I survived!

Anniversaries stir a call of reflection.
I am coming upon one year in Minnesota!  -CRAZY!-

And, you guys! Good news... I survived!

Remember when I talked about streaming tears, blurry vision, and farewells that were crashing through like a wrecking ball?

I rock here with cavernous aches and a keen awareness of all the "hard" that seems to surround me on every side.

Snotty-faced and puffy-eyes, I retell myself, "I can do hard things" - knowing somewhere beneath those mere present words, there is hope.

There were times I doubted. Times I felt like I couldn't breathe. Times I felt like I was suffocating in a hole.

But....

There was hope. There was adventure waiting. There were experiences to be had. There was time.

And...

Do you see this face? Do you know what it says? It says, "I made it."

I made it. I CAN do hard things. I survived. And, hope and I found each other again.

"Do you want to go on an adventure?!"

The Adventure Began Here...

Minnesota has been experienced, as a resident,  for a little over five months. But the journey began one year ago. And it included this view.

I came to the camp (pictured above) to serve, to teach, to encourage.

I found myself stirred, challenged, and curious.

"Do you want to go on an adventure?!"

That was it. That was the invitation. That was the beginning of a deeper relinquishing.

For the first, real, clearly-in-my face time, I was struggling with adventure. I'd always been a lover of adventure and quickly jumped at the opportunity. But this time it was going to cost me, and I was aware of it. This time I wasn't quick to jump. This time I wanted more insight as to what it was going to include before I'd decide if I wanted to be a part of it or not.

And THAT is where the adventure began.

In the sweetness of the Lord, He invites, not forces. He invites us to join Him. He pursues us and allows us to choose Him.

For me His invitations have never been questions. OF COURSE! I want to join you! OF COURSE! I want to adventure with you! OF COURSE! You can lead my life and direct my steps!

Wait.
I have family.
I have community.
I have a stable and enjoyable job.
I have roots.

The Lord has been known to conduct some pretty wild adventures. Shoot, one time He plucked me up from northern Cali and flicked me over to central Florida. Yes, He plucked & flicked.

So. Adventure? Well, maybe. Depends. What does it look like? What does it include. Does it include plucking & flicking again? Because, well, I don't think I'm on board with that.

And then the rock hit.
It hit in my spirit.
And I sat alarmed.

I'd not been hesitant before.
I'd not questioned the Lord's invitation before.
The realization of the questioning itself hurt.
But then there was still the potential cost as well.
And I really wasn't ready to pay.
But I wasn't ready to not follow either.

"Do you want to go on an adventure?!"

Yes, Lord. Yes.
But I am scared.
And I don't want to let go.
And I'm afraid of what it might cost me.
But, ultimately, I want You.
I want you more than anything else.
Still, I am scared of losing everything.
I've grown roots (community) for the first time in my life.
Help me.
Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.

tuesday tears

When all the fun is suddenly not so fun anymore.

I'm presently pulled over in a parking lot because the streaming tears are blurring my vision to the extent of unsafe driving. Farewells and sayonaras have slowly been rolling pass, but now the bigger and harder ones are starting to crash through like a wrecking ball.

A well-used tool from childhood, detachment is now buried somewhere beneath the hopes & desires to remain alive, the vulnerable welcoming of relationships, and several layers of less-penetrable emotional, mental, and spiritual health.

Instead, I rock here with cavernous aches and a keen awareness of all the "hard" that seems to surround me on every side.

Snotty-faced and puffy-eyed, I retell myself, "I can do hard things" - knowing somewhere beneath those mere present words, there is hope.

versions of ourselves

In God's grace and gentleness, He has brought me so far in understanding and knowing how to simply rest. To embrace the space and seasons I am in. To extend grace to myself. To live with my heart fully alive.

And then there's David.

David demonstrates the art of taking up war when he gets in the face of his soul, "Why are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?" Three times between Psalm 42-43 David makes this war cry.

"Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God." Psalm 42:5, 11 & Psalm 43:5

Some chapters of life feel hard. Sometimes living with my heart fully alive surfaces emotions that aren't deemed attractive to the bulk of the population. Sometimes people create separation from this version of me that feels a little uncomfortable for them. Sometimes I welcome the space. Sometimes I long for their presence - simply to BE together.

I used to qualify parts and/or versions of me as one that I don't like. In doing this, I denying part of God's love, sovereignty, and craftsmanship.

Continuing on the journey of learning to embrace all versions of myself, I will no longer make claims of dismissing parts of His handiwork. These different versions  cannot be classified as: a lesser version; an uglier version; or even a less-attractive version. This version may not bring warm fuzzes or make you laugh until your sides hurt, but there is beauty in surrender. There is beauty in living with your heart fully alive. There is beauty in being bare. There is beauty to be seen in all versions of you and me.

Is the present version of you full of laughter, silliness and smiles? Is it walking a road of relinquishment and refinement? Is it walking the road of grief and pain? Is it simply quieter, without many words, and a sense that all you can do is simply breathe?

No matter our season. No matter what versions are presently surfacing. No matter the current chapter He is unfolding. Whether we are to rise up and declare war, or if we are to simply rest and embrace, let us hold fast to Him.

He is.
He is bringing all things for our good.
He is working in and through every molecule of our lives and beings.
He is present and near.
He hears us.
He is carrying us.
He is the joy of our salvation.
He is restoring us.

And through every chapter, season, and versions of ourselves, may we be beacons of light to His goodness and explode with praise.

From the tip of my toes, to the top of my head, they're going to know I love you.
From the tip of my toes, to the top of my head, they're going to know I'm yours.

shouts & puffs

I stood with my back to the stove waiting for hot water to seep the teabag. 

"I just want to feel like I belong!" The scream came. It was an internal scream, but it was a loud scream.

In the midst of my wrestle to intentionally ward off the many distractions at my disposal while simultaneously feeling aimless in uncharted territory, Allison's words resounded within me like the single beat of a drum through a captive canyon. 

“Raw.” 

Have you ever felt that way? Like you are walking around emotionally vulnerable, free of any pretense that could suggest to someone otherwise. A simple hug or compliment just might bring you to tears?

I’m experiencing something in my life right now that I can’t fix. All of the love in my heart can’t make it better. And it leaves me…raw.

Even though I feel like a fresh wound walking around without a Band-Aid, this place of unsought vulnerability is reshaping me…for the better.

For starters, my heart is acutely sensitive to the Lord. I’m shooting up prayers left and right like He’s my best friend. That’s a good place for me to be: for anyone to be.

A few encounters with well-meaning people that left resounding pangs in my heart. The message shared at church on Orphan Sunday. Things being stirred due to a new friendship. Journeying deeper into personal development (read: sitting with really hard questions). An awaited email reply that could drastically shape my future. And the sweetness of God to not leave me where I am in my healing journey. All collided. The result, rawness.

I feel like a walking tear drop. You know the one that simply sits on the lower rim of your eye until it pools enough to jump over, or you grant it permission to trickle down with the inviting blink?  That's me. I've been sitting on the lower rim, but didn't want to trickle down. I've seen the rawness sitting there, but quickly turned to distractions. For many days. Until today. Today I finally chose to blink.

The tear trickle in the midst of waiting for the hot water reflected the beauty and legacy given to me through the beauty of adoption. Because there was no legal name change (a story for another time), there have been comments and questions through the years. Most comments simply roll off. 

Not this time. I couldn't shake these. They weren't different words. They were delivered in a sharper tone. They were simply meant to help strip me down.

I just want to feel like I belong.

I know I am loved. My relationship with Jesus is unbreakable. It's not a matter of questioning. It's a matter of absolutes. Though just a mere few days earlier I was celebrating all of the redemptive ways my story reflects the love and adoption Jesus offers, I was now wishing it weren't even a chapter in my story. I wanted a government-issued paper to hold in my defense. I felt the need of an absolute. 

Not even two minutes later my dad came strolling through the kitchen announcing he needed to share his last night's dream with us. 

The weirdness of his dream abruptly ended with a figure blowing a puff of air into his face (in the dream). "The Lord kept me awake for the next two hours. I asked Him what the dream was all about. I feel like He was telling me to share with you that every molecule of our being is infused with Him. Sometimes we wrestle with things because we're forgetting that He is infused in the area we're wrestling with as well. The puff in my face was a reminder that we are, because He breathed life into us."

And just like that, the scream turned into a puff.

"You do belong. You belong so deeply and intricately to and with me, that I am infused into every molecule of your being." God gently puffed life and truth into my aches. He gave me perspective. He gave me an absolute.

What are you wrestling with? What silent or loud screams are resounding within and out of you? He has puffs of life, truths, and perspective for you as well. 

Sometimes, you need to steal away some distraction-less space, and simply grant that permissible blink.

"If my heart is overwhelmed and I cannot hear Your voice, I’ll hold on to what is true though I cannot see."

resurrecting

healthy and healing.

reconnecting and reclaiming.

remembering and dreaming.

embarking and hoping.

stepping and waiting.

embracing a story and telling a story.

it's already a good story.

the story is unfolding.

finest hour

I do so love when people make themselves available to the use of the Holy Spirit. I am truly blessed with incredible people willing to be a part of the mouth and heart of the Lord.

"To every man there comes in his lifetime that special moment when he is figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a very special thing, unique to him and fitted to his talent; what a tragedy if that moment finds him unprepared or unqualified for the work which would be his finest hour." 

"My prayer for you is that the Lord is preparing and qualifying you for 'your finest hour'.” 

Doc Glenn Schaefer

Thank you, Doc. Your words and prayers are absolutely fitting.

May I be yielding, willing, and prepared to be qualified as He sees fit, so that I may truly be prepared and qualified when the tap on my shoulder comes.