2020. A new year. A new decade. It feels fresh to me. A blank piece of paper just waiting for me to write the next chapter of my story in it.
I don't like to do New Years resolutions because, well, they don't last very long. They should really be called "January Resolutions: the things we temporarily change to feel happier in an otherwise cold and gray month." Hmm...maybe that's a bit pessimistic of me. But honestly, that's what it has been for me in the past.
"I'm going to manage my finances better!" Four weeks later and I've usually already overspent my budget because I have a weakness for pretty things and a difficult time saying no to just one more drink at social outings.
"I'm going to eat only Paleo!" Three weeks later I've downed three cupcakes at my nephew's birthday party because I've deprived myself of sugar for 21 days and my system is in shock.
"I'm not going to drink coffee anymore!" My brother said that to me once and the next morning he was making coffee for me and his wife and promptly poured himself a cup because "you're here visiting!" He gave up that afternoon.
Resolutions are tough because they are usually some type of behavior change. We make them because we want to improve our lives in some way. Be better. Work harder. Stay healthy. Lose weight. Find love. Be stable. Feel happier. And we make the resolution because wouldn't it be so nice if we COULD change a behavior pattern overnight? Bippiti-boppiti-boo...I no longer crave a good cupcake. Shazaam...I am a financial wizard. Instant happiness.
But, it doesn't work that way. Behavior change is TOUGH! It is so difficult to change your whole manner of being that has it's habits and easy-way-outs and justifications ingrained in you since who knows when. And when we can't make the change immediately, we give up. And that feels just dreadful!
I decided a few years ago that instead of a resolution, I wanted to come up with a theme for my year. A theme that I can continue to come back to when new opportunities present themselves. A theme that I can make small behavior changes within. A broader idea of what I would like to be in the clean and bare year ahead of me. I can make the year into whatever I would like it to be and not all the things I do in it have to fit under the theme. But it keeps me grounded and focused on working on myself in one small area of my life with room to expand and include other growth activities.
Ironically enough, I decided that I wanted to make this year's theme behavior changes. I have recently noticed in myself some behaviors I do that cause me to experience heartbreak and disappointment at a very deep and painful level. This pain is often disproportionate to the situation, and even if it is justified pain/anger/sadness, the intensity and my inability to let go of it is harmful to myself and inhibits my ability to move forward. I also recently noticed that even when I do have good intentions of changing my behavior, I do small things that have little impact on the bigger change I'm trying to make. This is in contrast to doing small things that have BIG impact on the bigger change I'm trying to make. And, I realized that I don't dream that things could be different. Instead of actually doing something about these behaviors, I have accepted that "this is who I am" and have taken somewhat of a victim stance about it. While some of it is who I am (I have always been sensitive and had big emotions), I recognize that it doesn't have to continue to be this way. I can take action.
The other day, one of my closest friends gave me the following quote:
"The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want and if they can't find them, make them." ~George Bernard Shaw
I want to be a woman who gets up and looks for the circumstances she wants. I have actually done this in several areas of my life before so I know I can do it. This year, I want to make behavior change in some tough areas that I tend to ignore. I ignore them because to really look at my behaviors and why I end up in the situations I do is painful. The drivers are deeply latched in my heart and letting go of them feels uncomfortable. That's the thing about behavior change. It is SUPPOSED to be uncomfortable. We've gotten used to operating with deficiencies or justifications and to let go of these crutches feels awkward and shaky and new. We have to re-learn how to do something in order for the results to be better.
This year, I will allow myself to dream. I will let myself envision what my life could be and what I want it to be. I will trust in my instincts and my intuition and I will act on it. I will no longer allow these behaviors to control the outcome of my life. I will make small changes that have big impact on my life. It's going to be hard and I will probably fail sometimes and make regressions to old behaviors. The difference is that I will notice it, let go of it, try again, and move forward.
It's going to be an amazing year. I cannot wait to see how this chapter turns out.
Thursday, January 2, 2020
Monday, December 16, 2019
the desires of my heart
Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Psalm 37:4
I have had a back and forth relationship with this verse. For a long time, I loved it. I adhered to it and believed that all the things my heart longed for would come true. And then, when all those prayers and dreams and desires didn't happen, I hated this verse. Each time I read it, I would curse at God. I would yell and scream and swear and cry out why the desires of my heart had not been given to me. I thought I had been faithful in my love for God and had done all the "right" things to get there. I had placed my trust in God, I thought I had listened and followed when I was supposed to. And yet, the desires I had asked for were not answered.
Since moving to New York, it's interesting how the desires of my heart have been morphing into something new and unexpected. For many of you who have read my posts before, you know that finding a life partner and building a family of our own have been the deepest desires of my heart for a long time. But lately, this has been surprisingly shifting. And it's not that I don't want those things, but being in an environment with other single people who don't have or want those things has opened my eyes to other possibilities for my future. And surprisingly, the desires of my heart have started to change.
Instead of dreaming about a husband and a house and two children and our corgi, I've been dreaming about all the exciting things and possibilities that I could do with my life. I could start a singing group and perform more often. I could improve my swing dancing and travel to places all over the world to perfect this skill. I could also travel for leisure and explore what the world has to offer. I can go see live music and shows whenever I want. I could start my private practice. I could continue to run with World Vision and maybe visit Africa to see how clean water reaches communities in need. I could give my nieces and nephews experiences that only an Auntie could give them because she has the time and the energy. I could write a book. I could do so many more things that I haven't even thought of yet, but life would be filled with adventure and excitement and so many desires of my heart that I long for would be answered.
Don't get me wrong...I still dream about having a husband someday and if we should be blessed with children, I'm sure we would be excellent parents. And of course we would have a corgi too. But lately, these things have not been the strongest desire of my heart. And it's weird that I feel this weight lifted off my chest and this sense of freedom in my life. It's new and unanticipated. I'm not quite sure what to do with this newfound sense of freedom and adventure and possibility and hope. It feels good to let go of old desires and grasp onto new ones.
I'm not sure how I feel about that verse now. But I think that this change in my heart is an answer to prayer. I feel confident in pursuing life to the fullest in New York and I'm excited for all the possibilities it holds. And maybe the lesson learned is that when you delight yourself in God, the desires of your heart become what God had for you all along.
Psalm 37:4
I have had a back and forth relationship with this verse. For a long time, I loved it. I adhered to it and believed that all the things my heart longed for would come true. And then, when all those prayers and dreams and desires didn't happen, I hated this verse. Each time I read it, I would curse at God. I would yell and scream and swear and cry out why the desires of my heart had not been given to me. I thought I had been faithful in my love for God and had done all the "right" things to get there. I had placed my trust in God, I thought I had listened and followed when I was supposed to. And yet, the desires I had asked for were not answered.
Since moving to New York, it's interesting how the desires of my heart have been morphing into something new and unexpected. For many of you who have read my posts before, you know that finding a life partner and building a family of our own have been the deepest desires of my heart for a long time. But lately, this has been surprisingly shifting. And it's not that I don't want those things, but being in an environment with other single people who don't have or want those things has opened my eyes to other possibilities for my future. And surprisingly, the desires of my heart have started to change.
Instead of dreaming about a husband and a house and two children and our corgi, I've been dreaming about all the exciting things and possibilities that I could do with my life. I could start a singing group and perform more often. I could improve my swing dancing and travel to places all over the world to perfect this skill. I could also travel for leisure and explore what the world has to offer. I can go see live music and shows whenever I want. I could start my private practice. I could continue to run with World Vision and maybe visit Africa to see how clean water reaches communities in need. I could give my nieces and nephews experiences that only an Auntie could give them because she has the time and the energy. I could write a book. I could do so many more things that I haven't even thought of yet, but life would be filled with adventure and excitement and so many desires of my heart that I long for would be answered.
Don't get me wrong...I still dream about having a husband someday and if we should be blessed with children, I'm sure we would be excellent parents. And of course we would have a corgi too. But lately, these things have not been the strongest desire of my heart. And it's weird that I feel this weight lifted off my chest and this sense of freedom in my life. It's new and unanticipated. I'm not quite sure what to do with this newfound sense of freedom and adventure and possibility and hope. It feels good to let go of old desires and grasp onto new ones.
I'm not sure how I feel about that verse now. But I think that this change in my heart is an answer to prayer. I feel confident in pursuing life to the fullest in New York and I'm excited for all the possibilities it holds. And maybe the lesson learned is that when you delight yourself in God, the desires of your heart become what God had for you all along.
Saturday, October 5, 2019
new york girl
I was quickly glancing over the date of my last post and realized it has been a year and more since I last wrote! Whew! So many life changes since then...where to begin...
Well, I started this blog back in 2011 after I moved home from Colorado, broke from three years of graduate school, no job, heartbroken, and feeling lost as to what was next. I started this blog so I could have a place to put my thoughts out into the inter-webs with the hope that someone else out there would say "me too! I feel that way too!" and know that they're not alone. I also feel that my life has this symbiotic weirdness to it that is all interconnected. Themes follow me like a bumble bee in the summer. Just when I think another theme won't show up in my life, there it is again, hovering just near my ear. And no matter how I try to swat the theme away, it keeps coming back. It doesn't bother me or become angry, just always returns as if to say, "You thought I forgot you, but I didn't. Your life still has connection and matters." For me, writing my thoughts here reminds me of the common thread God continues to weave into my everyday.
So here I am. Nearing 9 years after my move back to Connecticut and returning back to the other side of the rainbow. 9 years of life lessons, reconnection with family, building friendships, deepening those relationships, figuring out who I am and who I want to be, career development, and new goals developed. 9 years working through feelings of wandering aimlessly, aching over desires not yet answered, identifying and healing difficult emotions, and finding peace and strength through it all. 9 years. Strange, but it doesn't quite feel that long. Those years back home were beautiful years and there is a sadness from moving on from it all. But I needed that time. I am so much stronger and confident and sure of myself now. And now, there's a new rainbow I've followed. But this time, I think I'm reaching for the gold at the end of it instead of returning to the comfort of the familiar after the adventure in Oz.
So what is that gold? I really don't know! But what I do know, is that a theme in my life has returned. The theme of wanting to be connected to the arts, creativity, live my life in adventure, be connected to a variety of people, be around music, dance, and find joy in all of those things. Back in November, I was visiting New York City with a friend. We were getting ready to head out of our hotel to visit a jazz club. As I waited for her, I looked out of our hotel window at the lights of Times Square (that's right...we went all out #thankyouverymuchhotelsdotcom) and could sense that little bumblebee of a theme buzzing around my ear and in my thoughts. "I could move here" it whispered. "I would love this" it hummed. "I could dance here" it sang. "I could sing here" it lilted. "You would find your people here" it buzzed. And my heart started pounding as this theme returned and my excitement began to tingle. Could I? Could I do this? So I decided to listen to the whispering, humming, singing, lilting, and buzzing of the theme and see what I could see if I pursued it.
And so, I began the journey to move my life to New York City. A little background on why this is a theme in my life. I have always been enamored with New York City. As a little girl, I begged to visit. I wanted to see a Broadway show, visit Radio City Music Hall, see the Statue of Liberty, and go to Central Park. The glitz and glam spoke to me and I wanted to experience it. When I was 17, I finally got to visit and see Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. I was in love! But, I was already accepted to a college in Chicago so my New York dreams would have to wait. After I completed my undergrad degree, I again looked into moving to New York and looked at a few creative writing programs back east. But alas, it was not meant to be. Instead, I completed a few more years of teaching music in Chicago (a city which I love!) and then had a bumblebee-theme-moment that drew me to Colorado to pursue my masters degree in Counseling. During those years, I visited New York several times to visit friends and have various adventures. Each time, my love continued to grow, but it just wasn't the time. And then, I graduated, had difficulty finding a job in my field, had a break up, and moved back home to Connecticut. So, 9 years of living back on the other side of the rainbow ensued. And it was lovely. I made many trips to the city during those years, each time thinking that I could never afford it/make it happen/I was too old...the excuses went on. Then November 2018 happened and (cue the buzzing bee) I returned to see Phantom of the Opera for the 2nd time, 22 years after the first viewing and my first New York City visit. I knew then it was going to happen. All I had to do was open the door that was placed in front of me and God would take care of the rest.
And God has. It hasn't been without some difficulty and hiccups, but it's been beautiful. I feel like I belong here. Even now, I am sitting in a local neighborhood restaurant by myself writing this and I feel so ME. Last night, I spent time with a friend I met here and she is so someone that I feel I need in my life right now. We went out for happy hour and then to see live jazz music and dance. I felt so alive and beautiful and happy. I've even had a little New York romance here, which sadly didn't turn into anything long term, but was beautiful for what it was. It gives me hope that my guy is here and that the romantic pieces of my life that I long for aren't too far away.
So maybe there is gold at the end of this rainbow. And maybe I'll end up somewhere else (Paris?!?) in my future. But I love the adventure this change has given me. I love that all my old triggers to the aching desires of my heart don't affect me as deeply anymore. Because now, I'm loving the life that is instead of being focused on the longing for the life that isn't yet. I'm learning to live in the moment, to be strong, to speak for myself, to be free to be fully me, and to have peace in the unknown instead of always planning the future. And I'm dancing, singing, engaging in music, being creative, chasing rainbows, loving others, and living my best life. The life I feel I was created to live.
Being a New York Girl feels pretty awesome. I cannot wait to see where this rainbow leads.
Well, I started this blog back in 2011 after I moved home from Colorado, broke from three years of graduate school, no job, heartbroken, and feeling lost as to what was next. I started this blog so I could have a place to put my thoughts out into the inter-webs with the hope that someone else out there would say "me too! I feel that way too!" and know that they're not alone. I also feel that my life has this symbiotic weirdness to it that is all interconnected. Themes follow me like a bumble bee in the summer. Just when I think another theme won't show up in my life, there it is again, hovering just near my ear. And no matter how I try to swat the theme away, it keeps coming back. It doesn't bother me or become angry, just always returns as if to say, "You thought I forgot you, but I didn't. Your life still has connection and matters." For me, writing my thoughts here reminds me of the common thread God continues to weave into my everyday.
So here I am. Nearing 9 years after my move back to Connecticut and returning back to the other side of the rainbow. 9 years of life lessons, reconnection with family, building friendships, deepening those relationships, figuring out who I am and who I want to be, career development, and new goals developed. 9 years working through feelings of wandering aimlessly, aching over desires not yet answered, identifying and healing difficult emotions, and finding peace and strength through it all. 9 years. Strange, but it doesn't quite feel that long. Those years back home were beautiful years and there is a sadness from moving on from it all. But I needed that time. I am so much stronger and confident and sure of myself now. And now, there's a new rainbow I've followed. But this time, I think I'm reaching for the gold at the end of it instead of returning to the comfort of the familiar after the adventure in Oz.
So what is that gold? I really don't know! But what I do know, is that a theme in my life has returned. The theme of wanting to be connected to the arts, creativity, live my life in adventure, be connected to a variety of people, be around music, dance, and find joy in all of those things. Back in November, I was visiting New York City with a friend. We were getting ready to head out of our hotel to visit a jazz club. As I waited for her, I looked out of our hotel window at the lights of Times Square (that's right...we went all out #thankyouverymuchhotelsdotcom) and could sense that little bumblebee of a theme buzzing around my ear and in my thoughts. "I could move here" it whispered. "I would love this" it hummed. "I could dance here" it sang. "I could sing here" it lilted. "You would find your people here" it buzzed. And my heart started pounding as this theme returned and my excitement began to tingle. Could I? Could I do this? So I decided to listen to the whispering, humming, singing, lilting, and buzzing of the theme and see what I could see if I pursued it.
And so, I began the journey to move my life to New York City. A little background on why this is a theme in my life. I have always been enamored with New York City. As a little girl, I begged to visit. I wanted to see a Broadway show, visit Radio City Music Hall, see the Statue of Liberty, and go to Central Park. The glitz and glam spoke to me and I wanted to experience it. When I was 17, I finally got to visit and see Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. I was in love! But, I was already accepted to a college in Chicago so my New York dreams would have to wait. After I completed my undergrad degree, I again looked into moving to New York and looked at a few creative writing programs back east. But alas, it was not meant to be. Instead, I completed a few more years of teaching music in Chicago (a city which I love!) and then had a bumblebee-theme-moment that drew me to Colorado to pursue my masters degree in Counseling. During those years, I visited New York several times to visit friends and have various adventures. Each time, my love continued to grow, but it just wasn't the time. And then, I graduated, had difficulty finding a job in my field, had a break up, and moved back home to Connecticut. So, 9 years of living back on the other side of the rainbow ensued. And it was lovely. I made many trips to the city during those years, each time thinking that I could never afford it/make it happen/I was too old...the excuses went on. Then November 2018 happened and (cue the buzzing bee) I returned to see Phantom of the Opera for the 2nd time, 22 years after the first viewing and my first New York City visit. I knew then it was going to happen. All I had to do was open the door that was placed in front of me and God would take care of the rest.
And God has. It hasn't been without some difficulty and hiccups, but it's been beautiful. I feel like I belong here. Even now, I am sitting in a local neighborhood restaurant by myself writing this and I feel so ME. Last night, I spent time with a friend I met here and she is so someone that I feel I need in my life right now. We went out for happy hour and then to see live jazz music and dance. I felt so alive and beautiful and happy. I've even had a little New York romance here, which sadly didn't turn into anything long term, but was beautiful for what it was. It gives me hope that my guy is here and that the romantic pieces of my life that I long for aren't too far away.
So maybe there is gold at the end of this rainbow. And maybe I'll end up somewhere else (Paris?!?) in my future. But I love the adventure this change has given me. I love that all my old triggers to the aching desires of my heart don't affect me as deeply anymore. Because now, I'm loving the life that is instead of being focused on the longing for the life that isn't yet. I'm learning to live in the moment, to be strong, to speak for myself, to be free to be fully me, and to have peace in the unknown instead of always planning the future. And I'm dancing, singing, engaging in music, being creative, chasing rainbows, loving others, and living my best life. The life I feel I was created to live.
Being a New York Girl feels pretty awesome. I cannot wait to see where this rainbow leads.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
speak!
Most people who know me well know that I'm more of an introvert than an extrovert. When I am first just getting to know someone and I tell them this, many people have been surprised. I like to be friendly and social and meet new people. I'm at a point in my life where I'm less concerned about what others think of me so the shyness from my childhood is less apparent and I'm more confident in who I am. However, I process internally and definitely more goes on in my mind than comes out of my mouth. Sometimes, this is a good thing...internal monologues save me from several awkward situations! Other times, I wish I spoke up about my thoughts and feelings more.
Running the Hood to Coast race and raising money for clean water with World Vision has helped me to speak up, albeit mostly out of necessity. I mean, you really can't attempt to raise $10,000 without speaking up. The first year I did this race, I was terrified of the fundraising! How can I ask people for money? What if they think I'm nuts for attempting both the fundraising and the race? What if I can't raise any money? So many fears that could get in the way of speaking out, but I faced them and pushed through and spoke.
That first year, a funny thing happened. After I began speaking out, I felt more confident. I felt more like myself. And I was shocked that people listened! Not only did they listen, but they gave and supported me and prayed for me. I couldn't believe how free I felt when I spoke up. And I couldn't wait to do it again. So I did for three more years and I don't have any plan to stop. I cannot wait to keep speaking up for World Vision and the need for clean water in third world communities.
Lately, I have been reminded of how many times I have ignored a tug on my heart to "speak" and let a moment pass me by where I had something to say but let my introverted tendencies take over instead. How many times have I ignored my intuition and then regretted it later? So many times. With God at the helm of my heart, I can't help but believe that God is calling me to take a chance and speak out more. That this is who God has called me to be. A woman who speaks.
I have been listening to this tug more recently. On my plane ride home from Oregon, I felt the tug to speak to the woman next to me. I began a conversation and initially, I thought the tug might be that maybe she needed to hear something I had to say. But at the end of it, she had something to say to me that I needed to hear. That small conversation blessed me so much and it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't listened to that still small voice to speak. I want more of this. More conversations. More boldness and confidence in my words. More feeling like myself and the woman I was meant to be.
I'm ready.
Running the Hood to Coast race and raising money for clean water with World Vision has helped me to speak up, albeit mostly out of necessity. I mean, you really can't attempt to raise $10,000 without speaking up. The first year I did this race, I was terrified of the fundraising! How can I ask people for money? What if they think I'm nuts for attempting both the fundraising and the race? What if I can't raise any money? So many fears that could get in the way of speaking out, but I faced them and pushed through and spoke.
That first year, a funny thing happened. After I began speaking out, I felt more confident. I felt more like myself. And I was shocked that people listened! Not only did they listen, but they gave and supported me and prayed for me. I couldn't believe how free I felt when I spoke up. And I couldn't wait to do it again. So I did for three more years and I don't have any plan to stop. I cannot wait to keep speaking up for World Vision and the need for clean water in third world communities.
Lately, I have been reminded of how many times I have ignored a tug on my heart to "speak" and let a moment pass me by where I had something to say but let my introverted tendencies take over instead. How many times have I ignored my intuition and then regretted it later? So many times. With God at the helm of my heart, I can't help but believe that God is calling me to take a chance and speak out more. That this is who God has called me to be. A woman who speaks.
I have been listening to this tug more recently. On my plane ride home from Oregon, I felt the tug to speak to the woman next to me. I began a conversation and initially, I thought the tug might be that maybe she needed to hear something I had to say. But at the end of it, she had something to say to me that I needed to hear. That small conversation blessed me so much and it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't listened to that still small voice to speak. I want more of this. More conversations. More boldness and confidence in my words. More feeling like myself and the woman I was meant to be.
I'm ready.
Wednesday, June 20, 2018
dance with me
Ever since I can remember, I have wanted to be a dancer. There are pictures of me at 3 years old partner dancing with a toddler life size Sesame Street Ernie doll. I begged my parents for dance lessons when I was little, but wasn't able to have them. I always looked forward to dances in middle and high school and learned some pretty sweet (and not so sweet) moves then. I choreographed my first dance number in my high school musical as Tiger Lily in Peter Pan. In college, I took swing dance lessons at campus events. I began choreographing other dances on my own..and won a lip sync contest with four of my friends as *NSYNC. For a while, I got into the salsa community while living in Chicago and loved being able to go out and dance the night away. Most of my friends know that my best party trick is to perform a Britney dance. When I moved back to Connecticut, I finally took a real ballet class and loved it. When I think about it, even without real formal training, I already am a dancer. I feel free and like myself and happy when I dance. I love it.
Most recently, a friend introduced me to the local swing and blues community. I've decided that this is my new adventure, my new challenge. I want to be a Lindy hop dancer and I want to get good at it. I bought the shoes. I signed up for a dance weekend in September and I'm looking into attending a second. I'm going to go to social dances weekly as much as possible this summer. I'm committed.
One thing I am learning in this experience is how to follow. I've done partner dances before but I've always struggled with following. I have leader traits by nature (I am an oldest child after all) and I like to be able to know what is coming next. Learning how to trust someone to lead me and let me know what the next steps are is counterintuitive for me. But in Lindy hop, as the follow, you have to trust that the lead will know where to go next. I need to learn how to trust my partner, how to communicate with him through our movement, how to connect with him through the dance. Dance is communication without words. I'm learning how to listen to my partner by following how he guides me without telling me. Most times, I get it right. But there are many times when I try to take the dance back and I forget to listen. I try to take a turn before my partner has asked me to or I think we're going to a close position but he meant to keep us in an open position. Then we pause. Usually I laugh and apologize. And then my partner guides me back into it and we try again. Sometimes, a mistake can turn into something beautiful and we figure it out without the pause. But I still have to trust him, return to following him, and allow him to lead me in the dance.
The other day I read the following in a devotional as if God were speaking to me:
I want you to trust Me enough to let me lead. When a couple is dancing, one of them leads and the other follows. Otherwise, there is confusion and awkwardness. Dance with Me, beloved. Follow My lead as I guide you gracefully through your life. (From Jesus Always, by Sarah Young)
It's strange to me how sometimes things in my life line up with what I'm going through spiritually. Although, when I think about it, of course it's not strange...that's how God works. Always communicating with me not through words, but through movement in my life. Like in a dance. Lately, I have been frustrated with God for many reasons. It's just one of those tough seasons and I am very ready for that season to be over. Similar to learning Lindy hop, I'm struggling with following. I want to know what's next. I want to make the choices and move things forward when I am ready for them to move forward instead of trusting God to move and guide me without speaking. Like in a dance. If I try too hard to make life happen the way I think it should happen, it becomes confusing and awkward. Like in a dance. Life becomes graceful again when I trust God to let me know the next move right at the exact moment that it needs to happen. Like in a dance.
I have needed this analogy so much right now. The more I think about it, the calmer I feel. When God speaks to me in ways that speak to the heart of who I already am (a dancer), I feel loved and seen and known. As I'm learning to follow in dancing, I am understanding in a new way how to follow God. What it means to wait for the next move in the dance by trusting my lead. As the follow, I don't have to think about what's next. I just have to listen to what's being said without words through the connection. God does this too when God dances with me.
Being asked to dance makes me so happy. I love learning how to follow, communicate, and connect with others through dance. I love expressing myself in this way. And I love that in my spiritual life, God wants to dance with me too.
Most recently, a friend introduced me to the local swing and blues community. I've decided that this is my new adventure, my new challenge. I want to be a Lindy hop dancer and I want to get good at it. I bought the shoes. I signed up for a dance weekend in September and I'm looking into attending a second. I'm going to go to social dances weekly as much as possible this summer. I'm committed.
One thing I am learning in this experience is how to follow. I've done partner dances before but I've always struggled with following. I have leader traits by nature (I am an oldest child after all) and I like to be able to know what is coming next. Learning how to trust someone to lead me and let me know what the next steps are is counterintuitive for me. But in Lindy hop, as the follow, you have to trust that the lead will know where to go next. I need to learn how to trust my partner, how to communicate with him through our movement, how to connect with him through the dance. Dance is communication without words. I'm learning how to listen to my partner by following how he guides me without telling me. Most times, I get it right. But there are many times when I try to take the dance back and I forget to listen. I try to take a turn before my partner has asked me to or I think we're going to a close position but he meant to keep us in an open position. Then we pause. Usually I laugh and apologize. And then my partner guides me back into it and we try again. Sometimes, a mistake can turn into something beautiful and we figure it out without the pause. But I still have to trust him, return to following him, and allow him to lead me in the dance.
The other day I read the following in a devotional as if God were speaking to me:
I want you to trust Me enough to let me lead. When a couple is dancing, one of them leads and the other follows. Otherwise, there is confusion and awkwardness. Dance with Me, beloved. Follow My lead as I guide you gracefully through your life. (From Jesus Always, by Sarah Young)
It's strange to me how sometimes things in my life line up with what I'm going through spiritually. Although, when I think about it, of course it's not strange...that's how God works. Always communicating with me not through words, but through movement in my life. Like in a dance. Lately, I have been frustrated with God for many reasons. It's just one of those tough seasons and I am very ready for that season to be over. Similar to learning Lindy hop, I'm struggling with following. I want to know what's next. I want to make the choices and move things forward when I am ready for them to move forward instead of trusting God to move and guide me without speaking. Like in a dance. If I try too hard to make life happen the way I think it should happen, it becomes confusing and awkward. Like in a dance. Life becomes graceful again when I trust God to let me know the next move right at the exact moment that it needs to happen. Like in a dance.
I have needed this analogy so much right now. The more I think about it, the calmer I feel. When God speaks to me in ways that speak to the heart of who I already am (a dancer), I feel loved and seen and known. As I'm learning to follow in dancing, I am understanding in a new way how to follow God. What it means to wait for the next move in the dance by trusting my lead. As the follow, I don't have to think about what's next. I just have to listen to what's being said without words through the connection. God does this too when God dances with me.
Being asked to dance makes me so happy. I love learning how to follow, communicate, and connect with others through dance. I love expressing myself in this way. And I love that in my spiritual life, God wants to dance with me too.
Saturday, June 9, 2018
taboo
With the recent very public suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, I've been thinking more about why the topic of mental health still seems so taboo in our culture. For me, as a licensed professional counselor, mental health is a daily conversation with my professional peers and co-workers. I hear words like safety plan, protective factors, positive supports, mindfulness, self-care, coping skills, anxiety, panic, depression, self harm, behavior plan, and several others on a regular basis. I have no problem talking about what is needed to best help my clients and assessing their mental health.
However, when it comes to our own mental health, it becomes more difficult. Even being a mental health professional, talking about my own hurts and struggles can be a difficult thing. It's an ugly side that feels much too vulnerable to share with the world at large. Even when I share with those in my close circle, I feel so exposed and I worry that I'm placing too much emotional strain on the people I care about. So I hesitate to share. I hesitate to talk about what my feelings truly are when I most need the support. I pause to reach out to family and friends that have loved me for my lifespan, even though they have proven time and again that they are reliable, trustworthy, loving and forgiving when I have been at my nastiest and ugliest emotional depths.
I have these positive supports in my life and I know I can count on them. And still, reaching out when I need it is tough. I get it. I understand why a person might choose to end their life instead of continuing to feel at their ugliest and most painful points. Depression is deep and dark and unpredictable. Anxiety is quick and sharp and overwhelming. If you have felt these things time and again and feel as though you have done what you can and you still feel them so intensely, I can empathize with why it is hard to move forward. If you have never felt this way, it may be tough to understand when someone you love is going through it. Depression or anxiety is not a physical illness that you can see in an x-ray like cancer. But they are a cancer. You get treatment for a while at a certain intensity, then you get better, so you scale back on your treatments. You go into remission and life goes on and you feel better and you remember why you love life. But then, when you least expect it, a trigger hits and the life-stealer is back. The cancer has returned. And when it returns, sometimes it's more intense and sometimes its less. Sometimes it lasts longer, sometimes shorter. Unpredictable. Overwhelming. And it feels discouraging. If Kate and Anthony dealt with these feelings over and over with no end in sight, I can understand why suicide may have felt like a valid way out. Mental health symptoms might not be seen like cancer can, but they kill all the same.
Please talk about it. If you are experiencing one of these things, please reach out when the weight of sadness gets to be too much or the fire of worry overtakes your thoughts. Use resources like the suicide hotline, 211, and mental health supports. If you know someone in your life who is experiencing these emotions, please let them know they can be vulnerable with you. Reach out to those in your life who have struggled with this before and let them know they are loved and have value. You may not know when a loved one is struggling and sometimes that kind word, text message, or hug can occur at exactly the right moment before you even knew that it was needed.
If you don't know what else to do, the best thing is to just be present with someone who is struggling. One of my favorite examples of this can be found in the Bible in the book of Job. If you don't know the story, the short version is that Job was brought through significant emotional, physical, and mental pain and loss. Right after all of this occurs, three of Job's closest friends come to visit him. When they see him, they openly grieve their friend's losses. And then they sit with him. For seven days. Without speaking a word. To me, that is beautiful support and validation. You don't have to fix it or know what to say. Just be there and let your loved one know that you'll be there when the feelings change again to help them pick up the pieces and move forward.
And when they are ready to talk about it with you, they will know that for you, it's not taboo and hopefully, another life can be saved.
The Weight of Sadness
If you have ever known the weight of sadness
you know it feels like a stone tied to your heart
pulling your emotions down into dark waters.
You try to loosen the knotted rope,
but it doesn't give.
You try with all your might to loosen the stone,
but it just sits.
You ask for help from a trusted few,
but sometimes all they can do
is sit next to you
in the dark.
~EES
However, when it comes to our own mental health, it becomes more difficult. Even being a mental health professional, talking about my own hurts and struggles can be a difficult thing. It's an ugly side that feels much too vulnerable to share with the world at large. Even when I share with those in my close circle, I feel so exposed and I worry that I'm placing too much emotional strain on the people I care about. So I hesitate to share. I hesitate to talk about what my feelings truly are when I most need the support. I pause to reach out to family and friends that have loved me for my lifespan, even though they have proven time and again that they are reliable, trustworthy, loving and forgiving when I have been at my nastiest and ugliest emotional depths.
I have these positive supports in my life and I know I can count on them. And still, reaching out when I need it is tough. I get it. I understand why a person might choose to end their life instead of continuing to feel at their ugliest and most painful points. Depression is deep and dark and unpredictable. Anxiety is quick and sharp and overwhelming. If you have felt these things time and again and feel as though you have done what you can and you still feel them so intensely, I can empathize with why it is hard to move forward. If you have never felt this way, it may be tough to understand when someone you love is going through it. Depression or anxiety is not a physical illness that you can see in an x-ray like cancer. But they are a cancer. You get treatment for a while at a certain intensity, then you get better, so you scale back on your treatments. You go into remission and life goes on and you feel better and you remember why you love life. But then, when you least expect it, a trigger hits and the life-stealer is back. The cancer has returned. And when it returns, sometimes it's more intense and sometimes its less. Sometimes it lasts longer, sometimes shorter. Unpredictable. Overwhelming. And it feels discouraging. If Kate and Anthony dealt with these feelings over and over with no end in sight, I can understand why suicide may have felt like a valid way out. Mental health symptoms might not be seen like cancer can, but they kill all the same.
Please talk about it. If you are experiencing one of these things, please reach out when the weight of sadness gets to be too much or the fire of worry overtakes your thoughts. Use resources like the suicide hotline, 211, and mental health supports. If you know someone in your life who is experiencing these emotions, please let them know they can be vulnerable with you. Reach out to those in your life who have struggled with this before and let them know they are loved and have value. You may not know when a loved one is struggling and sometimes that kind word, text message, or hug can occur at exactly the right moment before you even knew that it was needed.
If you don't know what else to do, the best thing is to just be present with someone who is struggling. One of my favorite examples of this can be found in the Bible in the book of Job. If you don't know the story, the short version is that Job was brought through significant emotional, physical, and mental pain and loss. Right after all of this occurs, three of Job's closest friends come to visit him. When they see him, they openly grieve their friend's losses. And then they sit with him. For seven days. Without speaking a word. To me, that is beautiful support and validation. You don't have to fix it or know what to say. Just be there and let your loved one know that you'll be there when the feelings change again to help them pick up the pieces and move forward.
And when they are ready to talk about it with you, they will know that for you, it's not taboo and hopefully, another life can be saved.
The Weight of Sadness
If you have ever known the weight of sadness
you know it feels like a stone tied to your heart
pulling your emotions down into dark waters.
You try to loosen the knotted rope,
but it doesn't give.
You try with all your might to loosen the stone,
but it just sits.
You ask for help from a trusted few,
but sometimes all they can do
is sit next to you
in the dark.
~EES
Saturday, May 12, 2018
longing
I always have mixed emotions about Mother's Day weekend. If you know me well, then "it's complicated" pretty accurately describes it. Loss of biological mother relationship. Grateful and Love for a mother who is "stepmother" by blood only and my true mother in every other sense of the word. Longing for the children that have not yet been born to call me mother. Complicated set of emotions? Yup.
The past few days have really rubbed some salt in that last wound. Please hear me out entirely...I'm not upset by the recent birth & pregnancy announcements. Babies are a beautiful thing and I feel genuine happiness for my loved ones who get to experience this beautiful phase of life. But, these emotions are complicated. Hearing about how it's true for others also exacerbates the wound of longing for what has not yet come to be for me yet. Whether you're longing for the same things or longing for something else to break and bend in your life, I know this is a feeling many can relate to.
How do you cope with the longing and waiting and not having answers? In the past, I have leaned on my faith in God. Not to say that I'm not now, but with each year, it becomes more difficult and more painful. How do you reconcile a loving God who continues to allow the longing to go unanswered? I hear stories of others who have seen God's faithfulness in one way or another but for me, nothing. No response. No change. No reconciliation of the longing. Even a change for what I'm hoping for in my life would be some sort of response from God. Some kindness and acknowledgement of the pain that continues to permeate my life year after year. To be completely honest and vulnerable in this space, my faith seems to become more doubt filled with each year that passes. I wish I had answers for these questions, but I don't. Do I still believe God loves me? Yes. Do I feel it right now? No.
I'm writing this not only to express some feelings that I truly struggle with, but also with the hope that someone else reads it and thinks "me too". Know that you're not alone. Know that Mother's Day is difficult to many. It's a beautiful day to celebrate a gift that many people are blessed enough to experience on one or both ends. But it's also so painful to many of us who are remembering, hoping, praying, longing. Maybe your mother is no longer on this earth. Or maybe she wasn't the mother you really needed her to be in this life. Perhaps you're angry at her for not being able to cope with her own demons to be there for you. Or maybe you're like me and are grieving that no children call you that beautiful word, "mother". I hope that on this Mother's Day you will know comfort that you are not alone in coping with complicated emotions and unfulfilled longings. I'm right there with you, working out the longing.
The past few days have really rubbed some salt in that last wound. Please hear me out entirely...I'm not upset by the recent birth & pregnancy announcements. Babies are a beautiful thing and I feel genuine happiness for my loved ones who get to experience this beautiful phase of life. But, these emotions are complicated. Hearing about how it's true for others also exacerbates the wound of longing for what has not yet come to be for me yet. Whether you're longing for the same things or longing for something else to break and bend in your life, I know this is a feeling many can relate to.
How do you cope with the longing and waiting and not having answers? In the past, I have leaned on my faith in God. Not to say that I'm not now, but with each year, it becomes more difficult and more painful. How do you reconcile a loving God who continues to allow the longing to go unanswered? I hear stories of others who have seen God's faithfulness in one way or another but for me, nothing. No response. No change. No reconciliation of the longing. Even a change for what I'm hoping for in my life would be some sort of response from God. Some kindness and acknowledgement of the pain that continues to permeate my life year after year. To be completely honest and vulnerable in this space, my faith seems to become more doubt filled with each year that passes. I wish I had answers for these questions, but I don't. Do I still believe God loves me? Yes. Do I feel it right now? No.
I'm writing this not only to express some feelings that I truly struggle with, but also with the hope that someone else reads it and thinks "me too". Know that you're not alone. Know that Mother's Day is difficult to many. It's a beautiful day to celebrate a gift that many people are blessed enough to experience on one or both ends. But it's also so painful to many of us who are remembering, hoping, praying, longing. Maybe your mother is no longer on this earth. Or maybe she wasn't the mother you really needed her to be in this life. Perhaps you're angry at her for not being able to cope with her own demons to be there for you. Or maybe you're like me and are grieving that no children call you that beautiful word, "mother". I hope that on this Mother's Day you will know comfort that you are not alone in coping with complicated emotions and unfulfilled longings. I'm right there with you, working out the longing.
Saturday, April 7, 2018
healing
Healing is a topic I'm pretty familiar with. As a child and family therapist, I often talk about healing with my clients and how the process can take a lot longer than expected. One example I use to illustrate this is that healing isn't a straight line, but a line that continues to circle back before it moves forward again, making a series of loops that is constantly moving forward and up. During a season of healing, there is a lot of forward movement but there is also backward movement. Right when a client seems to demonstrate that they are making significant work towards their goal, they come in and report that things have started to feel bad again and they are struggling. I often use this illustration and draw this looped line for them to demonstrate that just because they are on the backward slide of one of the loops and feel like nothing is getting better, they have still moved forward and will soon be on the forward movement side of the loop helping them to feel as though they are making progress again. Some clients benefit from this illustration, others still struggle, but many are reminded that healing takes time and are able to feel positive about the work they have done.
Yes, this is an illustration that I am familiar with. Yes, I am comfortable encouraging others in their own healing. But when comes to my own healing, well that is a different story! The past 7 months after my surgery have had a lot to do with healing for me. For a while, it did feel like I was in that forward motion and continued to keep moving forward without any backward movement. I did everything the doctors told me to. I followed the rules and pushed myself enough but not too hard. And then I got the approval to run again and all seemed to be going as planned.
But in January, after a run, my back muscles let me know they weren't quiet there yet. I spent the afternoon in pain and iced and stretched. The next day wasn't much better. After two months of being off taking daily ibuprofen and muscle relaxers, I was back on them just to help myself get through the day. Even swimming was difficult and I had to take it easy again. I thought I had done everything correctly and in my head, that meant that healing would continue to move forward in a steady line as it had in the previous months post-surgery. I had forgotten about those dang loops and the backward movement. I stopped running. I took advantage of snow storms to rest from playing volleyball. I stretched and iced, then stretched and iced some more. I felt frustrated and alone and worried that I would never be able to run again. My body is also used to exercising at a certain level and because I wasn't, my body started changing where I gained weight in areas I usually don't gain weight in. I began to feel uncomfortable in my own skin and I felt as though I couldn't do anything about it.
Going through this, I was reminded of the healing loops analogy. I realized I was in a back loop and while I had previously made forward movement, now I was experiencing regression. And I was not patient. To help, I decided to be intentional about taking work out classes that would challenge me but also work specifically on my lower back muscles and abdomen. For lent, I decided that I would take Pure Barre classes 3x a week instead of focusing on returning to running. I wanted to be intentional about allowing myself to heal and I felt that using the season of lent would help me lean more fully on God for support. I needed God when I heard a new song that I wanted to run to. I needed God when I drove by early morning runners on my way to class and I felt jealous that they could run. I needed God when my muscles burned from all the ballet moves Pure Barre had me do. I needed God when my clothes didn't fit the way they used to and I couldn't return to my "usual" routine to help change that. And I needed God to ease my anxiety about whether I would ever run again. I learned a lot about patience with myself, accepting the limits of my body, and feeling ok with a new routine. I was reminded of how God can be quiet and firm and present and hidden all at the same time. I needed that season to help me get back on a forward moving loop.
During this time, I have been acutely aware of how there are people in my life who had also been working through some kind of healing. I saw broken relationships, death, physical ailments, changes in jobs, and loss of future dreams. But I also saw community gather around these people and support them through their healing. For me, I am so grateful for my faith in God and for my community of supports in family and friends. I don't think I could find a forward loop again without those in my life. Regardless of your beliefs, find your community and your supports when you are healing. Be kind to yourself when that wave of pain comes over you again and you're not as far on the healing journey as you had thought. Be patient when healing doesn't go quite as planned. And remind yourself that it's only a season. You will be on a forward loop again before you know it.
Thursday, September 28, 2017
a new kind of training plan
It's been exactly one month since my surgery. It both seems like it's been that long and feels as though it was just yesterday. And I can't believe that next week is October. I have completely missed September this year. Actually, I feel stripped of September this year. At least of the one I was supposed to have. No last trips to the beach. No taper runs. No trip to Germany. No marathon. No leading trainings at work. It feels weird to have had a whole month planned and then it just didn't happen. At least, it feels like it didn't happen.
This week, I finally moved back to my apartment. I started working from home. I made myself breakfast, lunch, and dinner...well, most days. Going out to eat in the middle of the day never gets old! My medical leave is ending. And yet, I am still limited in my movements. I'll feel just fine but then move a certain way that I used to in my own house, and I'll feel a twinge and remember. Monday was my first day working from home as a start to a slow return to full time work. I worked on the computer for three hours, took an hour break, worked one more hour, and promptly took a nap. Whew! I'm still not used to this new baseline where I don't have as much energy as I am used to.
I want to just return to my life and it's slow in coming. Small pieces are falling into place, but it feels weird to me when only one part returns and not the rest. I am walking further distances and I am more assured in my steps, but it's not the same as running. I discovered that everything in my apartment is set just a bit lower than at my parents' house so not bending over takes more thinking that it had been while I was staying with my parents. I feel ok reaching up on my right side but not reaching down on my right side. Good changes that point to healing but just when I think I'm "there", I realize I'm not quite.
This past Sunday was the Berlin marathon and I was so sad not to be running. I know that most people wouldn't feel sad about not running a marathon, but I was. My parents were so validating as I shared this emotion and reminded me that for me, this experience was a trauma. Not only for my body, but for me emotionally. My diagnosis came so quickly and in less than 24 hours, all my athletic, fundraising, and travel plans for August and September were cancelled. All of my training seemed for nothing. The thing about long distance racing is that it's not the race that's the hardest thing, it's the training. The race is fun and celebratory and tough in it's own right. But the training, that is what takes it out of you. I participated in all of the difficulties of training and planning but didn't participate in any of the excitement or celebration. That is sad.
At one of my follow-up appointments, my surgeon reminded me that my body is running it's own marathon right now as it heals. I'm trying to think of my healing in this way. I can't just run 26.2 miles the day I sign up. I have to put in the effort of training for months in order to get there. So right now, I'm one month in to a new kind of training. I'm training myself to go easy on my body instead of always pushing. I'm training myself to call it quits at work and take time to rest. I'm training myself to listen to my body and rest when I need to. I'm training myself to be ok with relying on others when I need it (believe it or not, this is very hard for me!). So instead of building mileage, I'm building a new kind of strength to return back to a level I used to be.
I have been faced with disappointment before and I think that I have a pretty good set of coping skills to deal with it. But this was a big one. And moving on has been tough. But I'll get there. One training day at a time.
This week, I finally moved back to my apartment. I started working from home. I made myself breakfast, lunch, and dinner...well, most days. Going out to eat in the middle of the day never gets old! My medical leave is ending. And yet, I am still limited in my movements. I'll feel just fine but then move a certain way that I used to in my own house, and I'll feel a twinge and remember. Monday was my first day working from home as a start to a slow return to full time work. I worked on the computer for three hours, took an hour break, worked one more hour, and promptly took a nap. Whew! I'm still not used to this new baseline where I don't have as much energy as I am used to.
I want to just return to my life and it's slow in coming. Small pieces are falling into place, but it feels weird to me when only one part returns and not the rest. I am walking further distances and I am more assured in my steps, but it's not the same as running. I discovered that everything in my apartment is set just a bit lower than at my parents' house so not bending over takes more thinking that it had been while I was staying with my parents. I feel ok reaching up on my right side but not reaching down on my right side. Good changes that point to healing but just when I think I'm "there", I realize I'm not quite.
This past Sunday was the Berlin marathon and I was so sad not to be running. I know that most people wouldn't feel sad about not running a marathon, but I was. My parents were so validating as I shared this emotion and reminded me that for me, this experience was a trauma. Not only for my body, but for me emotionally. My diagnosis came so quickly and in less than 24 hours, all my athletic, fundraising, and travel plans for August and September were cancelled. All of my training seemed for nothing. The thing about long distance racing is that it's not the race that's the hardest thing, it's the training. The race is fun and celebratory and tough in it's own right. But the training, that is what takes it out of you. I participated in all of the difficulties of training and planning but didn't participate in any of the excitement or celebration. That is sad.
At one of my follow-up appointments, my surgeon reminded me that my body is running it's own marathon right now as it heals. I'm trying to think of my healing in this way. I can't just run 26.2 miles the day I sign up. I have to put in the effort of training for months in order to get there. So right now, I'm one month in to a new kind of training. I'm training myself to go easy on my body instead of always pushing. I'm training myself to call it quits at work and take time to rest. I'm training myself to listen to my body and rest when I need to. I'm training myself to be ok with relying on others when I need it (believe it or not, this is very hard for me!). So instead of building mileage, I'm building a new kind of strength to return back to a level I used to be.
I have been faced with disappointment before and I think that I have a pretty good set of coping skills to deal with it. But this was a big one. And moving on has been tough. But I'll get there. One training day at a time.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
accepting anger
Yesterday, I finally got angry. Today, I yelled in therapy. Tomorrow, I was supposed to be leaving for Germany and I'm angry that I'm not going. I was looking forward to that trip since January and have been talking about child sponsorships since about that time. Up until yesterday, I have been fine. I have been calm. I have just accepted that I'm not going, I can't run, and I have to find new ways of coping with my feelings until I can exercise again. And now I'm angry and I'm not sure what to do. I do know that I'm not sorry for being angry. And I'm not ignoring it. So good for me for listening to my therapist self (and my actual therapist for that matter).
The thing about being angry is that many people are afraid of this emotion. I completely get this. When I get angry, I yell, I cry, I say things I don't mean...or things I do mean but they come out in a way I wished they didn't. But if I didn't accept that I was angry, I would never move forward to a better place and feel better. Or address difficulties in a relationship that need to be addressed in order for the relationship to continue to exist. I have seen clients and families over and over ignore their anger or say "don't be angry". I have heard parents request anger management groups for their child but for the wrong reason. Almost as if the group will then remove their child's anger so they don't have to face it, which is totally incorrect. Anger management is learning how to express anger and cope with it, not ignore it or stop feeling angry. No matter how much I encourage families to face their anger, if they continue to ignore and not accept their anger, nothing will get better. Anger in itself is not a bad thing. It's what we do, or don't do, with our anger that creates anxiety, conflict, and depression.
One of my best therapeutic breakthroughs was actually a situation where I knew my decision for a client's care would piss them off. But I had to make that decision for their own well being. This is a client who always ignored their feelings and no matter what their body language indicated what they might be feeling, would respond by saying, "no" or "I'm fine" or "I'm just crying because I'm tired" (uh, it's not my first rodeo but I'll give it to you). So in this case, I called them on their anger and told them to just be angry with me. The session ended by my client storming out and telling me to "Go f*** yourself" to which I responded "I will!" (not my best therapeutic moment, I'll admit, but I'm human too). Our next session, this client returned and apologized to me for their behavior and I in turn apologized for my response. We were able to process their feelings of anger, validate them, and still maintain a good therapeutic relationship. This client learned that not only could they allow themselves to be angry, but that coping with anger had the potential to strengthen relationships instead of destroy them.
As I said, I'm not sure what to do with this anger or who to really be angry at. But like my client, I'm learning to allow myself to be angry to get to the other side. I guess I've been angry at God, although that relates more to unanswered prayers than specifically having back surgery. But it relates. Running is what I do to cope with the fact that those prayers have not been answered. And now, I can't do that so I'm just angry.
So I'm accepting that I'm angry. I'm not ready to move on from it either. It's not that kind of anger where it's stewing and I'm holding onto it. And I know that I will get over this and someday I will be running again and will think, "wow, I learned so much about myself during my medical leave!", but that day is not today. And that's ok.
The thing about being angry is that many people are afraid of this emotion. I completely get this. When I get angry, I yell, I cry, I say things I don't mean...or things I do mean but they come out in a way I wished they didn't. But if I didn't accept that I was angry, I would never move forward to a better place and feel better. Or address difficulties in a relationship that need to be addressed in order for the relationship to continue to exist. I have seen clients and families over and over ignore their anger or say "don't be angry". I have heard parents request anger management groups for their child but for the wrong reason. Almost as if the group will then remove their child's anger so they don't have to face it, which is totally incorrect. Anger management is learning how to express anger and cope with it, not ignore it or stop feeling angry. No matter how much I encourage families to face their anger, if they continue to ignore and not accept their anger, nothing will get better. Anger in itself is not a bad thing. It's what we do, or don't do, with our anger that creates anxiety, conflict, and depression.
One of my best therapeutic breakthroughs was actually a situation where I knew my decision for a client's care would piss them off. But I had to make that decision for their own well being. This is a client who always ignored their feelings and no matter what their body language indicated what they might be feeling, would respond by saying, "no" or "I'm fine" or "I'm just crying because I'm tired" (uh, it's not my first rodeo but I'll give it to you). So in this case, I called them on their anger and told them to just be angry with me. The session ended by my client storming out and telling me to "Go f*** yourself" to which I responded "I will!" (not my best therapeutic moment, I'll admit, but I'm human too). Our next session, this client returned and apologized to me for their behavior and I in turn apologized for my response. We were able to process their feelings of anger, validate them, and still maintain a good therapeutic relationship. This client learned that not only could they allow themselves to be angry, but that coping with anger had the potential to strengthen relationships instead of destroy them.
As I said, I'm not sure what to do with this anger or who to really be angry at. But like my client, I'm learning to allow myself to be angry to get to the other side. I guess I've been angry at God, although that relates more to unanswered prayers than specifically having back surgery. But it relates. Running is what I do to cope with the fact that those prayers have not been answered. And now, I can't do that so I'm just angry.
So I'm accepting that I'm angry. I'm not ready to move on from it either. It's not that kind of anger where it's stewing and I'm holding onto it. And I know that I will get over this and someday I will be running again and will think, "wow, I learned so much about myself during my medical leave!", but that day is not today. And that's ok.
Friday, September 8, 2017
Renewing my mind
"While you wait with Me, I work on renewing your mind."
This was the first line of my daily devotional today. And it struck a chord for me. The past two weeks have been a lot about waiting for me. Waiting to hear a diagnosis. Waiting for my name to be called for an appointment. Waiting for surgery. Waiting to be released from the hospital. Waiting for the pain to subside. Waiting for healing. Waiting for visitors. Waiting to find answers for the next few weeks. Waiting, waiting, waiting.
If you say a word frequently enough, it starts to sound weird. Not only does the word sound weird to me, but the actual act of waiting is weird to me. I can't remember the last time I had so much TIME to literally just wait. Time to slow my life down. Time to focus. But also time for anxiety to start to take it's iron grip on my mind. And waiting can exacerbate this anxiety. Thoughts that include, "is that pain normal?", "what is that ache about?", "what is that puffiness?", and "what are they doing at work?", "will I be able to jump back in after all this time off?", "what if they replace me?", "what if I lose private practice clients?", or "will I be able to run again?", "will I still be able to go to Germany in two weeks and if I can go, SHOULD I go?".
I recognize that many of these thoughts are irrational or at least, exaggerations of a more rational thought process. So when I read that first line of my devotion today, I felt that God was reminding me of what this time and waiting was for. That it is a gift. This time can be spent with God and I can give God my mind. So much of my life the past 8 months has been all about work and work alone. I am realizing that I really don't know how to disconnect myself from my job. I preach this all the time to my clinicians and yet, I really suck at it! I have had so many dreams lately that are full of anxiety. Instead of taking advantage of this much needed and vital rest, my mind has been working overtime when my body has needed to slow down. For some reason, I can't get them both on the same page.
Further down in my devotion, it read: "The more you focus on Me and My Word, the more you can break free from painful, irrational thoughts. The usually have their roots in distressing experiences that wounded you, so the distortions are deeply etched in your brain."
How true this is! Many of these thoughts are based on untruths that I have believed about myself or have allowed others to place upon me from past experiences. I even caught a thought today that I know was rooted in untruths from a past abusive relationship that ended 7 years ago. Talk about being deeply etched! And I'm sure that others are etched more deeply and longer ago than that. Instead of this time becoming a time of rest, healing, and renewal, my mind has continued to break me down.
As usual, God always seems to give me music to go with what I'm going through. At the end of July, Nichole Nordeman (my favorite!) came out with her first full length new album since 2006. I am in love of course! One song that stuck out to me from the beginning is called "Hush, Hush". When I first heard it, this song really related to things I struggling with at work. But now, it is so relevant to every thing I'm experiencing with my body, healing, anxiety, and wondering where God is in all of it. I know He's here and God is more clear to me when I read a devotion like today's and it relates to what I'm feeling. But sometimes, I feel so alone and that's when all those thoughts begin to spiral out of control and all my energy goes toward decreasing anxiety instead of healing my body and finding ways to enjoy the rest. So I continue to cling to this song as my anthem during this time of healing, for however long it may last. And I pray that during this time, my mind will be renewed by the One who loves me more than I know.
Thursday, August 31, 2017
learning how to rest
Wow. I just read my last blog from a little over a year ago. I was preparing to run my 2nd Hood to Coast race with Team World Vision. My passion and excitement for the race in 2016 is the same as my passion and excitement for 2017. The difference is, I didn't run this year. I was planning on running the race right up until 12 hours before I was supposed to board a plane for Oregon. Right now, I should be recovering from my 3rd Hood to Coast race and then gearing up to run my 2nd marathon with World Vision. Instead, I'm recovering from back surgery. Instead of sore leg muscles, I have sore back muscles that are trying to heal back together after they were cut into and then sewn back together. Instead of aches in my legs from running over mountains, I have aches in my right leg from where my nerve was affected by the herniated disc in my back. Instead of an energized heart from experiencing a weekend of time with people who have a similar vision to provide clean water for the people of South Sudan, my heart is trying to make sense of this new journey and is recovering from the change of plans. This is not the kind of recovery I envisioned for myself this week and I'm still adjusting the sudden change in plans.
The physicians assistant who met with me and my parents following my surgery on Monday described it as "controlled trauma". As a trauma therapist, this makes sense to me. Sometimes, in order to have more full healing and recovery, we have to expose ourselves to trauma in a controlled way. In therapy, I do this by gradual exposure with my client to their past traumatic experience. My goal is to get as close to the affected area of their heart so they are able to open up about toughest part of their experience. As their therapist, I can help my client write it down and we can dissect the injured pieces of their heart and soul. The purpose of dissecting trauma in therapy in this way is so that my client can more clearly see pieces that continue to be harmful in their lives. It is my job to help them face these harmful pieces and come along on the journey to restore their hearts to become stronger and whole again. They may always have a scar, but my hope in trauma therapy is always to give my clients a better chance to love wholly, live their lives more fully, and be less immediately affected by their trauma, even though that will always be a piece of them.
The definition of trauma is the occurrence of an event that results in emotional or physical distress and I would venture to add that trauma occurs when when the experience is unexpected or doesn't make sense or our life (or someone else's life) is threatened in some way. I have seen kids traumatized by all sorts of events. Trauma is subjective. And usually, the reason the experience is traumatic, is because we were unprepared for it.
I was unprepared for this. And like several of my trauma clients, I have similar cognitive distortions that I have heard them experience. I should have seen it coming. It's my fault for not saying something earlier. I could have prevented this. If only I had done (fill in the blank here with something different than what I ended up doing), things would be different and I could still be living my life as I had planned to for the end of summer 2017.
But the fact remains. I suddenly and unexpectedly needed surgery. I suddenly and unexpectedly needed to change my plans for travel, for running, for work, for social events. While my actual life was never in danger, for the first time in my life, my physical well being was threatened and in that light, the way that I live my life was in danger of being altered forever. And this all happened so suddenly. One day, I was making travel plans with my friend and teammate Becca for our journey to Oregon and the next day, I was crying and telling her that not only I couldn't run, but that I couldn't even GO. I was grounded. Or as my surgeon said, I was red-shirted. And I'm unprepared with how to cope with physical limitations. I have never even broken a small bone or been sick for more than a few days...this is new.
Here, a week later, I'm still reeling. The surgery is over and it went well. God was with me the entire day during my surgery and I felt Him in so many ways throughout the day. I am so blessed with a community of supports who are able to step in and look out for me when life turns unexpectedly. But now, in the rest, it's starting to hit me. Will I completely recover from this surgery? Will I run again? What do I do with all this time where my only job is to REST? I have never rested well. I am always on the move and I thrive under pressure. But here I am, suddenly and unexpectedly in a place where the only thing I need to do is rest. Rest from work. Rest from running. Rest from fundraising and raising awareness. Rest from making social plans. Rest from traveling. Rest from taking care of others. Rest from pretty much ALL physical activity (except walking which I am encouraged to do so that's a relief!). And it feels so strange. I don't know how to allow myself to just heal and rest.
In this season, I will be learning how to rest. My body needs it to recover from the controlled trauma of surgery. I need it as my emotions go back and forth while I realize the limits of my physical body. I am so quick to give other people in my life permission to rest but I am so tough on myself. I am learning how to go easy on myself. I am learning how to call it quits and stop pushing myself. I am learning how to rely on my God in a different way than I ever had before. I am learning how to rely on the people in my life and not be apologetic in asking for help. This is humbling and in all honesty, I have felt defeated.
A year from now, I hope to be able to write that I have completed fundraising for clean water for the 4th year in a row and that I have completed RUNNING my 3rd Hood to Coast race with World Vision. I hope this next year of physical healing will bring me to a new level of strength. I pray that this physical trauma teaches me to go easy on myself and balance my life more fully than I have been. But for now, I just want to learn how to really and truly rest.
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Why I run...
Today is August 20th, 2016. One week from today, I will be waking up in a 15 passenger van with 5 other people and one van driver in the middle of the woods Oregon. I will not have slept very well (if at all), I will probably not have eaten very well (unless you count goldfish and granola bars as a well balanced meal), and I will be prepping for a 5 mile run after having already run 14 miles in the last 24 hours. Sounds like a perfect vacation, right? I'm excited! But this is what I do to provide clean water for children and their families in South Sudan.
South Sudan is one of the youngest countries in the world, only officially becoming it's own country in 2011. Since then, South Sudan continues to be a country ravaged by civil wars, poverty, and disease. Many refugees that have been in the news recently are from South Sudan, in an attempt to start a life over somewhere without war, child soldiers, and lack of resources. If you google South Sudan and read current news updates, it's easy to see that this is a struggling country in need with topics like regime changes, political unrest, child soldiers, and other heartbreaking headlines.
While these headlines can be overwhelming, there is one way that I know I can help. I can commit to a goal of raising $10,000 to help improve the lives of a people in need. I can ask others to support this cause. And I can run.
World Vision is an organization that has committed to helping South Sudan (and other nations with similar needs) find sustainable clean water. While this may not seem like an immediate solution to the above mentioned problems, clean water does so much for impoverished communities! Decreases disease. Provides work. Allows children to attend school instead of spending their day walking miles to find water...any kind of water. Improves agriculture. Decreases starvation with better crops. Improves health and strength. Builds community. And the list goes on.
I have never been a person who has felt called by God to be a missionary who lives in another country. But God has created in me a heart that breaks for others in need. It's why I feel God called me to the mission of being a child and family therapist. I have care and concern for the people God places in my path. When I hear about how a simple resource like water, a resource I have continual access to, can help a community halfway across the world, my heart cries out to do something. And God says, "Run!" And there is nothing better for me than to know that I have stepped out in faith on God's calling on my heart.
I have had times of doubt during this adventure, both this year and last year. A wise friend said to me during one of those times, "All you have to do is be faithful. God will do the rest." So I am being faithful. I am running. I am getting the word out. I am asking co-workers to join this cause. I am stretching my introverted personality to speak to people about donating money. God is using me where I didn't think it was possible. And God is doing the rest.
At the time I am writing this, I have only $992 left to fundraise before the race ends next Saturday, August 27th. Whether I meet this goal by next week or not, I know that God has been faithful in providing $9,000 to help the people of South Sudan have lifelong and sustainable clean water. That is improving the lives of 180 people! And that is amazing!
Thank you for all the ways you have supported me in this adventure for the second year in a row. I can't wait to share this with my Hood to Coast teammates, my co-worker Becca who I was able to convince to join me on this adventure, and with you!
To help with a donation, click here!
South Sudan is one of the youngest countries in the world, only officially becoming it's own country in 2011. Since then, South Sudan continues to be a country ravaged by civil wars, poverty, and disease. Many refugees that have been in the news recently are from South Sudan, in an attempt to start a life over somewhere without war, child soldiers, and lack of resources. If you google South Sudan and read current news updates, it's easy to see that this is a struggling country in need with topics like regime changes, political unrest, child soldiers, and other heartbreaking headlines.
While these headlines can be overwhelming, there is one way that I know I can help. I can commit to a goal of raising $10,000 to help improve the lives of a people in need. I can ask others to support this cause. And I can run.
World Vision is an organization that has committed to helping South Sudan (and other nations with similar needs) find sustainable clean water. While this may not seem like an immediate solution to the above mentioned problems, clean water does so much for impoverished communities! Decreases disease. Provides work. Allows children to attend school instead of spending their day walking miles to find water...any kind of water. Improves agriculture. Decreases starvation with better crops. Improves health and strength. Builds community. And the list goes on.
I have never been a person who has felt called by God to be a missionary who lives in another country. But God has created in me a heart that breaks for others in need. It's why I feel God called me to the mission of being a child and family therapist. I have care and concern for the people God places in my path. When I hear about how a simple resource like water, a resource I have continual access to, can help a community halfway across the world, my heart cries out to do something. And God says, "Run!" And there is nothing better for me than to know that I have stepped out in faith on God's calling on my heart.
I have had times of doubt during this adventure, both this year and last year. A wise friend said to me during one of those times, "All you have to do is be faithful. God will do the rest." So I am being faithful. I am running. I am getting the word out. I am asking co-workers to join this cause. I am stretching my introverted personality to speak to people about donating money. God is using me where I didn't think it was possible. And God is doing the rest.
At the time I am writing this, I have only $992 left to fundraise before the race ends next Saturday, August 27th. Whether I meet this goal by next week or not, I know that God has been faithful in providing $9,000 to help the people of South Sudan have lifelong and sustainable clean water. That is improving the lives of 180 people! And that is amazing!
Thank you for all the ways you have supported me in this adventure for the second year in a row. I can't wait to share this with my Hood to Coast teammates, my co-worker Becca who I was able to convince to join me on this adventure, and with you!
To help with a donation, click here!
Saturday, July 9, 2016
Taking a side
If I'm being truly honest, I don't want to take sides.
I've always been this way. I want to see everyone have a fair chance. It's more important to me that two people in an argument feel heard rather than one "win" the argument. I feel badly for the team that lost against my team (unless they're playing the Cubs...the Cubs deserve a good season).
I like seeing others get along and I believe that God created this world to be diverse and beautiful in it's diversity. I was created to be optimistic, idealistic, and to see the good in others. It breaks my heart to see evil and I hate division. I would have thrived in the 60s/70s and would have worn that flower headdress proudly...but no drugs please.
The division people are taking on social media is heartbreaking. I am tearing up now as I write. The fact that race is still a systemic issue in our country angers me. I am getting hotheaded as I write. The fact that police men and women who have sworn to protect lives are both taking lives and having their lives be taken is devastating. I feel defeated as I write.
I don't want to take sides.
But to sit in my own world and not say something and to not stand up for something feels wrong to me too. Just the fact that I have that option speaks loudly to the systemic issue of race and my own white privilege. I am so grateful to the loving and patient friends I have from other race and ethnic backgrounds and for how they have shown me and highlighted what it means to have white privilege. I want to use this privilege for good. I want to help. I want to be there and say, "I grieve for you too. This hurts." I hate the thought that I'm privileged just because I was born as a white female. Or that I'm privileged because I'm straight. I am so grateful for my friends of other sexual orientations and gender experiences who have answered my questions to help me understand. I won't ever fully understand what it feels like to be in any of those positions, but I want you to know that I want to help. I want to support. I want to be the flower-child that I am and also to stand up for what is right. I want to walk the middle path.
I don't want to take sides.
I am literally crying as I write this post. I feel so overwhelmed by the amount of division and arguments I have seen on social media. I support the Black Lives Matter movement and I am glad that issues of diversity have not stopped moving in my heart since I left Chicago. I don't want to be apathetic. I want to help make change. I want to be in support of making systemic racial change in our society. I want to inform those in my community what white privilege is and how their statements of "all lives matter" is insulting and insensitive. But this does not mean that I'm against cops or that I think they are all misinformed and lack good judgement. So why does it feel this way?
I don't want to take sides.
A while ago, I read an article by a black basketball player who struggled with anxiety. He wrote an article on how the perpetual trauma that both race communities and authority communities experience and how this triggers unnecessary violence. This helped me take a side. Our system is broken. As a mental health professional, I understand trauma. I understand how when you've been trained from a systemic perspective to mistrust a people group based on history of events, it is easy to have a quick trigger. If both groups are traumatized and have been trained in systemic trauma, it would be impossible to react calmly and with a clear mind. I see this in my trauma clients all the time. The reaction is one out of defense. But the reaction results in violence and incites hate and anger and mistrust, thus continuing the problem and widening the gap of understanding between communities.
I am on a side.
I am on the side of working to fix this problem. I am on the side of speaking up in my small community about white privilege and how to use it for good. I am on the side of Black Lives Matter and becoming more educated about the movement by listening to my black brothers and sisters. I am on the side of getting the right mental health support for our communities. I am on the side of working to fix the stigma of getting mental health support in the police community. I am on the side of decreasing fear and reducing trauma reactions.
I understand the fact that I have the privilege to choose to ignore race division in our society is white privilege. I choose not to ignore it.
This is my side.
I've always been this way. I want to see everyone have a fair chance. It's more important to me that two people in an argument feel heard rather than one "win" the argument. I feel badly for the team that lost against my team (unless they're playing the Cubs...the Cubs deserve a good season).
I like seeing others get along and I believe that God created this world to be diverse and beautiful in it's diversity. I was created to be optimistic, idealistic, and to see the good in others. It breaks my heart to see evil and I hate division. I would have thrived in the 60s/70s and would have worn that flower headdress proudly...but no drugs please.
The division people are taking on social media is heartbreaking. I am tearing up now as I write. The fact that race is still a systemic issue in our country angers me. I am getting hotheaded as I write. The fact that police men and women who have sworn to protect lives are both taking lives and having their lives be taken is devastating. I feel defeated as I write.
I don't want to take sides.
But to sit in my own world and not say something and to not stand up for something feels wrong to me too. Just the fact that I have that option speaks loudly to the systemic issue of race and my own white privilege. I am so grateful to the loving and patient friends I have from other race and ethnic backgrounds and for how they have shown me and highlighted what it means to have white privilege. I want to use this privilege for good. I want to help. I want to be there and say, "I grieve for you too. This hurts." I hate the thought that I'm privileged just because I was born as a white female. Or that I'm privileged because I'm straight. I am so grateful for my friends of other sexual orientations and gender experiences who have answered my questions to help me understand. I won't ever fully understand what it feels like to be in any of those positions, but I want you to know that I want to help. I want to support. I want to be the flower-child that I am and also to stand up for what is right. I want to walk the middle path.
I don't want to take sides.
I am literally crying as I write this post. I feel so overwhelmed by the amount of division and arguments I have seen on social media. I support the Black Lives Matter movement and I am glad that issues of diversity have not stopped moving in my heart since I left Chicago. I don't want to be apathetic. I want to help make change. I want to be in support of making systemic racial change in our society. I want to inform those in my community what white privilege is and how their statements of "all lives matter" is insulting and insensitive. But this does not mean that I'm against cops or that I think they are all misinformed and lack good judgement. So why does it feel this way?
I don't want to take sides.
A while ago, I read an article by a black basketball player who struggled with anxiety. He wrote an article on how the perpetual trauma that both race communities and authority communities experience and how this triggers unnecessary violence. This helped me take a side. Our system is broken. As a mental health professional, I understand trauma. I understand how when you've been trained from a systemic perspective to mistrust a people group based on history of events, it is easy to have a quick trigger. If both groups are traumatized and have been trained in systemic trauma, it would be impossible to react calmly and with a clear mind. I see this in my trauma clients all the time. The reaction is one out of defense. But the reaction results in violence and incites hate and anger and mistrust, thus continuing the problem and widening the gap of understanding between communities.
I am on a side.
I am on the side of working to fix this problem. I am on the side of speaking up in my small community about white privilege and how to use it for good. I am on the side of Black Lives Matter and becoming more educated about the movement by listening to my black brothers and sisters. I am on the side of getting the right mental health support for our communities. I am on the side of working to fix the stigma of getting mental health support in the police community. I am on the side of decreasing fear and reducing trauma reactions.
I understand the fact that I have the privilege to choose to ignore race division in our society is white privilege. I choose not to ignore it.
This is my side.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
finding hope in the realness of christmas
People who know me well, know that I love Christmas. Maybe people who don't know me that well know that I love Christmas too. I get excited about twinkling lights, a child's belief in Santa Claus, Christmas music, and the birth of my spiritual hope in the love of my Savior. Christmastime always makes me just a little bit happier and I always look forward to it.
Christmastime also exacerbates the pain of unanswered prayer and the waiting to know when that prayer will be answered. I've been reflecting on this quite a bit this Christmas season. I have also been more acutely aware of the pain of others during this season as they have experienced their own waiting. Waiting to feel less pain about the loss of a loved one. Waiting to feel "over" the pain of a relationship that ended. Waiting to feel happiness again. Waiting to be less busy and to have a moment to breathe. Waiting for change...any change. Waiting, waiting, waiting...while around us the world puts on a show of shiny ribbons and smiling faces. Aren't we supposed to be happy at Christmastime? Isn't the hope of the birth of our Savior supposed to bring us inexplicable joy? Well, yes, but the more I think about it, the more I understand how the story of the birth of Christ relates to our experience of pain just as much as it relates to joy.
The birth of Jesus was long awaited and was promised hundreds of years before his actual birth. How long had the Israelites been waiting for their Savior? A few weeks ago, the sermon at church was about waiting in expectation for God's answer to His promises. In my own life, this sermon directly spoke to me as I have been praying the same prayer for over 10 years and still, I have not received an answer. How many Israelites could relate to this? Or how about Elizabeth & Zechariah as they had been praying for a baby for so long? Or Simeon and Anna who had been promised to see the Savior and had to wait until they were late in years for this promise to come true? As I experience my own wait and often struggle at times to keep faith when it seems God has forgotten me, these reminders have been helpful in the pain of my wait.
Or what about Joseph? How many of us have had the rug pulled out from under us in a relationship we were in? We felt stable, secure, and all of a sudden, the other person drops a bomb and it's over. Or the sudden (or even not sudden) death of a loved one. Grief is suffering loss in our lives and learning how to survive the shock of unexpected change. I often wonder how Joseph must have felt when his young fiancee told him that she was pregnant and it wasn't his child. What kind of grief did he suffer at the loss of a dream? Did his heart break? Did he cry out in anger and confusion? We are told in the book of Matthew that he planned to divorce her quietly, but we don't know what it was like for him leading up to that decision. God was faithful to Joseph and sent an angel to comfort him and give him guidance. While God may not respond to our own pain in this way, I am reminded that God takes care of His people in Joseph's story during moments of emotional and relational pain as well as in grief and loss.
Or maybe your pain is like that of the Magi. You see a sign, you follow it, it takes forever to reach your destination, and just when you find a place to rest, confusion sets in. How many of us have had someone be like Herod to us and present with good intentions but we find out later they were actually selfish and manipulative in purpose? Again, God sent an angel to steer the Magi in the right direction and while they may have had to travel longer to get home, God provided and returned them home safely. I am reminded that sometimes when we are confused, manipulated, or feel as though it takes forever to return home, God will still see to it that the journey is completed safely when we respond with faith.
And then of course there is Mary. Faithful, beautiful, Mary. I love reading the Magnificat in the first chapter of Luke. It reminds me of God's omnipotent, everlasting, steadfast, powerful love for us in this world. But what about after the Magnificat? Nine months of pregnancy prior to her marriage with Joseph. Even if they were married shortly after she became pregnant, anyone who has ever lived in a small community knows that people talk. Even when you tell people the truth, they will do what they want with it. And what do you say in that situation? "Oh, no, don't worry. It's the Holy Spirit's baby. We're good." What strength and maturity Mary must have had to withstand what might have been said about her and to know that God would take care of her. I don't think I would have been able to survive that kind of pain. As a child, whenever I was teased, I would do whatever they wanted me to do and say whatever they wanted me to say just stop the teasing and the pain of being ostracized by my peers. Mary's story reminds me to have faith in God's greater plan and to look beyond what is right in front of me and the limited view of others, even when it's painful.
One of my favorite Christmas songs is called "Real" by Nichole Nordeman. In this song, she sings from the perspective of Mary and Joseph, saying:
I am real
Don't turn me into memory or myth
Let me be real
And I'll show you what it means to love like this
To be real
This Christmas, I am praying that if you have pain amidst the holiday bustle & rustle, shimmer & shine, laughter & song, remember that Jesus is real. The people surrounding the story of his birth are real. The miracle is real. Our pain is real. And the miracle is that Jesus really came to show you that he understands that pain on a deeper level than you may ever know. Trust him with it and let him be real to you this Christmas. I will be trying to do the same.
Christmastime also exacerbates the pain of unanswered prayer and the waiting to know when that prayer will be answered. I've been reflecting on this quite a bit this Christmas season. I have also been more acutely aware of the pain of others during this season as they have experienced their own waiting. Waiting to feel less pain about the loss of a loved one. Waiting to feel "over" the pain of a relationship that ended. Waiting to feel happiness again. Waiting to be less busy and to have a moment to breathe. Waiting for change...any change. Waiting, waiting, waiting...while around us the world puts on a show of shiny ribbons and smiling faces. Aren't we supposed to be happy at Christmastime? Isn't the hope of the birth of our Savior supposed to bring us inexplicable joy? Well, yes, but the more I think about it, the more I understand how the story of the birth of Christ relates to our experience of pain just as much as it relates to joy.
The birth of Jesus was long awaited and was promised hundreds of years before his actual birth. How long had the Israelites been waiting for their Savior? A few weeks ago, the sermon at church was about waiting in expectation for God's answer to His promises. In my own life, this sermon directly spoke to me as I have been praying the same prayer for over 10 years and still, I have not received an answer. How many Israelites could relate to this? Or how about Elizabeth & Zechariah as they had been praying for a baby for so long? Or Simeon and Anna who had been promised to see the Savior and had to wait until they were late in years for this promise to come true? As I experience my own wait and often struggle at times to keep faith when it seems God has forgotten me, these reminders have been helpful in the pain of my wait.
Or what about Joseph? How many of us have had the rug pulled out from under us in a relationship we were in? We felt stable, secure, and all of a sudden, the other person drops a bomb and it's over. Or the sudden (or even not sudden) death of a loved one. Grief is suffering loss in our lives and learning how to survive the shock of unexpected change. I often wonder how Joseph must have felt when his young fiancee told him that she was pregnant and it wasn't his child. What kind of grief did he suffer at the loss of a dream? Did his heart break? Did he cry out in anger and confusion? We are told in the book of Matthew that he planned to divorce her quietly, but we don't know what it was like for him leading up to that decision. God was faithful to Joseph and sent an angel to comfort him and give him guidance. While God may not respond to our own pain in this way, I am reminded that God takes care of His people in Joseph's story during moments of emotional and relational pain as well as in grief and loss.
Or maybe your pain is like that of the Magi. You see a sign, you follow it, it takes forever to reach your destination, and just when you find a place to rest, confusion sets in. How many of us have had someone be like Herod to us and present with good intentions but we find out later they were actually selfish and manipulative in purpose? Again, God sent an angel to steer the Magi in the right direction and while they may have had to travel longer to get home, God provided and returned them home safely. I am reminded that sometimes when we are confused, manipulated, or feel as though it takes forever to return home, God will still see to it that the journey is completed safely when we respond with faith.
And then of course there is Mary. Faithful, beautiful, Mary. I love reading the Magnificat in the first chapter of Luke. It reminds me of God's omnipotent, everlasting, steadfast, powerful love for us in this world. But what about after the Magnificat? Nine months of pregnancy prior to her marriage with Joseph. Even if they were married shortly after she became pregnant, anyone who has ever lived in a small community knows that people talk. Even when you tell people the truth, they will do what they want with it. And what do you say in that situation? "Oh, no, don't worry. It's the Holy Spirit's baby. We're good." What strength and maturity Mary must have had to withstand what might have been said about her and to know that God would take care of her. I don't think I would have been able to survive that kind of pain. As a child, whenever I was teased, I would do whatever they wanted me to do and say whatever they wanted me to say just stop the teasing and the pain of being ostracized by my peers. Mary's story reminds me to have faith in God's greater plan and to look beyond what is right in front of me and the limited view of others, even when it's painful.
One of my favorite Christmas songs is called "Real" by Nichole Nordeman. In this song, she sings from the perspective of Mary and Joseph, saying:
I am real
Don't turn me into memory or myth
Let me be real
And I'll show you what it means to love like this
To be real
This Christmas, I am praying that if you have pain amidst the holiday bustle & rustle, shimmer & shine, laughter & song, remember that Jesus is real. The people surrounding the story of his birth are real. The miracle is real. Our pain is real. And the miracle is that Jesus really came to show you that he understands that pain on a deeper level than you may ever know. Trust him with it and let him be real to you this Christmas. I will be trying to do the same.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
the importance of community
It has been an insanely long time since I have written anything down in this space. I think my last entry accurately describes the start of a rather difficult season of life and one that I needed my privacy to go through. But lately, I have had some thoughts floating around in my head the past few days and so I thought I would return to my corner of the internet and share them with you.
Several weeks ago, I attended the memorial service for the mother of some dear family friends. I have always found memorial services to be a mixed bag of emotions where you are gathered to grieve the loss of the person and share in the pain of that loss with others, but also where you celebrate good memories and see people who are a part of those memories. This memorial service included exactly these emotions for me. Since it was for a woman who I grew up with at my home church, I returned to this church, sat with my parents, and hugged several people who I hadn't seen in a long time. I was reminded during this service of the importance of community. I have been so blessed by the community from my home church and I often take this for granted. Within that particular church denomination, I know that if I travel to another church from this denomination several states (or maybe a country!) away and we have a common friend from my home church, I will instantly find "family". I know that when I see my friends' parents and my parents' friends, they mean it when they say they are praying for me and ask me how I am doing. I know when I laugh with old youth group friends that our laughs are genuine and our care for each other has lasted long beyond high school. I am grateful to this community, glad to be a part of it, and I know I would not be the woman I am today if it were not for this community of people.
Simultaneously, I was saddened. Besides being sad about the loss of a great woman, I was saddened by the ways I was reminded of how community had hurt this family. Regardless of whether we are Christians or not, as people, we have disagreements about topics that can be hurtful and ostracizing. One theme that was discussed at this memorial was the topic of how fear can get in the way of loving each other. For this particular family's story, the fear that others' had regarding their son's sexuality was hurtful and ostracizing, not an example of community at all. I always get so angry when we have an opportunity to learn in our communities, to grow in our perspectives, and to really try to understand what someone else is going through and we just blow it because we are afraid that this means we will have to change too. But community is always changing and growing and as a Christian, I have always believed that God has designed me to love people above all else, regardless of my opinion or perspective. Loving another person doesn't have to mean we have to agree with them. Loving another person means asking. It means doing our best to understand. It means remembering that love is stronger than fear; GOD is stronger than fear. Community is about people. Life is difficult and we all go through pain. A good community says the hard things and still loves others as you would want to be loved if you were in their position.
No earthly community is perfect and I in no way expect this particular community to be perfect. I still appreciate all that it is and I still hope to continue to be an active member in this community now and hopefully someday with a family of my own. As I said, I am the woman I am today because of it. But after I attended this memorial and was touched by all the people who came to show their love for this woman and for her family, I was also reminded of the importance of remembering people over principles. I am so grateful to know that I have people in my life who understand that and when I am going through something they have not experienced or that they don't understand, they will love me and do their best to learn through my experience, even if we do not agree. That kind of community is a rare thing.
Several weeks ago, I attended the memorial service for the mother of some dear family friends. I have always found memorial services to be a mixed bag of emotions where you are gathered to grieve the loss of the person and share in the pain of that loss with others, but also where you celebrate good memories and see people who are a part of those memories. This memorial service included exactly these emotions for me. Since it was for a woman who I grew up with at my home church, I returned to this church, sat with my parents, and hugged several people who I hadn't seen in a long time. I was reminded during this service of the importance of community. I have been so blessed by the community from my home church and I often take this for granted. Within that particular church denomination, I know that if I travel to another church from this denomination several states (or maybe a country!) away and we have a common friend from my home church, I will instantly find "family". I know that when I see my friends' parents and my parents' friends, they mean it when they say they are praying for me and ask me how I am doing. I know when I laugh with old youth group friends that our laughs are genuine and our care for each other has lasted long beyond high school. I am grateful to this community, glad to be a part of it, and I know I would not be the woman I am today if it were not for this community of people.
Simultaneously, I was saddened. Besides being sad about the loss of a great woman, I was saddened by the ways I was reminded of how community had hurt this family. Regardless of whether we are Christians or not, as people, we have disagreements about topics that can be hurtful and ostracizing. One theme that was discussed at this memorial was the topic of how fear can get in the way of loving each other. For this particular family's story, the fear that others' had regarding their son's sexuality was hurtful and ostracizing, not an example of community at all. I always get so angry when we have an opportunity to learn in our communities, to grow in our perspectives, and to really try to understand what someone else is going through and we just blow it because we are afraid that this means we will have to change too. But community is always changing and growing and as a Christian, I have always believed that God has designed me to love people above all else, regardless of my opinion or perspective. Loving another person doesn't have to mean we have to agree with them. Loving another person means asking. It means doing our best to understand. It means remembering that love is stronger than fear; GOD is stronger than fear. Community is about people. Life is difficult and we all go through pain. A good community says the hard things and still loves others as you would want to be loved if you were in their position.
No earthly community is perfect and I in no way expect this particular community to be perfect. I still appreciate all that it is and I still hope to continue to be an active member in this community now and hopefully someday with a family of my own. As I said, I am the woman I am today because of it. But after I attended this memorial and was touched by all the people who came to show their love for this woman and for her family, I was also reminded of the importance of remembering people over principles. I am so grateful to know that I have people in my life who understand that and when I am going through something they have not experienced or that they don't understand, they will love me and do their best to learn through my experience, even if we do not agree. That kind of community is a rare thing.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
remembering how to walk on water
I have had these words I'm preparing to write floating around in my head for the past few weeks. I just couldn't figure out how to start writing it or even whether I should. It is always difficult to be open about moments in life when I just don't have any answers and God remains mum on the topic when we talk. But, there was something in me prompting me to write it. To put what has been floating around in my thoughts and in my heartbeat into the cyber world. So, BIG BREATH, here goes...
Lately, I have been feeling...feeling...just feeling I guess. This summer has been a season of grieving for me. The loss of my beloved Grandma Betty. Coming to terms with the fact that my life does not look like how I hoped it would at 34 and grieving those dreams. Facing disappointment that a relationship did not turn out the way I wanted it, and believed that God wanted it, to. Trying not to absorb the grief of some of my clients and learning how not to do that since clearly I had stuff of my own to work through. It's always easier to blame someone else's problems for your sadness than actually dealing with whatever else is being stored up. I have been sad at losses. I have been angry at God for ways I felt He misled me and angry at myself for misunderstanding what I thought God had been telling me. I have been frustrated that my life feels out of my control and that there is nothing to do to change it at this point. In fact, I feel as though I have been trying to change some things and instead of things changing, I just end up more tired and more exhausted and with no results. Lots of questions, but no answers. Support from those who love me, but no solutions. What to do when the only thing I really want is to learn how to be satisfied with the life God has given me. Instead, I'm too human to stop dreaming for what my little heart desires.
I thought I would return to some of my stand-by favorite artists for assistance...Madeleine L'Engle and Nichole Nordeman. I actually developed a love for the material of both of these women around the same time in my life...about 10 years ago when I was going through another period of questions for my life. And I am, to this day, convinced that if the three of us women ever ended up in one room together that we would be instant kindred spirits. I read Madeleine L'Engle's book Walking on Water as a part of an artists Bible study as a way to make our faith and our creativity align with God. After that, I was hooked. I think I have read 80% of her work and have multiple times felt as though the words on the page were taken directly from my thoughts. I began my "imaginary" friendship with Nichole (we're totally on a first name basis, of course) when a friend of mine insisted that I needed to hear her album This Mystery. The realness of her music and songwriting stuck with me and I couldn't stop listening to it, feeling grateful that FINALLY there was a Christian musician who seemed to get me. I even stalked her after a concert in college and she was gracious enough to talk to me with a smile on her face and not once did she point out that maybe I was a little over-eager to be friends. It just wasn't our time yet, I guess.
First, I re-read Walking on Water. It was just as good the second time as the first. I turned to this particular book to tap back into my creative side and artistic thought processes. I have begun to notice that I know and love many people who think very practically. Black and white. B follows A and 1 plus 1 always equals 2. There is value in practicality and sometimes I need a little more of it. However, I started to feel less like myself because I thought because I don't think practically that there was something flawed with the way I was thinking. I figured that reading Walking on Water would remind me of how God sees value in all ways of thinking. Not only did it do that, but I also began to relax back into myself. I remembered that dreaming and considering the possibility that I could walk on water is a very important part of me. I enjoy thinking in the gray. It excites me to consider all the possibilities, no matter how impractical. With God, anything is possible and 1 plus 1 could actually equal 3...or at least enough loaves and fishes to feed a crowd of thousands. All those miracles in the Bible actually did occur! I was also encouraged to tap into my artistic side more than I have been doing. My soul aches to sing. My heart longs to put words into verse. My mind desires to put conversations into a story. My ears yearn for the depth of a well rehearsed orchestral number. My eyes cry for a beautiful sunset. My body itches to dance (and yes, I do dance by myself and I am not ashamed. Try it. You will feel so free.). And I feel this way because God created me this way. It is who I am. I needed to be reminded of who I am as I work through this particular chapter in my life.
Shortly after I began re-reading Walking on Water, I discovered that Nichole Nordeman had actually written a book recently. It's called Love Story: The Hand that holds us from the Garden to the Gates and it is written based on the album Music Inspired by The Story, which Nichole co-wrote. It seemed to me like a good book to bring me back to the basics of my faith, which is exactly what I needed given that all my feelings were quickly spiraling into a crisis of faith. I have been so blessed by this book (and the music from the cd, which I also bought just to round out my collection). Nichole writes so honestly about how her life, the lives of those around her, and most importantly, the Bible characters she chose to bring to life relate to God and how God relates to them. I have so appreciated how she brought God's relationship with each Bible character into the 21st century and made it relevant. While I am still working through my own questions, I have felt less abandoned by God and more reminded that he is GOD and in that I can trust. Even when I am lamenting my own losses and disappointments. Even when I don't understand and my life doesn't seem to make sense. Even when I feel as though I've lost the will to try again to make change. God can handle all of this and I don't need to let him off the hook for it. I still don't know if God really does always give us the desires of our hearts and if he ever explains why he doesn't answer those prayers. And some days, it is still work for me to remember that God loves me. The words in Nichole's book have drawn me back to scripture and back to the story of love that is so precious to my heart...the gift of Jesus and how he loved us enough to give his life... for me. God understands my heart and has gently reminded me that he's still there and will always give me what I need, even if it's not what I wanted. And even in those moments, he will withstand my tantrum over the fact that what I wanted wasn't what I got. He'll still love me as is, tell me to keep my eyes on him, and to walk on the water anyway.
Last week, I injured my back doing practically nothing. I stood up. That's what I did. It has been a rather uncomfortable week and frustrating because I have not been able to physically do things that I love to do...like run. Grrr. However, one day, I was listening to a Bethany Dillon song that I had choreographed (well, a more accurate description would be that I created some "moves" and graceful arm sweeps) for myself to worship through a few years ago. Despite the condition of my back, I was drawn to dance. And so I did. Amazingly enough, my back did not hurt once during the whole song. I remembered all my "moves" and even put in a few new ones thanks to the ballet class I took last year. For the first time this summer, I felt as though I was able to worship God fully. I had not danced in that worshipful way in a few years and here I was, drawn to move in ways I did not think I could due to my injury. But through my pain, God gave me freedom and I worshipped him fully. That is what I am hoping for the outcome of this season of grieving for myself. That through the pain, God will give me freedom and will draw me into worshipful creativity with him as I learn with each day what it means to keep my eyes on him without faltering when I don't understand. With his help, and because I believe it will happen, I'll remember how to walk on water.
Lately, I have been feeling...feeling...just feeling I guess. This summer has been a season of grieving for me. The loss of my beloved Grandma Betty. Coming to terms with the fact that my life does not look like how I hoped it would at 34 and grieving those dreams. Facing disappointment that a relationship did not turn out the way I wanted it, and believed that God wanted it, to. Trying not to absorb the grief of some of my clients and learning how not to do that since clearly I had stuff of my own to work through. It's always easier to blame someone else's problems for your sadness than actually dealing with whatever else is being stored up. I have been sad at losses. I have been angry at God for ways I felt He misled me and angry at myself for misunderstanding what I thought God had been telling me. I have been frustrated that my life feels out of my control and that there is nothing to do to change it at this point. In fact, I feel as though I have been trying to change some things and instead of things changing, I just end up more tired and more exhausted and with no results. Lots of questions, but no answers. Support from those who love me, but no solutions. What to do when the only thing I really want is to learn how to be satisfied with the life God has given me. Instead, I'm too human to stop dreaming for what my little heart desires.
I thought I would return to some of my stand-by favorite artists for assistance...Madeleine L'Engle and Nichole Nordeman. I actually developed a love for the material of both of these women around the same time in my life...about 10 years ago when I was going through another period of questions for my life. And I am, to this day, convinced that if the three of us women ever ended up in one room together that we would be instant kindred spirits. I read Madeleine L'Engle's book Walking on Water as a part of an artists Bible study as a way to make our faith and our creativity align with God. After that, I was hooked. I think I have read 80% of her work and have multiple times felt as though the words on the page were taken directly from my thoughts. I began my "imaginary" friendship with Nichole (we're totally on a first name basis, of course) when a friend of mine insisted that I needed to hear her album This Mystery. The realness of her music and songwriting stuck with me and I couldn't stop listening to it, feeling grateful that FINALLY there was a Christian musician who seemed to get me. I even stalked her after a concert in college and she was gracious enough to talk to me with a smile on her face and not once did she point out that maybe I was a little over-eager to be friends. It just wasn't our time yet, I guess.
First, I re-read Walking on Water. It was just as good the second time as the first. I turned to this particular book to tap back into my creative side and artistic thought processes. I have begun to notice that I know and love many people who think very practically. Black and white. B follows A and 1 plus 1 always equals 2. There is value in practicality and sometimes I need a little more of it. However, I started to feel less like myself because I thought because I don't think practically that there was something flawed with the way I was thinking. I figured that reading Walking on Water would remind me of how God sees value in all ways of thinking. Not only did it do that, but I also began to relax back into myself. I remembered that dreaming and considering the possibility that I could walk on water is a very important part of me. I enjoy thinking in the gray. It excites me to consider all the possibilities, no matter how impractical. With God, anything is possible and 1 plus 1 could actually equal 3...or at least enough loaves and fishes to feed a crowd of thousands. All those miracles in the Bible actually did occur! I was also encouraged to tap into my artistic side more than I have been doing. My soul aches to sing. My heart longs to put words into verse. My mind desires to put conversations into a story. My ears yearn for the depth of a well rehearsed orchestral number. My eyes cry for a beautiful sunset. My body itches to dance (and yes, I do dance by myself and I am not ashamed. Try it. You will feel so free.). And I feel this way because God created me this way. It is who I am. I needed to be reminded of who I am as I work through this particular chapter in my life.
Shortly after I began re-reading Walking on Water, I discovered that Nichole Nordeman had actually written a book recently. It's called Love Story: The Hand that holds us from the Garden to the Gates and it is written based on the album Music Inspired by The Story, which Nichole co-wrote. It seemed to me like a good book to bring me back to the basics of my faith, which is exactly what I needed given that all my feelings were quickly spiraling into a crisis of faith. I have been so blessed by this book (and the music from the cd, which I also bought just to round out my collection). Nichole writes so honestly about how her life, the lives of those around her, and most importantly, the Bible characters she chose to bring to life relate to God and how God relates to them. I have so appreciated how she brought God's relationship with each Bible character into the 21st century and made it relevant. While I am still working through my own questions, I have felt less abandoned by God and more reminded that he is GOD and in that I can trust. Even when I am lamenting my own losses and disappointments. Even when I don't understand and my life doesn't seem to make sense. Even when I feel as though I've lost the will to try again to make change. God can handle all of this and I don't need to let him off the hook for it. I still don't know if God really does always give us the desires of our hearts and if he ever explains why he doesn't answer those prayers. And some days, it is still work for me to remember that God loves me. The words in Nichole's book have drawn me back to scripture and back to the story of love that is so precious to my heart...the gift of Jesus and how he loved us enough to give his life... for me. God understands my heart and has gently reminded me that he's still there and will always give me what I need, even if it's not what I wanted. And even in those moments, he will withstand my tantrum over the fact that what I wanted wasn't what I got. He'll still love me as is, tell me to keep my eyes on him, and to walk on the water anyway.
Last week, I injured my back doing practically nothing. I stood up. That's what I did. It has been a rather uncomfortable week and frustrating because I have not been able to physically do things that I love to do...like run. Grrr. However, one day, I was listening to a Bethany Dillon song that I had choreographed (well, a more accurate description would be that I created some "moves" and graceful arm sweeps) for myself to worship through a few years ago. Despite the condition of my back, I was drawn to dance. And so I did. Amazingly enough, my back did not hurt once during the whole song. I remembered all my "moves" and even put in a few new ones thanks to the ballet class I took last year. For the first time this summer, I felt as though I was able to worship God fully. I had not danced in that worshipful way in a few years and here I was, drawn to move in ways I did not think I could due to my injury. But through my pain, God gave me freedom and I worshipped him fully. That is what I am hoping for the outcome of this season of grieving for myself. That through the pain, God will give me freedom and will draw me into worshipful creativity with him as I learn with each day what it means to keep my eyes on him without faltering when I don't understand. With his help, and because I believe it will happen, I'll remember how to walk on water.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
gratitude
My emotions lately have felt like sawdust. I honestly have no other way to describe it and that is all I have been thinking whenever I ask myself, "Self, how are you feeling?" The first answer in my head is "sawdust". (Ok, so I really don't ask that exact question, but you get what I mean.)
I think feeling "sawdust" can be described as just blah and dry. Back in April, I remember feeling so joyous and grateful for all the ways that God had been blessing my life...new job and new apartment topped the list and I was overwhelmed with God's perfect timing and how all the questions I'd had for when and whether God would work my life out here seemed to be answered.
But now I'm back to sawdust. I still love my job. But the honeymoon is over and a few weeks ago, I had a pretty rough run. It's like all my clients talk to each other and decide to go into crisis at the same time. Just putting out one fire after the next is exhausting! Things have settled down now, but I was reminded that no job is perfect and there will always be stress.
I also still love my apartment. But I was quickly reminded that living alone means making more of an effort to get out of the house. I can't just come home and hang out with my parents and feel good because I spent time with other people. I have to make more of an effort to make plans and SEE people. Which isn't a bad thing, but as a person who swings a small percentage to the introverted side of things, it can be difficult for me to remember to make plans and not just hang out at home and feel lonely.
Today I really brought this emotion to God and worked on working it out. I had a great day. Went to church. Stopped at a roadside stand to buy fresh produce. Got flirted with by the grandpa-type running the cash register (who did not make my potential significant-other list despite his nice comments and eyebrow raising). Drove to the shore and walked on the beach. Did grocery shopping and made a delicious dinner. Set up some shelves in my apartment, which significantly improved the homeyness of my living room space. During all of these activities, I kept asking God, "What do I do about this? Why can't I just be happy with all that You've given to me?" No answer. After my walk on the beach, I felt free, but still was missing something. Before making my dinner, I played a random mix of Christian worship/pop/rock songs and the Nichole Nordeman song "Gratitude" (see words below) began to play and I was overcome with emotion...real emotion, not sawdust. I was moved by the reminder that even when God does not seem to be providing in the ways I want Him to, that there is still plenty to give thanks to God for. And it doesn't mean that I shouldn't feel sad or grieve the things that I am struggling with, but just to say, that even when I feel "sawdust", I continue to feel gratitude for the ways that God comforts me and sends me just the right words at just the right time. And more than anything else that made today a good day, I am grateful for the reminder that God still knows every hair on my head, God is not like the shifting shadows, I can trust in Him, and even when it seems that God has stopped answering my prayers, He is still there providing for me and loving me in ways that I just may not have anticipated.
Send some rain, would You send some rain?'Cause the earth is dry and needs to drink againAnd the sun is high and we are sinking in the shade
Would You send a cloud, thunder long and loud?Let the sky grow black and send some mercy downSurely You can see that we are thirsty and afraid
But maybe not, not todayMaybe You'll provide in other waysAnd if that's the case
We'll give thanks to You with gratitudeFor lessons learned in how to thirst for YouHow to bless the very sun that warms our faceIf You never send us rain
Daily bread, give us daily breadBless our bodies, keep our children fedFill our cups, then fill them up again tonight
Wrap us up and warm us throughTucked away beneath our sturdy roofsLet us slumber safe from danger's view this time
Or maybe not, not todayMaybe You'll provide in other waysAnd if that's the case
We'll give thanks to You with gratitudeA lesson learned to hunger after YouThat a starry sky offers a better viewIf no roof is overheadAnd if we never taste that bread
Oh, the differences that often are betweenEverything we want and what we really need
So grant us peace, Jesus, grant us peaceMove our hearts to hear a single beatBetween alibis and enemies tonight
Or maybe not, not todayPeace might be another world awayAnd if that's the case
We'll give thanks to You with gratitudeFor lessons learned in how to trust in YouThat we are blessed beyond what we could ever dreamIn abundance or in need
And if You never grant us peaceBut, Jesus, would You please
Read more: NICHOLE NORDEMAN - GRATITUDE LYRICS
I think feeling "sawdust" can be described as just blah and dry. Back in April, I remember feeling so joyous and grateful for all the ways that God had been blessing my life...new job and new apartment topped the list and I was overwhelmed with God's perfect timing and how all the questions I'd had for when and whether God would work my life out here seemed to be answered.
But now I'm back to sawdust. I still love my job. But the honeymoon is over and a few weeks ago, I had a pretty rough run. It's like all my clients talk to each other and decide to go into crisis at the same time. Just putting out one fire after the next is exhausting! Things have settled down now, but I was reminded that no job is perfect and there will always be stress.
I also still love my apartment. But I was quickly reminded that living alone means making more of an effort to get out of the house. I can't just come home and hang out with my parents and feel good because I spent time with other people. I have to make more of an effort to make plans and SEE people. Which isn't a bad thing, but as a person who swings a small percentage to the introverted side of things, it can be difficult for me to remember to make plans and not just hang out at home and feel lonely.
Today I really brought this emotion to God and worked on working it out. I had a great day. Went to church. Stopped at a roadside stand to buy fresh produce. Got flirted with by the grandpa-type running the cash register (who did not make my potential significant-other list despite his nice comments and eyebrow raising). Drove to the shore and walked on the beach. Did grocery shopping and made a delicious dinner. Set up some shelves in my apartment, which significantly improved the homeyness of my living room space. During all of these activities, I kept asking God, "What do I do about this? Why can't I just be happy with all that You've given to me?" No answer. After my walk on the beach, I felt free, but still was missing something. Before making my dinner, I played a random mix of Christian worship/pop/rock songs and the Nichole Nordeman song "Gratitude" (see words below) began to play and I was overcome with emotion...real emotion, not sawdust. I was moved by the reminder that even when God does not seem to be providing in the ways I want Him to, that there is still plenty to give thanks to God for. And it doesn't mean that I shouldn't feel sad or grieve the things that I am struggling with, but just to say, that even when I feel "sawdust", I continue to feel gratitude for the ways that God comforts me and sends me just the right words at just the right time. And more than anything else that made today a good day, I am grateful for the reminder that God still knows every hair on my head, God is not like the shifting shadows, I can trust in Him, and even when it seems that God has stopped answering my prayers, He is still there providing for me and loving me in ways that I just may not have anticipated.
Send some rain, would You send some rain?'Cause the earth is dry and needs to drink againAnd the sun is high and we are sinking in the shade
Would You send a cloud, thunder long and loud?Let the sky grow black and send some mercy downSurely You can see that we are thirsty and afraid
But maybe not, not todayMaybe You'll provide in other waysAnd if that's the case
We'll give thanks to You with gratitudeFor lessons learned in how to thirst for YouHow to bless the very sun that warms our faceIf You never send us rain
Daily bread, give us daily breadBless our bodies, keep our children fedFill our cups, then fill them up again tonight
Wrap us up and warm us throughTucked away beneath our sturdy roofsLet us slumber safe from danger's view this time
Or maybe not, not todayMaybe You'll provide in other waysAnd if that's the case
We'll give thanks to You with gratitudeA lesson learned to hunger after YouThat a starry sky offers a better viewIf no roof is overheadAnd if we never taste that bread
Oh, the differences that often are betweenEverything we want and what we really need
So grant us peace, Jesus, grant us peaceMove our hearts to hear a single beatBetween alibis and enemies tonight
Or maybe not, not todayPeace might be another world awayAnd if that's the case
We'll give thanks to You with gratitudeFor lessons learned in how to trust in YouThat we are blessed beyond what we could ever dreamIn abundance or in need
And if You never grant us peaceBut, Jesus, would You please
Read more: NICHOLE NORDEMAN - GRATITUDE LYRICS
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)