.

We have had a string of hard days.  Him consistently and successfully pushing my buttons.  Me, unable to let any little thing slide, pushing him and coming down hard on him.  For the last two weeks, neither one of us have been each others biggest fan.

I went to pick him up from a birthday party, and it was just the two of us in the car at night time.  We talked for a few minutes and then we quietly listened to music together. My mind wandered as I thought, "Is this it?  The extent of our relationship?  This is how it's going to be?"  

I didn't like it.

I wanted more.

Before I could think, I pulled over and parked the car.  I turned and looked at big and said, "Want to go explore with me?"

He looked completely and utterly confused.  He looked around, nervous, and said, "It's nighttime and I have to go to bed."

I simply looked at him and said, "I know, but this will be special for us.  Let's just go for a few moments and see what adventure we can have."

I was rewarded with a bright smile and giddy laugh, and knew this was what we needed. We needed a break from reality, from our routine.  We needed to stop and pause and enjoy our life.

We live roughly a mile from the Mississippi and last year they erected a beautiful bridge that lights up the night sky when its dark.  We were almost home, but felt like we were in another world as we crawled down the river bank under the bright blue lights of the bridge.  Big held my hand and talked about the things we were seeing.  He laughed as  he said how much fun he was having and he thought it was weird that we were doing this, but kind of cool.

When we reached the river's edge, we sat on a rock and I pulled him to my lap.  I wrapped my arms around and we sat in silence looking at the river move before us.  We just sat there and listened to the cars driving overhead.  We heard the crickets.  We listened to the water move over rocks.

"I love you mom.  Can this be our special spot for just you and me?"

That was my reward, one I am confident I didn't deserve after our two long weeks of not agreeing and having a hard time together.

I squeezed him and said, "Yes,  Yes of course.  Just you and me.  Its our secret spot when we need time together."

We hugged and a few minutes in the biting cold, we walked back up to our car.

The whole thing was about 10 minutes long.

Time to absorb.  To let that moment that will never happen again seep in the fabric of our memories and lives.

I went  home and did dishes and worked on projects till midnight, and none of that I remember.

I remember that moment with my son.

I remember sitting around our Thanksgiving and even to the groans of everyone present I make us share what we are Thankful for.  I want real moments to connect me to the people I love the most.

I remember the joy on my kids face and we laid down under our Christmas tree the night before we take it down to sing Christmas carols and say good bye to a magical season.

I remember the comfort I received from Scripture when I read and re-read a verse and before moving on, I let it sink in.  

I absorb it.  

It grounds me.  

It reattaches me to the foundation of my existence.  It reminds me that I am alive and not just going through the motions of my life.  And it makes me want to embrace more of my life and see the joy in the mundane.

Sometimes we can't slow down.

But always.  Always, we can stop, wait, and absorb a moment so we don't miss our life.

Soak something up today, and love it.

A time of rest

If you follow this blog at all, then you know I haven't written in some time.  Most of that is due to the book that I needed to finish.

However, once it was finished, it required triple the amount of hours in editing I didn't anticipate.  After that, it needed artwork, layout, printing, promotion, posters, website, business cards, the list was endless.  

You see, I didn't just write a book, I am publishing it.  And my husband designed it, which kept me intimately connected through the whole thing.  I knew it was going to be work, but no one can prepare you for exactly what that means until, like most things, you do it yourself.

After I was done writing the book, I wanted nothing to do with writing anything.  I love writing and want to keep doing it, but I have multiple creative outlets and for the last six months the only thing I have had time for was the book.  

I was done writing.

I was really done looking at my computer.

I really didn't want to take any more time away from my kids and husband.

My kitchen desperately needed my attention, and I needed to do something with my hands, other than type.

So I took a nap.

Then I watched a movie in the middle of the day while my daughter napped.  I felt like I was breaking the rules with that one. 

Then I cleaned my kitchen, which truthfully never lasts long.

With a deep breath, I pulled out my embroidery and project book and started making Christmas presents.  I have been sewing and crafting and cooking again like I used to. (All while in the midst of sending emails, posters, and making phone calls to promote the book.)

And now here I am.

Ready to write again.

For the last six weeks, I have wanted to share my heart with you and what is going on with the book and our life, but it has felt like pressure.  Thoughts that roll through my head are, 

"People are waiting to hear from me."

"I have neglected my readers."

"People will forget that I am  here if I am not putting my voice out there."

All of a sudden, my blogging became about other people instead of what I felt compelled to write.  It started to feel as if I needed to please "Them" instead of be true to my core life values.  These values include putting my faith, family and personal well being first.

When I started to feel the pressure to write, because I didn't want to be forgotten or I felt like I needed to promote the book, I would ask myself, 

"Is this a good time to write?  What would be better for you and the family right now?"  Most often the answer was, playing cards with the kids, pay the bills, get some rest, refuel my spirit so that I can love on the people around me."

So dear sweet reader, who has supported me so much in this venture, I won't apologize for putting you at the bottom of my priority list.

My dry and desperate soul needed time in the word and meditation.

My family needed to see that they came first.

My body needed rest.  Well, it still needs rest, but we are working on it.

I don't ever want the faceless "Them" to dictate what I do.  I want to write here because I feel inspired and encouraged and want to share with you those things.

Thank you for being with me on this journey.

It is so wonderful to share with you our little lives in North Minneapolis.

With that being said...

I'm back and have so much to share!

Get ready.

Again

That word. 

Again. 

Most often that word explicit's frustration from me.  It angers me as I hear myself say...

I am starting my diet.  Again. 

I am going to start meditating.  Again. 

I am going to try exercising.  Again. 

Why am I angry at myself?  Again. 

I spent the whole day being a sloth and reading, and watching bad movies while ignoring my responsibilities and my children.  Again. 

I didn't do anything beautiful today.  Again.

I wasn't brave to speak my mind.  Again. 

I only thought of myself today.  Again. 

I read a ton of blogs and got incredibly jealous of all the incredible things people are doing.  Again.

I only saw what others had and nothing of what I do have.  Again. 

I didn't do devotions.  Again. 

I wasted opportunity.  Again. 

I yelled at my kids.  Again. 

I broke a promise.  Again. 

I ate junk food for breakfast.  For lunch.  For dinner.  Again.

I got down on myself.  Again. 

This word, Again, has the power to keep us locked in a destructive cycle.  It steals our hope because let's be honest, every time I loose hope, I think, I did it...again.

This is where I am at right now.  I am living in the dark side of Again.  I have over committed myself...again.  That leads me to cast aside every healthy habit I have in favor of survival habits.  Survival habits that include drinking coffee late at night to keep working.  Giving up exercise because I need, and I mean need, that extra  hour to clean or see my family, or again, keep working.  When I give up exercise, I throw eating well out the window.  Because apparently I am too busy to make myself a salad, I become a stash and grab eater.  Those eating habits create low energy for me, so I drink more coffee.  I am then up late working, so I can't get up early for devotions.

I have done this so many times in my life, it's disheartening.  So I utter these words...these painful words that heap on guilt and a cycle of shame...

"I am not going to live like this AGAIN." 

And then I do. 

Because I am human. 

Because I am broken. 

Because I will have issues that I wrestle with till the day I die. 

Again and again and again and again. 

It's almost enough to make you want to give up hope right? 

But then I remember. 

I remember that I am loved.   Again.

I remember that I am forgiven.  Again. 

I remember that God's blessings are new each day.  Again. 

I remember that my husband is dedicated to my success.  Again.

I remember that each day is new.  The sun rises every morning Again to give me another opportunity. 

I remember that God calls me his beloved.  Again. 

That he walks with me each day, every moment, giving me second chances...again and again and again. 

When I live in my dark world of Despair again, I am hopeless. 

When I live by the truth that God is never done with second chances, I can live free... 

Again. 

Words, like most ideas, hold the power of good and evil.  They can be life affirming, or self destructing.  Again is a word that can bring forth guilt or hope.  Most often it is in our perspective in how we live out the words that shape our hearts.

I want to be a believer of again, not chained down to it. 

Today I choose to live into the freedom that Again gives me, not the life it can steal from me. 

Remember that you are loved today.  Again. 

Hiking turns us into a circus

As we walked to the rose quartz mine this year, it reminded me so much of our experience from last year.

Somehow because of the schedule, I still ended up in a skirt and ballet slipper shoes.  I had Paul with me though and 15 other people so it was easier to pass Little around instead of carrying her on my own.

We did run into a few mutilated deer limbs though, which I am not sure I will ever get used to.  Seeing animal body parts that have been torn to shred by a larger, fiercer animal should by my first indicator that I should turn and go home.

We paused just as much  though as Big gathered so many rocks before we even got to the mine that he had to hold his pants up, otherwise the weight would pull them down.

Apparently this little hike seems to bring out our ridiculousness.

Either way, here is a fun story for you to read and enjoy from our South Dakota camping adventure.

I did laugh out loud when I read that I shouldn't do this hike again, or at least remember what happened last year.  Clearly, I didn't do that before we went hiking, me in my skirt and girl shoes.

Happy evening everyone.

The storms that seem to destroy our trust

It was early morning, the kids fell back asleep tucked in their car seats and wrapped in their blankets.  I had iced coffee and Sanders Bohke filling the car with soulful rich music.  It was a beautiful way to start our 12 hour drive home.  I was waiting for the sun to come up and greet us.  I was looking forward to the start of a brand new day, with the hopes of being filled with adventure and giggles from my kids as we sang silly songs and played games in the car.

We were heading west, so I watched the first signs of orange and red in the rear view mirror.  The further we drove however, it was clear that there was a huge storm in front of us.  At one point, immediately after the kids woke up, the sun was shining behind us, there were gray clouds over us, with slight sprinkles that brought out a double rainbow, but in the distance, I saw the blackness and I worried.  Big still really struggles with storms.  His triggers are dark clouds and thunder and instead of being safely tucked in a home under its protection, we were traveling in the big metal box that he saw damaged and pierced with tree limbs in the tornado two years ago.  His faith in our current protection was shattered as he too noticed the black clouds coming.  He looked out and said in a high pitched worried voice, “mama, its coming!  Look, something bad is coming!”

I tried to reassure him that we would be OK.  We worked on reality therapy.  I would ask him questions like, “Does thunder hurt us?  What is thunder?  What happens if it rains?  Who is bigger than this storm?  What has you worried the most?”  All these things he would answer, trying to hold onto the truth that the rain doesn't hurt and the thunder is just noise and we are never left alone.

But then we drove in the storm and even I got afraid.  Never in my life have I driven through such a storm.  It was almost like a winter white out, the rain was coming down so hard I couldn't see if front of us.  The sky moved from grey, to dark, to midnight black.  The rain pounded our car so hard that I couldn't even talk to the kids.  I had to scream to them that we were all right which just seemed to make it worse.  The thunder cracked so loud the windshield shook at one point.  The lightening would pierce the sky over and over.  My hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel and I kept questioning whether we should pull over and stop and wait it out.  I knew though however that if I kept focused we could push through and get through the storm faster, than just sitting in it and waiting for it to pass. 

I needed my kids to trust me.  I took my eyes off the road for one brief moment to check the review mirror to make sure they were OK.  I saw all three kids huddled together with their blankets over their heads.  I saw Big, Middle and Little all holding hands.

As I drove through that storm, I am sure my children wished with all their might that I would pull over and find a safer place to be.   They wished that somehow I could make the storm stop, to just make it go away and bring the sun back.  But I wasn't doing that.  I kept driving through the storm and I needed them to trust me.  I needed them to trust me to make the right choice in driving through the storm.   That I knew when the storm was OK to drive through, and when it was time to pull over.  I needed them to trust that I would keep them safe even though they were scared.  I needed them to trust my love for them, that even though things were very hard right in this moment, I wouldn't do anything to hurt them.  Even when it felt absolutely terrifying, I needed them to trust me.

And then the rain started to ease up.  The thunder slowly started to sound softer, and the lightening was no longer flashing in the sky.  Streams of light starting to shine through the clouds and all of a sudden, we were on the other side.  The blackness we just drove through was behind us, reflecting in the review mirror, and the light was bright in front of us.

We had made it.

The kids slowly pulled down their blankets from their heads, and peaked out.  They cautiously looked at me and asked, “Is it over?  Are we safe again?” 

Yes.  We made it through.  Even though it was scary and hard, we made it through.

In the midst of the storm it was impossible to imagine it being over.  The storm raged so loud around us that it was all we could see, all we could hear, all we could live in.  I wasn't thinking about when it was over, I was thinking about, how do we live in this place right now and be OK?

And then God spoke softly in my heart, reminding me of how little I trust him when things are truly hard and overwhelming in my life and all I can see is the pain and the suffocating struggle of every day.  In that moment in the car, he begged me to trust him, just as I wanted my children to trust me.

There are days when I shut down and I hide in books or TV or FB or Twitter and I don’t want to come out.  I don’t want to face the things that make life hard.  I hide instead of handing my struggle to the Lord really learning what it means to trust him to guide me through it.

My children made it through that terrifying experience in the car that day.  While we walked back to our cabin this week in the black hills of SD, there were black clouds approaching and thunder rumbling in the distance.  As Big squeezed my hand, he looked at me and said, “We made it through that bad storm in the car mama, we can get through this one too.”

That is the great thing about trust.  When you put your trust in the one who can provide for you and get you through, every storm gets a little easier because they have proven to be trustworthy.  They become someone you can count on.

I spoke to Henry that day in the car and recalled the storm experience for him.  The first thing he said to me was, “You have a story in there.”  And he was right.

God has a way of taking the moments in our life and turning them into truths that we can hold on to get us through this journey called life.  These moments that can ground us in peace and love as we fight through the storms of life.  Our little family was scared that day, but we are stronger for it and God rested his peaceful hand on our hearts.

As we press on

I sat in a worship service in the black hills tonight.  I was surrounded by family and friends and strangers.  The candles were lit, the lights low, the music soft and gentle brushing over people’s hearts.  It wasn't just quiet, it was still.

We all faced the cross and the words were read, “Take a deep breath.  Breathe in and breathe out, breathe the very breath that connects you to the one who made you.”

I closed my eyes tight hoping beyond hope that I could grasp onto that connection.  I wanted desperately to feel passionately about my faith again.  I have been running on empty.  That deep connection to your spirit, the one that lights up your eyes has been missing.  The list of things to do weighs heavier on me than I like to admit.  Instead of breaking down, I have become numb.  I get through the day.  I try to laugh and enjoy my family each day.  I try to write and find progress on the long list of projects that people are waiting to get from me.  I try to somehow just maintain a semi clean home where my family has clothes to wear and something to eat.  The monotony of each day with the pressure to accomplish super human possibilities causes me to shut down so that I can keep pressing towards the goal.  I accomplish all these things, but they are done with heaviness in my heart and a worn look in my spirit.

My prayers seem rehearsed.

The Biblical teaching to my children when correcting or encouraging them feels empty.

My running in the morning that used to be filled with cries out to God for guidance and help are silent these days.  I don’t even know what to say.  I fill pages after pages with words for multiple projects and then I have none when I am left alone to share my heart with God.

All the things that I used to do to try to reconnect to my spirit aren't working.  Or I am too tired to really care to try.

It feels stale, and worn and tiring.

I used to believe that it was wrong to say such things, till I realized that at some point we all feel that way.  About our faith, our life, our relationships.  Trying to ignore it never works though.

But tonight, in the black hills of South Dakota, I breathed deep.  I breathed out and breathed in.

I was reminded that the very breath I have inside of me is the one God gave me directly.  It is his breath that gives us life.  And so even in the midst of feeling distant and cold and shut down, I am still connected to him and my spirit because I live.

Because I am alive, he is with me.

Even when I am running on empty, he does not leave me.  Every breath I take belongs to him.

I had peace in my soul for the first time in awhile remembering this truth.

I am not alone, nor am I lost.

He remains with me, even when I am over committed and underwhelmed.

He is also with you, in every breath you take.

The art of Collaboration

Some day I am going to craft a talk around collaboration.

There is something profound about working with someone and working to create something completely new out of who you are and who they are.  It isn't compromise where you each give up something to find a peaceful way.  Collaboration is about two people, giving 100% of who they are, doing the hard work of communicating to discover where their two thoughts and ideas come together to forge a new language.  That language for Henry and I is our speaking and writing together.  For others it can be music, spoken word, body art, dancing, gardening, cooking, community living, photography, leading an organization, it doesn't matter.

Collaboration is different than compromise.

What Henry and I strive to do in our work is absolute collaboration.  It is what I love and hate about our work.

(If you are new to my little world in blogsphere, then I should tell you that I am a stay at home mom who travels the country very part time as an inspirational speaker and am currently working on my first book with my speaking partner, Pastor Henry Graf.  Henry and I have been friends for a long time, and as two seasoned speakers, we wondered what having a conversational type presentation would look like from the stage.  This gives the audience a more authentic and personal interaction with the speakers and topic of discussion.  We have spoken together for years, and are currently trying our hand at moving what we do on stage, to the written word.  To say the very least, we are in a very steep learning curve.)

When we started working together, Henry and I were both professional speakers.  We were comfortable on stage and speaking in public.  We spent time crafting our work to be dynamic presenters.  Coming from a place of always taking the stage alone, it was so refreshing to share the responsibility with someone else.  Someone I trusted to fill in the blanks where I missed my mark, or read the audience and take our conversation where it needed to go to reach them where they were at.  I was no longer alone, and it felt very cool.

There was this really beautiful dynamic shift as well.  When I take the stage alone, I can get really intense and loud and passionate and sometimes emotional.  It's just kind of what I do.  Sometimes it involves yelling.  However, when you are sitting on stage with someone else, that doesn't tend to happen.  We are talking, discussing, laughing, searching scripture together.  It's very different, but very cool.

It felt like to me that I had found the perfect partner in this journey.  We balance each other out because we are so different.  Yes one is a man and one is a woman.  One is a Pastor and one struggles with the institution of the church.  But really, it reaches into the way we do life, not what we represent.  Henry is very analytical and intellectual, and those are not words I would use to describe myself.  He teaches, and I tell stories.  He thinks, I feel.  He moves fast, I am think before I act.  And even though we are both intense, somehow we are intense in very different ways, and I don't know how to describe that.  We bring such different things to the table for discussion, approach scripture from very different places and come away with very different ideas of what it means.  It makes for great conversation.

So imagine my surprise when just months ago, I realized that Henry and I weren't collaborating at all, but I was letting him take the lead and backing out of my responsibility to my own place in our partnership.

It was hard for me to figure this out until Henry and I spoke together three months ago.  We took the stage on Friday night at the conference kick off.  I experienced being on stage with Henry and he wasn't in his usual "loud/big self".  He felt more responsive than usual instead of charging the way.  When we debriefed our talk, he simply said, "you were the big personality tonight, so I backed off.  You usually aren't that dynamic."

Huh.  I didn't ever really think that I backed off and tampered my personality with him.  We chatted a bit more through that and continued on with our weekend.

Then, the book happened.  The book started off as a T-shirt idea that for the life of us, we couldn't agree on.    Then Henry had a brilliant idea that worked for us both.

Parables.  Earthly stories with Heavenly meaning.

We discussed the concept of the book, "telling stories, but more than stories, finding heavenly meaning in our everyday experiences, etc."  I loved it.  I thought it was a perfect first book for us.  It penned out on paper what we do on stage.  But the more we unpacked the book and gave a structure to it, the more confusing it got for me.  The harder and more complicated it became.

Henry would pen a thesis, a promotional email, a chapter outline.  He was working at lightening speed and it was hard to keep up.  I would read it, tweak it, process it, edit it, and send it back.

And something always felt just a little bit off.  I was still a part of the process.  My opinion mattered, but somehow, I was just responding, not speaking up.

And then I was standing in my kitchen, just getting off the phone with Henry, and I saw the red flags.  I saw myself shrinking back in my insecurities.  I was allowing my respect and admiration for Henry to shrink me.  When I elevated him, I became less.  I gave him the power and authority in the relationship instead of being in a partnership.  I let my old demons speak into my ear.  Lies that said my voice wasn't as significant as Henry's.  That storytelling was silly compared to teaching deep theological ideas.

I realized I wasn't owning my part in our partnership  I wasn't taking responsibility for my thoughts, my ideas, my voice and opinion.  I got steamrolled.  Henry wasn't doing this to me, I just let it take over.

What I realized was sometimes when we think we have overcome a weakness, a sin, it only reappears when pushed from a new angle.

I have worked alone for seven years, and now having a partner in this, this was a new angle for me.  And so my weakness and insecurities came flooding out.  I hated it.  I didn't know what to do with it.  I had moved past this.  I had conquered it.  I had surrendered it.

Or so I thought.

And then it brings us to last week when Henry showed up for a week of writing.  A week that we were going to use to make great head way with the book.

But I couldn't move forward because I wasn't ever fully present.

And so I showed up.  I really showed up and owned my voice, my opinions, my questions and my process.

We talked and processed a lot last week.

After we  processed our book, our ideas, our theologies, we talked some more.

Henry would push me to finish my thoughts.  To think through all the things I was trying to say but having a hard time articulating.  We dissected words that meant different things to each of us so that we could come to some kind of understanding.

We put our expectations for the week aside.  We sat uncomfortably the across from each other at the coffee shop and wrestled through our thoughts and opinions.

And at the end of the week, we came away with a books that feels like a conversation.  A new language of Henry's ideas and my thoughts.

We collaborated and found a book that speaks a new language that we took the time to understand and create.

Collaboration is not just hard work, its uncomfortable.  It is looking at your partner in the project and realizing that for you to say what you really think, you run the risk of them leaving.  You run the risk of them leaving project because they are done doing the hard work to find a new way.

It's risky and scary and vulnerable.  It feels exposed and in the end, the risk is worth it.

Writing a book on my own will probably be easier.  However, Henry pushes me to find myself.  To learn my process and understand my thoughts.  I have discovered so much about myself in the last couple months.  I have learned what it means to not have a boss or work alone, but to partner with someone and have them stay because they value you.

At the very least, God is using this experience to shape me.  To shape Henry.  To shape a new idea within us.  It's exciting.

It's tiring.

It's totally worth it.

Collaboration.  You need to be 100% yourself in order to have the conversation to create a new way.  To acknowledge who you are in order to give yourself to the expression of art in a new way.

Personal update 2: the cabin

The cabin.

The writing retreat.

I had hope that with more than 24 hours to myself, my laptop and journals and music, I could somehow process all the things going on inside of me for the last month and pour myself into the book.  Read, journal, write, process, pray, seek, and be led by God.

I have never had time like this before to work and to be honest, I was a little nervous with that much time by myself.

Can't you tell?

I want to share some things I came away with from the weekend, but first, I want you to see what I saw.  Here is my office set up.

This really was the perfect office.  Curled up on a couch, writing and reading and candles lit.  It was perfect.

This was my retreat view from where I sat.  It hailed most of the day, but by late afternoon, I got to out and take a walk.

I enjoyed light food and lots of coffee all day long.  I grazed, and when I was hungry, I ate, and yes I even drank coffee at 10 pm.  There were no rules.  The goal was to be inspired and find dreams and plans and words for the book.  It was perfect!  It was a day where I could go at a slower pace because I didn't have kids interrupting me every few minutes, or I wasn't restricted by a time frame surrounding naps or babysitters.  I could just be.

And then I took a refreshing walk to get all the pent up energy out of my blood.  I wanted to take this photo, because I stood in this spot for more than 15 minutes.  I stood and looked at the road stretched out before me.  I let the sounds of the lake and the country seep into my blood.  Sounds that are foreign to us where we live.  It felt like with every breath I took, more of the tension left my body, and more quietness and stillness entered it.  All the expectations started to cease to exist and only listening to the Lord seemed to matter.  I didn't want to move.  I wanted to stay in that spot until the only thing that remained were the answers.  But looking at the road ahead of me, I realized  I wasn't sure where the road led, but only the way to find out was to take one step at a time.

After my walk, I spent the evening wrapped in a blanket on the porch enjoying my new office.  A place full of peace and inspiration. 

So here is what I learned and discovered with my weekend in the wood.

1. I really enjoy time by myself.  I am good company.

2. You produce very different work when you aren't restricted by a time frame or deadline or children's needs.  I had the ability to really let the work come out of me, instead of rushing it, or throwing a bunch of words on paper hoping it sticks.  I could sit and ponder, and roll thoughts around my head and get the good stuff out on paper.  It was this amazing experience no to be rushed, but let thoughts and ideas and words formulate.

3. I got to work on my business, the book, my talk at the end of the month up in Duluth, my talk in the NE this fall, and my business concepst.  I had papers all over the floor with ideas and concepts and dreams and starting points for ministry.  It was this really amazing brainstorming session where I got to share my dreams with God, lay them out in front of me, and as I sat and prayed, I got hints of more ways to make them become a reality.

4. It is scary as hell to sit there in a cabin, all alone, with the time you have been asking for to make the dream come true, even one that you don't fully understand, and you have no more excuses.  I had no excuses.  I had to face my fear of this dream, the overwhelmingness of it.  I got to settle into those feelings.  Experience them.  I got to embrace it.  Look at it.  Evaluate it.  And most importantly, work towards. it.  It's easy to dream.  It takes a lot to actually work for it.

5. The closer I drove to the cabin, the more peace I felt.  While at the cabin, I felt inspired, I felt encouraged, I felt rested, I felt motivated, and I felt calm.  I'll confess I even danced a little bit with the music blaring and it felt wonderful.  I felt free.  And the words just came out of me.  I wrote a bunch of stuff I didn't even know I was thinking.  I wrote it, I looked at it, and I pondered on it.  I am excited to read what was going on in my head and my heart.  To process it and explore it.

It makes me very excited for my future.  As I said, I have felt like I am on the brink on something new and different.  This weekend was this incredible time of exploring that.  Of dreaming around it.  Of finding clues to what my future holds.

And I can't wait to share it with you.

I also walked away from this weekend with a secret love affair for a weekend away alone in the woods.  This may become my most spiritual exercise.  I hope.

Personal update 1

I don't know where to begin.  So I'll just start and hope I finish where the story begins.

I remember two distinct times that I felt completely insecure which then led to total fear.  The first time was in High School when the boy I had a crush on for a very long time told me he liked me. I know it sounds like that would be a dream come true, but the truth is, I had been living a double life up until about that time, and I was incredibly lost and broken and confused.  I felt unworthy, and hypocritical and stupid and foolish and most like every bad teen movie.  I was a cliche, which made it even worse.  I didn't know who I was, so I spent years making every wrong choice to find the right one.  I couldn't say yes to him because he didn't know the bad choices I had made.  I was scared that he might see how lost I was.  He thought I was great, and I didn't think I was.  He saw good in me, and all I could see was the bad.  I wasn't good enough.  And so I said no. Then I graduated High School and almost immediately moved away.  Running scared of...myself, really.

The idea is the same when I got my first real speaking gig.  I was chosen to be the keynote speaker to 850 students my first time out.  That was a big deal for me.  And I was overcome with feelings of insecurity.  I kept thinking, who am I that I was chosen for this role?  They have this image of me that just doesn't feel true.  If they really knew me, they wouldn't like me.  They would have picked someone better.  I am not good enough for this.  Clearly I was still wrestling with self acceptance and fighting hard to make the right choices and be who I thought I was supposed to be.  

Still fearful to really lean into who I was.  

To say the things I really thought.

To feel like being me was the best choice.

There are lots of things to say about my past and history and all these emotions, and I can't get into all of it here.  But there are a couple things I want to pull out of these experiences.

First, the more we try to hide who we really are, the more disconnect there is.  We create the two selves, the one every one sees, and the one no one sees.  Then we have no one to blame but ourselves for no one really knowing who we are, because we don't trust them to know. This existence is lonely and sad and full of doubt and regret.  Regret because you realize you are never really living your life. Second, the only thing insecurity gives us is a life lived in fear.  I am not sure where my insecurity came from, but I can attest to the life lived in fear.  I used to be so afraid of everything.  

Afraid to take chances, afraid to say what was really on my mind, afraid of making a mistake that I couldn't come back from, afraid of just being me.  I don't know why, and at this point, most of the time I don't care why.  I do know I don't want to live that way.  I desire to be brave and courageous and take chances and do things my way, instead of the way everyone else is doing it.  It took me a long time to get to that point.  A lot of prayer and hard work and conversations with my husband who has stuck by it all and loved me anyway. I don't really live in a place of insecurity anymore.  The fear creeps up every now and then when I am trying new projects or talks, but surrendering them and pushing through it comes easier. That's why I can so easily recognize these feelings when they creep back in.  They are huge red flags for me, because as I said, I generally like myself.  

I'm not insecure anymore, which is why this last month has been so overwhelming for me, and why I haven't written really about anything.  (If you don't remember, the book campaign happened this month.) To write about anything that has happened this past month,  I must first confess to the gut wrenching truth. I must tell you that I am scared out of mind.  I wish to be courageous and brave and fearless, but I'm not yet there. Henry called me out on it very early on during the campaign to raise money for the book project.  He would hear me self doubt and cut down and one day he interrupted me and said, "I never realized you were so insecure."  My response was, "I'M NOT!  What's wrong with me?" Doing the campaign was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in recent years.

It may seem like my earlier experiences have nothing to do with this moment now in my life, but in actuality, it has everything to do with it.  Except, this time, there was no mask or double life. See, the thing is I have made my career and my life to be as open as possible.  After spending so much of life trying to be someone I wasn't or running from who I was, or whatever my problem was, I promised myself that no matter how hard it was to be truthful, to be vulnerable and open, I would try.  Even if I was ashamed of how I dealt with something, or the way I felt, I would be honest.  I would embrace everything about me and invite my audience into that space with me.  I will often joke with Henry that when we take the stage together, I always come across as the big hot mess who needs counseling and he has it all together.  But that’s who I am, and that is why people hire me.  I am not two people anymore.  It’s just me.  But now that it’s just me, the vulnerability is even harder, because there is no hiding.

It may seem silly to you, but it was incredibly difficult to put together a campaign asking for money to support a book that my partner and I want to write.  I wasn't asking for your help for Haiti.  I wasn't asking you to support a child in need in a third world country.  I wasn't asking for money for any noble cause.  I was asking for myself.

That changes everything.

I had to publicly put myself out there and say, “Hey!  Do you see me?  Do you like me?  Help me make a dream come true!”  And that’s fine and great, until you realize you might not get the money.

Then what?

It’s like waiting to get picked for the kickball team all over again, except its just not your class that knows no one wants you, it would be everyone. 

That month of the campaign had me praying for God to release this hold on my heart more than I can ever remember.   I didn't want you all to have power over me.  I only wanted to care about being obedient to God’s call in my life.

But the trick is, to be obedient to that, I needed the money, which meant I needed to pay attention to the campaign and ask.  I had to put myself out there, over and over and ask for help.  Ask you to believe in me.

And then you did.

But you didn't just give to meet the goal, we surpassed every goal we had and more money than we budgeted.  I am still having a really hard time wrapping my head around that one.  My heart was pounding a mile a minute the day we surpassed our goal.  It wasn't a dream anymore, it was reality.

HOLY CRAP it is now a reality!

Now I can't run or hide or be lazy.  You said you believed in me, in us, and now we get to do something amazing.

Have you ever felt like sometimes it easier to sit on your couch and dream of all the really cool things you could do, and in your imagination, you are awesome, talented, you don't screw up because you know exactly what you are doing, and you win everyone over because you're amazing?  But because you know deep down, that really isn't reality.  Reality looks like hard work and trying over and over and making mistakes and taking risks and lots of practice.  And in the end, the risk that you might not even be very good at the thing that you dream of doing with your life.

I think that's why we sit on our couch.  Our imagination version of ourselves could never compare to the reality of who we are.  People who are risks takers, brave and courageous  the people who don't leave life with regrets are the one's who kill and bury the dream version of themselves and instead, just live their life.  They embrace their real self and go for it, leaving it all out on the table.

I have a tendency to be the couch sitter.  But I am tired of that.  I want to be a dreamer, a risk taker, a brave spirit with no regrets.

That's why I feel overwhelmed.  Not by the to-do list, though it is extensive.  I am trying to embrace a new reality and truth for myself.  I am trying to forge a new way of really, truly embracing all of me, letting go of all false selves and live my dream.

I asked you to believe in me and you did.  Can you even comprehend what that means for someone who spent so much time hiding away?  Again, overwhelmed.

So many of you went out of your way to encourage me, say nice such kind words about my ministry and my dream.  I didn't ask that of you, you volunteered it, willingly.  Again, overwhelmed.

Even more of you said that by pursuing this dream, you felt inspired to want to do more with your dreams.  That is HUGE!  I am so humbled and honored to be apart of that process that God is doing in your life.  Again, overwhelmed.

I sit on the brink of a new beginning to my ministry and our life.  Something has shifted and changed in my career.  I can't explain it fully, but I can tell, things are beginning, or shifting, or changing.  I still am a little nervous, because I don't know what that means, but I know that God is in this with me, and my husband and my children.

Feeling this emotionally overwhelmed the last month has made it hard to process.  So I went to a friends cabin for the weekend as a personal retreat.

That is part two of this story.

Social, ethical, parental responsiblity

In times of crisis, I wish I had a medical degree.  I wish I had the freedom to pick up and go to where help is needed.  To comfort people in despair.  To organize volunteers.  To lift away debris and bring the hurting to help.

To work.

To help.

To love.

To be human.

But I can't.

There are people here in this house who desperately need me to survive.  They need me here, and so I can't be there.

When tragedy strikes, and I hate to admit that most of the time it is news on main stream media that I hear due to my lack of media watching and listening, I can't seem to tear myself away.

Today was no different.

We don't turn the TV on, because seeing the images of blood streaking the Boston streets would only serve to put fear and anger in my children.  And so I listened to the radio in the kitchen while I cooked.  Even when it felt like too much, I had a sense that if I turned the radio off, I would be turning my blind eye or deaf ear to the situation.  It felt wrong to leave the tragedy, when so many others couldn't.

And yet, you have to.  Not forget I mean, but take a breather.  Let it sink in.  Allow the gravity of the situation to have it's rightful place.

In these moments I often wonder what my role is.

Where is my responsibility in this?

I think about my children sleeping in their beds right now.  I think about how impressionable they are.  I wonder on what their futures hold.  What battles they will have to fight as young men and women.

I really hate to admit that I have lived a long time in "retreat" mentality.  Pull away, live off the grid, stop all the media from being in my house, go simple, don't invest, it's too much out there, so I'll just live small in our own little world.

But really, all that means is that I escape all responsibility and I hide from being apart of the solution.  What my greatest sin with that way of living, is teaching my children to do the same. When I don't engage, they will never know how.

As parents it is critical that we understand the importance of what our job is.  If you have small children living in your home, then you understand the absolute power you have in your words and actions in shaping the minds and hearts of the young people who look up to you.  The way we engage, or ignore problems.  The words we use to describe hate crimes and those who hurt.  The way we talk about different cultures and religions.  Our words will directly shape the way our children see the world and the people in it.

Humans history is filled with wars and killings based on greed, power, selfishness  and sickness. It won't ever go away.  So how do we deal with that?

The only power I have right now, today in my circumstance is to raise up children who will desire to be apart of the solution, not the problem.  To be helpers.  To be supporters.  To be advocates.

To give my children a language to communicate their thoughts and feelings, so that talking through problems is the first solution.  To teach the power of communication, understanding, forgiveness, and compromise.

To install in my children a longing for justice and a heart for the wounded and hurt.

To equip them with the tools necessary to find solutions to problems.

To in every way possible, give them an acceptance of all people, without judgement so that they can see the man behind the culture, the religion, the uniform.

To talk about the scary things that happen in a space where it allows your children to voice their questions and concerns and worries and wonderings. 

To give them your thoughtful observations and passion against evil.

Today felt overwhelming.  The obvious tragedy brings with it a sense of hopelessness.  After the hopelessness came the urgency in the awareness of the responsibility of raising my children.

Raising them to not run from the fight, but equipping them to be prepared for it.

In my opinion, Jesus hasn't shown up yet, so I would rather we were a family who actively cared about the solution, instead of pretending that all the problems don't exist.

We have a responsibility as parents.  Our children are what we are giving to the world, to the next generation.  They will inherit all of our mistakes and all that is wrong and right with our world.  I will say it again, my greatest mistake will be not preparing them for that.

When you are weary of the battle

I don't know about you, but I grow weary and tired of how hard it is to fight for what you want in life.  To battle all the things that threaten to take away your values and priorities and hope.

Everything the last few days has grated on my emotions.  Feelings that felt raw and ready to explode for reasons I couldn't figure out.

I knew I was tired.

I knew I felt worn down.

I knew I felt like I wanted to give up, sit on my couch, eat ice cream and pop corn and drink wine and iced coffee.  Snuggle under a blanket and just read a silly book or watch TV all day.

I was tired of battling the kids, myself, our neighborhood, our budget, my time, the book...well everything, and I craved relief.

I wanted relief from all the intentionality that we try to live in.

I wanted a break from all the rules and guidelines.

When talking with Paul this afternoon about why, "Why are we so easily frustrated and cranky, and so ready to give up?"  We realized it was because we are always fighting.

We are fighting for our kids faith in God.  We battle to find the time to invest in devotions, conversations, intentional time dedicated to exploring faith and what it means to believe in God in their world today.

We are fighting for our marriage.  We work hard on finding time to be together, trying to use communication that builds us up instead of tearing us down.  We evaluate all the time, what do you need to be OK?  How can I support you?  How can I love you during this hard time?  We are working hard on putting the needs of our spouse before our own.  To see the love of your life through the eyes of Christ.  To keep the spark alive.  To turn young love into something deep and rich and powerful that still contains magic and spark.

We are fighting for our safety.  How can we live in a place of trusting God to be enough and not living in fear, while still being safe in the choices we make?  Not making judgements on the kids walking around our neighborhood.  Not assuming that every person sitting in their car is there waiting on trouble, or that every person who knocks on our door is wanting to break in when we leave.  Our families safety is always, constantly present first and foremost in our mind.  We are always prepped for battle when it comes to our safety.

We are fighting for our money.  Money has a way of just disappearing and we are fighting to keep ours.  We are always aware of what we are spending, and fighting to keep money in our pocket so that we can be free from debt.

We are fighting for our own dream and for the dreams of our spouse.  Paul and I are both filled with ambition and determination and our greatest desire is to fulfill God's desire for our life.   It's hard in the mundane, every day chores and hurdles to fight for something bigger.  Something grand.  Something special that lives in your heart.  You have everyday choices that you have to weigh against the grand scheme of things.  This is one of the hardest things to fight for everyday.

When we intentionally live out our lives, it means we have evaluated and prayed and come to a set of standards of how we live our life.  How do we spend our time, our money, our resources?  Do these things hold up to the priorities and values that we live by?

But that also means that we just don't live carelessly anymore.   Everything we do at that point means something.

Most often however, if you have taken the time to evaluate your life and have decided to live by certain standards, those standards will grate against the lifestyles around you.  When that happens, what do you  do?

We have a choice to give up on our standards and value of living, or we fight.

We try to have a family meeting every week so that we can take stock of our resources and time and money as we evaluate all the options that we face every week that want our time, our money and our energy.

And so we choose to fight.

But you can't fight every moment of every day.  Some days, when the battle becomes too much and it tears down your spirit, you need to take a break.  You need to sit and pray and release control back to the creator who loves you.  You need to remember that God is still God and we are just one person in one moment in time.

And so we surrendered.  Not to our ideals and priorities, but to the God in charge of those ideals and priorities.  And in that surrender, it gives us strength to keep fighting.

 

Who I am instead of who I want to be

I called up a friend the other day, one whom I haven't spoken to in awhile and we were casually chatting.  As with any conversation it was basic and going through the routines.

How is life?  The kids?  School?  The job hunt?  On and on and on.

It was fine.

It was comfortable.

It was socially normal and expected.

Then she asked about the book.

So a couple things went through my mind.  The first thing I said was, 

"It's fine.  It's going good.  Hard to write and find the time."  

And with all those things being truthful, I still wasn't revealing the true matter on my heart.

I was scared and spending far too much time caring about what other people thought.  I was worried that people won't like it, or they won't support it.  I hadn't prayed over it in awhile and had taken total control of the matter back in my own hands.

I know my friend would understand this truth.  I know she would pray with me and encourage me.  That wasn't the issue.

The truth is, I didn't want the be the girl who was struggling.  I didn't want to be the girl who had slipped in her faith and started to do it all on her own.  I didn't want to be the girl who had to learn a lesson, who after years of overcoming her insecurity, was feeling more insecure than ever before.

I wanted to be the girl who was doing it right.  Who didn't fall into temptation of making this book about me.  I wanted to be the girl who surrendered her will to God every morning, prayed without ceasing over her work, created good habits to make it happen and could do it all.  Doesn't that sound great?  It sounds like a wonderful story of great faith and spiritual leading.  I wanted that story.  I wanted to for once in my life do it the right way.  

But that wasn't what was happening.

And so, in a moment of feeling brave and wanting to be honest, I said what was true.  I decided not to be who I wanted to be, but who I really was instead.

"The book is going well, but I have noticed lately that I am far too scared about what others think.  My mind seems overrun with thoughts of feeling less than I am.  I am scared that someone else could do it better.  I worry that it will fail.  I get nervous thinking about how others will value the quality."

There. 

I had said it out loud.  The dark things that were crowding my brain.  The hard things that were taking away my faith.  After I say them out loud, I have to own that they are true.

To this, my friend encouraged me in my dream.  She filled my heart with kind and encouraging words. And then she said, "You need to read the book of Joshua.  Joshua is filled with courage and trusting God, and that is what you are doing.  You are doing something courageous and your ability to trust in God is the only thing that will carry you through.  Read Joshua and find comfort and truth in what you are doing."

All my tension and worry went away.  

This, right here, is why we are writing a book.

This is what the book is about.

In the midst of even our struggle and weak faith, and total control issues, God is still present and working.  When we are capable of taking off our expectations and ideals, and can be real with the people around us, God's truth becomes clear.  Friends, mentors, blogs, pastors, scripture, podcast, whatever and whenever you find it, truth can be revealed.

I was reminded that day to be honest.  It does no one any good to pretend to be something they are not. My honesty encouraged my friend, and she was able to encourage me as well.  She spoke encouragement and pointed me toward truth to heal my wound, my insecurity, and my weakness.

If I haven't told you yet here, I am telling you now.

My friend Henry and I are writing a book about stories.  Stories we live every day that hold deep spiritual truths.  These stories are used in communicating about our faith with others.  These stores enrich and encourage others.  These stories point towards heaven.  These stories bring heaven to earth.  They nurture love and forgiveness and God's ultimate power and goodness.  There is power in the stories we live here on earth.

We would love to share this project with you.  Henry and I are interested in making this a community project.  If you are interested in pre-ordering this book and supporting the writing process, please donate to our campaign at  http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/more-than-a-story/x/2561912.

If you are interested in knowing more about the project after the funds are raised, during the writing project, please visit our website www.pearabull.com or like us on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mightier-Press/301285753332675?ref=hl 

I am excited about this book.  I am also really excited about all the ways is shaping my heart and creating a deeper trust in him in regards to all the stories of my life.  Thank you for being apart of this journey.  Thank you for showing up and walking through life with us. 

Be blessed friends. 

The thing we don't talk about

Why don't we talk about sex?

I mean married people, why don't we talk about sex?

Especially sex after children.

I am convinced that we could fill books with horror stories about the times we accidentally walked in on our parents doing it and now we are just waiting for the day it happens to us.  Or all the ways we have to maneuver "quality time" with our spouse while our children watch TV, sleep, play outside, or even while having dinner.  I mean when five minutes presents itself, you just have to take it.

I had a friend tell me one time that her children wanted to know what her and her husband were doing in there for so long.

She told them they were jumping on the bed.

I remember how I felt right after we had each of our three children.  I had someone in my personal space every minute of every day.  I was holding someone, someone was pulling on my leg, someone was breastfeeding, and the worst was following me into the bathroom.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE MY CHILDREN.  I don't wish them away from me, I desire for them to draw close to me.  But I would be lying if I said 5 minutes to myself didn't sound like heaven.  (OK...10 min, maybe more.)  But someone was ALWAYS touching me.  Did I make that clear?

ALWAYS. TOUCHING. ME.  And it would drive me insane.

Then my husband would give me that look, and please forgive me, but really, when he wanted to snuggle close and get "reconnected" it just felt like one more person in my personal space.  And the really sad part is, I really like getting "reconnected".  My husband is the sexiest man I know, and even more, he is immensely generous and good to me.  I love him.

But right after children, it felt like his greatest gift to me was leaving me alone and letting me sleep.

One time in the midst of being busy and having lots of things to do, and lots of lists to keep track of all that I had to do, my husband gently looked at me and said, "How do I get on the To Do list?"

After having children, finding the time to have sex is like a big strategic game of "Chess".  Every move you make effects the next 12 moves of the game.  If I wash the dishes for her and sweep the floor then she will be in a better mood.  If I read to the kids now, they will play nice after, which means I can get dinner done on time, which will put us on schedule for bedtime if I can keep one kid from terrorizing their brother.  If my spouse puts the kids to bed, then I can get supper cleaned up which will help put her in the mood, and then maybe, if there is any shred of energy left after wrestling the kids to sleep, we can have "Marriage counseling".   (That's our code word here.  We figure if an apple a day keeps the doctor away, then time in the bedroom, or closet or bathroom or wherever the kids won't find you, keeps the therapist away.  So far our form of Marriage Counseling is working.)

If you are the parent of small children, you would be lying if this has never happened to you.  Maybe it doesn't happen all the time, but it has happened.  Just own it.

With children around, your youthful body and energy is used on the little people running wild in your home.  You become a machine that cleans and cooks and drives to doctor appointments and school plays and activities.  You are the farmer, financial planner, cook,  counselor, doctor, lawyer, and community activity director.  Even in the midst of simplifying life, children have needs.  Your home has needs.  People need to eat and they need clothes to wear, and they need somewhere to sleep.   They need time to talk with you about issues they are having with friends and school work.  Devotions need prepped, and quality time is a priority for the family.  You give more than 100% each day, and still it's not enough.

But what about the two of you?  The parents who are in charge of it all and struggle to keep their eyes open past 9pm.  I don't know about you, but most of the time I collapse into bed still in my clothes.  I feel guilty and promise to be better about it tomorrow.

How can we find time to reconnect when everything at life is pulling at you and winning.  We give and give and give and after you are covered in food, wearing the same clothes three days in a row, how in the world are you supposed to feel sexy and want to "reconnect"?  Seriously, why can't sweats be a turn on?  Then I am trying to remember that I am a woman first instead of a mom, let alone a wife.

It feels like a cruel joke.

Paul and I have been through many different phases in our marriage where this special time comes easy, and when it's difficult to make it happen.  There are times when the stars align and we find we have energy to invest in this part of our marriage.  Then there are the times when we barricade our door, pretend we don't hear the kids yelling at each other, convinced they will figure it out, and hope against hope we can stay in the mood.

Marriage with young kids is hard.  The demands and questions and decisions you have to make fly at you faster than you can even register what's happening.  You live in a place of being reactive instead of proactive, let alone intentional about "quality reconnect time".

Everything about this subject is tricky.  Even writing about it is tricky.  You have desire meets reality, love vs. responsibility, expectations creating miscommunication.

Paul and I have found that the only way to navigate through these risky waters is to keep talking about it.  We have to keep talking through our mis guided signals.  Our miscommunication.  Our exhaustion. Our need.  Our hurt.  Our desire.

This very specific part of our marriage is a key to its success.  It keeps us connected.  It keeps us attracted and interested in one another.  It keeps our desire and love for one another strong.  But it has also hurt each other.  We have unintentionally wounded each other with our tired rejection, or our words that weren't meant to hurt, but they did.

But to create a thriving marriage, we have to keep talking about it.  Every time our life changes, the rules change, and we have to take the time to talk with one another about how to make time for sex in the new stage of life.

So carry on dear warriors, fighting for your relationship.  Making your marriage a priority.  Connecting and communicating with your partner.  It's more than hard work, it's constant, every changing, reevaluating work.

But it is so worth it.

Even if the only five minutes you can find, finds you in the closet with the door locked.