a prayer for the naked and afraid

We're all hurting. All of us in our own ways.

You know our hearts and the exact place to elicit a response in us.

Help us to look at the ugly parts of our hearts where Your Hand reaches.
Help us to resist the urge to cover up what hurts in an attempt to make the discomfort end.

Give us the courage to let You have your way, with us.
Give us the courage to trudge one more step in the muck.

Help us not to stay frozen in fear and bewildered at the ugly.
Help us to step, trusting You won't leave us to drown or suffocate.

Humble us to surrender our want for Your glory.
Humble us to say "Yes" to one more moment of what feels impossible.

Might we be people who want to see Your glory more than our comfort.
Might we be people who trust You for the humanly impossible.

You are good, even when nothing looks as we wish it would.
You are good, even when nothing makes sense.

Lead us ever more to knowing Your love for us.
Lead us ever more to knowing Your love for all.

Heal us from our own addictions and obsessions and shouts for comfort.
Heal us from our own pride.

Teach us your definition of "Strong" in our naked moments of today's living.

Amen.

learning to receive

It feels easier to keep all the feelings to myself.

Stuffing my thoughts in my journal or reserving them for the book that I might never actually finish or publish seems like the more comfortable thing to do. It's less risky of being perceived as prideful or lookatmeish. Posting on Facebook or on my blog is so forward and I imagine a big red arrow flashing: Look at Me!

Yet, I think there's something that needs to be said.

I know I'm a hot mess and that I can be overly dramatic, overly sensitive, and overly self-conscious. I can tend to make much ado about nothing and worry over imagined things versus real things. In my attempt to not make messes, I create bigger ones. Still, I know that I am not alone.

Here we are, nearly 11 years since our first son was born, and we're expecting another. The guy at the furniture store yesterday asked us point blank why we would do such a thing. "Why start all over again?" I joke with people about it and eye roll, claiming that this came as a surprise when it's something that we actually hoped for. We actually chose not to have our children close in age.

I've waited for so many years to see this dream come true of having two children. Around the time our son was two years old I began asking when we could try for another and for seven years I continued to ask that question, begging and cajoling and trying to be good-enough.

Eventually, I learned what surrender is about and made the hard choice to let it go. I stopped asking and started considering that maybe having two children wouldn't be a part of our story. I started to be okay with our life as it is.

Without realizing it, even though I was experiencing contentment, a twinge of bitterness took root in my heart. I so much imagined our family as being just the three of us that I actually closed off my heart to having another, so bitter about the waiting and the faith-living.

I wish that I could say that I was willing for anything since I said those words so many times, yet the truth is that I really hadn't arrived at that place of willingness. Sure, there were moments when I was more willing and it felt as though I was genuinely open to whatever plan God had for us. And sure, there was a lot of progress that was made in my walled-up heart that allowed me to consider that perhaps my dreams weren't His dreams. Still, I didn't arrive in the ways I wish I did.

When we found out that we were expecting my dream of a second child, I reeled back as if the thought were a hot stove that I couldn't touch or I would get burned. It took me several months of living anxious to realize that I had been living as if I was swimming in a pool and suddenly gasped for air, panic-stricken.

I was so aware of my fear that we would lose this baby, or that maybe it wasn't about the baby and there was something that I needed to learn in the process and losing the baby would be a necessary part of my story. I momentarily forgot about the vision I had two years prior that our kids would be exactly 10 years apart and how I was actually excited to be an older mother with the experience of having a different kind of story.

There were so many people who I shared our news with so early and I wanted to limit their happiness for us. I didn't want to face them if we lost this joy. I feared pity and misunderstanding because no one fully knew the journey I had lived and even those who stood on the periphery of our story had limitations to their connection with me.

I did a pretty good job at erecting boundaries that were more reflective of brick walls designed to keep me safe. I have kept people at an arms distance away to reduce any risk of hurt or disappointment. I imagine that maybe people don't really care that much and they're just being nice. I hear people say they're so busy all the time and I feel like I'm a nuisance or an inconvenience when I try to get together with them. At the same time, I don't make accommodations for people a lot of the time and let "busy" be my excuse to dodge relationships.

I want people to know that I am happy to see them and be around them, though I don't really want them to get too close. I'm not sure what my actions actually communicate and a part of me is really too afraid to know the truth. I wish I wasn't this way, yet it scares the bejeebers out of me to even think of being any different. It's just so much easier in a lot of ways to keep up this charade, though I know that it really isn't.

When friends ask if anyone is throwing us a shower for this new baby a part of me is delighted at their kindness, while the other part of me wants to shirk into my shell and say that I don't need that, I can do it on my own thankyouverymuch . . . besides, who has baby showers for the second child ( . . . even if it is 11 years later . . . )?

I hear myself mumble to myself, "I'm an adult now and capable of buying my own baby gear." I hear my own self defending my life, prideful that I am doing things "right" now and that I don't need anyone.

I hear these words and I remember how I want this time to be different. I want to enjoy and notice and soak up the moments. I want to receive any help and any happiness anyone might have to offer. It won't be perfect and I am careful not to romanticize this experience, but I so much want to receive all of it -- as it is -- instead of trying to do everything right all the time.

When our first son was born I didn't make any accommodations for how my life would change. I didn't make adjustments at work to peel back even a little bit. I focused on work and how-to-be-a-good-mother with such an intense laser focus. I don't remember actually feeling anything, I was so head-down driven to do and be all things. I had a lot of growing up to do, for sure.

Now, there is a different way of living that my journey has led me to receive. I am more willing to accept my weaknesses and my strengths as they are. I am less prone to try-hard to be all things and more apt to enjoy the moments. Even though I still have so much more to go in my learning to live a life that is reflective of rest, I enjoy so much more about life than I ever have before.

The wife of a very good friend of ours has offered to throw me a shower for this baby and I responded to her with, "Who would even come? . . . They're all so busy . . . " I think about how I've shut them all out anyway, and wonder who would even want to come. I feel silly and awkward and embarrassed.

My heart knows that the years in between my first son and this pregnancy isn't about the baby, just as I know that a baby shower isn't about the gifts or even the people. I'm learning to live open, to loose my wants and dreams and all my comfort-strappings. I'm learning that though I don't "need" the people, maybe there is a gift in being with them and even for them in being with me.

I recently realized that I am not as introverted as I once classified myself as being. I discovered that being around people actually gives me energy. Even watching people interact with each other is enough for me. I need people. It is fear of doing life wrong, or of being perceived as too much that has kept me back and alone.

Why don't I slide open my glass door and sit among the people who I really want to be with? Why don't I invite them in? Why do I continue to make it appear that I am too busy for them when really all I do is sit on my couch and think about how I need people?

It feels easier to just watch the world from inside behind the comfort of my own windows. It seems easier than risking any rejection or worrying how they might really feel or what they might really think. But the truth is that it isn't. And I finally know it.

I can hardly even remember all the people I'm "friends" with who live near me. I don't even know who my people are because it's the local, in real life people who I've been most ashamed to be me around and who I dodge and duck and cover to hide from. A part of me wants to post on Facebook, "Who would come?" Names start raveling into my thoughts: Jen, Erin, Lauren, Molly, Joan, Trish, Erica, Mari, Debbie, Kristen, Theresa . . . Would they come? And then I think about the people I work with and how I too often categorize them as only my 8:30-4:30 people . . .

Boy-Man tells me to say "Yes!" if anyone wants to throw us a party. As scary as it is, I think maybe his bold confident acceptance of kindness is what it means to be strong. Maybe it's time to open the sashes and doors and to step out in big, brave courage without smiling and waving in genuine happiness only to quickly put my head down in fear. It's time to celebrate relationships and to risk what is real.

Who is with me? Who can remind me that I am not alone while reaching for my hand and receive the gift of relationship?

grace

i've been under the impression that we are supposed to be good and strong, all the time.

i assumed we are to be superheroes and that resisting sin shouldn't ever be a struggle.

i've resented the kryptonite of simply being human.

it's purposed, though, for me to need.

and this is grace.

____________________________________

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stepping aside

Declining opportunity is sometimes essential to living our personal and unique story.

I've had to do that recently. Twice. In the same day.

Opportunities to make a difference that appeared as why-not, therefore must-do, acts of service quickly became sour. They just didn't settle well on my heart even though I wanted them to.

Even though I knew what was best, I still lived with an uncomfortable and unsettled feeling. It took a long time for me to be readied for stepping aside, longer than my pride cares to admit, quite honestly.

I'm learning that not every thing is for every One. 

Your mission does not need to be my mission. This is truth I must remember. Truth that reunites me with Peace.

Pizza is one way I am learning this. Though it's one of my favorite foods, pizza often makes my stomach do flips and leaves me feeling slightly incredibly uncomfortable. I have lived this way for so long that I just count it as a given.

Doesn't everyone get a belly ache from pizza?

I've have been readied to make choices that are more right for me. 

So I have begun to pack my own lunch in anticipation for the possibility that there might be pizza served at an office lunch retreat since it's what is most frequently chosen.

I've decided that dieting and cleansing's aren't right for me, at least not at this stage in my life. These are important choices for me, though perhaps not for you. And that's okay.

Colleagues comment that I am "so disciplined," as they know that I live a life committed to overall health and wellness. Those suggestions make me feel embarrassed because they don't know the whole story.

     They don't know how often I've eaten pizza and felt ill, yet done it anyway--
          how I torture my body so often.
   
     They don't know what I sometimes I eat in the comfort of my home--
          how I overindulge and end up feeling full of regret.

     They don't know the tendencies I have to abuse myself--
          how I can easily become obsessed with food and workout and body.

I struggle to limit what I enjoy but that isn't particularly best for me.

A financial gain was offered to me for time I was giving to serve an organization that I love, by pioneering their presence on a social media network. I hadn't been particularly familiar with the specific network I was charged to explore and so dabbling in it for awhile and learning about it was fun.

Though I found the work enjoyable and understood its importance, I felt a gap in my daily rhythm.

I felt a tug to step aside. But I stayed anyway, for two months. And every day I felt this nagging Knowing.

I prayed for clarity and understanding of why I would need to step aside and when I came up empty with answers, I kept on anyway. Time rubbed my heart like sandpaper. The more I did what didn't feel right for me, the more my days felt mislived.

But, *shouldn't* everyone step up where there's a need?

Obedience is sometimes a hard choosing. It always leads to freedom. 

Where there are opportunities for me to personally connect with individuals one-on-one, to reach into hearts and share stories, my heart swells. I am pregnant with hope for His purposes. It's a strength of mine to develop people through encouragement and to connect people with the passions He gives them to live meaningful lives for Him.

What this looks like is varied and I don't always know the exact definition of what roles support my strengths. As I get into something, He gives me a knowing of what is most right for me.

The challenge He gives me is to be obedient to the knowing.
     Sometimes it means stepping aside.

At the moment pay was offered for my pioneer work, I knew this hobby was just that. It wasn't a passion and it was lacking a substance of relationship-building that my heart craved. The pressure to perform mounted. And suddenly it felt like a job when it hadn't before.

I felt compelled to work harder at something because I was getting paid when really, I was getting paid for the hard work I was already doing. When we're living in our strengths zone, hard work doesn't feel like Work. It just feels right. And this didn't.

I'm a writer. I have a lot of work to do yet to improve this craft, but at the core of who I am is a writer. I also have a passion to encourage people. If I were to get paid for what I feel called to do, it might be different. Though, I fear it might feel awkward and expectation-like. I don't write to meet deadlines and I don't follow the steps on self-marketing to increase an audience. I write because it's a must do for me. A living obedience. Writing is my worship.

The way I've been serving hasn't been allowing me to engage with a community in a more personal way. I've felt divided and almost sliced off from what matters most to my heart.

Was it wrong for me to step up and raise my hand for something without being confident it would stick?

Grace tells me All. Is. For. Purpose. 

It honors Him when we want to serve and we step out in boldness. Taking a risk for Him is never a failure.
 
*Willingness* is worship.

I've been connected with people who I wouldn't have otherwise know and it pains me to give that up because I wonder what I might miss out on. I truly want to remain on the team of the organization I have been involved with. And by saying "no" to this might leave me standing in the corner, alone and with an empty inbox.

Fear of missing out can't be what propels me to keep on. 

I have to step aside and trust that I honor Him most by saying, "It was good to serve you and I appreciated the opportunity, but this specific role isn't the right one for me. I'm going to step aside."

     I need to use the time He gives me wisely.

     I need to live my passions out loud and not hide behind obligation.

     I need to choose courage to trust that I won't miss out.

     I need to Wait upon the Lord for what He leads me to next.

     I need to trust that He will use my gifts for His glory.

It honors Him when we know our time on a project is through and we've brought it as far as our role is meant to take it.

When we step out of the way and obey, we are living out worship.

By way of stepping aside from this, He will accomplish so much more in me for His heart to be revealed more fully.

I'm also learning that though this all sounds good, our obedience is based on his readying of us. Choosing grace for where we are Now is worship.

     ...trusting that He will complete what He has begun in us...

     ...remembering He is developing our faith, and...

     ...we will never *arrive* at perfect obedience this side of Heaven.

He's changing my heart from I want to make a difference, to trusting that He will make the difference He wants to make through me, just the way I am. 

Anyone can do some thing. But there's a job for us each. A specific job designed to match the abilities He gives us each. Our passions. Our gifts. The ways we contribute are unique. Our living is art and it's not the same.

We aren't expected to do it all. We're gently invited to respond to His prompting.

These invitations to live obediently to His unique design for my life are radical shifts in my perspective.
     They are the fault-line of where my will and His intersect.

He's readying my heart for a quaking.

_______________________________________________

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the place where beauty begins

Every time I walk by it, I notice it there and repeat back to myself what it says.

Because it's true.

And I think of myself. How I am now able to call myself Beautiful. I think, too, of the journey to get to this place.

I don't look like the former-model with sleek, beautiful blonde hair.
     Or the woman with the body of perfection--pregnant or not.

I've wished my body came close to theirs.

My mother has a much different shape to her body than me. Coming from her genes, I've thought it was His design for me. For years I made it my mission to fit in her clothes.

It took 32 years for me to consider that maybe my mom wasn't created to be that thin either. Perhaps her choices are barely enough to sustain her.

I've once envied her thin frame. Even tried to force my body to conform.

After years of living with the wrong perspective, I've finally decided that what's best for me is healthy and strong.
Even curves.

Beauty begins with God.

I'm learning this truth. But only because of the work He's done in me.

This beauty declaring has come from Him.

: : : 

There's beauty in the broken pieces of ourselves. Where I want to run and hide, take cover and shirk away.

Telling my stories comes with trepidation.

I wonder what my neighbors and townspeople think of me, the ones who read my words and keep silent. I am raw from standing exposed and yet I trust this is worship.

There is purpose in the dark places and that dark canvases provide a background for brilliant color and make the most radiant beauty. I believe this.

The sign that hangs in the front of my house--where I dug out and yanked up tree bushes and shrubs with my own bare hands--reminds me of the strength He's worked in me.

The beauty is in believing *Strong* is possible from weak Me.

I played ice hockey in college. And I felt it then. Empowered to play without fear. Strong.

Push-ups have done that, too--real ones and now 150 of them every other day. The feeling of strength has returned. And it's freeing.

It's serious business to notice beauty. To declare it and display it with strength.

I only want things with meaning in my house. Nothing to take up space for pop-design purposes alone.

And I want my life to reflect the same.

No crash diets or minimalistic choices. It's beauty growing here. By His design.

The Redeemed Outdoor collection is about remembering God has made Every. Thing. beautiful in its time! 

DaySpring has a "Summer Joy" sale going on right now with 25% off all products (including clearance).
Use the code JOY2012. 

Check it out. 

*I was given this product for the purpose of my review. The opinions expressed here are my own.

_______________________________________________

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identify your strengths

I recently had an opportunity to examine what gives me energy.

Life can be exhausting. But it doesn't have to be draining.

Work often sucks the life out of people, leaving them feeling deflated.

I don't want to wither up at my job. Or in life.

My heart longs for all I do to be worship. Deliberate and purpose-filled.

Trusting that nothing is wasted, I don't often worry that I've made the wrong decision. God has protected me from that angst and given me confidence that He will use all things for purpose.

Yet, I have struggled in my career. The past three years have brought with it confusion.

I've felt a little bit bored. I've not felt as creative or energized as other positions I've held. 

I created a story that says 30-something-year-olds should settle down in a job. I've let myself feel shame for the number of jobs I've held and the frequency of transitions.

I forgot that it was career advancement and *opportunity* that knocked with each different job.

Still, I know myself and that the work I started doing three years ago might be limiting. I've made myself feel badly for this. I tried to force a defined job without much variety.

I've finally acknowledged that identifying the parts of my life where I feel the most strong tells me something about the work I was created to do. 

I thrive best where there is variety and chaos because it brings out my creativity.

Examining my strengths affirmed what I know about myself.

I feel most strong when I am Idea-generating...thinking-Strategically...Future-considering...Developing-others...

Working in these zones is where I am most passionate. Most energetic. Most fulfilled.

The work itself could have many different colors. And there isn't one specific job that I was created to do.

It's simply doing the tasks that engage with these strengths. Positioning myself where I can most contribute.

I had a seven-month trial of sharing a job with a colleague that crossed two departments. The variety of the work tapped into my strengths in ways I denied they would before we even started.

Through a long, slow realization, I identified that the job was right for me. The work is hardly what I would have chosen. But it's what I can do and do with gusto.

My advice to others would be to press pause on the work you're doing...
     Evaluate what about life gives you energy. 

Write it down. Not the specific tasks per say, but the bigger picture of what it looks like.

     Is it leading? Is it thinking? Is it executing? Is it encouraging?
     What ignites that fire in your belly that keeps you going without paying attention to the time?

Consider this. And then, evaluate how frequently you're engaging in these areas.

Do everything you can possibly do to work more often in these zones.

Do less of what deflates you.

Practice more of what you have passion for. Get great at it. 

Practice less of what you don't have passion for.

In the process, stay focused on *you* and acknowledge who you are.

Don't pay attention to the other guy or the voice that wants to tell you to be someone who you're not.

Don't be concerned about what your job looks like and what you're doing specifically.

Pay most attention to how you're doing the job that needs to get done.

The man who picks up my trash is important...to my health and to my happiness...to God's work.
     Maybe he sings as he works.
     Maybe he prays for our family, or yours.
     Maybe he is most energized in considering improved ways of managing and disposing of trash.

It isn't the job. It's how you do it that matters most.

Engaging with your strengths is your worship.

_______________________________________________

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living gratefully :: color

I took a risk today.

Stepping out from behind the veil of comfort, I said what my heart believes.

I'm not in the job that best supports my strengths. 

Sure, the current job I'm in is good for me...
   it helps me grow and challenges me.

But, it's not the job.

At 30-something years old, I'm not ready to be comfortable.

*Color* opens my mind to different possibilities. 

Thoughts and dreams are awakened.

It's *color* that helps me See my heart.

It's *color* that gives me reason to stand up and step forward.

Offering myself up to something Different, I declare that my life isn't all the same. There are vivid colors that are a part of this masterpiece.

What may seem to be me just might not be me, entirely.

Maybe this truth is why I struggle to pick my favorite color. Sometimes blues call my name, sometimes green, and sometimes even bold red and orange.

Only when I choose Courage, do I pause to consider those bold colors.

Color helps remind us that there are other aspects to living...
     ...other parts of ourselves...
     ...other characteristics, traits, quirks, and even strengths to consider.

If I just keep doing the same thing all the time and expect the same result, forgetting or neglecting to acknowledge that I've been growing in the living--then, I'm just not being fair to myself and to who He created me to be.

For color, I am grateful. And this is my worship.

_______________________________________________

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how He blesses our courage

God is stronger than all my fears combined.  And believe me, those fears make hefty luggage.

I tell people that all of my cobwebs were in that pool with me when I swam in that race.  And they seemed to dissolve with each stroke.

With each inhale and full exhale out, I felt God's strength.  I asked and He provided.

God gave me His strength.  

Now, three days later my triceps [still] feel it.  Arms sore and body [still] rejoicing.

I think of the difference it makes when we *choose courage*.  He blesses our willingness to stand.  He helps the lame walk.  He gives sight to the blind.  His grace helps us walk (or swim).

His Grace gives us life. 

I invite you to choose courage today, and seek Him as you do.  And after you see how He blesses your choice to trust Him, share your story with someone today and encourage them to also seek His strength by choosing *courage*.

____________________________________________

Unwrapped *Gifts* of {Grace}...

...the Boy-Man's anticipation to give...

...a beautiful view on a 20-mile bike ride...

...a story to tell of courage, strength and determination...

...inspiring gifts of encouragement for my mama...

...knowing of someone else's challenges and how it brings me to Him on their behalf...

...a neighbor's sharing of perennials for my garden...

...the sweetness of blueberries for my cereal...

...the Man-Boy's reaching for me...

...how motherhood offers a gift of understanding...

...*Hope* in a {second} life companion for my 70-year-old neighbor...

...encouragement to 'just love' the Boy-Man, even when it's hard...

Christmas is even for me!

I heard it all week in my head...Let He who is without sin cast the first stone...

Yeah, right, I thought.  Of course.  And so that's exactly what I said I did.  Problem was, I was up in one of those really tall buildings doing important work, overlooking every one scampering about, and the windows were those real strong ones.  When my imaginary-self looked at my real-self and threw the stone, it bounced off the window and fall down to the ground, hurting others.

I am important, you know.  I do important work...  I am a mother...  I get up early and go running...

I...I...I...

Can you hear it?  Have you seen it in my words all this time?  Do you smell it?

Yeah, it stinks bad!  Like, rotten leftovers that I said I'd eat and never got around to it, and then the fridge went kapput on a hot Summer day.  Stinky like that. 

Earlier this week I was coming back from a morning run and one of our neighbors nearly hit me.  I've talked about it all week, even though I heard the words...Let He who is without sin cast the first stone...  And yet, I continued to talk about this person, even having a long facebook gossip fest without naming names, but still it wasn't right of me.

I haven't wanted your Christmas.  I haven't needed your Christmas.  The obligation associated with what Christmas is for so many people...crazy schedules, stress, expected gift giving, cookie baking and sharing, parties...even church.  I haven't needed any of that.  I've declared that I know what Christmas is about and it isn't any of that.  I've even said that I don't want some classic line of encouragement from the most Holy of sources and held up people's individual words as the most treasured of all.  It's all a matter of perspective, I know, but still...my judgment and pride were clearly colored.

Did I think I could do Christmas better than anyone else?

I really do know the meaning of this holiday.  I really know to choose Peace and Love and Grace.  But...I fell flat on my face and I couldn't do it in my own strength.  I wasn't strong enough.  I fell.  I became tangled up in the mess of obligation and stress just like the rest of 'em.

And so...did I really get it?  Perhaps.  In my mind I know the Truth.  But even Superheroes fall, and I've seen it happen.  I know that God will breakthrough Pride in the most loving and graceful ways.

So for me, this Christmas is about leaning on His strength, moment by moment.  Nothing I can do.  Not about me.  Just about Him.  The Creator who became a babe lying in a manger.  Really?  Yes, Really.

Christ-Mas.  Does that mean more Christ?  Whether it does or doesn't, I think that's exactly the place where I've come.  More Christ.  Less of me.  More of Him.

(Still, though, you might not want to come over and preach at me about what Christmas is, because you might get hit with a big fat snowball of my own pride.  I'm armed and dangerous.) 

Even still, I am loved...and so are you.