learning the ways of rest

I was deceived. For years I was under this misunderstanding of Grace.

Scratch that. I didn't know about Grace. Really, I hadn't heard of it.

For years I judged women. Admittedly, I still do.
     Mostly, I judge myself.

So when the Physician's Assistant asked me four weeks before my due date how I was feeling, and I told her the truth (because I've learned its importance), I wasn't quite ready for what she offered me.

I had a plan to be out of work on a set date and even that plan was a generous helping of rest I hadn't ever considered nearly 11-years ago when I was last pregnant and down to the wire, so to speak. Back then, I worked until Noon on the day of my scheduled induction . . . two-weeks after my due date. Yep. I sure did.

Everything had been going so well and I truly didn't even consider an end date for work except unless something happened that would require being taken out of work, or actually being in labor.

This time, I mostly had the same viewpoint; except, I thought about how difficult it is to go to work each day and wonder if it'll be any day, and I thought about my nearly 11-year-old Boy-Man and how I'd really like some time together before we become a family of four. So, I planned to take a "vacation" starting the week preceding my due date and just continue a stay-cation until the delivery, at which time maternity leave would begin.

Knowing our "plans" can get sidelined, I was prepared for the possibility of potentially getting taken out of work earlier than expected, or of something going quirky that would derail all of my highfalutin plans. So, I kept my ideas loose-ish.

What I hadn't considered was being offered to be taken out of work "to rest," and it not necessarily being because anything is wrong. 

I told my PA how exhausted I am . . . how the baby is "so low" . . . how I'm incredibly uncomfortable . . . and of the regular-ish (Braxton-Hicks) contractions.

She reminded me of the magnitude of pregnancy and encouraged me to consider resting even more than I'd so diligently and deliberately focused on (and was) doing.

     But, it just seems so silly . . .
     Women have babies all the time . . .
     There's not really a compelling reason . . . 

     What will people think? 

My perception of pregnancy had deceived me from reality.

I thought mean things like:

     Women who didn't enjoy their pregnancy weren't appreciative. 
     Women who complained about the discomfort of pregnancy are weak. 
     Rest is for the weak ones.

Yeah, I was a judgy one -- tight-fisted, insensitive, irrational, and incredibly intense!

I'm not sure I ever considered all that pregnancy requires of a woman's body, especially in the last month of pregnancy. I'm not sure I ever considered kindness, either.

So here I am with nearly two-weeks until this baby's due date . . . with a tween-age Boy-Man who is so happy to have his Momma home . . .

     And I'm still learning the importance of rest . . .
          I'm still learning the ways of Grace.

You can preach truth at me all the livelong day to loosen my grip and rest, and I'll nod my head in agreement that I get it. I write about it. I preach about it.

But growing is a process, and it requires my patience.

Even though we know truth it doesn't mean our "muscle memory" automatically reprograms. 

Though I am willing and aching for a life with less fear-based living that is the reason for my tight-constricted way of living, I'm definitely a work in progress and still growing. 

     I'm continuing to chase hope for my "muscles" to further develop . . .
          that I will live less clenched and rule-based.
   
     I'm learning to be patient in and with the process.

Maybe this whole experience of letting go and saying "yes" to the opportunity for rest, offered by one sensitive, understanding, and wise Physician's Assistant was one of those moments that will bring me ever further into living the kind of life I believe I was created to live.

I was hardwired to be a hard-worker, a "go-getter," and (at least slightly) Type A. This is a good thing. It helps me get things done and accomplish goals. Yet, it isn't all of me.

About my concern of what people might think?

I'm hoping that like my Physician's Assistant ultimately did, others might look into my eyes and with honesty say:

     "I get it. I so get it. And, I'm with you."

Because, as much as we all know loosening our grip is important, and we want to grab our friend's by the shoulders and shake them until they get it, I have to believe we're all a work in progress . . . we all struggle to fully rest.

And one of my biggest realizations?

    There is no shame for the difficulty in ever more fully learning this truth.

It was a couple of friends who stood in the gap for me, holding space for my continued growth. They walked alongside me in my struggle and didn't judge me or make me feel inadequate.

These few friends didn't try to fix me. They didn't tell me to get over it and command me to "simply" loosen my grip.

These few simply held space for me by opening their hearts, offering unconditional support, and let go of judgment. These friends honor the necessary part of the process.

As one dear friend prayed for me, I also pray, for us all:

"That the paths you are so prone to go down -- the ones of production, the ones of appearance, the ones of showing yourself worthy -- that the rigidness of those routes would soften, and that what spills out the edges of that would find new ground and new ways to make paths . . . for newness of life to grow . . . and a new strength to come from giving over to the work of God."

might we know

Father, we come.

with thoughts inside our head that we can't seem to escape.

with pain we can't fix or erase.

with memories that follow us around and makes us ache inside.


we believe we aren't enough.

we believe we have to do something to make ourselves better or different.

we believe we are who we will always be.


You tell us we're being made new every day.

who we are today isn't who we will be tomorrow.

You tell us we can find rest in who we are today, though.

who we are today is invited to just be, as we are.


we are weary and worn out and burned out on religion.

we are so done with society's reciprocity kind of living, this quid pro quo way of being.

we are exhausted from all the doing just to prove ourselves worthy of a seat at the table.

we are parched and our throats hurt from all the shouting just to be heard.


life shouldn't be this hard, we think.

life should be more free and fuller than this, we hope.

life shouldn't be sucked out from us, we know.


teach us the unforced rhythms of grace, Father.

teach us it's okay to walk with You and to get away from all of this.

teach us about Real life.


You've called us to be peacemakers.

and truth-tellers.

and life set-freers.


unleash us.

untether us.

untie us.


we are tired of giving up on the hope that niggles at our soul.

we are tired of bowing down to the lies that snare at us in the mirror. 

we are tired of giving in to the approval-seeking that snickers we're crazy loons.


give us Your freedom to let go.

give us Your grace to face what we feel.

give us Your courage to be Real with our heart.


loose us to live . . . to abide in Your peace, even as life storms in and whirls around us.

loose us to love . . . to Your love that heals and redeems and that sets us free.

loose us to live . . . to worship You as we embrace our Real and Raw selves, as. we. are.


fling wide the barn doors where we've hidden and hovered.

free us to find You.


might we know we are beloved.

use these parables of hope to teach us this truth:

     Sarah Bessey -- In which you are a beloved warrior

     JJ Heller -- Loved (Official Music Video)


. . . for all of us . . . every race, and every gender, and every age . . . all of us.

amen.

loose us to be

 

Father, we come.

with face buried in our hands, still we come.

we know we need You.

yet, to face You seems so hard.

to have You take our hands away from our tear-stains seems so scary.

to have You see our guttural pain streaked across our face is a bit like jumping off a cliff.

yet, we believe in You. and we hope in You.

     . . . still, we question Your Realness.

why is that?, I wonder.

what are we afraid of? 

do we think You'll smack us, or leave us, or laugh at us, or turn away from us in disgust?

You won't do any of those and we know it.

     . . . and still, we are timid to be Real.

You have anointed us for such a time as this.

You have called us to live this one life we have -- to live it full and unabashedly.

release us from fear's grip and shame's taunting that keeps our faces hidden.

loose us to stand free and full and emboldened with full confidence in You.

shift our minds and our fears to focus on Your deliberate crafting of us.

I ask this believing You use our true selves in ways far greater than we see.

so let this be:
     in Jesus name, loose us to be Real in every way. 

          . . . . knowing we're part of your Kingdom building in ways we cannot even imagine.

let us Be.

amen and amen.

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.

a dare for you

You hungered for this new year, didn't you? A new start was what you most wanted.

Fresh possibilities and easier days are what you hope for. Less pain.

You had a rough last year, didn't you? Last year was ugly and mean like those junior high school days that you always wanted to hide away. You've been hoping for happy and peace, yet the walls in your home are pin-drop quiet while the walls in your heart blare loud and angry. 

Life still hurts and you still ache. 

This year will be different, you declare.

You need last year's to be revoked. 

And if not last year's, you're still thinking of that other year. The one that still follows you and haunts you, and that makes you pray let this year not be like that one. 

Most of us usually have at least one of those year's: the Daddy-make-it-go-away! kind of year's. 

     . . . like children with the covers pulled over the head waiting for the monster to go away. 

The start of this year is hoping and praying there will be happy and peace and no ugly monsters, please.

Last year has value, though. 

As much as you want to erase it away, I dare you to consider that it matters. 

I dare you to take those hard memories and hurt and hold them tight. 

I believe beauty can and will bloom, right here in your holding -- like when most days you wondered whether your child would ever ever again want you to come near, and then she eventually does . . . in the ugly puke-filled days. 

     There's treasure here, in the holding and having. 

You might not see it or stomach it, but there really is. The miracle is in loosening your grip on fear and saying "okay" to what has been and choosing not to bury it or box it up. 

You can't change the past. But what you can do is help set into motion Peace. 

So, I dare you to count that year that pains you as a gift. 

     . . . and then tell {me, please} of the beauty I'm certain you'll soon see!

this is your 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.