Victory Song

Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays.  As a kiddo, it meant a visit from the Easter bunny and going to my grandparents house for our now infamous Easter egg hunt.  When I say infamous, what you need to know is that this Easter egg hunt has been going on since before I was born.  Everyone is required to participate.  So, as kids, my brother and I would have my other grandmother do practice Easter egg hunts with us so that we would be ready to compete against my aunts and uncles.  This Easter egg hunt is serious business, and we all still participate.  Last year, I finally laid claim to the title of winner.  It is a tradition that I look forward to every year with excitement and the proper amount of respect for the competition at hand.
Easter has been different this year.  I know that this statement is true for pretty much everyone else as well. We did not get to have our egg hunt.  We did not get to gather as a family.  We as Christians did not get to gather in churches to celebrate a day that is about far more than just bunnies.  We all had to find new ways to celebrate and new traditions to implement.  I don't know about you, but I needed Easter to be different this year.  I am sad to not be attempting to defend my egg hunting title and celebrating with my church family, but I needed Easter to be different this year.  I needed Easter to be about more than bunnies, candy, egg hunts, and Easter dresses; I needed it to be more than gathering with my church family to remember and celebrate the risen Lord.  I need Easter to be real.  I need it to be as real as the air I am breathing. I need the hope of Easter as the anchor of my soul.  For so many of us,  our souls have been and are currently being tossed about by the waves of this world.  It seems like every time I turn the news on there is more grief and more pain than the day before.  Also, for the record, 2020 has been a highly traumatic year for us collectively as human beings, and that's not even mentioning the personal traumas we have lived through.  My heart and soul are weary.  My heart and soul need an anchor.
When dad passed away nine months ago, I was in the middle of teaching a class at church.  I had been planning different pieces of the class in a notebook that I had gotten from one of my favorite companies that makes devotionals.  The notebook had been created to accompany the Lent study from the year prior.  The notebook went with me many days to the hospital, and it was what I had on hand as we made funeral arrangements.  In the middle of the notebook is a quote from St. Augustine.  "We are an Easter people and 'alleluia' is our song."  This quote, in a strange way, became a lifeline for me.  It reminded me that even in  the shadow of death, we can still sing because we are an Easter people.  It reminded me that death does not get the final say because Jesus stepped out of the grave crushing death and its power on the way out. Easter means that all of those that I/you have lost this year and years previously are not lost forever.  One day, there will be a great feast, and we will all be reunited.  We will cry and laugh and sing and shout and be filled with joy unending because death died that day.  It may win battles now, but its fate has already been decided and sealed.  Easter means that we can rise in the face of death because it does not get the final word.  Easter means that we can constantly have a victory song on our lips because victory has been handed to us through Jesus.  His work set us free.  Easter itself is the hope that anchors our soul, but it is not just our hope, it is our victory song.

Loss, Grief, and Pain

It's been a long time since I've posted, and the honest answer as to why is life.  In full disclosure, life these last 8 months has been incredibly painful.  It started with the sudden and painful loss of my father in July.  My dad was 58.  It was never supposed to have gone that way.  Two weeks after that one of my mom's cousins lost her daughter in a tragic car crash.  Over the next several months, there have been other losses, just of a smaller scale.  Most of them being associated with having your world turned upside down by trauma and grief.  This whole process has been very strange as well because I am living through it as myself, but I'm also living through it as a licensed therapist.  I started having flashbacks a few weeks after dad's funeral.  For me the human, those were difficult to live through and could sometimes lead to panic attacks.  For me the therapist. I tried remembering that those could eventually go away because I was not six months removed from the traumatic event and that this was probably just my brain trying to process.

I got to go on a lovely weekend trip to Colorado that was so soul refreshing to come home to my dog of 15.5 years taking a turn for the worse.  I also ended up sick from my trip, and a few days later found out that my office building had been sold, and I would need to relocate. After a month of caring for my elderly dog, he passed away a few days before Christmas. Going into the new year, I had hoped life would be different, but it has seemed that the losses keep coming.  Last month my mom lost a close friend, and Monday morning, I found out that my counselor of 4.5 years had passed away.  My heart was already broken going into Tuesday when I awoke to the news that parts and people of my city were gone.  So many lives were lost, and parts of the city I love have been destroyed.  I am blessed because I am not directly affected, but at the same time it feels like another loss. I hurt because my city hurts. I hurt because beautiful people are now gone and so many have lost everything else.  And my heart keeps asking the question can I get up? How do we rise?

I turned 30 in June right before all of this.  I was feeling a little apprehensive about about "being so old," so I turned to the Lord to frame it for me.  I asked him for a word.  I wanted a word that would reign over my 30th year of life.  He immediately gave me celebrate, not the noun version of celebration, but the command and verb, celebrate.  Normally, the Lord is kind enough to give me a verse to go with my word, but this time, I did not get one.  That is until the beginning of this year.

"Yet, I will celebrate in the Lord; I will rejoice in the God of my salvation."  

Habakkuk 3:18 

Right now, in my life, I feel like I have lost so much, and in my city, there are people who have lost so much, some, literally everything.  How does one celebrate in the face of such tragedy?  How does one celebrate in the Lord, especially when you are even potentially questioning his existence or goodness? But, then, I remembered to take a step back and zoom out on that verse in Habakkuk.

"Though the fig tree does not bud, 

and there are no grapes on the vine,

though the olive crop fails, and the fields produce no food,

though there are no sheep in the pen

and no cattle in the stalls,

yet, I will celebrate in the Lord; I will rejoice in the God of my salvation." 

Habakkuk 3:17-18

Verse 18 is written after the writer listed everything that was going horribly wrong.  I mean I don't have fig trees, but my world has been shaken to the core. I have not lost everything, but sometimes it feels that way, and some truly have. The command to celebrate is not about God saying ignore the pain.  I feel like, for me at least, the command to celebrate is a way of rising up in the face of pain, tragedy, loss, heartache, grief, all of it.  Celebrating in the Lord is about looking at the horror and not ignoring it, but looking beyond it to God.  It is a deep clinging to the hope and faith of who God is and all that He can do.  It is looking to Him to bring beauty from the ashes and rubble, to rebuild and restore, to make us ones who are known as people who can rebuild anything. I have to choose to celebrate in the Lord.  I have to choose to rise up.  I have to look at the beautiful flower and receive its beauty, even with the tornado damage behind it.  Although, it feels like I have nothing, I have to remember that I can still celebrate in my God. And, sometimes we celebrate with tears in our eyes and an ache in our hearts, but none the less, we celebrate.

Lessons from the Garden

I have been learning a lot about gardening the last few months.  To put it mildly, I've been a little consumed.  The smart thing to do would have been to start slowly.  You know, like get a couple of bulbs and see how that goes, but in true fashion to myself, I got the bulbs along with around 3,000 seeds. Getting the bulbs figured out, taken care of, and growing has been an endeavor, but, they are blooming and in a most beautiful fashion.  I have had so much joy watching them grow and bloom. It has truly been a place where God has brought beauty and joy in abundance.
 The seeds, on the other hand, are another story.  Never again do I want to seed start 3,000 seeds.  There are also so many things that can go wrong with seeds.  Which has lovingly been casting a spotlight on my desire to control. You see, I have put a lot of time and effort in to planting these, and I want them to do what they are supposed to.  I did the 1+1.  Now, I should be getting 2, but so far, nothing.  My sun room in filled with trays of dirt, that contain seeds, but no sprouts.  So, the questions have started.  Did I give them enough water? Did I put them in a place with enough sun?  Are they too cold? Are they too warm?  Did I plant them right?  Is there a way to plant them right?  And so, the questions circle my mind.  Really, they point back to the main question - Did I do my part right?
Somewhere along the way, I started believing if I do my part, then whoever or whatever should do its part as well.
Too often, I apply this logic to God.  "Ok God, I did my part.  I read my Bible, I pray everyday, and I serve faithfully at the church I regularly attend, so why haven't you done your part? Why haven't you shown up in the places that I need you to? Why have you not fulfilled your promises?"These are painful questions to ask, and questions we don't really want to ask.  When we look at the empty seed trays of our lives, no one wants to wonder about how involved God is in their life.  No one wants to think about God not "doing His part," so we do the next best thing.  We blame ourselves.  We try harder, hoping that if we enter 1+1 into the calculator enough times it will finally spit out a 2 for us because the terrifying fact that the 2 may never come is too much to bear.
The last few months with these seeds and this garden, God has used.  He uses it daily to remind me about this deeply flawed way of viewing the world.  He reminds me that life is not a math equation.  Life is about faith, faith to believe that He knows my needs and when to meet those.  It is about hope, hope to believe that He has already done the math, and in His kingdom, it comes out to a 2 every time.  It is about me trusting my Creator even when there appears to be no 2 in sight, because just like seeds there is often far more going on than I can see.
So, I wait.  I wait with hopeful expectation that these seeds that I have planted have all they need to grow and become what they were made to be.  I wait in faith knowing that a seed's one job is to grow.  I wait in trust holding on to the truth that just because I did 1+1 does not mean that I will get a 2, but my God sees me and knows exactly what He is doing.
The funny thing about seeds and flowers is that they do not think about growing or blooming.  They just face the sun and let God do the rest.

Lent and Matthew 13

A few weeks ago, I went on a women's retreat with my church.  It was so much fun.  We got to spend time learning more about prayer and different ways to pray and connect with God.  One woman shared about how she connects with God through worship and let us listen to one of her favorite songs.  As I was listening, one of the lines really caught my attention.  "Would you sell yourself to buy the one you've found?"  Partly it caught me because the line is beautiful, but it also caught my attention because it reminded me of something the Lord had shown me a few weeks earlier.  I was reading in Matthew and came across the parables about the hidden treasure and the merchant.

 Matthew 13:44-46

“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls.  When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it."

 As I was reading, I asked, "Lord, what are you trying to show me?"  For the first time ever, I thought of these parables in reverse.  Instead of the gospel being what we sell everything for, it was Jesus who sold everything for us.  Which, He did.  He left His home and perfect communion with the Father and Spirit because He loved us so much.  He saw us as the treasure worth selling everything for, including His life.  He literally gave everything for us.   I know it may seem sacrilegious, but just sit with that for a moment.  Let it sink in.  If that is true, then it begs the question, do I see Jesus that way too?  Do I see Him as being worth giving everything up for?
This leads me to Lent.  I did not grow up practicing Lent, and I didn't really know what it was until recently, but the practice has definitely grown on me.  The past few years, I have given something up for the 40 days of Lent, so this year, I was trying to figure out what to give up.  Then, I listened to a podcast about creating space in our busy lives.  The tag line of the podcast was how to live an unhurried, busy life.  As I listened, I realized that Lent for me this year is not about what I am giving up, but what I am creating space for.  Yes, with fasting, we create more space for God in our lives, but fasting for me has often turned into the list of do's and don't's that I can follow with precision. This practice of creating space, trying to identify the things that encroach on my space, and trusting the Lord enough to rest when He says rest has been so challenging.  There has been no right or wrong way.  I have no real way to "measure my success."  I like to measure success, that is easy, even when it is challenging, but learning a new rhythm of life, that is another whole story.   I have been trying to lean into where the Lord is calling me and what that looks like.  In the spirit of honesty, this place of calling has been challenging.  I know it sounds cushy to "create space," but for someone who likes to get a quick boost of self-esteem by what I can accomplish in a day, it has been so hard.  This attempted change in trusting my beloved agenda and to do list every day to the Lord, is so disruptive. It is pushing me to trust my worth to Him, to trust the to do list to Him, to trust what I see needs to be done vs. what actually needs to be done, to trust the timing and planning of the One who sold everything for me.  
This Lent, I am learning that new life rhythms are difficult, and I am not doing it perfectly, but this isn't about doing things perfectly.  I am learning that the One who sold everything to save me is the only One whose values I should live by and the only One whose opinion of me truly gets to count.  The only One who freely gives time, self-esteem, and worth is the only One who is worth selling everything for.
So, this season, me selling my everything looks like stepping into creating space and trusting that He is holding everything else.

When We Are Not Ok

Well, it has definitely been a while since I have had a chance to write.  It seems 2018 ended for me just as I spent many of the days, keeping my head above water. And while 2019 has been fun, let's be real it has been a whirlwind so far.  So, I am excited to finally be back!
Usually, every year, I enjoy sitting down at the first of the year to review how my previous year went, what my accomplishments were, what my struggles were.  A few days past New Year's I realized that I was actively avoiding this.  Any free time was spent elsewhere.  When I stopped to check in with myself on this, I became deeply aware that I did not want to review the last year.  The idea of reading through my journals, gratitude list, or even planner felt overwhelmingly painful.  Last year was beautiful and painful.  No, I did not have any major losses, no one died; I still have a job and my health, but it was painful.  Since this realization, I have spent my time trying to convince myself that, yes, my year was painful, but others had it worse.  Others suffered more.  What a trick of the enemy.  I don't know about you but oftentimes when something painful has happened, I believe the lie that others have it worse, therefore I do not get to grieve or be hurt.  I deny myself the space to not be ok, and instead turn to being busy and all of the other unhealthy ways I try to medicate my broken heart.  Heartbreak is heartbreak no matter what the cause.
 We are in March now, and I did sit down a few weeks ago to review my year.  It turns out I needed to do a lot of forgiving God and myself before I could go through everything.  Yes, I was really mad at God for the ways I perceived He had failed me, but I was more mad at myself.  I was refusing to forgive myself because I believed that I could not "blame" God, which left me as the only other option.  I'm learning that sometimes things just do not go as we believe they should or thought they would, and there really isn't anyone to blame, even yourself.
What I did find when I went through everything was, yes, the painful moments, but I found far more of God's grace, mercy, love, and kindness.  When I went back and looked at the picture as I whole, I realized that He had shown up time and time again in my moments of pain and anger to keep my heart alive, to give me what I needed to keep fighting.  Even when my anger was directed at Him, He still fought for me and showed up for me.  Sometimes He showed up in a song on the radio, another time in the most magnificent rainbow.  He showed up.  His love was and is faithful.
The truth is it has taken me about 6 weeks to finish this post, and it's funny how much has changed from when I started writing this one to now.  When I started, I was still very much hurting and trying to figure out what to do with all the broken pieces.  Now, I have invited the Lord in to bring healing to the broken and hurting places, and He has.  That does not mean that the He has waved a magic wand and everything is all better, but He has brought peace and hope and joy.  He has shown up in some truly incredible ways over the last few weeks, all the while reminding me that He always finishes the stories He starts. 
Friends, I don't know what you have been through in your life, the past year, or the past week, but I want to remind you that it is ok to not be ok.  Just because your pain is "smaller" than someone else's does not mean that you cannot still grieve.  Pain is pain.  Let yourself hurt, but don't stay there forever.  Ask the Lord to come in and start healing.  Ask Him to give you a fresh perspective on a recent pain or hardship.  Ask Him to show you how He will turn this for good.  Ask Him to show you where in your pain and suffering He gave you more of Himself.  I have faith that He will.  I have faith that He has already shown up for you, and He will again.

Lord, give us the eyes to see you and come heal our broken places.

Joy

My word for the year is joy.  I know that kind of sounds strange to have a word for the year, but I heard about it on a podcast and thought I would try it out.  The idea is that instead of coming up with a billion resolutions that you will more than likely end up abandoning, you ask God what He wants to shift and change, what your theme for the year is.  Before I even heard of this concept at the end of last year, I felt like I was hearing a theme of joy being spoken by the Lord for my 2018.  I even questioned if joy was really supposed to be my word, but stopped when I asked the Lord for a verse for the year and my Bible opened to Isaiah 35:10.  He made it clear; my word is joy.
With the year I have had, that has been hard to believe.  When I started 2018, I believed that joy sounded like the perfect word.  Who doesn't want more joy?  I also thought that joy would be a great fit for the things I believed were coming my way in this year.  But, this year did not follow my plan.  I'll be honest, this was not a bad year at all.  It has been a year filled with a lot of beautiful and wonderful things.  It has also been a year that challenged my faith to its core, and ultimately a lot of the heartbreak I experienced was because life did not go as I thought it would.  For over half this year, I placed my focus on what I thought should be happening and the joy I thought I should be having.  And, as I am sure you can guess, there was not much joy to be found in that place.  I kept telling myself that maybe when I was given the word joy, it was because I was meant to learn joy in every situation, but there still did not seem to be much joy.  Happiness, sure, but joy, nope.
Until, the past few weeks.  You see, the past few weeks, God has been working hard on helping me shift my perspective, off of my plan and on to Him.  That doesn't mean I have stopped planning, because, let's be real, I highly doubt I will ever stop planning, but He has invited me to plan with Him, walk with Him, do life with Him.  Funny thing is these past few weeks have been filled with more joy than I could have ever imagined. It has not just been little bits here or there; it has been overflowing, abundant joy.  This morning as I was getting ready, I was thinking about all the joy that has appeared and how grateful I am to just be enjoying it, and I realized that joy really is supposed to be my word.  Then, the thought hit me, What if joy is not about the moments and things that we think are supposed to bring us joy, but instead it is about being present and grateful with where the Lord has me right now?  When I heard the word joy originally, I thought that it made sense because of the things that I believed would be happening in this year, but then those things did not happen, and I had spent my whole year waiting to hang all of my joy on those things.  But, what if I lived instead with open hands waiting for the Lord to fill them with joy in His love and joy in doing life with Him? As Stasi Eldredge says, "Joy is our birthright."  What if, joy is meant to be found when we stop looking for it and trying to create it?  I realized this morning, that the joy of the past few weeks has been not dependent upon my circumstances, but instead it has been dependent upon the Lord, His provision, goodness, and whimsy. 
The last few weeks have been chaotic, busy, strange, and beautiful.  I have watched as the Lord has met my needs in ways I could not expect.  All I have done is sit back and laugh at the beauty.  We still have a few more weeks left in this year.  I don't know what these coming weeks will look like, but I expect joy, abundant joy.

and the redeemed of the Lord will return
and come to Zion with singing,
crowned with unending joy.
Joy and gladness will overtake them,
and sorrow and sighing will flee.

Isaiah 35:10 

(Photo cred: Ransomed Heart Ministries)

 

Creativity and Comparison

I think the quote goes something like, “Comparison is the thief of all joy.” It’s from Theodore Roosevelt. While I completely agree, I would also argue that comparison is the killer of creativity.  If I am being honest, I felt the call to start writing several months ago.  Instead of listening to the voice within that was telling me to start this journey, I chose to listen to all of the reasons I have no business attempting to write, comparison being the main one.
I have always been notorious about comparing myself to others.  In school, it was grades, looks, athletic ability (or lack there of). As an adult, it has morphed more into comparing my work, still looks, friendships, how much I am serving, and pretty much just about anything you can think of.  The really sticky side of comparison is that it can quickly lead to judgement of others and myself.  And, as the saying goes, I am my own worst critic.  For a few months, I let the lies of "I'm not good enough" and "I have nothing to offer" keep me silent and from stepping into a place where God was calling me.  I looked around my life and social media outlets at the people that might be reading what I wrote, and I kept talking myself out of it.  Partly, writing or creativity of any kind takes vulnerability and courage, and I did not know if I was ready to share what was going on in my life in such a public way.  I also looked at my friends, several of whom read this blog, knowing that their writing abilities far outshine mine.  They are writers, editors, and hold actual degrees in writing.  Their work is amazing, and so are they. That part inside of me kept telling me that I would never be as good as they are, so why try.
The Lord kindly pushed me past those beliefs, showing me that what I have to offer, however imperfect, may be just what someone needs, someone that no one else could reach.  He also reminded me that this story, my story, anything I write, is not mine; it is all His.  "If I call you to write, it is to tell my story."  I was also reminded of this idea at the Captivating retreat.  They were talking about the idea of how we all want to have an irreplaceable role in this world, how we all somewhere inside have the desire for our lives and what we do to matter.  Comparison was brought up and how it robs us of our ability to see what we do have to contribute.  The speaker then used an illustration that has stuck with me.  She shared that each of our circumstances and histories leave marks on us, marks unique to who we are that no one else will ever have, and those marks are the lenses through which we see the world.  Because we all have different lenses, we each see the world in different ways.  Like, if you could only see close up and I could only see far away, it would take each of us working together to bring about the full picture.  I loved that thought because it reminded me that what I have to say and contribute in all areas of my life, writing, creating, counseling, serving, bring pieces to the picture that only I can contribute.  When I am living into my irreplaceable role, I am bringing to this hurting world just what it needs.
So, my challenge to you, friend, is to figure out what you feel your heart calling you to do, more importantly, God calling you to do.  (Side note:  If that "calling" falls into the category of God says it's a bad idea in the Bible, then reevaluate that.) Take the time to sort that out, talk it through with God, family, and close friends.  Then, do not let comparison stand in your way.  Do not let it silence you any longer.  This world needs what you have to bring to the table, even if it isn't the best or most shiny.  We still need it and you.  So, for now, I will continue to write, to share the story I am living in all of its imperfection because the story I am living and writing is His, and if He has called me to write, it is to tell His story.