find your snow.

It is no surprise that I practically abhor the winter season.  I grew up with “White Christmas” defined by the color of the sand on the gulf shores and the caps to the waves.  I have about a 15 degree threshold for temperature variance. Somewhere between 75 and 90.  I’m a staunch believer that Christmas does not begin until after Thanksgiving is over.  I live in the same two pair of black riding pants from November through March. I slept in my boot socks.  I cried at the first snowfall (and subsequent iced-over-windshield-scraping) of the season.  I don’t take my coat off when entering a building.  I don’t handle cold mornings with much grace. 

But then, something magical happens.  This white, semi-solid, uniquely and individually designed particles start falling from the sky.  But that’s not even the magical part; what’s most miraculous is how it immediately causes my heart to react.  It’s as if, suddenly, I’ve forgotten my limbs have lost sensation, and I begin to lose all reason.  Maybe snow in general is still enough of a spontaneous rarity that I’ve not yet become familiarly acquainted with its negative properties.

I stand. I stare. I gawk. I watch, as the flurries float effortlessly towards the ground, often detouring and giving shape to the unseen gusts blowing them every-which-way and back again. And as the flakes seem momentarily suspended, it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to time standing still.

Winter itself, and perhaps it’s the holiday season specifically, conjures up feelings of nostalgia for something that never was.  There’s a romantic notion about white skies and bare trees. It’s a paradox of sorts.  Snow is the culmination of every frigid little thing I detest about winter, yet, it’s the one saving grace for the season.

Whatever season you’re in in life: transition. waiting. grief. rebuilding. winter.  Find your snow.  Find the one thing that brings out the beauty amidst the barren.  Seek the solace that causes you to forget how cold it is.  And rejoice that the Lord has provided grace for even the most difficult of seasons.

***

Tuesday Typing Tunes: “Hazy” - Rosi Golan | “It Is Well With My Soul” - Daniel Martin Moore | “Such Great Heights” (cover) – Iron and Wine | “Deep In Your Eyes” – Jon Foreman | “Brand New Day” – Joshua Radin | “Jesus Paid it All” – Fernando Ortega | “Photographs and Memories” – Jason Reeves | “Still” – Matt Nathanson | “Down” – Jason Walker | “Trees and Flowers” – Enter the Worship Circle

a bulemic at a buffet

just about any of us post-collegiate's can relate.  you're at a social gathering, a meeting with colleagues, volunteering in your community or at your child's school.  next to introducing yourself, the most commonly asked and answered question is, "so, what do you do?" 

our identity is so stooped in our vocation, that next to our name, we are known as or even referred to by our job title.  i'm a teacher.  i'm a student.  i'm a doctor.  i'm a musician.  to an extent, it's much easier to answer the question with "i teach kindergarten," simply because I spend between 50 and 60 hours a week devoting my life to just that.

if afforded the opportunity to expound, and granted the interest in the answer is beyond surface level asking-to-be-nice, i might share what my day looks like, the things i enjoy about it, or the challenges it presents, daily.  and chances are, i will offer the courteous follow-up, "and what about you?"

to a certain point, simply stating our vocation depicts a fairly accurate description of our identity and character, but it's also strangely limiting.  i am much more than a teacher.  and during many parts of my day, i dream about those parts of me that are starving for the same attention i devote to teaching.  granted, it might come off fairly odd to respond to that question with "i'm a dreamer. a writer. a traveler. a do-er. a child of God. an extrovert stuck in the season of introverted-ness. a server."  i'm sure that would elicit a few sets of rolled eyes and potentially the end of the conversation.

i went to school for teaching. teaching is what pays the bills. education is a passion of mine, and on most days, i feel like it's where i am supposed to be.

but regardless of what our calendars or wardrobe may suggest, we can not be reduced simply to what we do as a career.

so why then, do we spend so much time and effort into developing that part of our identity, and so little to the other parts; the other parts that often make us feel more alive and like "ourselves" than our job?

we starve our passions, and we call ourselves committed to excellence in our job.  we don't nourish the parts of us that refresh us, and we wonder why we are exhausted at the end of our work day.  we flex our corporate muscles when what lies under the suit and tie is suffering from atrophy. we give all of ourselves to a career that leaves us feeling worn, unhappy, under appreciated, or insignificant. we get home from work, only to continue to send emails, work on projects, lesson plan, or think about nothing more than work.

exercising more than one part of the body brings your body into balance.  focusing on just the arms will leave you top-heavy.  focusing on just the legs would leave you weak.  at risk of sounding nameste-esque, we need to bring our lives into the zen we were created to have.

you have been given unique talents and abilities and gifts and passions.  maybe you're not even good at them, but you love doing them when no one is looking.  dear one, exercise those things!  allow yourself time (longevity) to grow into them.  but first, allot yourself time (schedule-wise) to spend on them.

yesterday morning, i had a moment of peace in my busy day in which i felt joy from teaching.  to be incredibly transparent, i don't feel that often each week.  and at the same time when i felt a love for teaching, i simultaneously wanted to quit my job and be a starving artist or writer, holed up in a corner coffee shop, scribbling notes and ideas that allow my creative side to flourish. 

I realized since the start of the school year, I have only fed and poured into the part of my identity labeled teacher.  my other identities were starved for attention, and i felt the hunger pangs that were drawing me into feeding my creative side.  i could hardly wait to get these words out of my mind and onto a page.  not that they are ground breaking or new, but for the simple sake of writing.  for the act of artistically and systematically stringing together sentences of alliterations. of expressing feelings that aren't neccessarily coupled with linguistic expression until the words trickle onto the page at the mercy of my finger tips.

American writer and essayist, Flannery O'Connor once said, "I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say."  Selfishly, I write to make sense of the mess that is going on inside my heart and mind.  Writing brings unity to the chaos.  Words on the page are the universal language to the multitude of dialetcs being spoken and (mis)interpreted in the silent space between my ears.

Secondarily, I write in hopes that it brings sense to those that read it as well.  for those yes! moments in which we feel as if someone relates. in hopes that my experiences will help reveal the mystery of the metaphors life often speaks to us.

i've never run a marathon, but i volunteered at the finish line once (and that pretty much counts). i imagine that crossing that line is like hitting "publish" on a post.  it may not have been pretty.  it may have taken a lot longer than you anticipated.  and you may have done it just for you.  but the feeling when you get when you're finished, the satisfaction of having done it, knowing that you had it in you all along: these things make the investment worth it.

so, feed yourself. and well. not the junky, fast-food version that does nothing more than make you not-hungry. indulge, even if it means making extra time to add the extra ingredients to make it extra savory.  it's good for you. it makes you healthier.  a healthier you is a happier you.  whether that you is a dreamer, a dancer, a doctor, or a do-er.  feast on, friend!  i'll be right behind ya in line at the buffet!

to callings beyond careers,
xo

new-ances.

you and i both know it, so there's little reason to spend a ton of time discussing my absence here.  i could lie and say i've been busy, but that's not really the case. i could say that i haven't felt much like talking, or that i wouldn't know what to say; but those two would be fallacies.

living in Indianapolis has not been Nashville.  this fall has not been last fall, and this year has not been last year.  this move was not like my move to Tennessee a short six-and-a-half years ago. this coffee shop i'm sitting in is more Taking Back Sunday than Sufjan; this Mexican Hot Chocolate is definitely not a Mayan Mocha from The Well (which definitely is not in Indy, either).

so, i'm adjusting.  i've been slow to write, because i've been slow to acclimate.  embarrassingly slow.  like, an i-thought-i'd-be-good-at-this-by-now, but-i-was-wrong sort of pace.

and that's okay.  Indy was not meant to be Nashville.  and this year was not meant to resemble the one prior, or any others for that matter.  nothing here is meant to replace that which came before it.  nothing here can take away that which already exists.

there's a deep tension in life of what we have and what we are missing.  contentment happens when we focus on what we have.  resentment happens when we focus on what we are missing. 

when I first moved, it was difficult to see past all the life I have just given up to transplant myself in a new city.  all the changes at once: new city, new job (and the initial lack of one), new district with new curriculum and a new demographic and new administration, a new church, a new house; and all of the things missing: friendships that have surpassed a decade, or even longer than 10 minutes, being roommateless for the first time ever, those local spots that felt like second homes (second reference of The Well, in case you missed it), my yoga class from 4 blocks away, faith friendships that i could call on with a moment's notice, even just knowing where to get the best taco (the perma-parked truck on Charlotte) or good felafel (Farmer's Market). I felt the tangible absence of each and everyone of these things.

And, even in the presence of the goodness of why I moved (my own personal McDreamy), it was hard not to feel the withdrawal pains of all I chose to leave behind.  it was much less of a battle against resentment than it was a fight for contentment.

i expected carbon-copies of friendships and churches and coffeehouses. and the reality is, not only is that unrealistic, it is also limiting and mildly insulting that those things could ever be replaced.

i'm finding a rhythm to life.  the cadence to this new song is different than that i've danced to before.  but different is not bad.  how often are you afforded the chance to start anew?  to build a life from scratch, and share in that new life with the one you love?  to fall face-first into new experiences and treasure them as unique and valuable and shaping?

in the same way i expected to replicate life from Nashville in Indianapolis, i've expected my walk with the Lord to be duplicitous to how I've experienced Him in prior seasons of change.

I'm learning that the ways I've experienced the Lord, or looked to Him, or grown to know Him in the past, are not the ways I'm experiencing Him, looking to Him, or growing with Him here, in the present. At first, I thought that meant I was doing it all wrong. But after the tides have settled from the drastic ebbs and flows of change, I've been able to see that in this new season, I need Him in new ways. and a good friend reminded me during a quick meet-up in Nashville that is the way it is supposed to be.

He says I am, because, He is. all things. any thing. every thing. exactly what I need. even when I don't see it, don't notice it. 

in this new season, I need a fresh facet of His face.  where i've latched on in faith before, I may need His hands to hold me in my doubts.  where i've walked in confidence, I've forgotten my identity in Him, and desire Him to patch up the places of my life that have been riddled with the holes of insecurity.  the aspects of His character that I've gotten to know intimately have suddenly felt foreign.  and for a time, it left me feeling that i was holding onto the tattered rags of what once was, but is no longer.  it was a scary place to be.

but i can't help but think of the tabernacle from the Old Testament. it had to be torn down, and reconstructed to a set of standards each time it moved on to a new place among the people.  God has been hard at work rebuilding my tabernacle, and although it's a life-long journey, I think this phase of the project has just met completion.

as scary as that can be, it has been beautiful.  although we're in the throws of fall, my heart seems to be on the verge of spring.  and what's prettier than Paris in the spring?

thoughts + questions on provision

i sat and watched on through the spotless glass as the chipmunks lapped up refreshment from the tiny creek.  the hummingbirds, suspended in mid-air, fluttered and flitted to and fro, from one feeder to the next.  two robins took their turns at the feeder, one repeatedly trying to fly through the glass that separated us.

i sat and looked out, but i came to this room to reflect.  within moments, my cheeks were wet with tears. and then, the full-on silent sob came.  fortunately, i had just hiked, and the mid-august heat had my face already "glistening" with beads of sweat, so the tears didn't seem so apparent.

i thought about these birds, that don't have to work for their food.  these chipmunks that don't have to hunt.  they've all been provided for.  but what about the ones in the field that couldn't make it? or didn't know? or were just too far away?  what happens to them?  and who gets to choose?  certainly these birds and beasts didn't *earn* the right to this never ending smorgasbord.  and certainly, the others didn't do enough bad-bird-stuff to get themselves banned from the buffet.

***

i looked to my right.  silently, a woman sat with an older, disabled child in a handicapped stroller.  they watched the birds, and every now and then, the woman would whisper something to the child, who wasn't capable of verbally responding.

my heart broke for this child, for this woman.  as they left, another dad came in, with yet again another older child, in a handicapped stroller, capable of only involuntary outburst and screams.  i heard him speak with tenderness about his daughter to the woman he was with, presumably, a new date.  i was broken for the difficulties that she would have to sacrifice for, and for the long, difficult, and somewhat unpredictable journey fatherhood must've been for him.

who got to choose that these children would have disabilities, when the ones in the other room are running and yelling, free as can be, with no assumption that it could, or should, be any different?  why is this the path that God had for them and their families?  certainly the Lord wouldn't punish a child for the sins of his parent; no more than he must grant bounty to some and bareness to others. 

***

i sat, and i cried, and i thought, and i cried some more.  

i didn't have any answers.  i didn't have any divine, spiritual wisdom revealed to me in some great epiphany.  i thought about my own lack as of lately; when i've been trusting the Lord for provision, for a job namely, but for other spiritual fortitudes, and how I feel like neither my good work can earn it, nor could my failures of flesh do anything to diminish it.  how i seem to be hanging in the balance, watching the birds find their food, yet being on the opposite side of the glass just peering out.

i read through Matthew 6 and continued to weep.  knowing that the Lord promises provisions for each and every day, one at a time.  also knowing that He uses others to be the answer to prayer; the Lord didn't drop manna for these mockingbirds-- He used humans to supply for their needs.  

quite often we could be the answer to someone else's prayers, but we are too busy offering to pray for them, rather than offering to jump in and help meet their needs. 

*** 

this post has been all over the place.  i don't have answers, and i think that's okay.  i wrestle with God often over the depravity of man and the difficult ways life presents itself.  but He's a big God, and He will always win the wrestling match. 

just some thoughts on provision, and the questions i have yet to find answers to.

Sometimes, there are things in life you don't necessarily enjoy or want to do, but you know they are good for you.  Running, limiting sweets, drinking V-8. Things that sort of hurt in the process, but the benefits often outweigh the price, or no one would ever even consider them.

Today, for me, it's writing.  Or, more specifically, writing about the anxiety that I've been dealing with for at least the better part of the past year.

I've prided myself on being the normal one in my family (forgive me of my self-righteousness).  I've thanked the Lord that I've not had to deal with the enslaught of issues that have plagued those on the branches of my family tree. And, when things got hard, I knew the One to turn to.

Today, I stepped outside to head to the grocery when it brushed past me, it's touch lingering and recalling memories that for no apparent reason brought about a haunting nostalgia.  The first crisp air of fall, a season we all long for as a reprieve from often unbearable, scorching summer heat that leaves us desparate for a change.

But for me, for some reason, that breeze wasn't the promise of a fresh season.  It was the poignant reminder of a painful past.  They say scent is the number one trigger of memories; I would argue that it's the first cool snap of fall.  I don't know why it triggers so much anxiety (aside from fall being a gateway to winter cold and awful clothes and seasonal depression), but each time I felt the simultaneous warm sun on my skin and brisk breeze pass me by, it was a lurking reminder of the difficulties to come, again, in the new season.

I try to separate what I feel and what I know to be true. I had to begin this process at the end of last summer, and I honestly never expected to still be dealing with this.  Where every decision is an opportunity to make the wrong, game-ending choice, and the fear of having to deal with anxiety is often worse than the anxiety itself.  You fear talking about it because you fear being seen differently because of it.  And you fear being seen differently because you fear that no one could truly want to try to understand it, deal with it, or even put the effort into loving you because of it.

I know these things to not *be* true, but the problem with anxiety is that it warps your emotions to manipulate your truths into doubts.  And the sinking feeling you get about sharing your emotions and truths and fears, and actually being right about them, prevents you from dealing with the anxiety the way we are called to deal with anything: in the light.

Today, I'm refusing to call lights-out at bedtime.  I'm taking a stand because I know I am strong enough to be transparent, even if our most common misconception of transparent items is that they are extremely fragile.  And tomorrow, I will turn and fight the lies again, as much as I have to, with as much strength I can muster. I'm thankful that even in the hard things, even when the anxiety makes it harder, I can still turn to the Lord and trust that He is bigger, stronger, and more powerful than I feel or realize.

***

I didn't realize this at time of posting, but I'm not the only one wrapped in the shroud of anxiety today. Nor am I the only one taking courage and fighting. Read below.

my new adventure

We are officially halfway through july.  As hard as it is for me to believe that this summer is pretty much disassembling its umbrellas and rolling up its beach towels, it's even harder for me to believe everything that has happened over the course of the past year.

I hardly know where to start.  Most would say the beginning, but I argue that I should start with the end.  

I am moving to Indianapolis.  

Trust me, not what I expected to hear, either.

But sometimes, we make plans, plans that we try so, so hard to align and attribute to God's will.  and sometimes, yes, our surrender and our obedience pleases Him, but I can't help to think how often He must chuckle and say, "Oh, my child."

***

In October, after 10 years of dreaming about it, I began applying for the Peace Corps.  In November, I submitted my application, told my principal I wouldn't be returning, resigned from my shortly-held position as Mission Lead with my new church, and thought that the next three years of my life was pretty well set.  

I interviewed in December, received my nomination the next day, got my legal clearance in February, and was told I would leave in July.

and in March, things began to change. 

For starters, I caught back up with Ryan, the guy who subleased my house while I was in Haiti last summer.  I had no idea we would fall for each other as quickly as we did.  Upon making my first of many trips to visit him in Indy, we talked and learned much about each other and how we ended up in our respective cities and career paths. After sharing all about my global galavants and my several failed attempts at enrolling in grad school, he nonchalantly, even half-jokingly asked me a question that would pretty much ruin me:

"So when you don't know what to do in life, do you just flee the country?"

I went about my business that weekend, not thinking of that question, and certainly not talking about the Peace Corps.  How could this man, that hardly knew me at this point, call me out on something that myself and those closest to me have failed to realize?  

After a whirlwind weekend in which was way harder to leave than anticipated, that question haunted me.  I had already begun having doubts about the Peace Corps as I had realized the anxiety I had been dealing with during that time, and how pervasive it had been in my decision to leave and join the PC.  But I had been less than vocal about this, and only to a few people.  Now, I was faced with this question, and I knew I had to sit down and properly evaluate my motives for joining.  

I decided to wait for my formal invitation to the PC, with my placement location, before making any concrete choices.  Regardless of how and why I applied in the first place, this had been my dream, and I knew there were several places I just would not be able to turn down the opportunity to. 

The end of the school year came and went, and before I knew it, I was back from an amazing trip to the Grand Canyon, and life in Nashville ground to a halt.  With a tentative departure of July, and it being mid-June, I decided to contact the PC to get any update on the progress of my application.  I attached the last correspondence we had at the end of February, in which it said they were working on Spring placements, and I would get mine after those leaving first got theirs.  As far as I knew, I was just waiting on a bright and shiny invitation to come in the mail. 

Her response, after three days, did not even acknowledge that I had contacted her.  She said in order for her to review my file-- wait, what?! You've had it 7 months and had not yet reviewed it?-- that she would need for me to answer the following questions, a list of 11 questions that I had already discussed at length during my hour-and-45-minute interview.  the kicker was when she asked when was the earliest date I could depart.  this had been answered on my application, during said interview, and then they gave me the date of July.  

Reading this email, I was totally frustrated.  I knew I had a decision to make, and it wouldn't come down to a cut-and-dry, you're going to China-- which means you're not going decision.  I had to either start over, or I had to walk away.

To answer those questions again would seem insincere.  I knew what to say; I knew what they wanted to hear.  But it all felt fake to go through this whole process again from where I was.

So, I withdrew my application.

I spent the following week in Florida, not sharing my decision yet, and then the next 2 1/2 weeks in Indianapolis, where we talked about the thought of me moving, what that might look like, looking at apartments, discussing if I could see myself living in Indy for a couple years, and if that was what we both wanted.  and, it was.  Ryan has two years left in Med school, and that's not very conducive to travel or long distance relationships.  and the thought of being in the same city as my boyfriend is pretty nice :)

So, pending getting a job, I decided I would move.  and then I got back to Nashville, and just altogether decided to move.  At this point, I need a job regardless of what city I am in.  If I am going to move anytime in the next two years, it needed to be at the beginning of a school year, and what better time than now when I was already planning on leaving Nashville and had already quit my job.  Makes me wonder if that's what God had up His sleeve all along.

***

The thought of leaving Nashville behind is terrifying to say the least.  I may have not been raised here, but I most definitely grew up in this city.  So much has happened in the past 6 1/2 years since choosing to make Nashville my home.  The friends here are family.  Many of them are from back home and have known me for 15 years.  Letting go of this city and the people in it is going to be extremely difficult.

But, it is time for a new journey.  It is time to take a risk and a real big leap of faith.  I've never moved for a guy before, and yes, there's huge risk in that.  But there's huge value and reward in it too.  I'm excited for this new adventure.  It is definitely not the path I imagined even just months ago, but as sad as I am to leave, I am just as excited to start this new chapter.

So there you have it.  To those that have supported my Peace Corps adventure, I am so sorry to disappoint you.  It's been hard for me to walk away from this dream, just as any dream is hard to let go of.  But I have to trust that what the Lord has for me in this next chapter will be better than I could've planned myself.  I am trusting Him to guide me in this new season of new cities and jobs and friends.  All of that is so hard to navigate on your own, but I am hopeful that the Lord will direct my steps.

Please continue your prayers as this journey will be no-less difficult than one in Asia or Africa.

It's funny; I have no qualms with the thought of moving to a new country, in which I don't speak the language, don't know a soul, and will likely have to eat a thing or two in which I don't know where it came from.  Those things don't scare me; in fact, I thrive on change and the unfamiliar.  Yet, the thought of moving just 4 1/2 hours away to a city I've spent some time in now, with a guy I've come to trust and care a lot about, is a little scary, mainly because I know my heart is on the line.  I'm discovering my insecurities, each little heavy-rooted one at a time.  I find it interesting to note that physical safety and material comforts and potentially isolated living situations don't make me flinch one bit, but when the heart is involved, there's fear of failure, of hurt, and of losing.  To me, that illustrates a lot about myself, namely that there is a huge learning curve for me to overcome, and this might be just the challenge that the Lord had for me in the first place.  It's in the challenges in life that we grow and come to learn so much about ourselves.  I'm excited to do that in a new city, and with someone that is there to listen as I am honest about my fears and to help me fight them one at a time.  

one-way

Indianapolis is a cursed city.

not Sodom and Gomorrah sort of cursed; but by these inconvenient little things called one-way streets.

seriously-- I have never witnessed so many one-ways in my life.

so one morning, I'm out exploring, pre-caffeine mind you, and I'm waiting at a red light at one of those confusing intersections where 3 roads converge.  going about my business, I make a left turn ... onto a one-way street.

i wouldn't have actually realized this, had two cars not already been occupying the lanes and fast approaching my ill-turned elantra.  one graciously got behind the other, and i found the nearest intersection to right-my-wrong.

and I got to thinking:  sometimes, we don't know the roads we take.  they are unfamiliar, often confusing, and the signs aren't all that clear.  someone that has been down that road could explain where the one-ways are or where they begin, but its hard to visualize that for yourself until you are there.  sometimes, the GPS does little to advise us, and sometimes we just miss it on account of our own disconnectedness.

but something comes out of those moments we are headed the wrong direction:  we learn.  we learn the structure of the city; we learn for ourselves the flow of the streets.  it becomes a part of us that we carry with us, informing us of the next time we are approach an intersection.

so whether you're sitting at the intersection, waiting to make a turn, or you're driving the wrong way down a one-way street, take note and learn from your mistakes.  know that the Lord will graciously redirect your path, and He doesn't revoke our license just because we lose the way.

well, hello there.

it's been quite some time.  

lots of things have happened in that time.  

here's a quick visual recap:

At the end of May, I packed up my classroom at RSE ...

... and said goodbye to these amazing women for the last time.  heartbreaking.

I got to visit this guy for his birthday and experience my first Indy 500,

and he came to Nashville to visit & meet my friends.
(we're sad here because Caleb didn't meet us at the Vineyards)

Then, we flew to Arizona to begin our Grand Canyon Adventure. We got to see this on Day 1 ...

.... and felt like this on Day 5! (after hiking and camping in the canyon for 5 days and nights! woosh! HARDEST thing I've ever done.)

Could not have done it without this guy's encouragement, patience, and help :)

Came back to Nashville for a week and picked up painting
(picture from Day 5's hike just before sunrise at Cathedral Stairs)

Then drove to Florida and got to spend lots of time with this (not-so)little(any-more) munchkin!

and of course, how can you go to Florida and not spend time ....

... on the gulf ...

... or watching the sunset on the beach!

Got to meet my new baby cousin, Lucas!

and take his newborn photos!

Then, I drove back up to Indianapolis, where I explored the city ...

... found pieces of nature ...

... pieces of history ...

uncovered beauty in texture,

architecture,

and in myself, even in the rain.

I fell in love with downtown ...

... the farmers' market ...

... beautiful bouquets of all colors ...

... dreary days downtown.

From authors, 

to book havens,

to bold colored heavens,

and all the sparkling, magical, celebratory moments with this guy and within.
(and of course, my favorite holiday!)

And, after 25 days, I drove back to Nashville.
Crossing this bridge out of Indiana, knowing I'll be back soon.  



and possibly, for good. 

bad app-titude.

its everywhere.  reminders of just how terrible and wretched we are.  how we don't measure up, equal enough, or have what it takes.  

its the pinterest-mindset, where the housewife decorates her little one's first-birthday with a seamless theme, meant more for the eyes on the internet and the repins, than for the memories that little one will make.

or the facebook or blog post highlight reels.  we all know them, those people whose lives seem so perfect, too perfect, with their well-decorated home, always-enchanting husband, and perfect-little-angels.  the pictures of the honeymoons to Europe, or their adventure in the rainforest.  but very rarely does anyone show the behind-the-scenes footage.  the sweat and tears and swear words that didn't make their internet show.

its the instagram's of "look at all the cool things i'm doing in all these cool places with all these cool people!"

to the insecure person, these things don't scream, "look at me!"  instead, they condescendingly whisper, "look at what you're not."

i've got a handle on pinterest.  i'm pretty crafty, and it doesn't leave me wanting more.  facebook has bored me, with people no longer sharing their own information, but reposting shares of pictures and advertisements so often, its smells a little myspace-y.  instagram is great, but i use it more to just enjoy the pictures i take.

runkeeper.

that is the app that kills.  at least to me.  that is my thorn, my kryptonite, my stumbling block.

it means well.  they always do.

but every 5 minutes, it tells me how far i've gone, how long it's been, and my current pace.  basically, its a constant, 5 minute reminder of how bad i suck.  chanting at me in 5 minute intervals, "you are never going to get better.  you will never beat your time.  you will always hate this."

i nearly threw my phone in the forest the other day.  legitimately.  i took it out of my armband, and seriously thought about chucking it at a tree.

i had to turn it off.  i had to silence it.  i could not take the voices anymore.  there were enough negative ones in my head, i didn't need the one on my arm chiming in, too.

these voices, these distractions, these things that were meant for good; we must silence them.  we must turn them off.  we mustn't give them anymore clout than they deserve.  if we are not using them as motivation, but rather as another form of discouragement, get. rid. of. it!  purge!

i hiked again today.  and i added 10 minutes to my time.  but, i enjoyed it this time, and didn't wind up tossing my phone off a cliff.

baaaah.

once a month, some of the ladies at school get together for an after-school Bible study.  it usually lasts no longer than an hour, requires no assigned reading or homework, and you don't even have to leave the school to make the meeting.  i have been so blessed by these women, their radical faith, and the support they have offered, both professionally and spiritually, over the course of my three years at RSE.

today we talked about God as the Shepherd.  we actually didn't even get past the first verse of Psalm 23, but it didn't matter.

you see, if He is the Shepherd, then that must make us the sheep.

and sheep, they are dumb, dumb, dumb animals.

they don't know how to bathe. they get distracted and easily lost.  heck, the babbling sound of a brook freaks them out so much they won't go near it to drink the water they need.

and the Shepherd gently coaxes them along.  protecting them, loving them, exuding patience for them.

if we're going to be sheep, we need to do the one thing that sheep do that actually would work in our benefit:  not worry.  sheep don't worry; they are actually too dumb to.  regardless, they rely on their Shepherd for everything.

let your worries pass like a distracted sheep on the hillside.

mud pits.

the christian walk is a mess.

i'm just going to put it out there.  no one really told me how messy it would be.  or, maybe they did, but I didn't hear it because i was too wrapped up in thinking i had all my bases covered.  but please, hear me:  it. is. messy.

and, that's okay.

now, i know i never heard that one.  that it's okay to be a mess.  i certainly didn't see it, as we cover up our wounds and struggles and vulnerabilities with a prayer shawl and cardigan.  we tuck our fears and sins and missteps in the place in leviticus where the pages are still stuck together.  we are told to pray it away, to be in the word, to seek Godly counsel.

but then, what then, when those things fail to make it all look clean and tidy again?

you've gotta wade through the muck.  you may wind up getting stuck there for a while.

but i beg of you, do not wear the mud like shame.  it will wash off.  it may take some heavy scrubbing, but please don't think it forever changes who you are.

some people (i'm preaching to a mirror from the pulpit here), view this muck more like an eternal scarlet letter.  everything the Bible says about redemption is practically thrown out the window.  grace is a mystery and shouldn't even be mentioned.  you've made a choice that will stick to you forever; this muck is more like cement than a blend of common elements.

i call bullshit.

you heard me.  i call BS on that ish.

the walk is messy.  if it never was going to get that way, we'd still be eating figs in the Eden Nudist village.  it's through rocks, and glass shards, and quicksandesque places.  it's also through beautiful valleys, and rigid mountain tops, and exquisite flora and tempting fauna.  no two walks are the same, although you'll certainly encounter some people that once passed through, or stopped and stayed a while, in some of the same spots on the map.

but you are a citizen of heaven.  your nationality is righteousness, your identity is a child of God.  you do not become a resident of these places, no longer how long they've hosted you.  you are on a journey, and not a perfect one, towards eternity.

the trouble with the mountain top is three-fold: there's no where to go when you get there. nothing can grow on the mountain top.  and the forgotten third is that from there, that little mud puddle you stepped in isn't even visible.  either for yourself, who thought you'd be stuck there forever, or for the others, that you swear will only forever emblazon your journey with that as the branding.

also, that mountain top makes it very hard for that person to see their own mud pit anymore.

and that's a dangerous place to stand.  the only way is down, and it's hard to remember where you came from. you think you've got it all figured out, and then, all of the sudden, you realize your descending, it's dark and damp, and you didn't pack any food.

wherever you are in your journey, please be encouraged that it's not over yet.  it's not.  you're never too far behind, too damaged, too dirty to be used.

When Jesus came, did you ever notice He didn't even try to disciple the Pharisees?  instead, he came to rescue those stuck in the mud pits of their lives.  to clean those off that may have crawled out on their own.  to walk with those that hadn't yet stepped in it, to carefully guide them in an alternate route.

{repost} - {links corrected}

My words often fail me.  My prayers fail to speak the heaviness of my heart.  Sometimes, I just have to rely on the promise that the Spirit intercedes on our behalf; other times, on the tune of a similar song sung by a different artist.

Tonight, just two posts that inspired and challenged me.  That caused me to ask, am I living a life that shows fruit such as these?  Or am I living a life that seeks my own agenda and accolades over attribution to the Almighty?

Grateful that our words are meant to encourage others.  I pray that these do that for you.  I totally recommend both, but specifically the last half of Jasen's post.  So much truth and humility and grace. So refreshing and honest and challenging.

My Coming Out as a Friend of Dan Cathy (Chick-Fil-A)

When Zeal, Could Kill - Jasen Chung

all that glitters.

looking up at the deep-navy sky as the clouds roll in under the half-moon's light, i begged to see Him.  to feel Him.  to sit, surrendered, on my knees in wonder.  the clouds moved methodically, like items on a conveyor belt, rolling past with intentionality.

the way the moon shone through the barren silhouettes of the large oaks above caught my eye.

beautiful.

the beauty in the barren.  the irony of such a thing.  the way the things stoic and static and revealing there age or less-than-perfect features catches my eye.  simple.  beautiful.

i find that i admire beauty most, not in the glitz and glam, but rather in the dark and destitute.  cities like Manhattan catch my attention because they sparkle, but places like Haiti capture my heart because even though they don't shine, I can see my reflection among the ruins.  i see beauty in broken things, perhaps because I see the hope that Christ brings in our brokenness.

my broken years I often look back on with an unlikely since of longing, because of the way the Lord attended to "fixing" me.  the proximity to His heart, the ability to hear His voice, the desire to seek after Him with all my heart; none have ever been stronger or closer than in those times, during those struggles.

where do you most often see beauty?  what makes it beautiful to you?  can you see beauty in the ruins? Thankfully, Jesus does.

not as the world.

amidst the demands of the day: the meltdowns, the prep, the decibels.  beyond the gunk of taxes and bills and staring adulthood down the throat and wanting to run as far as i can from it.  after the tears and frustrations of trying to find a doctor, accepting new patients, on my insurance plan, that doesn't need a referral from a primary care physician first;

after all that stuff is gone and fades away, my hope and my future and my faith remains.

i just wish it stayed as steadfast before those things; too. 

it's easy to get lost in the junky priorities of the days.  it would be foolish to abandon them without care, although my heart wants to do just that and run to Paris.  

i wish i could say, "but the trick is,..."  truth is, i don't know any tricks.  i just know the truth. 

Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you.  Not as the world gives do I give to you.  Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.  -John 14:27

for Deloris.

I do not see that God is all around me because I am always trying to look ahead, overlooking Him who is so close.  --Henri Nouwen

I could've missed it; I often do.  A chance to reflect God's light every where His path takes me.  It's as subtle as the buds on the japanese cherry blossoms come to life overnight, debuting their muted pink pastels on barren branches.  or the daffodils, as they unfold to reveal their petals, a fresh tone of yellow against the greens and browns of the late-winter ground.

sometimes, we look over it, like the homeless woman on the steps, bundled in all she owns, toting trash bags that double as protection from the winter elements.  is easier for us to look forward, to a destination of what we can do, rather than looking around at how we can love.

doing is easier for us.  it sits well.  we feel accomplished, productive.  there's something to show for our time and effort.  even if that something is just another line on your resume. 

but then there is loving.  and loving out of the unnatural places of our heart, the places that make us feel comfortable.  the places that may wreak of day-old urine and cigarette smoke.  the selfish places that don't want to share our sandwich, let alone a kind word, with a stranger.  

loving, I believe, is seeing others how God sees them.

i suppose it makes sense.  if we were to look around us for opportunities to love, we would encounter the undeniable presence of God.  we'd be brought closer in intimacy with Him, as we commit to see and love like Him. 

***

I could've spent my time at the coffee shop, caged up and unbothered and able to get stuff done.  i opted for the park.  i could've sat at the picnic table, or the park swing where I was headed, but the Lord had something different for me to do. 

sitting where He had me, I saw things differently.  the trees, my lunch, this woman.  I saw beauty.  mismanagement. resiliance. 

i didn't know what to say to her, so I offered part of my sub.  she refused at first, but i insisted.  she asked me to tear her half in half, as she can't eat much these days, she said.  she just had a rabies shot.  

she finished her quarter faster than I and offered me her sweater as the winds changed to begin to usher in this evening storms. I politely declined as I was so eager to feel the sunshine on my skin, but in hindsight, maybe I should've accepted. 

As i finished my portion, I asked her if she wanted the remainder of her half.  She declined, but asked if I wasn't going to eat it.  She took it and ate it, and I went on my way after a few more minutes.

I didn't love well with my words; I didn't know how to.  I asked the Holy Spirit what to do when I saw her as I was parking to enjoy my lunch in the park.  Without hesitation, I felt like He responded with, You already know what you should do.

I tried to get out of it.  I tried to walk around it.  I tried to argue that I didn't know what to say. 

It didn't matter.

Sometimes we place as much important in saying the right things as we place on doing the right thing. 

Truth is, if our heart is attentive to God's presence around us, within us, we don't have to worry about if what we are saying or doing is the right thing.  Romans tells us that He works all things together for our good.  He will use even our failures, missteps, fumbled words. 

Deloris, my prayer is that I represented Jesus well.  that you felt God's love on you today.  I'm sorry I didn't use my words to tell you the He sees you and cherishes you.  But I hope that in being seen today, you remembered that you are not overlooked.

love well.

Don't just pretend to love others.  Really love them.  Hate what is wrong.  Hold tightly to what is good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.  --Romans 12:9-10

I've been camping out in this chapter of Romans the past couple days, and I just can't seem to get enough of it to let it and all its implications sink in.

it tells us here, we aren't just to put on our nice-face and try to go about business-as-usual.  to really love someone is deeper than that.  but what all does it consist of?

i'm not talking about a romantic love here; nor do I believe Paul was in his epistle.  he's talking about within the body of Christ; perhaps even, outside of the kingdom.

what does really loving someone look like?  the subsequent verses mention blessing those that persecute you.  rejoicing with those that rejoice; weeping with those that weep.  living at peace with each other.  foregoing pride.  not seeking revenge.  conquering evil with good.

i think it would also include other things that are hard for us to do naturally.  to listen.  to stop giving advice or pointer or our opinions, and to truly listen.  to pray for them, without agenda.  to serve them, without expectation of return.  to give, well, of one's self, without seeking to gain from it.

i used to love well, i think.  i find after years of just plain 'ole life, it's not as easy as it used to be.

it's not easy to really love others, all the time.  it's often harder to really love yourself most of the time.  we've gotta start there.  much in the way they instruct us on planes to make sure our oxygen mask is on and functioning before assisting others or children, we've gotta function well in learning to really love ourselves first.

maybe loving everyone seems exhausting at first.  too overwhelming of a task that it prevents you from ever starting.  start with one.  one person that it is hard for you to authentically love.  maybe they are different.  maybe you don't know them well.  maybe you know them too well, with all their flaws so carelessly displayed.  whatever the cause, you've not loved them well in the past.  start there.  begin with them.  love them genuinely.  bless them.  learn what it is that makes them rejoice, and rejoice with them.  take the time to listen to why they may weep, and weep with them.  let down your pride, become vulnerable.  stomp out evil through good works.

pray. serve. love.

i'm not good at this.  but, we're in this together.  and God's immeasurable grace will be enough to get us going, and enough to cover us as we fail.

coming soon!

the short story:  I handed over my pen, and am allowing the Lord to write the story of my life.  truth is, He writes a better story than I could have ever imagined. 

the long story: coming soon at |a better story| !

i am walking moment-by-moment in complete awe of what the Lord is doing, how He is using the broken pieces of my story, and recreating a masterpiece. 

this post is a tad on the pre-mature side.  i wanted to have everything else up and ready, but just had to sneak-a-peek at this adorable logo that Carmine created for me all the way from the other side of the world in Melbourne!  Her work is fantastic, and reasonably price!  Check out her Etsy page here!

although it is all a work in progress, join in on the storyline by following my blog at www.abetterstory.info.

and another sneak peek at a precious little lamb that I got to capture last weekend:

isn't he the dearest!?

excited for all that is to come,
xoxo

details and car doors.

chances are, if you reach into the console on my driver's side door, you'll stumble upon the remnants of some of my previous stumbling blocks.  i'm not porting drugs, mind you; but there might be a Krispy Kream wrapper, some Grandma's cookie packaging, or that McDonald's hash brown paper from my road trip.

i've dubbed this console my "shame compartment."

it's full of all the trash and left overs that are too unsightly to leave out in the open, yet, there's no proper place to dispose of them at the time.  then, at the end of the day, i get in my car and let out a huge sigh, and see the evidence of my poor nutritional choices before me.  even cleaning it out just trudges me through the guilt once again.

it's amazing how many of us Christians drive through life with a 'shame compartment' somewhere in our hearts.

we're reminded of our poor choices.  our missed chances.  our past that catches up to us.  we're confronted by memories of failures.  lies that come back to haunt us.  the feeling of a dirtiness so permanent that even oxy-clean doesn't stand a snowball's chance in Haiti of cleaning up the mess.

and we should be reminded.  we should know the depths of our sin.  it makes Him furious.

Quit your worship charades. I can't stand your trivial religious games: Monthly conferences, weekly Sabbaths, special meetings— meetings, meetings, meetings—I can't stand one more! Meetings for this, meetings for that. I hate them! You've worn me out! I'm sick of your religion, religion, religion, while you go right on sinning. When you put on your next prayer-performance, I'll be looking the other way. No matter how long or loud or often you pray, I'll not be listening. And do you know why? Because you've been tearing people to pieces, and your hands are bloody. -Isaiah 1:13-16 MSG

oh, but for hope!  glorious hope we have in Christ!  it doesn't end there!  we are not shamed back into the very pit He came to extend us grace and His hand to get us out of!  We're not left on our own to sort it out.

"Come now, let's settle this," says the Lord.  “Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow.  Though they are red like crimson, I will make them as white as wool."  - Isaiah 1:18 NLT

He will wash us clean.  He will get rid of the dirt and grime and blood that keep us from shining for Him.  In fact, almost always, He uses those things for His glory.  He works all things together for the good of those that love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:23).  Yes, even that thing.  That thing you still feel shamed over, guilty over, regretful over.  "Instead of your shame there shall be a double portion; instead of dishonor they shall rejoice in their lot; therefore in their land they shall possess a double portion; they shall have everlasting joy."

We are promised everlasting joy in lieu of our shame.  How many of us are truly walking in that incomparable joy? Instead, we lug around our past in a side-tote, settling with living a self-righteous guilt instead of laying them at the foot of the Cross.  The things that catch up with us from our past, those are the things that God intends to use for our good, and that the enemy ties to use us to shame us out of believing that we are even worthy of Christ's love any longer.

"Can anything ever separate us from Christ's love? ...  No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loves us."  (Rom. 8:35, 27)

I charge you to look that thing in the eyes, stand tall and firm, and demand, "Get behind me, Satan!"  The Lord has already promised He will use ALL things, not just the beautiful things, together for our good.

In Ephesians, we are called to put things into the light.  "For you were formerly darkness, but now you are light in the Lord; walk as children of the Light (for the fruit of the Light consists in all goodness and righteousness and truth), trying to learn what is pleasing to the Lord.  Do not participate in the unfruitful deeds of darkness, but instead, even expose them; ... all things become visible when they are exposed by the light."  (Ephesians 5:8-13)

We are given some responsibility in the task; we do not sit on our hands.  Rather, the Lord gives us a few specific instructions in the cleansing of our shame compartment:

Wash yourselves and be clean! Get your sins out of my sight.  

Give up your evil ways.   --Isaiah 1:17

I challenge you this week to get out the armor-all and windex.  Get that shame compartment cleaned out!  be honest about what's in there; recognize it, and then let it go.  Seal it up, and don't deposit anything in there that belongs directly in the trash, or, on a shelf as part of your story of redemption.  You're not meant to live in shame.  it was for freedom we have been set free!  Our freedom in Christ is not dependent on our past.  He will do the detailing, but we've first got to clean out that compartment.

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.  No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.  --Romans 8:38-39

lent.

we've all done it:  given up facebook.  soda.  coffee.  sweets.  fasted from fast food, vowed to not eat meat, deleted our twitter app.  all in the name of "look-what-i'm-giving-up-for-lent."

to be honest, most of the time, i never even knew what lent was.  i'm not even sure i'm totally sure i know now.  i thought it was about giving up french fries in the name of jesus.

jesus doesn't need my french fries.  neither does my waistband, but that's a post for another day.

he doesn't need my caffeine any more than i do, nor do i think he cares if i'm abstaining from Facebook for a whole 40 days (and letting the world know about it, too;  hey, i'm talking to myself here).

so last year, or the year before, or maybe before that (i've clearly paid attention),  i gave up 'giving up.'  i'm not saying we all should forget about lent and the discipline and self-denial that should come in sacrifice.  i'm saying i should.  it became about me.  about what i gave up.  about how good i was doing.  about how strong i was.  when we (i) are going through something challenging, we (i) want everyone to know about it.  i was just like the hypocrite Jesus warned about in the Sermon on the Mount.  i look miserable, i act miserable, or i show off and make it known.  or even if i didn't go out of my way to make sure it was known i was fasting, boy, oh boy, did I not miss a beat in sharing when i had to politely decline a coke or a brownie.

since the fall of man, we have been set up to fail.  the Bible is clear to not rely on our accolades, our list of works, 'lest any man should boast.'  for all sin and fall short of the Glory of the Lord.  to me, "giving up" something was just another thing I would either A) fail at, or B) boast in.  it never made me feel closer to God, just slightly more religious than the girl next door that just walked in with Thin Mints.

I am NOT saying you shouldn't sacrifice.  God is calling me to live in a season, err, scratch that... undetermined amount of time, er,  a life of sacrifice right now.  and sacrifice sucks.  whether its that morning caffeine, or that sweet treat after work, or that glass of wine after your little friend had a meltdown in the middle of your observation,  giving those things up and dying to desires of the flesh go against the grain of our wants.   thinking of the things my broken 'want-er' wants, ... i'm ashamed.  because truth be told, if it's Christ + _______, we're not deeming him Lord at all.

i debated and prayed about what my season of Lent should look like.  the chubby part of me wanted to give up sweets.  the not-well-rested part of me thought about giving up facebook.  but the part of my heart, the tiny part that i've allocated to the Holy Spirit, reminded me those things still focused on me.  they are good things.  great resolutions.  ambitious ideas.  but they lacked Christ at the center.

right now, making time is a sacrifice.  even making time for me is a sacrifice, one i'm not always willing to make.  but as i thought and prayed about this, I knew the Lord was asking me for more time with Him.  time spent in worship.

i'm not a musician, and as much as i would love to get lost in song, it happens about one out of every 55 times.  fortunately, worship doesn't solely exists for those with a sweet song and good with guitar.

John 4 tells us we will worship in spirit and in truth.  Romans 12 tells us to present our bodies as a holy and living sacrifice, which is a spiritual service of worship.  Colossians 3 tells us whatever we do or say, to do all in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.

so whether the argument is for coming and resting with jesus, or getting out there and doing more in His name, i concede.  my only stake in this battle is to worship him with my mind, my soul, my body and my day-to-day life.  as much as i need to do better, as much as i need to do better,  i don't need to do anything.  i need to open my life up, to fill it with more of Him, and to allow Him to bring perfection to my mind, soul, body, and life through moment-by-moment with Him.

one way i find myself able to worship Him in spirit and in truth is through writing.  i delve into the word like I'm on a mission when I write.  I write to share my love of Him, my personal difficulties, and how He has shown the path for my feet to traverse.  how He has made a path where there was none.  i learn more of His word, i meditate more on His promises.  for me, to spend time drawing parallels from my life to His promises, and allowing myself to be vulnerable to share that for His namesake, is worship to Him.

so, in lieu of cutting something out, i'm adding more.  more time with Him.  more time in Scripture.  more of my words to be about Him.  it's not about doing more.  it's about refocusing what I'm already doing, with Him in the center.