on holding dreams (and my self) loosely

I'm developing a different kind of muscle memory these days; the kind that rests more than it clenches. My whole being is learning to loosen the grip I long held on everything that nearly strangled life right out of me.

A lot of my days were spent so focused on growing that I overlooked who I was. Laughing at my mistakes was something I couldn't imagine doing. I intensely and perfectly tried to be someone I wasn't and missed out on simply appreciating and enjoying me. Rules became my Ruler; my rigid and legalistic ways become my god.

God is so much bigger than me and any of my rules. He allowed me to reach a point of exhaustion where I fell in a heap and said:

     "If there's work to be done in me, You do it.
       I'm too tired to try anymore to fix me! 
       I'm choosing to just be me, as I am
       I'm trusting this is enough." 

In the midst of my giving up with trying to be better or different than I was, my hope was restored and I was given a fresh anointing of peace. And I was able to see that rest is the kind of offering that honors Him best.

To simply live, as I am . . . this is the heart of worship.

It took a long time for me to realize that no one and no thing could fulfill my dreams and give me the kind of life I longed to have. I was angry and agitated for so long, disappointed by all that I thought would give me happiness and peace.

It took brokenness for me to discover that I am loved far more than I ever considered.

It took a depleted heart for me to trust God and rest . . . to live. 

Each new day -- moment-by-moment -- has become an opportunity for me to unwrap God's grace, His true gifts . . . such rich evidence of His love for me.  

Even in the midst of uncertainties and questions that tempt to evade our very peace, we can trust that God loves us and He's got us, and everyone else, too. He knows just how far to let us go and just how far to take us in the valley; we can take a hands-off approach to fixing us (and fixing others).

We can rest.

Though it looks like God is cruel in allowing detours, delays, and disappointment, we can trust there's something He has for us to learn in the process that we've called waiting and simply call it: living.

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Join me at God-Sized Dreams for more on how I'm learning to hold even my dreams loosely. 

Also linking with Jennifer. 

on learning to honor thy self

We base our thoughts and our feelings on comparison, constantly pining for a benchmark other than letting our heart have its own voice. 

I wish we all would believe our very selves and loose the could’ve and would’ve kind of living, and the if only we were kind of mourning.

Comparing my life with others has squelched dreams and most of all: Hope. 

I’ve let what you (and others) think, define what I think. (And most of the time I haven’t known for sure what you really even think.) Energy has drained out of me as I’ve watched you being you and stepped up to my days as someone I’m not. I’ve told myself my dreams don’t matter . . . and put a thumbtack in even caring about what I think.

The desire my heart has most is for us all to just Be: As. We. Are . . . to accept our life as it is . . . to live our passions versus dismiss them. 

I picture ourselves as a living magazine boldly splaying the beauty that we are.

Join me at Laura Rath's place to read more . . . 

this is our worship.

Commissioned a Warrior :: her worship

The following is a post by Carol Hulin, a "non-blogger" whose worship is truly, no small thing. I've invited Carol here to this place and toast of her willingness to choose yes to an invitation specifically meant for her uniquely crafted and purposed life. 

God weaved our stories, Carol and me. He gave me eyes to see and a passion to tell of her worship. And He made it be today . . . her birthday, of all days! 

Prayer Warrior. A phrase you will not find in the Bible, yet is used extensively in Christian circles.

I cannot say I like those words. But they seem to follow me around wherever I go. You see, I pray for women. I am prompted to pray for these women. I HAVE to pray for them or I cannot sleep at night.

For me, praying for them is as natural as my heart beating without any conscious thought from me.

I just do it. It flows from me in ways I cannot understand. And I am not sure I want to understand it all; to unveil the mysteries of how God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit and prayer all intertwine together.

To pray is to release a burden inside me that weighs me down. That aches and churns within me as it seeks to be brought to the Father. 

But I do not stand like a warrior in full battle gear attempting to break into the throne room of our God. No, I approach Jesus more like a neighbour and we talk to each other over a privet hedge that separates our two worlds.

I just do it. It flows from me in ways I cannot understand . . . To pray is to release a burden inside of me that weighs me down. 

Amazingly, Jesus wants to hear prayers. He wants people to pray for each other. He wants intercessors to stand in the gap for others who cannot pray. Oh, how He wants prayers from us rising to Him so that He can present those requests, pleas and praises to His Father.

And out of that prompting, this shy, introvert type has contacted these women and said: "I'm praying for you." 

They have not thought I was crazy, but have embraced me and become family.

And it all started with one . . . 

: : : 

There I was sitting in a training event five years ago, minding my own business. Not expecting to be prompted to pray. 

The trainer, Melanie got up to speak. 

Wham. 

Immediately I knew I was to pray for this woman. 

I remember being confused on the whole praying issue and arguing in my mind with God and thinking: What, Me?! Are you kidding? I don’t even know her. You’ve got the wrong girl, Lord; surely not me!

Yet, at the same time there was a sense of "Yes, let’s do this."

I so wanted to be in Melanie’s corner, praying for her. I knew that even though we did not know each other, I could pray for her. 

I could help her, even if we lived miles apart and never got to know each other. 

What, Me?! . . . You'e got the wrong girl, Lord; surely not me! 

Eventually I felt prompted to email Melanie and let her know someone was there for her, raising her name to His throne. 

Thankfully she didn’t think I’d lost my mind. She has been gracious over those five years; she has encouraged me, thanked me, sent prayer requests to me, and become a friend. I’m even starting to dream of the next step, which is getting together in person and pray together.

Five years, one person. I did not think it was meant to be more then that one. And then, Wham . . . again.

: : : 

I had been reading Amy’s blog for a couple of months when the "wham" happened. It was a middle of the night have-to-pray-for-her kind of experience. 

The next morning I emailed her. She emailed me back -- thanking me and encouraging me. And our conversations and prayers since then have grown wonderfully deeper. 

Two to pray for. I was humbly honoured to put Amy and Melanie's names and needs into His hands. I could handle praying for two women on a daily basis. 

And then an explosion of sorts happened . . . 

Just when I think I have reached my maximum number, He brings one more along and somehow she fits in nicely, easily . . . never a burden.

He put a flood of women in my path all within a matter of a month or two:

Em . . . Kathy . . . Jacque . . . Crystal . . . Jessica . . . Tenley . . . Keren . . . Kris . . . Kristen . . . and Kristen . . . Lani . . . Denise . . . Lanette . . . Hillary . . . Sue . . . Martha . . . Jennifer . . . Mary . . . Anita . . . 

That’s a lot of praying and just when I think I have reached my maximum number, He brings one more along and somehow she fits in nicely, easily . . . never a burden.

Each knows I am praying for them and have been kind enough not to say No, "I don’t know you," or "I think you’re crazy!" 

Each has blessed me with their confidence and trust in me, helping to build up my self-esteem. Each has become a friend.

I do not know what the Lord has in store next. I just know He has warmed my heart and soul by bringing these women into my life. 

As much as I pray for them and hopefully help them, they help me grow, to connect, and to reach out. It is an honour to pray for them, it is a privilege. Something I do not take lightly. 

Praying for someone is sacred territory. 

     You never want to just say: Hey, Lord . . . 
     You need to, instead say: Please, Lord . . . 

For it is their tender hearts and souls being lifted to His presence and released ever so gently in to His hands.

As to whether what I do has any effect, I do not know. I just know that I am compelled, I have to pray for these women.

I am commissioned. 

All that matters to me is the doing -- being His Prayer Warrior by following His promptings. 

It is an honour . . . it is a privilege. 

It fills me with love in deep places to be entrusted to pray for these women that are His.

this is my worship.

ABOUT CAROL HULIN:

I live in Ontario, Canada. I grew up not knowing that you could have such a thing as a personal relationship with Jesus. Thankfully, I have had an ongoing, growing relationship with Him for about 15 years. I have a degree in TV Production and in Hotel and Restaurant Operations. I've worked as a Guest Services Rep for 25 years. My creative side includes: refinishing old and/or battered furniture, photography, studying the Bible, "closet" writing, and reading, reading, reading. I do NOT blog (!), but you can find me on Twitter.

Linking with Jennifer

 

my choice, my story

I wish I could wrap a pretty bow around my story and say that I'm "all better" . . .

I'm still tempted to say it doesn't matter . . . that there isn't still a lump that I feel in my throat when I talk about this part in my life story.

I wish I didn't still look around my shoulder to consider who that I know might be listening and fear certain people finding out.

I don't talk about this part in my story much at all, and when I do I still pick at the words as though I'm picking at the hem of my sleeve.

Today, sharing my story is still sometimes very hard for me. I still feel the heaviness in the pit of my stomach.

I was supposed to be the "good girl". This expectation of myself and that I failed still humbles me and I still feel sadness and see shame cowering in the corner when I think about how I wasn't really good . . . 

: : : 

A good friend recommended me to share my story at TheSnapMom.com where I was asked pointed questions that are personal and that I wish wasn't still difficult.

I need you to know that it was a journey for me to get to this place where an interview was even something I would consider and be willing to step into.

I've shared about this on a few occasions, but this one was different and one I had to say "no, thank you" to, and with time ultimately reconsider.

In the telling of my story in this way, God has brought me to an even deeper place of healing. 

I have struggled with the fact that I *still* struggle in ways that I wish I didn't, and in the process of admitting this . . . He has helped me to S T I L L.

     To quiet . . .
     To rest . . .
     To loosen . . .

          my grip . . .

               on all of the fears that have kept my heart boxed up tight.

I chose to pursue hope in the telling of my story in this way, and in the process trust -- that He will purpose and touch someone with His love in some incredibly personal and profound way.

I am humbled that He would use me to reflect His magnificent glory and grace.

Join me at TheSnapMom.com to read more . . .

this is my worship. 

discomfort

God's word follows me with all I do, prompting me to pause and consider the choices I make. 

When before I would charge ahead with laser-focused intensity, trying to ignore all the questions that cause me to doubt, I'm not doing that this time. 

This time, I’m learning to lean in on God’s voice first. 

I’m pondering His invitation to slow down and consider actually living with less certainty. And it’s not  easy. Usually it feels awkward and clumsy. Yet this time it feels more right to me than ever before. 

You see, for so long I’ve tried to convince myself that life shouldn’t be hard. I felt more comfortable steering clear of anything reckless-seeming that might make life even harder. It seemed stupid to dive into the unknown where my very life felt threatened by risk. 

I try to make choices with complete confidence, yet I always face the possibility that I could be wrong. I make quick, smart decision-making something to be proud of; though the truth is, my flippant knee-jerk-like responses are made out of fear . . .

Read the rest over at

Share your heart . . . add a comment below.

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the pursuing

jump

roof-lifting

the blind can see: a life lesson

Working has taught me a lot about beauty and vision.

These two together don't seem the likely office lessons. But for me, they pair with Every. Thing.

Beauty is more than we think. And vision comes from beyond the eyes.

An elderly woman taught me this. From a job that holds more purpose than I can ever begin to imagine. 

I am guest posting today over at Red Letter Believers. This summer David Rupert has invited friends to share their stories of first job lessons. Visit me there, and also peruse other guest writer job stories. 

David and I work together as editors at The High Calling. I am thrilled for his invitation and feature of my story today.

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a thin place

Questions.  We've all got them.

Though I believed in God, I didn't know Him. So I questioned *how* to live the life the way I was should.

I wanted to do everything right.

I didn't want to make the same mistakes I saw my own parents make.
     And so I tried to live the perfect life--searching for the manuel on life.

Ever so slowly, and ever so gently, He showed me His heart in and through my living.
     This was a Thin Place for me--a place where I could see His grace.

Now I see...I needed to live.

My own living was required.
     Even my failures were for purpose. Necessary parts of my story.

: : :

This is a revisit from the archives. 

In April 2011, I was a guest writer at Mary DeMuth's place. 

I invite you to grab a cup of tea and link over there to read more.

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