It's Okay To Not Be Okay

I broke down last night.

As the appointment with the Wash U oncologists loomed, I was carrying this sense of impending doom in my body. Up to now, once Kris was released from wearing the back brace all the time, we were living in a bubble of sorts. We were just going to treatment appointments, Kris was faithfully taking his meds, and things had some semblance of "normal" for a time. I had certain expectations of this appointment, but had only thought about it in terms of the details they would be providing about the bone marrow transplant: when it would happen, what it would look like, whether Kris would be in isolation, what the risk of infection was, etc...

I didn't expect that appointment to turn my world upside down.
That's the thing with expectations--things do not always go the way we think they will. As hard as we may try to NOT have expectations, I think we just instinctively do this. We believe things one way and don't really think about another possibility, until we are punched in the gut with one. That's how it felt on Tuesday. Like the rug was pulled from under us, shattering our illusion that Multiple Myeloma is not usually fatal.

I felt strong all day on Tuesday, and I saw God show up in tiny ways, again and again and again. I felt truly calm even with the truth we learned, and had a peace that cannot be explained. Anyone who knew me 10, 5, or even 2 years ago would (and have been) surprised at the peace that has been evident in me all throughout this. It is only from God. I spent all of 2023 chasing after peace and fighting fear at a deeper level. It brought me to a place where I could claim victory and say (and truly believe) that NO MATTER WHAT I will be okay. I have clung to that, repeated that to myself and others, and cherished this new level of peace God has given me.

The peace that cannot be understood, while ever-present with me now, doesn't suddenly stop my ability to FEEL. Our feelings just are. They are present in our bodies, and they come, and they go. It is their nature. Sometimes, though, we get stuck in our feelings, and that is a dangerous place to stay. I am learning the art of feeling my feelings, grieving what I need to grieve, and then releasing those feelings into the hands of a God who has never let me go.

So, it's not really surprising to me what happened last night.
Do you ever just feel like picking a fight? The tension was building in my body, and because my mind felt sound, it was very disorienting. I didn't understand what was happening or why I was so agitated with Kris. In several moments over the last two days, I have been short with him. I can see the pain and physical exhaustion written all over his face and it throws me off balance. Especially when he says things like "I'm just tired." or "My pain isn't that bad." I have trouble believing him, because what I SEE and what he is saying are two completely different things. It makes me fearful that he is falling back into his old pattern of simply shoving his feelings down and not being present with what is happening in his body. But do I tell him this? No. Because at that moment, I'm stuck in the past with a younger, terrified version of myself who is accustomed to hearing devastating confessions when her husband's actions don't line up with his words. And while I know in my mind this present situation is not related to his past addiction, I get stuck back there emotionally when he's tired especially, because it creates this distance between us that I have trouble navigating. It leaves me feeling off-balance, which in turn increases the sarcastic tone in my voice, its raised volume, or my complete shutdown in communication with Kris.

This entire cancer journey has been filled with emotional flashbacks for me, because Kris with cancer is a different Kris. He's run down often, he is in pain much of the time, and he simply isn't able to do many of the things he did before. While I can acknowledge that he is NOT currently acting out, it doesn't change how my body reacts when I am stuck in an emotional flashback. But I didn't immediately identify it last night. Instead, I felt incredibly small, dismissed, and unseen by my husband. I just kept blurting out any thought that came to mind. The problem was much of it was not coherent or expressed in a way that Kris could even enter into. It was chaotic in my mind and it came out chaotically and left Kris feeling confused and at a loss on how to move forward.

I knew it wasn't his fault. I knew that I was experiencing a complete overwhelm of sensations, physically and emotionally, but I was stuck and didn't know how to speak it. And then came my old friend Shame with lies like this: "He has cancer. How could you possibly be making this about you? You don't get to feel anything or experience pain because HE is the one who needs to do that. You had your time. I can't believe you are treating him like this when he's sick and needs to get some rest. What a horrible, selfish wife you are. And not just a bad wife. A bad mom. A bad friend. A bad Christian. Look at you, shaking and crying and making it all about you. You're having a panic attack just to pull the attention back on you. What a pitiful excuse of a human you are. You aren't allowed to feel anything. You need to shut up and let him go to bed. You're so stupid."

And I'm going to be honest. I got stuck there for a while. I even believed the lies temporarily, where in less stressful times I can call them out and renounce them. It is so easy to fall back into the habit of just ingesting and believing the lies, especially in times of deep trouble. I'm a baby still when it comes to denouncing the lies and declaring the truth of who I am, because of who God is. Last night, I was truly stuck, frozen, unable to move.
And as the old familiar panic attack washed over my body, the lies were heavy in my mind and I couldn't talk. I couldn't explain to Kris that I was having trouble believing the truth that I know. The lies were SO loud it was all I could hear. I was having a very real moment of terror and I couldn't even understand what it was rooted in. The entire time, leading up to the panic attack, I kept searching my brain trying to understand WHAT was happening. Why was I so edgy? Why was I attacking my partner who has loved me at my worst? What experience in my past was causing this amount of disruption in me? And unlike my past experience when I am curious instead of fearful about what is going on in my mind and body, I couldn't come up with anything, which left me feeling even more unstable.

All I knew is that the entire thing spiraled out because I told Kris that I didn't feel like he really cared when I talked about how hard it has been these last couple of weeks especially dealing with what are likely very real symptoms of perimenopause. He has seemed disengaged, and has barely said anything at all in response to me when I would share. I felt alone, like I was drowning and he, who represents safety for me, was not willing to throw me a lifeline. I'm not saying it is an accurate picture of his heart. I KNOW that it is not who he is. It never has been. Time and time again he has thrown me a lifeline and held me when my body was shaking or my fear was too big. There's no reason for me to think that. And yet, it is the reality of what was happening in my brain.

Suddenly, somehow in the midst of it all, a small piece of the puzzle became clear. The reason I am SO disrupted about experiencing menopausal symptoms is because I have lived with a very real fear inside of me regarding this very day. For many years, that fear ran rampant, unchecked. When I was 19 years old with a blood clot, I was told that I could never take estrogen or have hormone replacement therapy down the road when menopause hits. It was traumatic news to hear, and not knowing what I know now, I buried it deep in my mind and my body. It would come up from time to time, and I would feel the fear of it, and then I would shove it down again. What was the point in worrying about something that was decades away? But I didn't realize that each time I took it out and looked at it, and then put it back, I was giving that fear room to ferment and grow. And it grew silently and metastasized to the point that now that I am smack dab in the middle of a body that is doing things I cannot control and cannot treat with HRT, so of course I am going to be off balance. Of course I am going to panic.

As soon as I realized this, my PTSD freeze response kicked in and I stayed stuck there for a long time. The freeze part was evident in the fact that I simply could not figure out how to TELL Kris about it. I didn't know how to form the words. It reminded me of all the times when we were first married at 19 and we would have conflict, and I didn't know how to have a voice so I would LITERALLY go and hide in our closet. Kris would come and find me, he would sit with me, and he would just wait patiently. He would try to coax me to open up and talk to him. I'm not sure he realized what he was unleashing by giving me a voice to speak about all of the painful things I carried inside. Perhaps you can't see me this way, because I am now so very open about everything I think and feel. But there was a time when I could sit for hours, unable to speak about the really hard things. It was so crazy last night, to feel like I was 19 again, sitting in that closet, unable to articulate the pain I was feeling.

Feeling off balance from that, while Kris stood there unable to find words to say to enter into the moment with me, I went to the bedroom and left him in the family room. After a couple of minutes, he sent me a chat and we had a brief exchange. But I was still highly agitated and desperate to not be abandoned. I'm not a nice person in the face of abandonment. All the things that I try to die daily to rise up and I become someone you wouldn't recognize. I imagine this is just part of being human for all of us, so I don't think my experience is unique, and I’m not going to shame myself into defeat.

Because of miscommunication through chat, Kris came back to the bedroom to talk. I could see it all over his face and in his body language--he simply did not know how to come alongside me at that moment. He didn't know what I needed. I didn't know what I needed. And as he looked at me with true confusion, I desperately began searching my mind to understand what I was feeling. I became frantic as I searched for the younger version of myself that I can usually find in these moments. I couldn't find her and it terrified me. She was gone and I didn't know where she was. How could I sit with her and protect her from the onslaught if I couldn't find her? It literally filled me with terror to not know where she was.

As the panic attack fully settled in, by this point, Kris was laying in bed beside me. I couldn't speak, but I wanted to cry out, "I can't find her! I don't know where she is but she needs me." I wanted to tell my husband why I was panicking, but I simply could not utter the words. All I could do was lay there in panic, waiting for it to pass. While it was overwhelming and out of my control, I knew deep in my soul that it WOULD pass. So I just laid there, waiting, as I held my breath and my body trembled.

At some point, Kris turned on some music. He didn't know that the very song he turned on first (Oceans-Where Feet May Fail by Hillsong) was one that I had heard early that morning and it brought me great comfort then. So to hear it again in that moment, I KNEW God saw me. I KNEW that my husband saw me. My body was still in a full on panic attack, but I had clarity in my mind.

What God did next blew my mind. It didn't surprise me, but it wrecked me in the best possible way. Song after song for nearly an hour came on. It wasn't the usual songs. Every song was one I knew and loved, but several of them were strategically placed in line to play, something only God could have done, to reveal to me the truth I was desperately chasing after. I needed to understand what was driving the panic attack, and the events that led up to it. I couldn't figure it out on my own, except to know that somehow everything we had experienced over the last two days was just a LOT. The panic attack actually made sense to me, because I had been walking in such strength and peace (the Lord's, not my own), without having actually taken time to FEEL what my body needed to, specifically concerning Kris’ life expectancy.

What you do not feel WILL arise somewhere else. If you do not feel it, express it, and grieve whatever "it" is, it will stay stuck in your body. I think that's why I had the panic attack. Because while I took time Tuesday afternoon to rest, it looked more like just laying there, unable to move or speak or think or feel. I was still in shock. We carried on with our day, and spent the evening Tuesday night having pizza with our kids, my mother-in-law, my sister and her husband, and two of our bonus kids. We spent at least an hour sitting in a circle in our family room, being completely transparent with our family about what we were facing and how we planned to walk through it. We laughed and cried and loved on each other. That night is cemented in my mind, a memory that I think our family will cherish as the years roll by.

Yesterday, I hit a wall at work (figuratively) at about 10:30AM. A deep exhaustion settled into my bones, and my coworkers could see it all over my face. I went home to finish my shift and trudged through the rest of the day. My sister and a couple friends came over to craft in the afternoon and it was relaxing and needed, but around 6PM, I hit another wall. I simply couldn't move. I just sat in my chair, talking to everyone, but unable to do anything else. Once our friends left, Kris and I did our devotions and watched a show together.

And then it went downhill from there.

About an hour before it began, I told Kris I thought I might have a panic attack. His response would normally have been tender and compassionate. But last night, because we were in the middle of conflict, he just sat there saying nothing. I felt like I had to run. Like I had to get away and hide from all of it. It must have been so confusing for him to see me like this last night. He was completely at a loss for how to come alongside me. I knew that I wasn't making any sense. I knew that his hands were tied, because I didn't even know what was happening or what I needed.

I could end it there and just tell you that in the end we made up and all was well. But if I just did that, then I couldn't share all the ways in which God showed up last night, and how HE revealed to me what was happening, since neither one of us had any clue. The perimenopause conversation may have been the catalyst, but that isn't what was really upsetting me. It took three songs, strategically placed in order, for God to reveal to my heart what I was wrestling with.

Oceans by Hillsong was the first and that song helped my body to calm. Literally, halfway through, the shaking in my body suddenly stopped. I was able to take small breaths. The panic and shaking would come and go over the next few songs, but miraculously in the middle of Oceans, my body suddenly stopped shaking entirely and I was able to lay my arms down at my side.

You call me out upon the waters | The great unknown where feet may fail | And there I find You in the mystery | In oceans deep my faith will stand | And I will call upon Your name | And keep my eyes above the waves | When oceans rise | My soul will rest in Your embrace | For I am Yours and You are mine | Your grace abounds in deepest waters | Your sovereign hand will be my guide | Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me | You’ve never failed and You won’t start now

Lead Me by Santus Real came on next. And I remember thinking, what an odd song. But as I listened to the first verse, and it echoed exactly how I was feeling in that moment, I knew it was from God.

I look around and see my beautiful life | Almost perfect from the outside | In picture frame, I see my beautiful wife | Always smiling but on the inside | Oh I can hear her saying | Lead me with strong hands | Stand up when I can't | Don't leave me hungry for love | Chasing dreams but what about us? | Show me you're willing to fight | That I'm still the love of your life | I know we call this our home | But I still feel alone.

As that verse played, Kris took my hand. I knew with everything in me that he was communicating to me that he saw me. That he was not going to leave me to face this alone. That he was going to stand up and fight for me, in that moment, because I couldn't. As the song continued, Kris tenderly stroked the top of my head.
The next song to play was Praise You In The Storm by Casting Crowns. Suddenly, I remembered hearing this song when my friend Shawn lost his wife and two of his boys suddenly back in 2005. It has always held a special place in my heart and I prayed that song so many times over Shawn in those early months of deep grief and loss he had to walk through.

I was sure by now | God, You would have reached down | And wiped our tears away | Stepped in and saved the day | And once again | I say, 'Amen' and it's still rainin' | But as the thunder rolls | I barely hear Your whisper through the rain | 'I'm with you' | And as Your mercy fails | I'll raise my hands and praise the God who gives | And takes away

My sobbing became loud and ugly and I realized that I needed to cry, to weep, to sob, to let all of it wash over me and FEEL it. As the chorus played, I raised my hand up toward the ceiling. In the dark, laying in our bed, I began to worship.

I'll praise You in this storm | And I will lift my hands | For You are who You are | No matter where I am | And every tear I've cried | You hold in Your hand | You never left my side | And though my heart is torn | I will praise You in this storm

Another old song came on after that, Cry Out To Jesus by Third Day. My sobbing renewed in earnest when I heard the first notes, as this song is one I have gone back to time and time again. I remember sending it to my grandma after my grandpa died. I didn't expect it to come on last night and I didn't expect to be so deeply sorrowful through it, but it was in this song that I realized exactly what had prompted everything that transpired last night. Two parts in particular hit home so much harder than I thought they would or should, but then it just made sense.

To everyone who's lost someone they love | Long before it was their time | You feel like the days you had were not enough | When you said goodbye

AND

To the widow who suffers from being alone

That last one made me think of my grandma, and my friend Cynthia who is a widow and has been by my side every step of this cancer journey. As this song played, I still had my right hand lifted in the air in worship. Kris lifted my left hand that was intertwined with his and we lay there, hands raised, silently praising God for who he is, for what he has given us, for the work he has done in each of us, and for bringing us to this very moment.

The song ended and I finally found the first words to speak to Kris in over an hour, as understanding dawned and I knew what I was feeling. I sobbed out, "I don't want you to die. I know that I will be okay if you do, but I don't want you to." He held me tight, whispered reassurances over me, kissed my forehead, stroked my hair, and just allowed me to weep.

I knew I was not going to let the enemy bind me in fear, but in that moment, I WAS afraid. It was real and it was raw and it is okay that I felt it. And as I realized this, I understood something else. Remember how I couldn't find the younger version of me to comfort? I suddenly knew why I couldn't find her. Because she wasn't the one crying out to be seen and held and comforted. It was ME. The present, 45 year old me, needed to be ministered to and comforted.

We didn't talk. We just kept listening to music and in each song that came on, God spoke and moved, He loved, He saw, He comforted, He encouraged, and He filled us up. Promises by Maverick City held these truths:

Time and time again | You have proven | You'll do just what you said | Though the storms may come and the winds may blow | I'll remain steadfast | And let my heart learn, when You speak a word | It will come to pass |

AND

I put my faith in Jesus | My anchor to the ground | My hope and firm foundation | He'll never let me down

AND

Yes I'll still bless You | In the middle of the storm, in the middle of my trial | I'll still bless You

How He Loves by David Crowder Band played next and was the perfect reminder of how deeply loved we are.

And we are His portion and He is our prize | Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes | If his grace is an ocean, we're all sinking | And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss | And my heart turns violently inside of my chest | I don't have time to maintain these regrets | When I think about the way | He loves us | Oh how he loves us

That song was followed by Gratitude by Brandon Lake and we both just laid together, listening and echoing every word it says.

All my words fall short | I've got nothing new | How could I express | All my gratitude | I could sing these songs | As I often do | But every song must end | And you never do | So I throw up my hands | And praise You again and again | 'Cause all that I have is a hallelujah

What a beautiful night of worship Kris and I experienced. Like Tuesday night, surrounded by family as we faced our battle head on, that memory is going to be treasured as long as I have breath.

Cynthia sent me a text this morning telling me it was okay to not be okay. I shared that with Kris over chat and he said, “It's definitely okay to not be okay. I'm sure it will come in waves. I love you. I'm here with you now. He is with you always. I believe we still have lots of new memories to make together.”

We chatted a little more about last night, specifically when he lifted my other arm up. He said, “When I lifted your hand, I was imagining Moses. I felt like my role last night was that of Aaron or Hurr.” -- if you don't know the story, the Israelites were in battle and as long as Moses held his hands up, they had victory over their enemies. A person can get weary lifting their arms for so long. And Moses did. So Aaron and Hurr came alongside him and literally held his arms up as the battle raged on.

I replied, “I imagined that too and have told several people that I have had that kind of support throughout this journey, so I knew when you did it that is what it was.”

I told him I didn’t know if he could see that my other hand was up and he said, “I did know your other hand was raised. And the song was saying 'and I will lift my hands and praise you through the storm.' So I was joining you in that and supporting you.”

God is so, so kind. He has not, nor will He ever, abandon me.

Swimming Around The Rock

 I have felt depression laying its desperate fingers across my mind for weeks.  Lately, as I try to make my way back to a sound mind, I have begun to feel more and more frantic.  There has to be an end, a way out and I'm so desperate to NOT feel this way that I expend all my energy trying to chase after a sound mind, which I am learning is counter-intuitive.  There's something about rest that I haven't quite learned yet, but I'm close to understanding and implementing in my life.

God promises we are never left alone and he promises that when we draw near to him, He will draw near to us.  

Do you know WHY God can promise that?  Do you know why it's so easy for God to draw near to us, when we finally surrender our own will and draw near to him, instead of striving for the answers?  BECAUSE HE'S ALREADY THERE!  It isn't that God puts up a wall and stays WAY over on his side, and then when we finally draw near to him for comfort and refuge, he can come from far off to rescue us.  I lived under that lie for most of my life, thinking that I could push God away, far from my heart and current situations.  I had such a small understanding of who God was and the depth of love Jesus poured out on the cross that I believed I had some kind of power or ability to force God back onto "his side."

The reason it is so easy and God can draw near to us swiftly is because He never went anywhere.  He has always been right by our side, just waiting for us to #1 SEE HIM and #2 be willing to show him all the dark places in our hearts and minds.  He wants us to lift them up to him, like a child shows a drawing to a parent.  He has the ability to look at the messes we make of our hearts as a loving parent looks at meaningless lines and scribbles on a page. 

Maybe what we made is complete trash.  Maybe our efforts to make a life worthy of Christ's sacrifice is a jumbled mess that doesn't make any sense.  And yet still, God asks us to show him.  Show him what we are hiding behind our back.  To stop looking down in shame, and to look up - to him.  To see his eyes.  If you were to look into God's eyes, not expecting shame and condemnation, you would find all the things you have been searching for.  His eyes are so full of love and pride for the wrecks we are.  We are broken vessels, and God is the artist who created us.  Beyond that, God finds delight that we even tried to make something to begin with and he draws us close for a hug and tells us how beautiful our creation is, for no other reason than because he believes it is true!

It is impossible for God, the creator and artist, to pile shame and guilt on us, his creation.  That is the exact opposite of what Jesus' life was about.  He lived and died to prove to us that our shame doesn't hold any weight in the eyes of God.  He knew our tendency to let shame rule us, and so he put shame to death once and for all. And all these years later, so many of us still live as if shame has a place in our lives.  We have misunderstood and mis-preached in our churches what the Cross was really about for too long.  If we aren't preaching that the Cross brings freedom from the shame that shackles us, we are doing something wrong.

Today I was really feeling the heaviness cover my mind and body.  As I was driving home from work, I was talking to God about this and was thinking about how it feels like I am swimming through a tangibly thick fog.  My movements are slow and I'm not making much progress.  And as I was pouring my heart out to God, the song Promises by Maverick City Music came on.  And as I was contemplating this thickness I was swimming through, I heard these words:

I put my faith in Jesus

My anchor to the ground

He's my hope and firm foundation

He'll never let me down

The minute I heard them, the picture in my mind that I wasn't really certain I was seeing clarified.  I saw this large rock in the middle of an ocean.  The rock cannot move.  It is fixed to the ground, anchoring itself in the midst of the wind and waves all around.  It is immovable.  And if it is my firm foundation, then what in the world am I doing, swimming around the rock, in fog I don't belong in???

As soon as I realized it was my perspective that was off, the immediate thought was to let the guilt and shame for forgetting this crush down on me.  But by the grace of God, I have been learning that shame doesn't have a place in my heart and I realized that what I really needed to do was to climb back up on the rock and just STOP.  Stop striving.  Stop trying to find the shore, as if the shore or the other side is somehow accessible by getting down from that Rock that is to be my firm foundation.  If I stay on the rock, where the footing is solid, I don't get lost in the fog and the thickness.  And I certainly don't have to try to swim through unknown and terrifying waters by myself.  But if I get down off the rock, I position myself AWAY from God, who is a place of safety and peace and protection.  

Hear me.  The depression hasn't magically gone away, just because I realized that I had once again been trying to find a sound mind by STRIVING.  But sometimes shifting perspective back to its proper place is what is needed.  Sometimes stopping and just waiting for the wind and waves to die down is necessary.  Maybe God isn't asking me to dive into the depths of the crazy in my mind and fight my way through to him.  Maybe he's simply asking me to sit on the rock for however long it takes for that fog to pass.  Because here's the thing about fog.  It DOES lift.  It DOES move away, leaving a clear path again.

And the crazy thing is that this Rock, this firm foundation, while fixed, moves through life with us.  It is always right there beside us (underneath us if we are brave enough to stand on it), ready to be a place of safety and a place of rest.  But God doesn't force us to climb back up on the rock and wait out the storm with him.  He certainly wants us to, because like any good parent, he wants to protect us (from ourselves most of the time) and he wants us to be able to navigate from a place of safety.  He understands that when we jump down into the ocean and try to swim through all the noise that we are moving away from him.  

Sure, we might stay near the rock, practicing all the things we have learned in our lives of faith, and we might not be actively running into sin.  But he wants us to understand that we don't have to get off of that foundation at all.  We don't have to be in the thick muddy waters on our own.  YES, we have to be IN THEM.  That is life and it is hard.  But we are never asked to walk it alone.  We don't have to swim blindly through the fog.  We won't get anywhere for our striving outside of God-in fact, we end up going in circles, never really making progress.  And yet, if we get up on that rock and look out, while we may not see the path, we WILL see light on the horizon.  There is HOPE out there, and we simply cannot see it while we are in the water, trying to swim through the fog.  We HAVE to get back up on the rock if we want to see the hope that is on the horizon.  And we have to wait there until the fog passes, so that we can then safely move through the waters again, clinging to the Rock that will never fail.

A Psalm of Sorrow

 Go a little deeper.

That's what you are saying.

It's the calling you have placed on my heart.

You gave me ten years to rest and heal.

You gave me time to learn and grow.

And now, you want me to go deeper.

Can I be honest?

I'm not sure I want to.

Not because I don't want to be in the deep.

Not because I don't want to grow more.

Not because I don't desire MORE.

It's just, if I'm honest, I'm scared.

I don't know what to expect.

We both know the unknown has always terrified me.

How do I move forward in faith, instead of fear.

I can hear you beckon me

I feel your Spirit moving in me, drawing me deeper.

I'm not sure I'm scared about drowning.

I'm not ever certain what I am actually afraid of.

I have been in the deeps with you.

When I thought it would hurt, when I thought you would wound, instead I found healing.

I found peace.

I found freedom.

I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good.

Time and time again, you have lavished love and grace in my life.

So why is it so easy to get distracted?

Why does the slightest wind shift my focus?

Why can't I  just stay in the deep with you?

Why am I always swimming to shore?

Why can't I just stay put and let the waves shift and move me?

I don't want to give you control.

I guess when it comes down to it, I don't want to let it all go.

Surrender, you say.

But what about all the other things?

All the stuff that tells me it is more important?

Who will worry about those?

I know the truth.

Why can't I activate the faith I cling to?

Why does this feel so hard?

It feels too big, like I will never learn.

How long will I fight against this?

I want to change.

I want to die to myself.

And yet, at the heart of it, I realize just how much of myself I still love.

I want it to look the way I want it to look.

I want to give you my heart and also hold onto the parts of it that aren't yet yours.

That's the truth, isn't it?

Admitting that I want it to be all about me.

I want the accolades.

I want to be seen.

I want what you have called me to give.

That's at the heart of what I don't want to admit.

Humility is this intangible thing that feels too big to grasp.

And yet, I know it's required.

I have to die.

I have to be willing to let you excise the parts of my heart that no longer belong.

I am alive.

I am free.

I don't have to be consumed by this.

You remind me constantly of your love and grace.

Why do I long for it to be enough, yet walk through life as if it isn't?

I hate this about myself.

I don't want to be self-centered and vain.

I don't want to feel this way.

But I do.

So what now, God?

It feels like we are at an impasse, because I don't want to let it go.

I don't want to give up this last piece of myself, the piece that makes me me.

Even though me isn't worth much.

The me who wants to live is not healthy or safe or filled with your spirit.

Why is the battle against my own will so hard?

It's MY will.  

I should be able to control this, shouldn't I?

I'm angry and I'm frustrated.

All of my insecurities rise to the surface and I don't know how to make them bow.

I don't know how to move past this.

And yet, you give me clarity.

You show up, on quiet drives to work.

You orchestrate worship that drives me to the foot of the Cross.

You remind me that you are bigger than all of my fears.

You love me, even this part of me I am trying so desperately to cling to.

You love even that girl.

The one who feels small and defeated.

The one who loves herself more than she should.

The one who knows the good she ought to do and doesn't do it.

Your grace.

Your mercy.

Your love.

Those are singing over me today as I wrestle with feelings of shame and anger and insecurity.

None of it matters.

In the grand scheme of things, I'm irrelevant.

Remind me when I forget.

Keep showing up.

Keep giving me your grace.

Keep showering your mercy upon me.

Keep lavishing this love I can't understand.

Bring me to my knees.

Give me courage to stay there, as long as it takes for you to make me clean.

Wash away anything that points to me.

Forgive me for making it about me and what I want.

Soothe my heart when it feels empty.

I know that you see me.

I know that you are the only one that matters.

Bring me back to that place where my heart was wholly about you.

To live, I must die.

I want to live.

Teach me to live.

Where The Enemy Belongs

I was listening to the song Under My Feet by Zach Williams recently, and I suddenly thought of Jesus saying "Get behind me Satan."  While I did go to Bible college, I didn't retain much and couldn't quite place where that was from, so like any good former Bible college student, I Googled it.  

Jesus actually said this to Peter, both in Mark 8:33 and Matthew 16:23.  Jesus was explaining what was coming to his disciples and Peter couldn't comprehend that Jesus would actually die.  The Bible says Peter took Jesus aside and said something like this, "Hey, there's NO WAY anything like that could/would ever happen to you!!"  

Peter's fear was welling up inside of him, which seems to have been a theme in Peter's life.  

In terms of my sin and how I view myself, I want to be like Paul, i.e. really see myself as the least worthy of God's grace.  But in my heart of hearts, Peter is a kindred spirit.  He is so very human to me.  

This is the SAME Peter who, in his fear, saw Jesus walking on water and asked him to PROVE himself.  Did Jesus do some miracle with his person (beyond walking on water?!?) to prove he was who he said he was?  

No.  

Instead, Jesus challenged Peter to put his money where his mouth was.  Essentially, I feel like Jesus was saying, "If you want proof, you get up and take the step toward me.  That's all the proof you'll need."

Of course, Jesus knew Peter's heart and the fear that gripped it.  And to Peter's credit, at first, while he had his eyes on Jesus, he began to walk on the water as well.  It was only when Peter felt the wind around him that he became distracted and began to sink.  He cried out for Jesus to save him.  And what did Jesus do?  He reached down and pulled Peter up and they climbed into the boat.  

But there seems to be this recurring "ask" with Jesus.  

He will ALWAYS save.  

He will ALWAYS rescue us.  

Even when we doubt.  

Even when we are distracted.  

But, he will also ALWAYS tell us the truth we need to hear.  And then he will usually ask us to do one thing with that truth:  believe.  And sometimes, he will ask us to prove that we believe in Him, in the same way his followers asked him to prove himself, or the same way we ask God to prove himself to us today.

Jesus saved Peter, but he also spoke to Peter's doubt and faith.  He rescued Peter from the fear and physical danger, but he wanted Peter to see that there was a better way.  To understand that when you keep your eyes on Jesus, you can literally walk on water if he calls you to do so.

We could look at Peter and think he was foolish.  First of all, he asked Jesus for proof.  But who of us has never wanted to see a reason or proof of what we cannot see?  We have all questioned and wrestled with different things.  This desire for proof was not exclusive to Peter.  

Jesus did question Peter's faith, and rightly so.  Peter had been doing life with Jesus.  He had seen the miracles Jesus was performing with his own eyes.  And maybe this had strengthened his faith, but he was still having trouble.  

So when everyone is afraid when they see Jesus on the water, and Jesus proclaims who he is, Peter is, at least, WILLING to believe.  Yes, he asked for proof, but he was face to face with Jesus, and he was willing to walk towards Jesus.  And then he took his eyes off of Jesus and became scared, promptly forgetting everything he knew about who Jesus really was (as I know I often do).  When reminded of the truth--that Jesus was who he said he was--Peter wanted to go toward Jesus.  

This is courage.  It might have revealed Peter's lack of faith in Jesus, but it doesn't mean Peter didn't have courage.  Courage says, "I'm afraid, but I'm going to try anyway."  Courage is not an absence of fear.  Peter might have had a small faith, but he still wanted to be close to Jesus.  If Jesus was who he said he was, then Peter wanted to do whatever he could to be close to Jesus, even if it meant stepping out into a sea of waves.  Where Jesus is, fear cannot be.  1 John 4:18 says, "Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear.  If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love."

So when we look back at the story I started with, where Jesus says to Peter, "Get behind me Satan.", we simply need to see that Jesus knew that Peter's fear was from Satan, and he wanted to make sure to put it in its proper place.  Jesus understood what it meant to be tempted by Satan.  He KNEW how Satan twisted Scripture to suit his purposes, because he had experienced it first hand when tempted in the wilderness.  

So, Jesus recognized this same thing happening inside of Peter when Peter began to tell Jesus he would not suffer and die.  Peter's mind was on the world and his fear.  He had allowed the enemy to enter into his mind and twist what he knew of Jesus, even though Jesus had shown him time and time again who he was.  Peter simply couldn't reconcile his heart and his mind, because his fear was so big.

Perhaps the devil was trying to tempt Jesus through Peter, by saying, "Oh Jesus, don't worry.  You won't actually have to die in such a horrible way.  It's all going to be fine."  And Jesus came to show us that no, everything will not be fine.  If we continue on in darkness and sin, with no atonement for our guilt, everything will NOT BE FINE.  Jesus knew what it meant to be human and to be tempted, but he also showed us the RIGHT way to handle it.  

Yes, Peter was rebuked by Jesus.  But Jesus didn't really see Peter as the enemy.  He just understood that the enemy was there in Peter's mind and that Peter's fear was in control.  Jesus was telling the devil he had no place there.  He did not belong.  

Jesus was teaching us how to handle the enemy.  

1.  We have to acknowledge that Satan is always going to be there, lurking, just waiting for the right time to attack.  

2.  We have to remember the truth.  Where Jesus is, the devil has to flee.  

3.  We have to say or think or sometimes DO something that will put the enemy is his proper place.  

Because of how Jesus responded to Satan, we have a blueprint.  We can put him where he belongs, under our feet.

A Proper Perspective

 I want to share a little bit about a point of tension Kris and I found ourselves in this morning.

Olivia is playing Pinocchio in her school's version of Shrek the Musical and this week is tech week. Due to longer, fully costumed practices, she needs to be picked up today between 6:45 and 7pm, and I'll already be home from work, finishing my shift at home. Kris gets off at 6 usually and sometimes stays until 6:30. So even though logistically I'm closer to Olivia's school, in the moment it made sense to see if Kris could just get her when he comes home (adding basically only the ten minutes to his trip it would take me to go get her).

I also have a relationship with driving where it's a necessity sometimes, but I will avoid it at all costs. When you live with anxiety but refuse to let it overtake you, you begin to learn ways to manage anxiety and reduce or eliminate it when possible. So for me, I don't drive unless I need to.  It made more sense, since Kris usually NEVER minds, for him to get her.

Enter the tension.

After Kris agreed to get her, I asked him again if he minded. Then I asked it again, a different way, surely believing that this time I would uncover the real truth: that I'm a burden to Kris and in addition to not working the hours I am scheduled for weeks on end because of my back, I'm also too lazy to drive ten minutes to pick up my own kid, who has managed to coordinate rides home for 2 weeks straight and this is the first time we've needed to get her.

This, my friends, is how my brain frequently works.  And my brain will keep prodding me for reassurance, and since I'm not well-versed in telling it the right things, I keep prodding at Kris, looking for him to reassure my chaotic brain that it really is NO BIG DEAL for him to go pick her up.

Why does my brain do that? Why am I so quick to react internally before I can even take a minute to breathe and believe that I'm in a safe situation.

Recently my friend, Linda, tagged me in a post about a podcast.  First of all, if it hadn't been Mayim Bialik's podcast, (which I had actually listened to previously because I mean, I was a Blossom fan long before Amy came along...), I might not have even listened to this episode. No that's not true. I would have gotten to it in a couple years. But anyway, at first I turned it on thinking it would be just another celebrity selling some miracle weight-loss and anti-depression pill that would change my life.

Boy was I in for a surprise. Not only did they sell me that pill, I signed up to sell it and am looking for just 10 eager people...

Okay, I'm only kidding on that part. But am I really, since it changed my perspective and here I am telling people about it?

So if you don't want to listen to the podcast, in this episode Mayim talks to Alan Gordon about chronic pain, as both have experienced this throughout their adult lives. It's funny because the principles he talks about are no different than what God was teaching me in March 2020, about trusting God to be just enough. So while the podcast in and of itself wasn't revolutionary to me, there was a truth I have carried with me from the moment I finished listening to it. And it has to do with this idea of feeling SAFE.

When I heard this principle used in relation to pain, I immediately saw the implications for my pain, but also how to manage my anxiety in a practical way. Look. We all want a pill or quick fix to stop the pain, whether it be physical or mental/emotional.  And the Bible does give us some principles and truths we can rely on.  It truly does and these are essential for the believer to learn.

HOWEVER, we want something that seems a bit more tangible. I'm realizing that in order to manage my pain or anxiety (or even grief should it come knocking, because it is just a question of when), I have to be the one to do the practical, tangible things. They don't just magically happen.

Yes, you can pray and even find great peace. That's a great first place to start, and I definitely recommend it.  But honestly, the greatest and hardest work I've done has to do with reframing my perspective around whatever the issue is.

You can SPEAK truth to your mind, even if you don't FEEL the truth. If we only take the lies in, we won't recognize the truth. And the truth is sometimes so quiet out in the world. It's up to me as the individual, to not only recognize the lies, but speak Truth over them, loudly and regularly.

So what revolutionary thing did this podcast teach me? Essentially, I learned a lot more about PTSD and the body's reaction to it, and HOW to calm my brain down when it's trying to spiral the hardest.  Here is the truth.  

I AM SAFE.

THERE IS NO DANGER.

Listen. I get that there will be times where I am literally unsafe and in danger. But just think about it with me for a minute, if you will.

When my pain is awful and I feel like I can't stand any longer and let's say I'm in a situation where sitting is not an option (grocery store, walking to my car, etc...), I have started talking to myself, really. I literally say, "You are safe." - you will not fall over or lose all ability to walk. "There is no danger," - you will get through this and the time of rest is coming, even if it is delayed.

If you have ever studied or experienced PTSD, you know that what is happening is the person's fight or flight mode, instead of getting triggered and turning on, it's really just ON all the time. Those triggers in the normal world, in someone without PTSD, are essential warnings to the body and the brain that something isn't right and you need to react in some way to negate the threat, and you need to react now or great harm will come to you or someone else.

The person struggling with PTSD wants nothing more than to be able to relax.  Fear and danger are all around. The world is learning and understanding more about PTSD and the different causes.  We usually only think about it in terms of the military and war. But we are learning that years of sexual, verbal or physical abuse can cause PTSD.  PTSD can be caused by one extreme incident, such as the death of a loved one, whether it be tragic and sudden or drawn out like with cancer, but it can also develop from years of mistreatment and abuse.  

The more traumatic the event, the more likely the person is to experience PTSD. For many people, when they do the hard, hard work of getting help by talking to a therapist, they can learn a pathway through PTSD, and may only have triggers every so often. For others, the trauma went on for so long, or was so horrific, they will be fighting a daily battle with PTSD before we reach heaven. 

But there is hope and there are things you can do right now if you are struggling. Please note, I'm not advocating that this is the way to manage PTSD. If you are suffering, please seek the help of a licensed therapist so that you can begin the journey to healing. I'm only speaking from my own experience with PTSD and sharing a new strategy I'm using to help me manage anxious thoughts or triggers.

My challenge to myself (and to you) is that the next time you find yourself overwhelmed with anxiety or fear or pain you think you can never survive, try to tell yourself, "I am safe. There is no danger." You may have to back that up with other truths.

For me, on really bad pain days, I can say, I'm safe. I am not actively in danger. There is no threat that is going to take my life and while my body is weak, it isn't bedridden and I am ultimately okay.  

The same is true when my mind fixates on death and feels fearful I will lose someone I love. I can say, I am safe. Stay in this moment because you don't know if there is danger. You are safe if you stay in this moment, where no one has died. God has promised strength for tomorrow so worrying about how you will handle it if your husband dies is just making you feel out of control.

I kid you not. I have been practicing this, especially in terms of anxiety, because it has been louder than the pain. And I have witnessed physical sensations of anxiety (stomach cramping, heart racing, thoughts spinning, breathing labored) leave my body as I remind it that I'm safe. 

As Mayim likes to say, "It's science!" My body senses a danger, because in 43 years my danger sensor has learned to always be on. My flight response is always triggered. It's just a matter of when. So knowing this, I have to talk my body down when it automatically tries to run from a perceived danger, say for instance, making a phone call. Yes my body literally has a visceral reaction to this. But it's a part of life and I can't avoid it. So I have to get my body back on board and reassure it there is no danger. And I have to do that over and over and over again, until my body learns to shut off flight mode unless there is actually danger.

And that was all a long, roundabout way of saying that when Kris didn't reassure me that he wasn't burdened by picking Olivia up, my mind and body reacted.  I was already in flight mode so when Kris got annoyed with me for asking him a third time if it was okay, it triggered that reflex and in my mind in that moment, he also became unsafe and a source of danger to me.  And then me being triggered also triggered an insecurity in him, of "Why doesn't she just believe me?"  

Triggers are hard and navigating relationships after betrayal trauma can be tricky, especially when both parties have betrayed one another and both parties have experienced great pain at the hands of the other.

But my point is this. You can start a new groove. This is a concept our counselor told us about in the early days of therapy. If you spend years making a groove in a piece of wood, it goes deeper and deeper with each carving.  So if your groove is really deep, but you know you need to make a new groove, and go a different direction, it doesn't happen overnight. 

If you try to make a new groove from that old, deep one, you'll find that your hand automatically tries to go in the old groove. It's actually an excellent analogy for how PTSD works in the brain and body.  You can retain your brain. You can make a new groove, but you have to understand that making a new groove requires hard and consistent work. You might have to fight with yourself sometimes to force that new groove. 

I think it starts with going into those fearful and difficult moments and reframing it. Remind yourself you aren't in the danger your mind or body want you to think you are.  That's how you stay present. You are safe. There is no danger.  If you make a new groove in how you speak to yourself in those desperate moments, I think you'll find a little bit more understanding and strength to keep fighting the battle!

The Ocean Is Calling

I am experiencing some pretty crippling anxiety in this moment, so I thought maybe I would try to write through some of it.  It may resemble rambling, but hopefully by the end of it, my spirit is calmer and I can focus on things like, oh I don't know, my job? 

Eleven months ago, I found myself in the middle of a dark depression.  Shortly after my last post ( back in Sept 2020), where I shared I had broken down and told my husband I needed a break and I needed the ocean, I got the ocean.  Kris didn't hesitate.  He immediately began trying to figure out how to give me the ocean.  In the end, thanks to the pandemic, we got an incredible deal on an all-inclusive 4 night stay at a resort in Mexico.  Literally in less than a week, Kris came to me and said if I could just hold on till Tuesday, we would get to the ocean.  I could write an entire post dedicated to how grateful I was that God empowered him to move on my behalf that week.

I cannot even begin to tell you how helpful that trip was for me.  There was purpose in that trip.  I KNEW I needed to reconnect with my Maker.  I knew I needed the designer of the wind and waves to calm the storm in my heart and mind.  And so armed with all of the life-breathing worship songs that got me through March 2020-September 2020, I rested.  At the ocean.  I wept in a hammock listening to songs about God's power and grace and freedom, with the sound of the waves beating against the sand.  I floated in the water, letting the waves soothe the restlessness in my heart.  The trip to Mexico last September was life-changing and life-giving to me.  God renewed my heart and restored my sanity, which had begun to unravel.

I found my center in Mexico, because I realized that the ocean is where I can best see, feel, and experience God.  It isn't that I can't do that in here in the Midwest.  I can and I have to, because I can't just take off to the ocean whenever I have a whim (but boy do I wish I could!).  My soul cries out for the ocean.  I can't explain it.  If you know, you know.  Maybe for you it is the mountains, or art, or music.  Music is communion and prayer for me, but the ocean--man the ocean is where I absolutely cannot deny the magnificence and power of the God that loves me intimately.  It is like being invited into the inner sanctuary in God's temple - the place where he resides.  For me, being at the ocean is no different than being gathered into the arms of a loving parent after a fall.  

Lately, I have been feeling the depression try to creep back in.  This morning I realized once again that it's the media driving the fear, constantly shouting about the next big thing we need to be afraid of.  I'm tired of being told there is always something to fear.  I work really hard with God to fight the fear that has always surrounded me.  And the media is constantly throwing it all back in my face.  And beyond that, the divisiveness we have over masks and vaccines and the judgment if you fall on the wrong side of both of those things weighs heavy on me.

We've come full circle in this pandemic.  Two weeks to curve the spread turned into being quarantined for over a year, and there is still no end in sight.  In May, mask mandates lifted for us.  People were allowed to go back to life.  And now we're back under a mask mandate and there's talk of more quarantines.  And people on both sides crying out that masks work, but also at the same time, that they do not.  People are begging others to get a vaccine for the good of others, and the other side begging people to think and reason for themselves before getting the vaccine.  People with Covid are still dying.  People with the vaccine are also still getting Covid.  People are still dying, vaccinated or not.  This is our reality.  How on earth can anyone even take a side, when people are standing ON BOTH SIDES with pitchforks to condemn you?  

And all of this has left me feeling drained.  I feel like we are just right back where we started and one side says it's because not enough people quarantined and masked up, and the other side says that it is because we are all too afraid to get out there and just live life.  It stresses me out.  It's too much to feel and care about.  It's heavy and exhausting.  

So, October 4 can't come quick enough.  Two more months and I will be back in Mexico, back at the beach, back to the ocean where I feel the closest to the Creator-God who loves me far more than I deserve.  If I can just hang on until then...

Saltwater Heart- Switchfoot

Talking with myself in a land-locked parking lot

Cough drop tipping from my mouth like a love shot

My writer's block ink, oh, oh, oh

Sick of all the small talk, tripping non-stop

From the open-mouthed graves of the faux-hawk

Cinderblock mall, my blood clot pen, oh, oh, oh

Oh, maybe I could break clean

Yeah, maybe I could break clean

When I'm on your shore again

I can feel the ocean

I can feel your open arms

That pure emotion

I'm finally free again

Like my own explosion

When I'm on your shore again

I can feel the ocean

Saltwater running through my veins like a blind spot

Like I got caught, saltwater like your teardrop

With this saltwater heart, oh way oh

Now it's an abstract thought, but I've been thinking non-stop

'Bout the fact that my body's made most out of raindrops

With this saltwater heart, oh, oh, oh

Oh, maybe I could wash clean

Yeah, maybe I could believe

When I'm on your shore again

I can feel the ocean

I can feel your open arms

That pure emotion

I'm finally free again

Like my own explosion

When I'm on your shore again

I can feel the ocean

Oh, maybe I could wash clean

Yeah, maybe I could wash clean

All my land-locked dreams

And maybe I could believe

When I'm on your shore again

I can feel the ocean

I can feel your open arms

That pure emotion

I'm finally free again

Like my own explosion

When I'm on your shore again

I can feel the ocean

Lessons From Physical Therapy

It feels like more than 2 days have come and gone since my last post, because a LOT has been happening within my heart and life.  After the sermon Sunday and everything God is trying to teach me about not being a slave to fear, he decided it was time to go even deeper.

Normally, he just says, "OK, it's time to work on this ONE thing."  Actually, now that I put words to it, he probably hasn't been saying that.  He has probably been saying, "Let's work on you surrendering and trusting me in every area," but all I can hear because fear stands in the way is, "just work on one thing at a time."

So, yesterday he prompts a dear friend to reach out to me and this friend starts sharing what has been going on in his life over the last year or so and how he is learning to trust God to be "just enough" for his present needs.  The words "just enough" have repeated over and over in my head.  Something about hearing those words and understanding what they meant changed everything for me.

I can't describe how it changed me, except to say that this has happened one other time in my life.  On Good Friday, when I was on the precipice but terrified to let my walls come down before God, when I thought I deserved only punishment for everything I had done, when I didn't think I was good enough, when I didn't think I deserved grace and forgiveness, God used our counselor to encourage me to "just for today, on Good Friday" let Jesus take the punishment I knew I deserved.  Because the truth was the Christ on the Cross DID take my punishment away from me.  It was placed on Jesus, whose sole purpose was to show us God's love and lead us to him. That moment changed everything for me and I have spent the last 8 years trying to do better, to be better, and to live a different way.

It just now occurs to me that in that moment, Tony was telling me to let God be "just enough" that day 8 years ago.  To just find him in that one moment and accept that his grace was "just enough" to cover me. 

Wow. 

I don't care what anyone says.  It is all connected.  God orchestrated all of this and tied it together so beautifully that it can't be denied.

This new lesson God is teaching and asking of me feels that same way.  Now that I know that he can be "just enough," it changes everything.  I know that my life can never go back to the way it was. 

My fear has to leave.

My pain can no longer control me.

My heart has to continue to soften towards others.

Any issues with food, good or bad, have no place in my life.

The distractions that I allow to fill my every waking moment have to end.

My life has to reflect God in EVERY single thing I do, not just where my marriage and renewed understanding of Jesus is concerned.

So I have begun a new practice.  When the pain gets bad (or the fear or anxiety are threatening), I stop and immediately breathe, ask God to give me "just enough" to get through the next moments, and then I turn up the worship music and shift my focus. 

And he has been faithful. 

Every.

Single.

Time. 

I could say that it's just the shift in my focus that is relieving the pain, but I think that isn't fair to limit God like that.

If he could heal a man who hadn't walked in 38 years (John 5), simply by telling him to pick up his mat and go home, then he can easily move my pain from a 6 to a 5.  We are so stupid.  We limit God.  We can look at the miracles performed in the desert, in the Old Testament, or the miracles Jesus and his apostles performed, and we can think, "Yeah, but God doesn't still work that powerfully."

YES!

YES HE DOES!

I've seen him do it.  Sure, he's not turning water to wine specifically or curing my degenerative disc disease (though he could if he wanted, he knows I wouldn't turn to him if I didn't have the pain to point me to him), but he took a heart that was lost, a prodigal who had been running from him for over 7 years and rolling around in the pig pen, and he RAN to my rescue. 

I'm sure many know the story of the prodigal son in the Bible.  It is such a beautiful picture of how God, our Father, loves us, waits for us, and chases after us.  When the son realized how he had been living, when he "came to his senses," we find this:

“So he got up and went to his father.

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.  Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate.  For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate."

Luke 15:20-24

He took a marriage that was dead, filled with addiction, broken vows, adultery, pain, disrespect, and discontentment and he made it into something so beautiful there aren't words to properly describe it.

He is still working miracles.  He is still moving mountains.

So, yes, he does still work and move in powerful ways.  It wasn't just something he gave to the Israelites.  It was intended for us today, right now, in this very moment.

It was with this renewed sense of turning to him and begging him to be just enough to get me through the next few moments that I went to physical therapy today.  And as I was laying there while the therapist worked on the tight muscles in my neck, I began thinking, "There's no way this guy is a physical therapist."

I have done physical therapy for my knee, for my back, and for my neck multiple times.  EVERY time it has been "here are exercises that will likely hurt, but do them anyway because that's how you get pain free.  If it hurts, you're doing it right."  I can tell you with absolutely certainty that after my knee surgery, physical therapy in that way was NOT the right answer.  I quit going after a few weeks because instead of getting better, my knee was getting worse.  It was only when I backed off and rested more and listened to my body that I began to heal and got stronger.

So when I first went to PT last week, I expected to be given specific exercises to get my range of motion back in my neck.  What the therapist did though was basically very focused massage.  Sure, there's a technical name for it, fascia something or other, but it really felt like I was getting a massage mixed in with a little chiropractic care.  And it surprised and confused me, because none of my physical therapy sessions ever went that way.

Today was no different.  As I was laying there, thinking about how gentle the therapist was being with me, I immediately connected it to God.  But I wasn't quite sure if the therapist was a chiropractor or therapist or massage person.  So I just asked him.  I was like..."So, what is your title exactly?  Are you a physical therapist or chiropractor or what?  What do you do?  Because this isn't like any physical therapy I have ever been to."

He told me they are a holistic organization that houses massage therapist, physical therapists and chiropractors.  He is technically a physical therapist though.  One definition of holistic is this: characterized by the treatment of the whole person, taking into account mental and social factors, rather than just the symptoms of a disease.

He somehow instinctively knew what I needed.  Instead of manipulation of my spine or forcing me to do stretches, he took a very gentle approach and is working on the tissue and muscles that have been affected by surgery.  He is even trying to work through some of the issues I have now with my vocal range and ability to use my voice and his mission is to help people thrive, not just get by. 

One thing my friend Shawn and I have been discussing these last couple of days is just how gentle God is with us.  When we are ready to come to him for the first time, or to come back home if we were running like the prodigal, we expect he will be angry.  Like parent with a child who came home past curfew or who we caught drinking or any other number of trouble kids get into.  And we expect there will be very negative consequences because we chose to live outside of him.  I think that is why a lot of people avoid God.

They are where I was 8 years ago.

Feeling unworthy of love.

Believing that I was incapable of ever thriving.

Unable to accept that no matter the disaster I had made of my life, I could be forgiven.

There is a HUGE misunderstanding where God and Grace are concerned. 

He doesn't want to punish us.  He loves us.  Tenderly and gently, but also passionately. 

He wants us.  

Just us.  

As we are.  

He can teach us the rest as we go.  If there are changes we need to make in our lives, he will be gentle and patient and lead us when we need to be there.  I could sit and regret not delving deeper than I did these last 8 years.  But something God revealed this morning is that it's okay that I am just now going deeper.  Because 8 years ago, he called me to come back to him and really live a changed life.  So I tried to do that the best I could and even though I see a better way now, I wasn't ready. 

I am ready now.

He knew it and he began placing people around me that would speak life and truth to me as he has revealed this to me.  There are so many things I could tell you, tiny miracles I have seen God orchestrate just in the last day and a half, but even beyond that...he has been moving for weeks, likely months, years, eternity even to bring me right here to where I am today. 

And it took as long as it needed to. 

I can forgive myself for the regrets.  

I can forgive myself for not "getting it" 8 years ago.  

I can forgive myself for how I lived and my limited understanding of who he is for the first 33 years of my life.  

He tells me it is okay. 

He tells me that my best is good enough. 

There will be days when your best looks like laying around on the couch because you can't shake the depression that is trying to suffocate you.

There will be days when your anxiety is so high you're mind is spinning out of  control and you can't see a way through.

There will be days when you have to fight tooth and nail not to give in to temptation.

There will be days when you are just exhausted and can't put one foot in front of the other.

Even in those days, your best is enough.

You are enough.

Even in your mess.

Even in your sin.

There may come a time when he will call you to go deeper, but he doesn't look at all those days you couldn't get out of bed and find disappointment.  What you maybe couldn't see is that he was lying beside you, holding you, waiting patiently.  Hoping that you would turn your eyes to him.  That you would recognize his presence and that you would allow it to comfort you. 

Sometimes it is okay to not do. 

Sometimes it is okay to just sit in God's presence and weep or rail against the world or grieve losses.

So here is my encouragement today.

Let your walls down.

Try to figure out what is holding you back.

Is it fear?

Pain?

Regret?

Guilt?

Shame?

Let it go.  Just for the next few minutes.  Ask God to give you "just enough" to carry you through the next few moments.  And when the fear or the memories or the temptations come back, ask him again to be "just enough" for the next moments.  Try it.  See if he isn't faithful.  Once you experience it, you will understand this song that I have been playing on repeat. 

It changes everything.

It has to.

I Thought I Was Finished

This time is of year is always an emotional one for me.  We're approaching Good Friday, which marks a new start to life I was given.  It leaves me feeling vulnerable and open - which sounds bad, but in reality, it's a good place for me to be.  It's real.  It's the place where my heart is most tender and responsive, the way God always intended it to be.  I wish that I could say I have come to a place where I am always in that mindset.  Where I am always living like today is my Good Friday from six years ago.  But in this broken world, with pain and distractions, it just isn't the reality I'm living in.  It's what I strive for, but it isn't what I have achieved.  I may not while in this temporary life.

2018 has been a weird year so far.  When I look back over these first three months, and where I've been, it's just been weird to me.  I started out the year with this burden to surrender.  To really truly surrender the pain, the fear, the hurt, the control.  And as my last post can attest, I have struggled with this.  I have given into despair at times.  I have felt alone.  I have felt fear.  I have felt anxiety.  I have become distracted with everything else.  And yet, God has sent me these little reminders of what he asked me for - surrender.

I thought I knew what that would entail.  I thought it just meant that I needed to try to keep my focus on God and allow him to guide me through the good and the bad times.  But lately, I've been feeling something more is being asked.  I couldn't quite put my finger on it in January or February.  When I look back on what I thought it meant, really, I think I thought it would be easier.  I thought it would require more than I was giving, but less than I am coming to realize may be required.

Safe vs. Good

I am sitting in church this morning, thinking about a million different things. In the midst of all the thoughts, something broke inside of me. Something that needed to break. 2017 was probably the busiest year for me. I can't remember when the last time was that I felt so busy. And I'm not just talking about work or things I had to do.

My heart has felt busy. 

Distracted. 

Distant. 

As I reflect on the events of 2017, I realize that it is the first time since 2012 that I've allowed my heart to wander.  Not to another person, but to, really, anything but God.  

He's there. But I've not been seeking him. 

I've been feeling this tugging for several months now. Something telling me I'm not in the right place spiritually. I'm in no way where I was 6 years ago when I was still trying to run from God.

But I'm also not where I was 5 years ago, when my heart was tender and I was always running to the feet of Jesus. Little by little, as it always happens, we allow life to get in the way. 

It was a difficult year for me, personally and professionally.

Don't Be Afraid Of The Valley

Finally, TIME.

Kris and I took a week off of work (June 1-7).  This time was so needed.  We are in day 3 of our staycation.  The kids are traveling with Kris' mom and our "puppy" is in good hands with a friend.  While funds are somewhat limited, we have saved some up and chose to stay home and chill, sprinkled with a few outings here and there.  Ultimately, we just wanted some time to not think about work.  To not stay in the chaos we so often live in.  We wanted to be intentional with getting away from the pressure of what has become a daily struggle to do what we can to ensure that the company we work for succeeds.  As an added bonus, we also are taking this time to celebrate 18 years of marriage (June 5).  This time off has provided me with nothing but time.  Time to recharge my mind and heart.  Kris is still sleeping, so I am taking advantage of the time alone to reflect and finally write again.

Living In Fear

My heart is heavy again tonight.  I've had trouble really sleeping these past two nights.  I'm uneasy.  I am working hard to fight against anxiety.  I do not want to give in to the fear that in years past would have crippled me.  Battling anxiety, fear and paranoia for much of my life, what is happening right now in my community is unsettling, to say the least.

In my previous post, I wrote about the need for peace.  That we need to run after peace.

It seems that there are still large groups of people completely unwilling to live at peace with one another.

Maybe I'm naive.  I'm sure you'll tell me if I am.  But when five days have gone by and there is still unrest and protesting, some turning to violence, I stand behind the police using the means within their possession to protect the city once the sun goes down.

Our Hands Are Equally Skilled

Well, it's not Sunday, but Jon Foreman of Switchfoot has been singing in my head for a week and I just need to share.  I have had this song playing over and over in my mind for days - the words speak deeply to my heart and the poetry and truth hidden within this song resonate with me.

But I couldn't really explain why this song in particular was on my heart.  Until tonight.

Mom Guilt: I'm A Failure

Most of you know what in talking about when I use these two words: mom guilt.  Moms have a tenancy to feel guilty about everything.  This is something that, despite all that I have learned, I still struggle with.  When faced with this guilt, a common lie that we believe is this:

I'm a failure.

When the kids were younger and I was a stay at home mom, life was extremely difficult.  I had three children under the age of three, for what seemed like ten years!  I was tired all the time, battling depression, and I yelled.  A lot.  Truthfully, I still yell.  It is a daily battle for me.  At that point in my life, especially after adding a fourth toddler in the mix, there was always a lot of guilt cluttering my mind.

Love is Hard

Can anyone else relate to that?  I know that I can.

Jason Gray has a song called "Fear Is Easy, Love Is Hard."  To say that I love this song would be an understatement.  I can really relate to this song.  Especially when he speaks to this feeling of fear.

Fear?

I used to live with so much fear.

Navigating the "What Ifs"

I'm sitting here at Busch Stadium, surrounded by 40,000+ people.  And still, this anxiety plagues me.  This fear that I will run into "him."  It is ridiculous, the power this has over me. 

As much as I "preach" about avoiding the "what ifs" in life, I struggle.  I may have conquered fear, as a whole.  Or rather, God delivered me from the powerful grip it held on me.  But that doesn't mean I don't fall prey to fear and anxiety from time to time.

This used to happen a lot.  Actually, each time I left my house, I was filled with an irrational fear of running into that man.  And as God worked in my heart and freed me from bondage to fear, it happened less and less.

But lately, I find that fear creeping back in.  I go to the grocery store, any in the St. Louis area, and I worry. I find myself thinking "What if he's here?" 

You Are More

We are all broken.

We all have things in our past that we would like to forget.

Things we don't want anyone to know about.

It is hard to be vulnerable, and to share with someone else the depth of your heart, especially when it comes to the choices you have made.  Or the decisions that perhaps led you down a path you wish you hadn't gone.  Sometimes, it isn't even your choices that placed you where you are.  Much of the time, life happens to everyone.

Flexibility

I know it might surprise you to hear this, but I am NOT flexible.

Sometimes I wonder if I am even capable of being flexible.

For 13 years, Kris and I have been having the same fight.

It's exhausting.

Fortunately, the issues that we fight over are not spiritual or moral ones.  However, it is something that I am tired of fighting over.

Work.

We fight over work.

Fear

Fear dominates my life.

It isn't always in the forefront.  Sometimes it is hidden by distractions.  But it is always there.  I can't escape it.  Sometimes it consumes me.  I'll wake in the middle of the night, either from a nightmare or sleep paralysis, having just felt like someone was standing in my house.  Someone that shouldn't be in there.  And then I have to wake my husband up, have him pray with me, and then have him go through the house to make sure everything is still locked up and the children are safely still in their beds...all the time, I'm praying that he doesn't get killed.

I know it's irrational.  Much of what I fear is unrealistic.  Some of it is possible.  Kris dying.  One of the kids dying.  These are all things that COULD happen.  But, apparently, I'm not supposed to think about these things with the frequency that I do.

Memories, sweet memories...

Memories

Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine

Quiet thought come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories

Of holding hands and red bouquets
And twilight trimmed in purple haze
And laughing eyes and simple ways
And quiet nights and gentle days with you

Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories

Irrevocable decisions

A question to answer:

What is a decision that has irrevocably changed your life?

The first thing I wanted to do when I read this was laugh.

I thought "Haven't I been writing about this very thing?"

I could say that the thing that irrevocably changed my life was choosing to have an affair.

Or maybe that I chose to continue that affair for over seven years.

Or that I left my husband and family back in February.