Discovery, exhaustion, quilts, and isolation

"My fingers feel as if they are bleeding, I am scraping the bottom of the barrel so much just hoping and praying to God that there is even a drop left soaked into the tin."

That was my response when anyone would ask how I was doing last fall. And not that many asked because I had almost literally, entirely cut myself off from most of the world. I would peek through the key hole to see the outside just long enough to make sure that life and humanity were going on in my absence. 

The phone would ring and I wouldn't answer it. I had literally thousands of emails I hadn't returned. I would open my laptop, see the messages, the emails, the notifications and my breath would get short, my heart started to hurt, and so I closed it for another day. I wasn't ready.

I wasn't anywhere near ready.

Sometimes even my mom would call. No matter what was going on, I answer her call. Or she is the call I make when hell is swirling around me ready to sweep me up in it's power and destruction. She is my life line and last fall was the first time in my life that I remember I looked at the screen and couldn't do it. She would see through me, or want to care for me and I couldn't do even that. 

It wasn't even that I was empty, which I was.

It's not even that I was lost, which I was. Terribly terribly lost. Not like, "Oh I took a wrong turn, I can correct myself." Or, "I've been in these woods before, I can figure this out." It felt more like someone stuck me in a country I had never visited with people who didn't speak my language and I somehow had to figure out how to eat and live and create a new life in a new world that was overwhelming strange to me.

And the thing is, I couldn't even articulate my confusion or exhaustion or isolation to the people around me. I wasn't proactive in my break down. "Oh hey, I've been going full force these last few years, and I think I'm gonna need a break. I'm starting to melt down and simple tasks like making dinner or having drinks with you is causing me to have an anxiety attack. I don't have anything to give right now, could you please be patient with me as I figure myself out again?" Oh no. I just left my relationships. My dear friendships that mean the world to me. The one's I have spent years cultivating and being present in and investing in. I have some of the worlds most ridiculously amazing people in my life that I am so honored to call my tribe. My people. My friends. My family. 

And I just left them. I didn't answer their calls. I couldn't be me for them. So I hid. Under my covers. Partly in my work. A lot in my children. And I quilted. Slow work, but it's all I could handle after the frenzy in which I normally live my life. I didn't have words to describe it. I didn't have the follow through to actually know what was going on. I simply knew I was tired. I couldn't say yes. To anyone. For anything. I was barren.

Looking back it's interesting to me, because I wasn't taking care of myself in this reprieve. This wasn't a planned sabbatical or time off or reinvention of myself. All of my baggage and false expectations, and deeply rooted identity issues physically wouldn't let me continue. The words couldn't come. The feelings weren't there. I couldn't move forward and continuing on as I was wasn't possible anymore. My only choice was to face the demons of my past, the ghosts I cling to and the monsters under my bed. (Seriously one of my favorite songs ever). I don't want to do this, and somehow at the same time I am more than ready to make peace with them, make amends, let them go, throw them a party, I don't know. They exhaust me. But more than anything, they are keeping me from my future.

For those of you who might not have lots of baggage, and you look at those of us who are mostly dark and isolated on the inside, I am jealous of your bright life. A life that isn't haunted by ghosts and demons and monsters. I haven't met any of you yet, you're kind of like a unicorn to me, but in my mind, there are many of you.

To my people, I am sorry I am not all I want to be for you. I am sorry for shutting you out. I am sorry for not being there in your times of need. For joy and sorrow. For love and for struggle. Part of my identity is being able to be there for you, so that has shaken up a few things for me. You all are my heart and light and guides to the north star. I am so incredibly thankful for you, and I long to return to a depth and conversation where we are in it together. (And I get I probably shouldn't apologize, but I do. All the time. I am working on other dark horses, so this one stays for now. We'll deal with my need to apologize for living later.)

To those who read these words in this little part of the online world, I used to try to craft blogs that would sound good, or promote well, or could be inspiring enough to be shared around the world. That's a lot of pressure. Good grief. So much so that I couldn't even do it but attempt to try once every couple months. You want to know why that's total crap? Because I can't please everyone, and I have a severe need to, which I hate by the way. But also, it stops becoming my truth because your opinion of me sensors my expression of my own life and heart and experiences and art. I can't do that anymore. This space is now where I write raw and not for the intended purpose to be discovered or shared. This is now simply a place where we do honest living together. 

Which was what it was originally intended to be.

I remember reading "Nice girls don't change the world" by Lynne Hybels years ago. In it she said something along the lines of, "I just stopped. I sat at my window and just stared out to the street for days. I wasn't praying or reading or meditating. I was empty and I simply sat." That makes sense to me in a very profound way now. When you have been so full and information bombards you and your past catches up to you and there are so many tangles that you have made out of your life, sometimes you simply need to sit. In silence. Because sometimes there aren't words for prayer. It is the slow seeping out of all the noise that needs to happen first.

To simply be. To sit. in the empty and respect it.

if you feel that way, trust me, you are not alone. Even if you want to be, or you feel lonely or isolated, I understand some of those feelings. I get it. 

We are in it together.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

Inspiration breeds inspiration

I had mentioned either here or in person how in our home we try to read scripture together every morning.  We do that not because we feel we have to, or because this is what good Christian's do.  Honestly we do it because of our philosophy of Big Picture Parenting.  We believe that as our children leave our home every morning and attend school, we want the word of God in their heart.  We want them to know scripture, to feel comfortable searching God's word for insight into his heart and to really know what God says about life and love.  To really know God and not just what people say about him.

Then I went and had a play date with a friend of mine a couple months ago.  As we were sitting in her kitchen, she had index cards covering her walls with scripture written on them.  As I took a closer look, she had the first couple dozen chapters of Proverbs up.

I fell in love.

I asked her what was going on with all the proverbs posted on her wall and her response was, "I got the idea from you."

I had a look of total confusion.  We have never done anything like this, so it didn't really feel like my idea.  "I don't get it" was my response.

She told me that she appreciated how much we were trying to create a love of God and his word in our children.  She said as her and her husband were trying to raise up their kids, they wanted God's wisdom strong in their mind and in their heart.  

I Love it!!!

See, I pray for God's wisdom over my children almost as much as I cook their meals.  These young boys and girl are faced with choices every day about who they are, who they are going to be, and what they stand for.  Choices of fitting in, going along with the crowd, sticking up for the kid getting picked on, helping someone in need, it will never end.  I want them filled with the knowledge of God's love and his desire for their life.

So instead of just praying wisdom over my kids, this felt like the perfect compliment to put it in their hearts.

The proverbs are also an easy way to find just a couple of verses to read in the morning.  A couple verses read, then discussed leaves us with a perfect small 5-10 min devotion.  It has sparked such great conversations and questions from the kids, and having them written down, on days when we don't have time for a new one, we can pick one off the door and read it again.

The other great benefit of having it written down and up where we can see all the time, is I can stop and read encouragement every time I  need it.

The best part of all this...

I shared a desire of my heart and a small tradition that I do with my kids.  Another mother took that idea and made it her own.  I saw what she did and she inspired me to follow suit and take it another step further.

This is the best part of living life publicly   The way our hearts, our desires, our traditions can inspire others and in turn, we can be inspired by them.

Thank you Jessica!

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.

How does one move past the fear?

This morning I woke up to the sound of my son coming in to my room, hugging me and saying, "I am so glad you are alive mama.  I am so glad you are alive!"

I looked at him and said, "Oh honey, of course I am alive.  Is everything OK?"

That's when Big told me that last night they woke up to gun shots ringing in the front yard.  They ran out to get Paul, thinking we were being attacked.  Paul had already flipped the light switches off and was ducking down to see a group of teenagers breaking off in pairs from our front yard after shooting a couple rounds off into black sky.  They clung to their dad hoping he could make it better.  After calling the police, he tucked the kids back into bed and sang over them.

This morning, their fear for me and for them was all they could talk about.  I was writing at the coffee shop like I do every Tuesday night.  I wasn't home, and so in their young minds, I was at risk out there with the bad guys.  They were out there and I was out there, not safely at home.

As each of my kids came into my room this morning, all hugging me tight, thankful for my safety, my heart physically hurt for how to help them navigate through this.  I wasn't sure how to do that.

I can't give them promises that I will always be there for them.  Because I won't.

I can't tell them that nothing bad will happen to me.  Because I don't know.

So what can I give them?

First off, this is not a story of living in the hood.  This story isn't shared to get you to feel bad for us.  It's not a  story to gain attention or have some weird twisted story to brag about.  This story speaks to what we do with the fear our children have.  All kids have a fear of something.  Fear of fitting in.  Fear of being embarrased.  Fear of talking to strangers.  Fear their parents will split up.  Fear there is something wrong with them.  So the question then is, what do you do with that fear?

Second, as parents, I think it is very tempting to use our status in our children's lives to turn into the ultimate power.  If you have a wound, I will make it better.  If someone hurt you, I will go take care of it.  If you have a need, I will fill it.  It is nice to be needed and have someone rely on you.  To be the hero.  The one who saves the day.

But in the end, what good does it do to have our children put all of their trust in us?  In a human being who will fall short, mess up and disappoint them?

Paul and I have as much as possible, whenever possible, try to point our children to the one who will not fail them.  To the one who will ultimately heal and help them.  It is our goal as parents to teach our kids to reach out to God in times of trouble, pain and joy.  This is not without trying our hardest to be there for our children, to help whenever it is right.  But we can't desire to be their ultimate power in life.

So each morning, we try, at breakfast to institute, "Feed your body, feed your soul."  This is a time where we read a few verses in the morning to make sure that the word of God is in our children's hearts.  Lately, we have been reading through the proverbs.  But this morning I knew it was different and we would need a different kind of comfort and healing.  So we read Romans 8:31+

"What then shall we say in response to this?   If God is for us, who can be against us?  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

In reading this, it also brought to mind the verse that says, "perfect love drives out fear" which I think is 1 John.

God's love can drive out our fear and demons and insecurities.

I wanted my kids to walk away not living in fear.  Not overcome with worry about who might get shot and killed in our yard.  We are still trying to convince them that we won't die every time a thunderstorm hits in the middle of the night.  Two years later, Big and Little will still crawl into our bed trembling that we will die when the thunder hits waking them up in the darkness of night.

It is my belief that fear, left in our heart will create a foothold for Satan to tear us down and keep us from thriving in life.  When a small amount fear or doubt is left in your heart, the only thing it has the power to do is grow.  It gains strength every time we experience something that reminds us of that fear.  Then eventually, it will keep us fearful and unable to take chances, to trust, and to love.

So in this round about way, as parents, and just as people ourselves, the way to not live in fear is to cling to the one who has the power enough to love us out of the fearful place.  To admit that fear.  Surrender it.  Lay it down.  Give it over.  Try to learn to trust a little bit more every day.

This morning we prayed after reading scripture together.  We prayed that we could rest in God's love.  We prayed that Satan wouldn't have a hold on our hearts in the fear we have about how scary the guns were.  We prayed that God could create trust in our hearts.  We prayed that his words we read would strengthen our faith and allow us live in HOPE that God, no matter what, will work all things to his glory.

We don't know what that means exactly.  We don't really know what that looks like.  I do know though that I could tell a difference in their smiles this morning.  I am hoping that teaching them to give over their fear and worry and weakness, that they will start to cling on their own to a relationship with Christ.

He is much better savior than me.

And in the end, I have lived most of my life in fear.  I would like to find a way to help my children live in love and courage by showing them how to surrender over the fear.

Feeling exposed and scared out of my mind

It's easy to build self confidence and contentment in the privacy of your own home.  I have done that for years now.  No one to really see the cracks in your defense system.  You can almost pretend they don't exist.

It's terrifying to put yourself out there and wonder.

Will people like me?

How harsh will the judgments be?

I put myself out there when I speak, when I write, when I invite you in to share this life with me.

I have built my career on being authentic and real and transparent, but recently, those limits are getting tested in changing waters.

I never realized how vulnerable it would feel to ask people to support you.  To walk alongside you and say, "I want your dream to come true!"

Because...well...what if they don't?  What if they were just being nice?

The reality is, I only have a voice because of you.  I could write blog after blog, but if no one reads it, then it isn't serving its purpose.

I could write a brilliant faith evoking message, but if no one shows up, then it can't bear fruit.

And I could write a wonderful book full of stories that point toward kingdom living, but if no one buys it, then my ministry lays dormant.  My ministry only exists because there is an audience.

The deep secret fear that seems to be coming up in full force lately is, "What if nobody cares?  What if no one is listening?  What if people will think its stupid?"  And the big one for me is, "What if nobody likes me?"

What does that say about me and my ministry if people don't want to stand behind it?

For the last few years all of my speaking gigs have been lived out where I have felt most comfortable.  My families high need diet being my excuse to not stretch too far outside my comfort zone when it comes to my career.

But here I am now, writing new material.  Searching and preparing for gigs I have never done.

And now I am writing a book.  Yup, I am going to do it and write a book.

This is all new territory.

It's scary as hell.  Can I say that?

I feel exposed.  I feel terrified.  I feel insecure which I haven't felt in years and I don't know what to do with all those feelings.

What if you don't want my book?

What if it's all just a bad idea and I should go back to simply living.  (Not living simple, that is something all together very different.)

To say "it's hard to put yourself out there" is a statement that doesn't quite convey the risk you take in taking a chance.

You put your dreams and hard work out there for others to experience, and the goal is to share Christ through it all.  But its risky to invite you in.  There was a beautiful TED talk that explored the gift of asking.  You can watch it here.

But what if no one is listening?

(If you want to know more about the book, I'm waiting for the promo video to come out and then will invite you all into the project.  I would love the company!)

Hope in Despair

I have to laugh that for all the grief I give my husband about a painting that hangs over our couch in our home, I am actually including it in a blog.  

A few years ago, my husbands best friend, Lloyd Garrelts had a desire to add "artist/painter" to his list of many talents.  He had decided long ago that if he were to ever become a painter, it would start with a large black canvas that had one small white dot on it.  To mock modern art, he would call it "Hope in Despair".  It communicates that no matter how small the evidence of hope may seem, it does change the landscape.  The despair is not untouched.

When our friend turned 40, Paul commissioned him to start his dream, and paint on the largest canvas we could afford.  For days he came to paint.  Lots of pepsi and wine got drank, and the dream became a reality.  I was in full support of my husband trying to help make dreams come true, till I was told that in order to be a true work of art, it is commissioned by someone and hung in their home.  So here it sits, in our home, a big black wall of canvas, reminding us that dreams do come true.

Hope in Despair

When I was driving down our street the other day, I saw this...

It is a large Chalkboard with the painted letters, "Before I die..."  I got really distracted by it and wanted to check it out, so I pulled over and walked right up to it so I could read what people were writing.  This is what I saw.

Amongst the desires for fame you also find hope to know God, hope to end the pain, hope to find love, hope to truly find oneself.  It was simply beautiful.

Here, in my hood where we are frequently on the news for destruction, anger, stealing, killing, rape and fires, I found this.  A long list of hopes and dreams that people have for their future, even in the midst of the despair, hope can be found no matter how small.

I saw a big black canvas written all over with white paint.

Hope is not lost.  Even in the midst of all of the despair, hope can be found.  We can't survive without it.  People here have big dreams of finding love and God and repairing what is broken.  Amazing things happen when we work together towards that dream.

Today I felt like it is well with my soul.

Hope has not been lost.