the long journey to peace, to Life

Several years ago I was given a dream that felt comfy and exciting.

Through a painful process and time, I learned the importance of patience and trust.

I thought surely God must be cruel because I even prayed the desire would go away and still, it remained.

How could I possibly be given such a desire and yet be waiting, still, more than a handful of years later?

I felt tortured -- gutted and raw -- and in that vulnerable state I was faced with a decision.

     Do I keep trying to make this dream happen?
          Or do I simply wait and trust?

     But what if it doesn't happen?
          What if it turns out my dream is something I made up?

There were times when I wanted to run away from everything in my life and even crawl into a me-size grave and fall asleep forever.

It seemed easier to just divert my eyes from the dream and even ignore the tugs at my heart. 

I nearly destroyed my marriage and gave up my child, thinking I wasn't good enough for the dream that hounded me, and perhaps I wasn't even good enough for them.

I gathered us three and we pursued a new place to live with wide open spaces and sunshine nearly everyday. I felt free and started to learn what life is like without the familiar memories from my growing up years. I thought I needed a fresh start and a new me.

Within two years we turned ourselves right back around and ended up in the last place I ever wanted to be -- Home.

The community where I was raised now felt scarier than ever. Everyone remembered the "before me" and I feared they wouldn't see the newness of me.

As it turned out, though I could sense the change deep below the surface, the "new me" was still only a seed. There would be a handful more years to live through until I would bloom and beauty would unfurl.

God asked me if I would stay with the man He allowed me to marry, even if I was sometimes irritated or annoyed by the discomfort of living with someone different than me.

My answer was a vehement "No!" at one point.

He had asked me numerous times to let go of the dream I tried to coerce him into making happen. Time and again I'd try to let go, only to fail over and over again; I just couldn't make this wanting go away.

I tried to coerce my groom to give up on me, convinced I was otherwise just postponing the inevitable because surely he would get frustrated with me enough to eventually give up.

Eventually, I realized my groom was right. What seemed like a good thing had become an obsession. It was my fear of thinking I wasn't good enough that was infiltrating into every single aspect of my life, including my interactions and relationship with him.

I needed to consider letting the dream go and trust that I am good enough, as I am.
     But how?

After actually trying to make my groom go, I finally realized something profound: He stayed.

     No matter how many glasses I threw and broke . . .
     Or how many times I careened out of our driveway and down the street in reckless anger . . .
     Or how much I yelled unfair accusations and ugly, colorful words at him . . .

The man who committed his life to me actually stayed.

I finally understood he was honest all the times his words said my curves were attractive and my edges weren't all there is about me. Most especially, I finally understood my groom's love is genuine when he gave me the space to process out loud.

Even though my behavior certainly hasn't been "good," it turns out I am good enough -- as I am. 

I courageously received his love, choosing to believe him and set my doubts free. After nearly 14-years, I finally married him last summer . . . this time, in my heart.

: : : 

Over a year ago I imagined sitting on a front porch with my hands cupped around a warm cup of tea, and seeing storm clouds slowly make their way across the sky.

I could feel the angst in me as the storm clouds began to whirl and twirl, and I considered making my way inside my house where I would find safety and comfort from my groom. Since he had become a person who I (finally) found rest in being with, my initial reaction was to go inside since a storm was about to brew and let him calm my restless heart.

Just then, I felt a stirring in me to stay, as if it were an invitation.

     Wait.

More storm clouds. More whirling and twirling.

     Will you stay? 
          Even now . . . in the midst of the storm . . . will you stay? 

     Will you trust Me? 
          I will teach you to rest, in the midst of the storm . . . now, as it is . . . 

The clouds thickened and the sky grew ever darker in my imagined moment, and I started to consider what happens during a storm.

I thought of the moment when the storm clouds part and the brilliant colors poke through the darkened canvas of the sky. That parting in the sky doesn't last long and it's sometimes really easy to miss, especially when we're tucked safe inside where it's more comfortable to weather a storm.

Brilliant orange and pink colors make their way through the clouds, though their beauty is not always indicative of the end of a storm. There is beauty in the midst. And we could miss it.

As if it's a reminder to Hope, the call to stay teaches us we can trust and rest. 

This vision grew a passion within me to encourage others to stay . . . to Chase Hope in the midst of the storm -- not necessarily for the storm to end and the hard story to be pretty-bow tied, but rather to stay long enough to see the beauty in the midst of the fog and the grey.

     To hope for His glory to be revealed in some way, even if it's not as we would design it to be.

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion?
Come to me.
Get away with me and you'll recover life.
I'll show you how to take a real rest. 
Walk with me and work with me -- watch how I do it. 
Learn the unforced rhythms of Grace.
I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. 
Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."
(Matthew 11:28 The Message)

: : : 

Soon after the storm vision, I was given a dream that I tried to fling wide onto someone else . . . anyone else. It kicked at my insides like a strange-feeling butterfly just waiting to bust out and fly.

     I itched and scratched, restless and irritated.

This dream just didn't make sense. It wasn't comfortable or exciting. It was annoying and just sounded like work that would interrupt my now quiet, and rested soul. I didn't need to prove anything or achieve anything anymore. I was happy and content with life, as it was.

     Still, I itched.

This irritating "dream" kept kicking me in the belly like a fetus in utero. Though I didn't want to admit it could be real, I simply had to pay attention to this.

     Develop a magazine . . . and name it, "C'est La Vie" -- life, as it is.

     Use this to envelope others around what you've discovered:

          . . . that you can trust me, and you can rest
          . . . even in the midst of life's storms.

It was settled. I would yield.

The journey I lived brought me to a passionate understanding that I can trust Our Creator -- God. I learned that I can rest, even as the battle rages and the storm billows.

I began to believe I am good enough, as I am. 

"Strong" was redefined for me.

I now see Strong as the courage to hold all things loose and to trust God -- hoping -- not for a happy storybook ending, but rather for peace

     . . . even in the midst of the storm
     . . . even if the storm never ends
     . . . even if the dreams my heart longs for never come true.

God gave me the desire to develop a magazine that seeks to dethrone the typical, glossy ones telling readers how to have the perfect body, the perfect children, the perfect house, the perfect marriage, the perfect sex . . . the perfect life -- as if theirs simply isn't good enough, as it is.

"C'est La Vie: The Magazine," the dream God planted within my heart and that I resisted, will be birthed about the time my 10-plus year dream of having another child will be born, the dream I tried to make go away and that remained through the years -- even after my hard surrender.

Having a second child wasn't something I necessarily wanted. It was a dream I believed with all my heart God wanted for us. I wanted it so badly just because I thought it would prove He is real. I imagined saying, "Look! See? God did this! He is real!"

If there's anything my journey taught me, it's that I don't need a baby to prove God is real. 

"C'est La Vie: The Magazine" reminds us that our greatest offering is to unwrap the grace to simply be -- as. we. are. -- and to trust God has purpose for life -- as. it. is.

His heart cry is for us to know we can trust Him . . . we can rest.

     What if I didn't say "Yes"?
     What if I didn't stay?

     What if I didn't choose courage to see what it is God had to show me?

It makes me want to throw up even thinking about how different my life might look right now if I hadn't chosen to surrender my comfort and step with God into the fog-laden path of life.

Deep contentment and joy for life has finally overwhelmed me. I might not always feel this secure, even though I know He will always hold me and keep me safe.

Even if the deep fears that try to niggle at me end up coming true, I know there will be sufficient Grace when I need it.

I don't have to imagine the worst in an attempt to prepare myself for a possible hardship. God will comfort me and He will be enough. Besides, I could never prepare enough for what His Grace wants to show me.

Even in the midst of the storm, He will cascade beauty across the canvas of our sky.

Christianity as I knew it was disassembled in my life. In its place is faith -- genuine faith.

After many years, I finally came to see the wait for my dream as a gift. I didn't need the dream to happen anymore. The journey was about so much more. I now know I am treasured and deeply loved -- as I am.

After such an ugly and hard journey of stubbornness and fear-living, a beautiful peace washed over me to accept my story -- as it is. 

"C'est La Vie: The Magazine" is about to make its debut, and soon thereafter will my second son.

I don't need to see what either of these dreams end up looking like in order to love them now.

Joy and gratitude has come to me without needing to see the proof. 

As these dreams grow their lungs, I imagine them scream: Look at what God did!

     I can already hear their screams of Glory . . . of Life.

Linking with Jennifer

on holding onto hope

The Boy-Man is identifying with his father more and more these days.

It hurts me to watch this process of his growing up. Boys are supposed to need their momma's. (And does he think I don't notice that he's been trying out calling me simply, Mom?)

Deep in my heart I know this growing up and apart is good, so very good. It's a moving from being dependent to inter-- and in--dependent. 

For this child, I see inter-dependence in action as he is attentive about the needs of other people within our family and the world around him, versus being exclusively focused on his own gain. He's learning valuable executive function skills, while also being incredibly connected to others.

The Boy has a different view than a lot of his peers about most everything, which might be why he sometimes doesn't seem to fit well. I'm okay with this more than I used to be as I've been deliberately trying to fixate on more of his heart and less of his habits.

I've worried that The Boy-Man won't be able to survive on his own as I've cleaned up his crumbs and reminded him time after time to use a napkin, yet that fear is ever more loosed as I watch him increasingly resist my accolades and instruct me on exactly how to grocery shop since his dad and he usually are the ones to do the job. The Boy tends to care more about speech intonations than whether he can replace the sheets on his bed. Yet, I can count on him to give me the lo-down on the morning news, reminding me to pause and consider the world beyond my own.

My groom is a good model to learn from when it comes to both inter-- and in--dependence. He puts my needs and our son's needs ahead of his own, while also doing whatever he needs to do for himself. He's certainly not one of those men who don't know how to make up a grocery list or cook a meal. He makes connections between my quick kiss, hurried state of being and changing of my outfit, identifying nine times out of ten that I'm disappointed with my body or recent choices that I've made and therefore distance myself from him out of shame.

I watch and listen to the environment and tone in our home. The emphasis is more on others versus personal fulfillment and achievement, and being all lookatmeish as I can tend to be, I give credit to The Man (and ultimately, of course, to God).

Recently, I found myself expressing relief to my groom that I wasn't pregnant, even though we've been "trying" (in a loose whatever, yet hopeful kind of way). With some careful and gentle excavating of my heart, my groom was able to help me uncover that fear wants to hold back my hope . . . because it's just so overwhelmingly painful and risky to love.

Experiencing our son's maturing, now nearly a decade into life, I've wrestled with wondering what my place is within our family and most of all The Boy's life. I've wondered what my ultimate purpose is, forgetting that it changes with time.

I nursed our son and deliberately kept to a thoughtfully orchestrated schedule. I held him and sang to him. I read to him and wrote notes to him. I've whispered affirmation to him as he's laid his head on his pillow each night, praying over and with him. I've done so much more than this measly list, and yet I wonder what my role is now and what it will be as time presses on and he distances himself even more.

The memories I have of my relationships with my parents are thicker now that The Boy is older. Fear gets tangled up in my moments with him. I thought I was over all the hurt that I had growing up and it seems as though it's resurfacing all over again. A part of me wonders if it's just a matter of facing and accepting my story now that I'm at the age I'm at, but fear snarls at me and tempts me to jump ship so that I don't make the same mistakes . . . yet, how would leaving be any better?! I know I sound crazy and might even be half (or mostly) crazy, so I settle on one big jumbled thought:

     There-Is-No-Way-I-Can-Possibly-Do-This-Again-And-Someone-Please-Hold-Me!

My groom will likely have The Conversation with our son about what it means to be "A Man" in the pubescent sort of ways. He's the one who coaches him with his sports. And he's the one who teaches him about everything else, including all his academics. My groom will teach The Boy how to balance a checkbook and pay the bills. And he'll be the one to teach him to drive. I often pray, Please Lord don't let him die young! because I'm just so afraid of messing it up.

My groom is the teacher and I'm the nurturer. Though we both flip-flop our roles on occasion, and mostly it's like a dance, I try to remember not to be my groom and instead, to simply be me.

I am learning to make myself available to listen to the Boy-Man's stories. Even if I've heard them before or know what he's about to say, I am learning to be interested in what he has to say. I'm learning to be a sounding board for him and to give him an opportunity to practice knowing something and presenting his ideas and thoughts.

The Boy is slipping away from me little-by-little. He stands like a limp noodle when I give him a hug and wraps his arms around my neck with affection much less often, unless he thinks he can take me down in some aggressive and stealth, ninja-like way. He scolds me and keeps me accountable to doing things the right way. Yet, when we're in a store I notice that The Boy reaches for my hand and pats my bottom like his father does, gently wrapping his arm around me. He'll sit closer to me sometimes at night when we're watching a television show together and he sometimes pats my knee just as affectionately as his father.

It's a clunky time for me to know my role and I'm sure it's becoming increasingly wonky for The Boy. He notices things about me that he never noticed before and the whole idea of what he might be thinking scares me because he can be so quiet, yet so talkative at the same time.

There are books upon books that have tried to explain all that I see happening right in front of me, and there are millions upon millions of women who've gone before me and experienced the gradual growing-apart of a Boy-Man. Probably every single woman has questioned her place and role as her son has grown, so I can trust I'm not alone. When I dig deep, truth tells me that I will continue to have a meaningful role in The Boy-Man's life. Yet, I also know that growing always hurts. The truth isn't always enough to set a person free.

I still hold tight to a dream that we'll have another of our own someday, though all that I'm experiencing now sometimes makes me think that hope is too risky. In telling my groom that I was relieved to not be pregnant, what I really meant is that I'm relieved that I don't have to face the push-pull of relationship and the vulnerability of hope.

I forget that even though the moments won't last forever, it all matters.

I forget that my commitment to centering us around the table together for most every meal encourages conversation, enveloping The Boy into more than just a part of my day.

I forget that sharing my heart with him makes him actively involved in the moments of my life, teaching him about the grittiness of grace.

I forget that I also help to condition the environment in our home and that my expression of joy helps him to see moments as gifts.

I forget that the way I respond to my groom's affection is teaching The Boy how to be brave and to boldly love.

I forget that how I receive love teaches him about the sensitive nature of a woman's heart, preparing him to consider perspectives different from his and to slow himself enough to bolster a woman to be, as she is.

I forget that one prayer can make a profound impact, even long after it's spoken and remembered, and that it isn't my job to measure the worth of anything that has breath.

Truthfully, I really am relieved not to be pregnant with a second child right now. Sometimes even the risks in life are incredibly overwhelming to consider. My heart just doesn't have the space for more than what's right in front of me.

I still hope, but even that seems like too much. Nowadays I hope differently than I used to. The hope I have today is that I'm actively being prepared, each moment-by-moment, for the dreams my heart struggles to hold. My heart is constantly reshaping and growing into each new moment as it comes and I have to trust that God knows what's best for me and the world I'm a part of.

For now, I'm choosing to rest . . . and accept this life, as it is.

I'm choosing to live. Because, this really is enough. And for this, so am I . . . as I am.

on being willing

It's a place I've talked about before in my dreams as a place I've always wanted to live. Yet, before this week I've never even been here.

Everything in our life makes that dream seem so impossible. So foolish and silly. Too reckless and irresponsible. Truthfully, I'm afraid to even consider it.

You see, we've had a big move happen in our story that it didn't go particularly smooth. It was hard, and so I'm tentative and hesitant . . . and just so damn afraid.

I'm afraid of taking my family to places we aren't ready for yet, and of the consequences that come with risk. The last time we moved away I was excited and basked in the big open sky of where we were. A girl's gotta spread her wings, you know, and anyone who knows me knows that I needed to do just that.

Our last move had consequences that are still mucked up and that still affect us. And though we've been incredibly blessed, I still struggle to think that messy is my fault and is to be avoided at all costs; even though I know and believe that all is purposed, without a shadow of a doubt.

Unity between my groom and me is something I struggled hard and long over. It came with a gutting and a breaking, and an ultimate surrender and willingness for what. ever. I'd give up my dreams for him if that's what I needed to do to preserve the willingness for unity God's worked out in me. And for this girl, let me tell you, that's no small thing!

I want the itch of this dream (and others that go with it) to go away. 

It feels like a big, fat bug sitting on my shoulders and I've screamed at God to Get. It. Off! 

     Yet, beauty chases me and dreams follow me, and I can't not want that . . .
          even that which I cannot really, fully see.

I'm still that girl who wants to spread her wings; the girl who loves big, wide open skies and who is always excited to go where beauty is. This girl, though, has grown and she's afraid of herself wanting to move too far ahead of where God wants us now.

As much as I'm willing to go, I'm also definitely willing to stay. And, again, that is truly no small thing! 

I used to do almost anything to maintain comfort. Nowadays, I walk straight into warm feet and sweaty hands to pursue Hope with a middle name of Risk. I can't avoid it and have found that actually the discomfort lies in the not pursuing and in keeping focused on comfort, instead.

I'm doing things these days like reaching out for meetings with people for no specific reason, to follow a sometimes silly and stupid-seeming nudge, all the while surrendering any expectation of anything specific from happening . . . again, no small thing.

You see, there's no fear when we do what we're led to do. When we go where we need to go at the time, even though it may not seem to fit or linearly line up. Sure, there might be a smidge of nervousness, but there's also a peace that comes when we simply do the exact things that we know not doing would bring the most uncomfortable feeling of all.

I'm not sure what I'm saying or what I'm doing, except to say this:

     I'm loosening my grip, I'm willing, and yet I'm still pursuing.

this is my worship.

fight

It's the start of a new year and folks are talking of dreams and things.

Friends are launching new projects and I'm feeling a little left out.

Last year wasn't a year of pursuing different and big for me. It was of publicly small and learning to be more quiet.

My heart roared loud and the Heavens shook in my last year, though, as my heart was jolted and incredibly provoked.

I was challenged to step into me more than I ever have been before . . .
     to denounce the fear of what you might think, or he or she.

It was a year of choosing what is more right for me and this story He's writing in me.

Last year was a year of willingness being churned up, for whatever may come and whatever may be, and for all of whatever once was.

Of sacrificing comfort and choosing to say "OK," even though it isn't how I'd write the script.

It was a year of leaning into Real more than ever, not shirking or hiding.

And so this new year, I stand with truthful disappointment and anxious anticipation and together we fight the urge to run away.

We trust in God's perfect timing and that now is for purpose, just as it is.

this is my worship.

choosing Loose

God has been showing me that every day matters, every moment has value, and every experience is purposed. So I've learned to hold on tight and value all as He allows. I've immersed myself in the truth that all is, indeed, grace.

I struggled in 2013 with my own weaknesses, limitations, wants, angst, and embarrassing temptations. God used them all to refine me, over and over again showing me His true and never ending love for me.

The word Choose kept finding me last year. God called me out of the cave where my habit was to hover and hide, and he invited me to a seat at the table to experience joy and freedom to Be, as I am. He told me I was capable and He would bring the rest.

He helped me to be willing to surrender my wants by taking me through what felt like a gutting of pride and want. It was an incredibly painful, yet ultimately peace-filled journey. He led me to eventually choose His will over mine and to choose real -- accepting what is, as it is (especially me, as I am).

It's up to me to choose to receive His gifts and what I discover is the greatest peace I could never create.

Though my life and my days aren't the way they would be had I written the script, they are what they are and I can't make them be any different. I've tried to force things to be certain ways and people to be as I think I want them to be, only to admit the exhaustion that overwhelms me through all the wasted trying. I learned the gift found in yielding by simply saying I am willing and I saw how He did, indeed, bring the rest.

I get anxious sometimes that maybe I've made up my dreams, or that maybe they're a reflection of want. I worry and wonder that maybe they won't come to be. I see the ways others seem to get to do things important and meaning-filled and I sometimes feel left out, as though I'm standing in the periphery and out of the crowd.

I want to be at the drawing board to plan and launch new and big things, yet I realize that what I truly want most is to rest in the trust that my part and my place right here isn't wasted. 

He specifically aligned me with specific people for specific purposes, weaving me with hearts in personal and quiet ways. I see this and I choose to give thanks as I remember how He's told me that all of this is no small thing.

God has given me a deep wanting to trust Him deeply and more. He's led me to let go of the anger and frustration that boils up when I don't get what I think I want and try to have . . .

     to loosen my grip on life and not bind every idea and vision up so tight or box up hope . . .

     to let loose order and control (a reflection of my fear) . . .

     to hold loose the tendrils of my dreams, not expecting them to be what I think.

Even though I am restless for unrealized dreams, I still can choose hope. I can expect Him to astound me and awe me as He continues to blow the roof off of my faith. So with His lead, I am stepping into 2014 with Loose, a word that reflects trust, surrender, willingness, and rest.

this is my worship.

fly

these dreams i have held tightly are beginning to untether.

for so long i've let my grip be strong, nearly balling these visions up like a used tissue.

my palms sweaty with anxiousness as i've wondered has led me astray in wander. 

impatience has been the side effect of my fear that these dreams are wasteful and nothingness.

faith seemed like such work, too hard to even consider a simmer and slow bake.

a quick-fix has been my guise for nourishment, when really i need the long kind of cook.

i need all the moments of my story to process, to ferment if you will, for the best kind of health.

the process, sometimes seeming strange and odd, i now see as wondrous and a gift.

His Bread is different from what i've thought or even wanted.

i've cringed and felt the pangs of nausea rise over the appearance of what He brings me to.

yet, now i see how what He gifts is yeasty-like, so sweet in time.

and time is what makes these dreams loosen, and fly.

this is my worship. 

____________________________________

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I think Mary wrestled, too

A writer friend asks me a question about that Mary story when she responded to the Angel Gabriel after learning she was about to birth God's Son. She asks me:

"Did Mary really simply reply to God with,
     'OK, Lord, I trust you. Whatever you think is best. Do unto me as you see fit'?

"Or was there more of a discussion?"

"Because, that was a pretty big dream God was inviting her to join, you know?"

And I do.

I can see it now from the other side of where Mary was standing. I'm smiling and I'm just so grateful for her willingness, yet I am certain that there was a wrestle.

Right away I think about a private book group conversation I'm a part of around vulnerability and shame.

I suggest to my friend that maybe the people of the Bible wrestled just like we do, keeping their wonder and doubt and insecurities all tucked inside deep.

I'm sure the Biblical heroes wrestled. Jesus hadn't been resurrected yet and they didn't know the peace His Spirit would bring. They were faced with a choice to believe things there was absolutely no evidence of yet (from their point of view) and it was so different from what we have to base our faith on.

Latching onto dreams is plain risky business. 

How we come to live by faith is so profoundly personal and I venture to guess we all have faced a moment or two (or twenty gazillion) where we've wondered if we're the only one with the doubt.

Vulnerability can shame us.

I like to think Mary wrestled hard and fought the same questions I fight so often. Yet, I consider a different view.

What was she to do? I mean, pregnant?! Mary knew that wasn't of her own accord and so the reality of what was happening was the evidence she needed.

Some. Thing. was happening. And it was profound.

When you know without a shadow of a doubt that you had nothing to do something, you kind of have no choice but to believe. As crazy as that something may seem, you find yourself saddled up for the ride because there's simply no other explanation and really, how can this be? I've not . . . 

And so, you believe. You say, "OK . . ." {gulp}

So I started out thinking Mary wrestled. And I still think she did. I think her wrestling was more with herself, though, and her enough-ness.

I'm sure Mary thought: Really, God? I mean, REALLY?!????!!!

(Just like I do.)

The God of the Universe chose this seemingly-average woman to do a not so average task: to birth the Messiah. The awesomeness of this is more than profound. It's exhilarating. And Mary had to wait to see it happen.

I can imagine Mary's excitement was probably tucked down deep and her confusion swirling tight around as she deliberated her good enough-ness.

     People will question.

          They will wonder why her. 
          They will scoff.
          They will envy.
          They will peer in to her life with hands cupped around their eyes
          They will whisper nonsense . . . all in the name of Wonder.

Mary did just what God said would happen. She saddled up and lived the life called for her. 

I think vulnerability was the same then as it is for us now, it just wears different clothes and fashions different colors. I also think God still assigns miraculous dreams to the seemingly-average folk. Big ones. His size ones that seem to come from left field and don't appear to make a bit of sense at the moment.

Our wrestling is accepted.
Our wonder is encouraged.
Our good enough-ness is allowed to be questioned.

And in the end, we'll realize we have no choice but to believe because it's happening -- our uniquely crafted story, His will -- whether we've given Him permission or not.

: : : 

I breathe in deep and hold my mug of tea as I look out my office window at the sunshine and chirping birds. Life *whirls and twirls* around me.

I think about how I scavenge for answers and dare to question the very likelihood of dreams coming true. Still, it's happening -- my God-made life -- and my gathering of answers doesn't make a bit of difference.

: : : 

Suddenly I smell leather. I hear the snort and heavy breathing. It's time I saddle up.

Share your heart . . . add a comment below.

_______________________________________________

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learning to trust even when it doesn't make sense

on noticing grace

the pursuing

all in

this is the one where i am going to step off the diving board.

though i don't have the technical experience to perfect this and i'll likely belly flop, i'm going to step forward anyway. i'll give you a nod and maybe even a slight wink, and then i'll take a step. right now.

the considering and deliberating is the scary part.

the water isn't the color i thought it'd be and the season seems a little off to me. alas, i've heard the call and i've decided not to turn back.

we'll do this thing -- whatever that might end up being i am not 100% certain -- and i'm going to just trust.

someone deemed me worthy of the life we share together. i recognize how very important our story is and i've decided not to question.

this is today's decision. i recognize that tomorrow might feel very differently and i might be torn to consider doubting again. i will wrestle confusion to the ground again -- it's inevitable -- and we'll go round and round until i get tired of myself.

we might look at each other and feel the tendency to blame one another when the chaos seems like taking this step was a stupid thing to even consider. i realize the risk in that and today i'm okay with it. because, i am embracing our humanness -- our sloppy, messy, hypocrite-like tendencies that tend to act out emotion rather than identifying, examining and discussing it.

i'm in. all in.

this step i'm taking is a surrender -- a releasing of control. an acknowledging that i don't know what is right or best or even what i want. i'm embracing the 180-like shift in our almost plans.

it feels a bit risky to dive without knowing how deep the water is, and to step without knowing what is coming next . . . but my amount of faith mixed with your amount of faith will be enough. we already are enough. and truthfully, we didn't need the faith -- He already made us enough.

so, let's embrace our enough-ness and lay low our fears and together take this step.

: : : 

to my groom,

i've acted like a child who was too impatient to wait for her father to give her what she wanted most -- who, resentful of the waiting crossed her arms and pouted, and then when the gift was handed to her spouted: "but i don't want it any more!" -- because, it was so hard to surrender into the waiting, and i'm so scared of false starts and empty gifts. 

i realize i have huge trust issues with God and a tremendous weakness in my ability to live out hope and faith, and i'm realizing that my surrendering became prideful -- a "look, i surrendered!" attitude that says, "don't make me do it again! because, i had this other vision i was asked to yield to and so i did, and now, this -- a 180 shift, again!"

and here i am, fearing that my thinking out loud here with you might be sloppy and confusing and just too much . . . that you won't get me and i'll just make a mess. 

these lower case letters are a reflection of my small, shaky voice that struggles to believe i am enough. that we are enough. that we will be given enough.

so this piece is my: "okay, i'll surrender the vision to try for one of our own" -- and again, a yielding, perhaps now to the true desires of my heart.

i'm surrendering -- giving up the control and the fight and to just see what He wills. i'm taking this step. 

i love you. more than words or my life can ever reflect. 

a

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Two dreams, specifically, have been uttered from my mouth through the years and really, I have no business suggesting that I will be a part of them, because really I do not know. Yet, they are mine, these dreams. And I'm beginning to believe He has invited me to live with an anticipation and hope, believing He gave these dreams to me for purpose.

There are other dreams of mine, but they don't surface and tumble out of me like these two wild and crazy visions: adoption, and creating a sports foundation for girls.

When I think of the heart of these dreams, I feel excitement welled up inside of me. I imagine more than what seems possible for today and when I start to talk about the details, none of them make any sense. Dreams like this sound crazy. And really they are. Yet, no matter what I do, the fibers of these dreams don't shake loose, even when I make reckless, foolish and impatient demands of them.

I try to analyze and solve these dreams that stand firmly planted in the *whirl and twirl* of my day. Thinking them over and over again, I spend so much time on the granular details, trying to make sense of them. I've even tried to make them go away, denying the power of God. I've grown impatient in my waiting and wrestled hope to the ground, especially since my life looks to have taken what appears to me as a complete 180.

Details are stress to me. Poison to my raw, purified hope. Figuring out the details of my dreams doesn't add value to my life. I'm learning this.

He jolts me out of a drunken stupor where I am intoxicated by the temptation to figure it all out. I have {finally} begun to accept these dreams as possibilities. Moving beyond the considering to the declaring.

Over time, I've begun to connect my dream-telling with my professional experience. I see how there is purpose in the work I do and consider how my work could be preparing me for something that utilizes these skills I've developed, and most importantly, taps into the talents He specifically created me to live out. 

I am learning to trust and surrender my expectations of Him -- even if my current experiences seem to contradict these wild dream-like visions. God is so much bigger than what I see, and it is in this gap -- this thin place between my experiences and my dreams -- where He wants to fill with hope. An everlasting kind of hope. A peace and shackle-free kind of hope.

I consider what I could miss out on by giving up on hope -- on Him. And it's not the tangible kind of gift or experience I am worried about missing out on, because I do believe He hears my restless heart that longs to be close to Him (yet struggles with anxiousness like humans do). I know I'll never fall out of His will -- He will use all things.

What concerns me most is to miss His closeness. I'm learning that it's this process of waiting for pieces to come together and story pages to unfurl that matters most -- this is when I experience Him more fully. And this is what I am bending low in gratefulness for, the process I have so long regretted and rebuked.

Our lives reflect worship in the most beautiful ways when we give consideration to and deliberately pursue -- the crazy, silly, and irrational -- dreams that seem to follow every turn in our story, and yet may seem completely impossible today.

God is blowing the roof off of my faith these days. He is tearing down the fences I've constructed that limit my capacity to trust.

Hope is wide and deep and far for me. It's beyond rationalization.

What if we deliberately try this, or that? 

What if we explore them? 

I'm doing a lot more of this lately -- speaking dreams out loud and laying them out on the table. I'm considering possibility, declaring, and taking steps to pursue these dreams. And I'm learning to keep on stepping, even when the pursuing involves a change in scenery. This feels a lot like the wilderness -- a bit of a wander, and yet, I'm not lost.

He is a lamp for my feet, providing light for just one step at a time. And though it's sometimes a lot of times uncomfortable to not be able to see ahead, to him He provides just enough.  

I'm trusting that these dreams are for purpose, that they are designed by the God who placed me here -- right now, positioned for Today. 

So I'm learning to be obedient in the small things. Recognizing His voice in all things. And anticipating He is working for good in the good and the bad things.

Only God knows what will come of these dreams. They feel silly to even consider, and sometimes I wonder if it's downright irresponsible of me to fathom. But, as Jennie Allen says, obedience is following and trusting God, even if He doesn't make perfect sense.

And with that, I think of a seemingly-average woman who birthed the Messiah. Crazy is possible.

Share your heart . . . add a comment below.

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