i don't wanna wait & how i learned to in 2018

I started the first sentence of this entry probably 7 times because I haven't blogged in one million days. But hey, hi, I'm here, and I'll just start typing away!

I started 2018 off with the word Wait. As I look back on the post I wrote about this word, it's amazing to see how the Lord used it this year. Here's a little snippet from that post:

"It can be hard for us to trust that even when we're upstairs crying for whatever we think we need or about whatever dream needs fulfilling or about whatever situation needs solving, God is downstairs working things out. It takes faith to wait while God does the doing. It takes faith to wait when you're not really even sure what exactly he is doing. It takes faith to wait when you feel like he's not doing anything. 

I don't love the word Wait because it seems too still and too inactive. And maybe that's exactly the point. Maybe God is wanting to pour some stillness into me, a person who loves to do, fix, and accomplish. What I'm sensing is that this year I need to remember that waiting is an option. And even a good option! Maybe I need to wait on God for answers before I hurry up with a YES. Maybe I need to wait on God to change something before I rush in to fix it myself. I don't know how it will play out or what it will mean, but the fact that it rubs me the wrong way just a little bit is a pretty good indication that I could use a little bit of waiting in my life."

In her Stress/Security talk a couple months ago, Suzanne Stabile said that Ones (my Enneagram number) need to ask themselves 3 questions before doing something:

1. What's it going to cost me if I do it?
2. What's it going to cost me if I don't do it?
3. What's it going to cost me if I wait?

What I learned this year is that choosing to wait simply out of principle and practice solved a lot of problems. Sometimes it's hard for me to imagine that waiting, being still, and not doing anything could actually be the best or the most productive thing I can do. By choosing to wait in several situations this year, conflicts resolved themselves in ways that I couldn't have planned for or even thought of. People changed their minds and decided on different things that I wouldn't have guessed. A lot of things just worked themselves out.

We tend to think of our choices as this or that. But really, there's a 3rd choice. There's a choice to wait, let things happen, and let God take care of it. I'm not suggesting that we stop being proactive and being problem solvers and accomplishing tasks, but I am suggesting that there is a balance. There's a time for all of it.

One of the biggest ways the word wait has played out is in the new part-time work I've recently started. In the beginning of 2018, I was feeling drained and exhausted, knowing I needed something to change but not knowing what that should be. I brainstormed what the fixes could be. More date nights? Get a babysitter one day a week? Start working outside of the home? Nothing felt right though. None of this was it.

Years ago, I remember being told that when you're confused about what's next or where the Lord is leading you, just go back to the last thing he told you. So I kept going back to my word for the year. Wait.

A few months into 2018, I began to notice a slight change as I became more involved volunteering at our church and working with other staff members on certain events and administrative things. There was a fulfillment and energy it gave me. It seemed that my previous feeling of being drained and exhausted was going away.

Fast forward to the summer. Through several situations, the Lord began to bring some things to the surface about what I believed about my gift of administration. I began believing it wasn't as important as the other gifts. It wasn't as spiritual. It wasn't as fun. People would rather be with someone who had any other gifting than this one. This one is structured and organized and rigid. People want chaos and mess, not order.

I spent a few weeks dialoging with the Lord about all of this. I realized that even though I wasn't fully aware I was believing all of those things, I was still living from that place. And because I was living out of this place, there was a feeling in me that I needed to prove myself, prove the importance of administration, prove the benefit of order.

It was in that time that Lord led to me this story in Acts 6. It starts out with, "But as the believers rapidly multiplied, there were rumblings of discontent." There were issues in the administering of a food program. The apostles recognized their attention needed to be on preaching and teaching, not on fixing these problems. So they found other men to take this on. Not just men who were organized and good at this sort of thing, but men who were also "well respected and full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom." As a result, not only were these men as well as the apostles released and available to act in their gifting, but "God's message was preached in ever-widening circles. The numbers of believers greatly increased ..."

After a while, those lies I had believed were replaced with truth and I really did believe them. I noticed a settling in my spirit and in my person about this. I didn't feel like I was proving anymore. There was a simple joy and calm confidence in acting in my gift of administration. Through the Lord's affirmation, I believed it was good, necessary, powerful, valuable, and spiritual.

In the fall, a couple of months after this new revelation and perspective, I was offered a part-time administrative-type position at my church. I was absolutely delighted and floored. It's not at all what I was looking for at the beginning of the year, but when it came my way this winter, it made all the sense in the world. It was exactly what the Lord had been leading me closer to. I couldn't believe what a good and perfect gift it was. That achy longing I had at the beginning of the year for something was placed in me for a reason. And this job was the Lord's answer to it.

I say it every year, but if you don't already do this, ask the Lord for a word for this year. It's really been a sweet part of my journey these last several years. (And I plan on looking at and recapping the last 5-6 years in a blog post at some point. So stay tuned for that!)

I'm so thankful I waited the whole year and that I didn't work with my hands to fix that longing as fast as possible. I'm thankful that the Lord speaks to us and gives us things to hold onto even when we don't know why we're holding on to it.

6 years ago & a podcast interview

I was on the phone with my brother Mark the other night. I was talking about how I find myself still telling some of the same life stories.

It's not because I don't have new or recent stories to tell of what the Lord is doing in my life. I do. The Lord is pressing in with risks he's wanting me to take and speaking more in my dreams. He's working.

But I won't ever be done with the old stories. I won't outgrow them. They are a part of my Becoming and I was built out of and from these stories.

I find myself starting on this exact day, six years ago, with My Story. July 20th, 2012 was a new beginning. It was the day I experienced sheer darkness, fear, and panic in a way I'd never known. It was the day I knew what it felt like to be physically out of control.

But it was also the day the Lord answered my prayers of wanting more, of wanting breakthrough, of crying out feeling like there was a wall separating us, but not knowing what it was or how to get through it. I didn't know what would come of these prayers. I certainly wasn't expecting anxiety.

It was as if on that day God said, "I love you and I know you. I know your weak spots. I know your struggles. I know your love for control. I know your struggle with pride. I know the grip of fear in your life. I want to break in and stop this train before you crash."

I can only speak for my situation, but I do believe the Lord allowed me to experience anxiety because of the crazy love he has for me. He knew the ways I responded to life and the lessons I needed to learn and how I needed to learn them in order for them to stick. He knew what would happen if I never hit any sort of rock bottom. He knew I could wreck myself and my relationships. He knew I needed transformation.

I came out of that season stronger and with more compassion for myself and for others. And every time I am in a valley or dark spot in life, that is exactly how I come out every time. Not because I've maneuvered my way through it the "right way" or with grace, but because God is faithful and gracious and good.

I will never tire of telling the story of my anxiety or any of the stories in my life that point to God. I will never stop sharing them.

Several weeks ago, Heather, a woman I've known since middle school, interviewed me on her podcast. A few days ago, the episode was released and My Story was re-told all over again. I can't help but think how beautiful it is that the Lord orchestrated all of this to happen within a few days of the 6 year anniversary.

Along with panic attacks and anxiety, we also talked about motherhood, breastfeeding, songwriting, and how the Lord speaks to me in my dreams. It was such an honor to talk with her and it will be a sweet thing to always have these pieces of my life recorded in my own words, in my own voice.

I hope that you will give this podcast a listen and maybe even pass it along to someone who would find comfort in it. Someone who needs to hear another person recounting the struggles that they too are experiencing. Someone who yearns to feel that "Me too" that we all need.

And I hope you will decide that Your Story is worth telling, too.

Listen to my interview on the Uniquely Beautiful Stories podcast here:

iTunes || Player FM || Podomatic 

permission to say the words

My whole life, I never understood suicide. Not until I was reeling with anxiety, feeling the chaos in my mind as well as in my body.

I never had thoughts of suicide or self-harm, that is the truth. But I often thought, I just want to sleep. If I can just sleep then I won't have to feel any of this. I know the desire to escape. Most of us probably know that if we're honest. It looks different for all of us. We all escape in different ways and we do it in tiny ways every day if we're not careful.


I woke up this morning and read this in my devotional:

"Clouds have skirted in heavy from the west. The walls in the kitchen have fallen gray and silent. Joshua's playing it quietly, up and down the piano this morning, the Music Box Dancer. A friend laid out in great detail this weekend how the economy is about to implode. Chronic illness flares. Teenagers ask big questions. I keep smoothing out calendar pages, pushing things back ... What is the answer to anxiety? Joshua's playing so sure, the house lilting, tilting with happiness. That's what Calvin wrote. 'The stability of the world depends on this rejoicing of God in his works.' And again, 'If on earth, such praise of God does not come to pass, .... then the whole order of nature will be thrown into confusion.' Our worlds reel unless we rejoice." (Ann Voskamp)

After finishing those pages and jotting down a few thoughts in my journal, I looked at my phone and saw the news of Anthony Bourdain.

Just a couple of days ago, I posted this video. It's a clip of one of the songs I wrote in the time I was facing anxiety every day.

Soon after that I heard about Kate Spade.

All I can do is claim my experience and what I've learned. And that is this - Jesus saved me from my anxiety. And he is still saving me from it on the rare occasion that it still peeks its ugly head into my day. He didn't delete it. He didn't fix me in one fell swoop. He didn't make life suddenly perfect. But he was with me in it, walking next to me, assuring me of his presence, redeeming things. Were there other factors that helped me along the way? Absolutely. My friends, my church, my family, songwriting, counseling. But I know for sure that darkness could have overcome me if it weren't for the hope and joy that Jesus offers.

And aren't we all just one step away from darkness completely overcoming us? No one is exempt. The prettiest, the wealthiest, the most successful, the funniest, the most extroverted, the most famous. And to be sure that I'm clear - not even those of us who love Jesus and know Jesus and follow Jesus. We are not exempt from hearing the lie that the darkness would love for us to believe. That there's no need for us to be around.


The word I keep coming back to today is permission. Permission to say the words, "I'm depressed, I'm anxious, I don't feel like myself, I don't know if I want to live anymore, I need help, I don't know what to do."

Maybe some of us haven't done a good job of giving that permission to those around us. Can we hear those words from the person who is usually the life of the party? Can we hear those words from the person who has it all together all of the time? Can we hear those words from the person who is always the one that shows up, helps, and gives their time to meet others' needs?

Can we hear those words from the person who has talent, money, success, and fame? Can we hear them without wondering, "But he had all of these things! How could he possibly have been so miserable?" It is that very thought that keeps us thinking there is a formula for mental illness.

If we can hear these words from the people around us, I mean really hear them and allow them to be true without attempting to explain them away, I think things could begin to change.

For what it's worth, this is what I want to say to anyone who is struggling:

The world is not going to be better without you.
You are not a burden to anyone.
You are important and valued and wanted.
Things can and will change.
Tell someone how you feel.
There is hope.

the art of replacing

(photo by Kelsi Pritchard Photography)

I'll just separate big kid toys and baby toys, I thought.

But small non-baby-friendly items always found their way to our floor and into Veda's mouth. I couldn't really prevent it. But one thing I could do was teach the big kids what kinds of things Veda could play with and what kinds of things we should take from her.

There were two ways to go about this. We could frustrate Veda and create conflict by ripping it away quickly, saying "No!", and going back to whatever we were doing. Or we could gently remove the toy from her hands, saying "No, no, Veda. Not for you," and then give her something better to replace it. I'm always telling Duke and Nova to be sure and give her something else when you take something away.

Several years ago, I learned the skill of replacing worry/fear/anxious thoughts in my mind with truth, with scripture, or, really, with just about anything else.

I used The Rule of 5 a lot when I was first learning how to fight those panicked feelings that would rise up in me. It was something I intuitively did before knowing it was an actual technique. I replaced whatever anxious thoughts were going on in my mind with what was actually happening around me by finding these things:

5 things you can see

4 things you can touch

3 things you can hear

2 things you can smell

1 thing you can taste

There were a few months in that same season of life when I would recite Psalm 91:9-10 in my head over and over every night until I fell asleep. Nights were hard because they were silent and still. If I wasn't intentional, I would end up in a dark place mentally.

We can't think about two things at one time, so understanding I had control over what I thought about and what I dwelled on was reassuring. It was hard work, yes, but it was not impossible work. And the reason it wasn't impossible was because I replaced what was harmful for me with what was life-giving.

It felt forced, disciplined, and even contrived sometimes. I didn't necessarily believe the truth or believe the scripture every single time. But it got me out of the pit and it set my gaze in the right direction. Eventually those things did become true and genuine. I felt them deep down in my soul. Eventually the art of replacing fear became a natural reaction when it crept up. I hardly even had to remember to do it.

I'm not in a different spot now because I simply stopped being fearful or I stopped thinking anxious thoughts. I'm in a different spot because I replaced (and replace) fear and anxious thoughts with something else.  Of course, there will always be an opportunity to go down that familiar path. I am not exempt from facing fear and anxiety. However, I am set free from their grip and control. They are no longer running the show. And if I want to continue living free from fear and anxiety, something will always have to go in their place.

It seemed daunting to work through all of it right at first. I remember thinking, "I'm going to feel like this for the rest of my life." I couldn't see how life could change or be different. And I had a feeling that even if it could or would be, it would take a significant amount of work on my part and a complete surrender of my old life, old reactions, old thought patterns, and old habits. I would have to be reworked from the inside out. It would be exhausting.

But what I know to be true is that life with God is not a life of less. It's not a life of restriction or a life of rules. It is a life of more, a life of freedom. It's a freedom we can't quite understand sometimes because we have built up our own prisons that we've gotten really comfortable with.

I had become comfortable navigating the circumstances of life with fear-colored glasses, seeing the next problem, conflict, or scary situation on the horizon. I believed that if I thought through all the scenarios that could ever play out in life that I would somehow secure my future. I would be surprised by nothing, I thought. I believed that my knowledge of all of these possible plot twists somehow put me in control. That my ability to forecast all potential outcomes was some sort of guarantee that if something truly awful did happen, I would escape the full painful result of it simply because I had rightly predicted it. That it wouldn't affect me as much because I saw it coming.

This was the prison I had created for myself without knowing it. Deep within me was a desire to be safe, right, and unaffected by tragedy. And instead of running to God for my security, I built a prison of control with my own hands in an attempt to dodge disaster.

Of course, I had never identified any of these beliefs or lies until everything came crashing down. Until the panic attack.

That was something I hadn't planned for, something I hadn't seen on the horizon. I had missed it. I hadn't thought about that type of devastation as an option. And then it hit me. Even if I plan for all the really bad things I can come up with in my mind, I could still be blindsided by something else terrible. I had to come to the realization that I had absolutely zero control over my surroundings or the future, and that was terrifying.

But finally, because my illusion of control had been shattered, I was able to see clearly how I was operating out of fear. It was scary, but it was exactly what I needed.

God was teaching me to give up and surrender control and fear so that he could give me the really great things that would replace them. They would be things that were better for me, things that would not harm me the way those things would.

When God is asking us for something, it is because there is something better on the other side. God asks to take something from me so that he can replace it with something I can't give myself.

God asks for my Fear and replaces it with a Sound Mind.
God asks for my Anxiety and replaces it with Faith.
God asks for my Control and replaces it with Trust.
God asks for my Scarcity Mindset and replaces it with Give Us This Day, Our Daily Bread.
God asks for my Anger and replaces it with Patience.
God asks for my Self-Righteousness and replaces it with Humility.
God asks for my Judgement and replaces it with Compassion.
God asks for my Perfection and replaces it with Grace.
God asks for my Sin and replaces it with Freedom.
God asks for my Secrets and replaces it with Being Truly Known.
God asks for my Mundane and replaces it with Perspective.

If I let him in, he will build things in me I cannot build for myself.

I love Veda. If I take something from her hands, it is for her good. Instead of that tiny lego that Veda thinks she wants to choke on, I give her a toy cookie jar that lights up, sings songs, and teaches her shapes and numbers. And if she knew what I knew, she'd choose the cookie jar too.

I have learned and am continuing to learn that I can trust that the thing God is working on in me is for my greater good. It is for an outcome far better than I could imagine. And he wants to do the same thing for you.


*I've linked several other blog posts throughout this post in hopes that they will be helpful or encouraging to some of you. If you're interested reading all of my blog posts on the topics of anxiety, fear, or panic attacks, click here to see them all in one place.

expanding in 2017: a search for identity

Watching The Lion King as an adult requires a few million more tissues than I needed when watching it as a child. The kids and I put it on one morning this past summer while Veda napped. The stampede scene got me as usual. But I didn't really fall apart until this moment later on in the movie:

Mufasa: Simba, you have forgotten me.
Simba; No! How could I?
Mufasa: You have forgotten who you are and so forgotten me. Look inside yourself, Simba. You are more than what you have become ...
Simba: ... How can I go back? I'm not who I used to be.
Mufasa: Remember who you are. You are my son.

The Lord has been doing a work in me this past year surrounding the concept of identity. I have sensed it weaving through so many parts of my life.

It all started back in January when I read "The Road Back to You," an introductory book about the Enneagram. I wrote a post about the discovery of my One-ness here. It really blew my mind. I'd never encountered a personality assessment that was so spot on and so specific, yet so fluid. I love that it dives deep to uncover your motivations rather than staying on the surface to describe behavior. It's an extremely unique system because of the way it shows how personality types move to different areas in stress or security, the way a certain subtype or wing can flavor your personality, whether or not we take life in at the body, heart, or mind ... and I could go on.

Ultimately, the Enneagram is not about figuring out our numbers and planting our feet there. It's about figuring out what mask, or number, we've been wearing our entire lives and discovering how to uncover our true selves underneath it. It all truly fascinated me and I jumped right in to all things Enneagram.

I began to see things in myself I'd never known weren't "okay" or "normal." I recognized the critical voice I had in my head. I saw the desire in me to be good, to be liked, and to always be blameless. I saw how I prioritize doing the right thing, following the rules, and working hard and how sometimes, that prioritization can be a detriment to me or the people around me. I realized that the high expectations that I pressure myself with were also expectations I (many times unknowingly) held over others.

Fast forward a few months. From the time I had Veda in March and the months following, I experienced some disconnect. I felt lonely in a left-out-middle-school-girl kind of way. It wasn't a depression or an anxiety. It was something else. There were concrete events or situations that could have been blamed for my feelings, but none of these things were actually the root cause. Because of the helpful tool that the Enneagram was, I saw the way I was channeling a lot of the unhealthy side of a Four. I knew I needed to move through my feelings and get to the real issue at the bottom of all of it.

What I began to see is that my feelings were not a result of any particular circumstance. It was that my identity was not secure. I had put the weight of my identity in certain things, and when those things were taken or changed, I crumbled.

I started to desire a new revelation of God's love to me. Of being his daughter. It's one of those ideas I'd heard all my life, but it didn't do anything to me. And I knew that it should. I wanted to understand how and why it defines me and I wanted to know and feel what it means.

Towards the end of May, our pastor, AT, spoke on this very thing and it really resonated with me. In this sermon, he talked about how there is a difference between godly sorrow and guilt.

2 Cor. 7:10 "For the kind of sorrow God wants us to experience leads us away from sin and results in salvation. There's no regret for that kind of sorrow. But worldly sorrow, which lacks repentance, results in spiritual death."

AT went on to talk about guilt. Guilt makes obedience become compliance instead of obedience out of love. Guilt focuses on ourselves, seeking to be right and good. Guilt prevents love and intimacy. Guilt grows fear and hiddenness. Guilt prevents spiritual and emotional growth.

Yes. Obedience did feel like compliance. I did want to be right and good. I did feel a block in my relationship with the Lord.

Then he said, "You cannot outperform the guilt or inner critic in you. You have to love it out." 

I was not allowing the Lord to love me perfectly. I was wanting to work and earn my way out of my own guilt.

(I want to interject here and explain what I mean by "guilt." Because we all see and react to the world differently, there are some of us that are more acquainted with guilt than others. Guilt for me looks like ending the day and thinking about how I wasn't as good of a mom as I should have been. It can mean reviewing all of my faults - got too upset with the kids today, yelled, lost my temper, wasn't attentive, was argumentative with Colt. It can mean feeling bad for not getting enough done. It can mean getting in a mode of comparison and thinking of all of the ways I don't measure up. I just wanted to spell some of that out because sometimes when we think of the word "guilt," we forget that it's not always huge crime-like acts that cause it. Guilt can creep its way into us in small ways and on a daily basis without even realizing it.)

Guilt was blocking me from knowing my identity.

Fast forward to book club in July. We decided to read Jennie Allen's "Nothing to Prove." In chapter 2, she talks about how God is not after our performance. This is another thing I'd heard a lot, mostly in my adulthood. But that whole idea felt stale to me. What does that mean? I wrote in my journal, "If I don't have my performance, then what do I even have?" 

Gulp.

Performance was blocking me from knowing my identity.

There was some work to be done in me. In order for me to hear the Lord and process my thoughts, my hands usually have to be either writing words or playing the piano. So that's what I did.

What I decided is that it wasn't about trying to believe that my performance doesn't matter or working to not to feel guilty. It was about understanding how loved I was by God and receiving it. Right then. That's where I had to start. And in that love, there is no room for any of that other stuff. Being unconditionally and perfectly loved is the path to knowing my identity.

Once the fall rolled around, we began a Bible study at church and, as the Lord would have it, it was all about identity. What I walked away with was a better understanding of the choice that was in front of me. I can either walk in the Spirit or walk in the flesh. I can either walk in the new covenant with Jesus or walk in the old covenant of law and works. I can either walk ruled by love or walk ruled by fear. I can either walk as the righteousness of Christ or in my own self-righteousness. I have the choice to either put my anchor in my human identity or in my identity in Christ. And what I choose affects everything.

There was once a time in Simba's life when he knew his position in his father's kingdom, and he was excited about it. But all of that changed when he began to believe a lie. Scar planted a belief in his mind that he was to blame (there's that guilt again) for his father's death and that he should run away and never return. Everything shifted in Simba. His identity was no longer found in the fact that he was the son of Mufasa. It was found in what he did (there's that performance again). In his mistake.

We all crave a place to give us identity. It's deep in there, and we can walk around eating bugs and singing Hakuna Matata all that we want, but that will leave us feeling empty. Nothing is cured until we know where we belong. Simba was running away from the very thing that gave him his purpose. He was running away from being Mufasa's son, from being King. His position and purpose in life was found in that fact, so in refusing his Father, he refused knowing his true identity and worth.

We can find things to do and jobs to have and titles to hold. We can be celebrated and loved and held in high esteem. We can acheive things and work hard and get raises. But we will keep needing and wanting more until we realize that none of that defines us. None of that actually fills us to the point of needing nothing else. There are a lot of wonderful things in this world that God has given us, but nothing is as good as a relationship with him. Nothing can fulfill the craving we have for identity and belonging except for our position as loved children of God. Nothing else can so clearly define our purpose, give us energy, spur us on, and provide power and rest like knowing we are children of God. Simba on his own held no power, but Simba as a son of the King held all the power.

Self-care is a big deal these days. And the best self-care you can give yourself is to discover your identity in Christ. To discover that you are perfectly loved all of the time. To discover that you are not the things you do. To discover that your mistakes do not define you. To discover that you are offered grace at every single turn. To discover that you are not and will not ever be abandoned. To discover that you are an adopted child of God. It is only in that revelation that we are able to then turn outward to the people around us and offer love, grace, compassion, forgiveness, and understanding. This is a picture of Jesus. This is the manifestation of Heaven here on Earth. This is how we change the world.

My word for 2017 was "Expand." And just as I had assumed, it wasn't only about expanding our family or our home. It was about expanding my understanding of who I am in Christ. There is still a lot to figure out and there always will be, but I'm so thankful for what God has revealed to me this year about myself through the people around me, my pastor, my Bible study teacher, and the Enneagram. My motivations, my emotions, the way I think, the way I take in the world around me, the automatic reactions I have to my surroundings, my inner critic, my identity - all of the knowledge I've gained about those things has been life changing.

I've been praying and thinking on my word for 2018. On the morning of the 31st, I felt the Lord highlight the word Wait. I took note, but went on with my morning as usual. It wasn't but maybe an hour later, I was in the kitchen making a bottle for Veda. She was up for the day, fussing in her crib, and ready to eat. I had the thought, If she only knew I was down here getting her bottle ready, she wouldn't be crying. She would be fine waiting.

Right after that thought passed through my mind, I realized that Wait was most certainly the word.

It can be hard for us to trust that even when we're upstairs crying for whatever we think we need or about whatever dream needs fulfilling or about whatever situation needs solving, God is downstairs working things out. It takes faith to wait while God does the doing. It takes faith to wait when you're not really even sure what exactly he is doing. It takes faith to wait when you feel like he's not doing anything.

I don't love the word Wait because it seems too still and too inactive. And maybe that's exactly the point. Maybe God is wanting to pour some stillness into me, a person who loves to do, fix, and accomplish. What I'm sensing is that this year I need to remember that waiting is an option. And even a good option! Maybe I need to wait on God for answers before I hurry up with a YES. Maybe I need to wait on God to change something before I rush in to fix it myself. I don't know how it will play out or what it will mean, but the fact that it rubs me the wrong way just a little bit is a pretty good indication that I could use a little bit of waiting in my life.

So, 2018, I wait. I look forward to seeing what God will do.

cloudy days & perspective

"I want to watch the rain."

I looked up from my yogurt and noticed Nova scooting her chair over to the window at my parents' house. Then, without any prompting and to nobody in particular, Nova said, "God, thank you for the rain."

Gloomy days were always my least favorite kinds of days. I experienced an internal change when the sky was filled with clouds and the sun refused to shine. My mental state was different. I was grouchy, tired, and sad. It was hard to get motivated. I remember it feeling this way most of all in college. Something about those days pulled me into a depression-like state.

But all of that changed when I started dating Colt.

I remember explaining all of this to him. His experience was the opposite. He found those days inspiring and dreamy in all of their melancholy and gloominess.

After we got married, we had this conversation again with his parents. His mom, Jill, said she used to feel the exact same way until Colt's dad changed it for her. On those cloudy days, they'd escape to a coffee shop and make a date of it. Over time, those days began to feel different to her.

Colt and I decided to take their advice and try that method out. We would hop in the car after work and go to Starbucks or Cuppies & Joe and turn what felt like lemons to me into lemonade. Sure enough, those depressing days turned to exciting, cozy ones.

Now it's hard for me to go back and remember what it felt like to dread the overcast sky. Those skies are a gift to me now. I find myself in a different mode when the sun isn't bursting through. I move slower and I don't do as much. I might read a book or I might spend more time writing at the piano. I might remember to do things I typically don't do when the sky makes me feel like I need to go, go, go. No offense to the sun. I love our sunny days. But for someone who loves to do and make things happen, a cloud-filled sky seems to change my agenda. It causes me to slow down and rest.

All it took was a new perspective. A new way of looking at something I'd seen one way all my life. It took intentionality and time, but it happened. And I changed.

Several mornings ago, Duke said, "Mom, you know what I was just thinking about? About how when I was in your tummy and you didn't have any kids and you were so sad and didn't have anything to do. And then I came out of your tummy. And then Nova came out of your tummy. And then Veda came out of your tummy. And now you have so many helpers!"

So many helpers. That's certainly one of way of looking at things. Talk about perspective!

On this cloudy fall day, I'm reminded of how powerful our thoughts are. We aren't stuck. We get to change the way we think about things.

What about you? What do you need to re-frame? What places do you need a refreshed perspective?

"And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable." Phil 4:7

five years ago

Five years ago, I went on a triple date with some of my closest friends. I ended up having my first ever panic attack which set the stage for a journey with anxiety.

Five years ago, I woke up thinking one way about mental illness and went to bed thinking another.

This particular story in my life is one of my favorites to tell because it tells of both the powerful nature of God and the practical nature of God. I think that sometimes we feel like we have to side with one, and that's just not the case. God is a supernatural healer yet he also allows us to work and fight through our struggles.

I will never forget the night that I felt the supernatural healing of God. I was experiencing and had been experiencing the symptoms of anxiety for five days at that point. I was shaky, my heart was racing, and my chest was burning. All the classic anxiety markers. And in that moment in bed when I had a revelation of what the Lord was doing in my life, it was as if a fresh wind blew over me. Every symptom immediately left.

But I wasn't miraculously healed for good. There was still work to be done. I saw a counselor, I recited scripture over and over in my head to fall asleep at night, my community prayed for me, my friends rallied around me, my family supported me, my church offered a safe place for me, and my husband walked every single step of it with me. I trusted and believed in the Lord's healing power, but I also had to trust the Lord's healing process. 

I know mental illness has gone from being a thing we don't talk about to almost being a "fad." To someone unfamiliar with it, it may seem like it's all being blown out of proportion. But I assure you that there's nothing wonderful about feeling like your mind isn't right, and it truly is just as awful as we all make it out to be.

But the hope is this - there is a Healer who wants to walk in it with us. His plan could include healing, hard work, counseling, medicine, prayer, practical coping strategies, or memorizing scripture. There is a place for all of it and no one journey looks the same.

As I was driving today, I got teary thanking God for where he has brought me. Back in 2012, I couldn't have imagined there being a time when I would feel normal in my mind or body. It's so good to look back and remember. Reminding our souls of the faithfulness of God is powerful. Sometimes it is that simple act of reminding that pushes us forward in dark stretches where there seems to be no hope or light.

I don't look back on all of it with fondness, but I do look back on it with thankfulness. It was hard and painful work, but it changed me. July 20th will always remind me of the Lord's goodness, the importance of compassion for others' stories even when we don't understand, and the circle of amazing people that pulled me through a dark season.

We all have a story to tell. Yours may feel small. Mine feels small. But the conversations I've gotten to have with people over the years because of it have been big. I will keep telling this story until I have no fingers to type it and no breath to say it, not because it boasts of me but because it boasts of God.

Tell your story. Your story could be the beginning of someone else's.

{I have shared a lot about anxiety on my blog and you can read any of those posts here. To read the story of the panic attack and the days following, click here and scroll down to the bottom to start at the first post.}

looking back on grace, looking forward to expand

I just re-read my post from last year about grace, which was my word for 2016. It was an interesting read because I had forgotten how I felt coming into this past year. I can't really put my finger on it or give some life-changing revelatory moment that shifted my thinking, but I do know that things have changed. That doesn't mean I've mastered this art, of course. Giving myself grace and allowing myself room to make mistakes or change plans will always be a challenge of mine. (After all, I'm a 1 on the Enneagram. It will be a lifelong mission.) But I do know that God has worked in me this past year and I'm thankful to be in a new place.

As I enter into 2017, there's more of a comfort in knowing I can't do it all or be it all. God has never asked me to. And no one else has either. It doesn't feel like "giving up" anymore to pick what's important to me, do it, and then say goodbye to the rest. (Jen Hatmaker's chapter in "For the Love" about picking what's on your beam was really helpful and encouraging to me if you happen to find yourself stuck in that conundrum.) Ultimately, the choice in 2016 was to decide what I would believe. Would I believe what the world says - that having it all is really important? Would I believe the perfectionist or inner critic that can lurk inside of me? Or would I believe what God says about me, my life, my gifts, and my purpose? I must've opted for the latter more often than not because I felt lighter leaving 2016.

When I look back on the year, I think of two specific seasons when I reacted in a typically "out of character" way for me, proving that God was doing things in me and shifting my mindset.

First, I think about how releasing an EP with my band, Mopak, was a set plan for this past year. It was on the horizon with a very clear path leading up to it. These songs had been birthed in me during the recent years and I felt like they were ready to share. I was so excited to tell this story. As a band, we were writing, practicing a handful of times each month, and even playing places. (I know, a band playing gigs! It's revolutionary! But it actually was for us.) Everything was going as planned. Until it wasn't. We kept having to push our recording date back, the songs weren't completely ready, things were feeling rushed, and, to top it all off, our Kickstarter didn't get funded. Things stopped falling into place and it just didn't feel right to shove them there. Aside from all of that, our bassist was awaiting the arrival of baby #4 and I had just gotten pregnant with baby #3. It was obviously time for another shift from band mode to baby mode.

It wasn't a devastating time, but I was pretty sad to put that project on the back burner. However, it surprisingly took me less time to get over this disappointment than I would've imagined. Typically, my response would've been to sulk for weeks, contemplate the meaning of my life, doubt my skills, question my ability to do what I say I'm going to do, and internally punish myself for not meeting my very desired goal. But I knew deep down that if and when the Lord wanted this music to be finished, he would make it happen. Thanks to God, Colt, and my people, I was able to move on pretty quickly from this let down.

I hadn't revisited any of these thoughts or emotions until our pastor said something a few Sundays ago. He was listing off different life circumstances or feelings that might resonate with us. I sat at the piano feeling disconnected from all of them. Until he got to the last one. "I feel like I need to remind some people in the room that a dream delayed is not a dream destroyed." My eyes immediately filled with tears as I thought about this delayed musical dream. On the one hand, I'm living out the dream of having a third baby. But I am still holding this project in my other hand. There's a tension that exists in holding both and waiting. Yet, what a sweet reminder that this dream has not been destroyed. Who knows all of God's reasons for delaying it, but I trust he has some good ones.

So as I moved out of this season with the band, I moved straight into the first trimester of this pregnancy, my second example of when grace just had to win. I was an exhausted mom of two living with constant nausea, aversions, cravings, and intense emotions. Needless to say, a lot of things fell by the wayside. A bin of clean laundry to fold resided in our living room as if it were a piece of furniture. Many days, dishes were in the sink when Colt came home from work, which is not how I typically operate. We spent more money on going out to eat than we ever do. To-do lists were made and items weren't crossed off. I felt like I was a zombie going through life most days. And while I didn't do everything right in that season of life, I will say that I really did my best to not beat myself up about my lack of energy and accomplishments. I jumped into grace and made a nice little home there while my body was forming this new little baby. As someone who values hard work (sometimes a little too much), I am grateful for the reminder that my worth is not determined by the amount of household tasks I get done in a day. That's a hard one to remember as a stay-at-home mom.

2016 was a great year and I'm glad I got a bit closer to understanding what it looks like to live under the umbrella of grace instead of expectations, goals, and plans.

I have been thinking and praying about what my word would be for 2017 and I feel like the Lord gave me the word Expand. I type this word as my arms curl around the expanding belly in front of me. It's obvious that I'm expanding, but I think my belly is just one of the many ways I will experience expansion in the coming year.

My heart is expanding as it stretches and loves a new member of our family. Our family number count is expanding. Our home is expanding to squeeze 5 people in it. My capacity will expand to handle and manage three children each day instead of two. My perspective and mind will expand as dreams and hopes may look differently than planned or require a different timeline. And I have no doubt that the Lord has some ideas of his own around the idea of expansion. I am always a work in progress, figuring out what parts of me to hold on to and what parts of me to let go of, change, and allow the Lord to work on.

I am looking forward to an exciting year that will certainly be full of challenges and adjustment, but will also be rewarding and full of growth.

a problem with grace

I have been stomach sick over this gorilla thing.

Partly because I am a mom of two little children who could very well have made this same mistake.

Because I'm not a gorilla or a little boy or a zookeeper, I naturally find myself sympathizing with the mother. It doesn't make me anti-animals or anti-take-responsibility-for-our-children. I'm just a mom who's sad for another mom. The truth is that we are all one step away from a horrific event like this suddenly happening. I don't for one second think I'm exempt. There is no bullet proof parenting method that protects our children from instances like these. This mother experienced a close call, and we all have those close call moments. They just aren't broadcasted to the world.

I have had one of my own close call mom moments. And I can't tell you the number of times it loves to creep back in, keep me up at night, smother me with guilt, and bring me to tears. Sure, nothing happened and everyone is fine. But those close call moments aren't forgotten by moms. It's almost unbearable for any mom to even hold the thought "I could have lost him."

But we did lose the gorilla, some of you may say. And you're right, we did. It's very sad.

It's sad that we lost this gorilla, a beautiful and rare animal.
It's sad that a mom lived out a kind of nightmare that all of us pray to God never happens to our child.
It's sad that a little boy fell into a gorilla enclosure, couldn't get to his mom, and was probably scared out of his mind.
It's sad that a zookeeper had to pull the trigger.

Do I personally think this was handled correctly? Yes. I would shoot a gorilla to save my children and I'd shoot one to save yours. But the whole thing is still awful for all involved. It doesn't matter how you turn it. 

So yeah, I've been sick about it because imagining my precious Duke in an incredibly dangerous situation that I cannot fix makes my stomach churn.

But the other reason this whole incident has been so disturbing is because of the universe's immediate reaction to it all.

What is it about our humanity that drives us to want to pick a side, condemn a person, judge a situation, and comment with our "If it were me, I would have _____" following a terribly devastating circumstance? It's like the grown-up version of bullying. Tearing someone down by pointing out all of their mistakes so that we can feel better about ourselves or our point of view.

What everyone needs is a good dose of grace here.

Grace to the gorilla for ... acting like a gorilla. (I wouldn't have thought I needed to say it either, but I have found that people are defending this gorilla. I'm not quite sure who they're defending him to, but I'm pretty sure we're all on the same page here. Gorillas will act like gorillas and are obviously not to be blamed for that.)
Grace to the little boy who, like many children, was curious and accidentally found himself in a very dangerous situation.
Grace to the zoo who had to make a hard decision. Grace to the person who saved a human's life but who still knows what it feels like to shoot an endangered animal. You wear two very conflicting badges by two different groups of people - Hero and Murderer. I can only imagine what a tough place that has put you in.
Grace to the mom for being a mom just like the rest of us. Grace to her as she replays this event in her head and navigates these next days being the target of judgement by many who don't know her.

There's a lesson to be learned. And I don't think it's about gorillas or parenting. It's about being the kind of person who gives grace first, not judgement. It is possible to look at this complex situation and find grace for all involved, whether we agree with how it all went down or not. We can still treat people the way they should be treated.

Back in high school, my grace tank ran on low a lot of the time because I so often failed to see my own shortcomings. That I had a problem with judging others. That I was far too critical of people. That I lived in fear a lot of times without even knowing it. Layer by layer, through growing up and through life experiences, my own issues have come into the light. A handful of layers were exposed in college and many more were revealed in journeying through anxiety. And then there are the thousands of layers that show up in motherhood. I've learned that I like control, that sometimes I resort to fear-based decision making, that I compare myself to others, and that I'm selfish. (And many more, but I'll spare you the list.)

No, I don't have the grace thing down. I'm still a work in progress. But I think once we see our own weaknesses head-on, our hands that once held stones release them and find a way to embrace the people around us who are hurting.

Take away the gorilla, the boy, the mom, and the zoo. Are you someone who gives grace?

If we find ourselves angry at one side, forming petitions, and casting judgements on those involved, it may not be because we're right. It may be because we have a problem with grace.

God, thank you for the many people who have loved me and have shown me grace even when I have made mistakes, lost my temper, said unkind things, been irresponsible, and made bad choices. Thank you for all of those people in my life. Please continue forming in me a humble heart that is fit to love and give grace to others in the midst of their mess.

what's all the tomorrows?

If your kids could pick one superhero power to have, what do you think it would be?

Flying? Being invisible? Shooting webs from their hands so they can climb tall buildings?

I can tell you with 100% certainty that Duke would pick none of those. My sweet Duke would pick the ability to know the future.

"What's tomorrow is?"

This is one of his daily questions. It happens at lunch time, it happens at dinner time, it happens in the car. He wants to k-n-o-w.

Typically, I give him a bit of information to satisfy his structured personality, but I try to leave the majority of the plans up in the air.

"We're going to the store and then I'm not sure what else we'll do."

Then he usually asks, "And then what's the next day?"

Is the kid mine or what? Eesh.

At that point, I go into my spiel about how we don't need to focus on any other day besides today.

But a few weeks ago, it reached a new level. 

He asked, "What's all the tomorrows?"

While this made me laugh, I could so relate to his yearning.

I've known for awhile now that one major thing I will be partnering with God in is teaching Duke to hold the future loosely and to understand the value of being okay with the unknown by trusting and resting in God.

And I guess I could probably use a continual lesson on that myself.

Just a couple of weeks ago I fell apart because too many planned and "certain" things ended up changing or messing up. A relaxing bath didn't happen because, well, children live in my house. A dumb DVR didn't record The Grammy's because technology, though we wish to believe it is, is not perfect. And many more things like that. Separately they seem small, childish, and silly (and they are, really), but combined in one evening they made me feel I was being shoved in a constant detour. It sent me into a selfish spiral and by the time I got to the end of the night, I had completely ruined any hope of an enjoyable couple of hours with Colt because I was lost in the depths of pride and self-pity.

All of life (or my life, at least) so far seems to be a lesson in releasing control, plans, and guarantees. Sure, it's okay to be a person who loves structure. But the true test comes when those things are challenged. Does my world crumble? Do I crumble? There is something wrong when our peace, contentment, and joy are dependent upon things going as planned.

I believe there is something that God is calling each of us to let go of or loosen our grip of. It may not be plans or the future. Maybe it's money. Maybe it's a job. Maybe it's a position or status. Maybe it's an ability. What is that thing that we're desperately holding onto because it seems to give us happiness and purpose? What is that thing that when taken or altered in any way causes us to become shaken and unstable? I'm not suggesting that we give everything up that we love. I'm just suggesting that we search ourselves to find where we put our security. Where we find our security, we also find our identity.

Duke will never have the power to know the future. But I pray that as he grows, he finds his security in the One who knows and holds his future.

deeper realities

Colt was gone for 7 days on a work trip recently. He doesn't travel a lot for his job, but the few weeks out of the year that he does, I'm not always a sweetheart about it. When he's away, I tend to report all the chaos, all the drama, all the bad behavior, and all the feelings I feel. Communication is good, but that's not technically what that is. Through my juvenile updates, I hope to yield some kind of result from him that sounds like this:  "Wow, Claire, you're the best and doing the hardest job and I can't imagine doing it and I probably couldn't do it and what would I do without you???"

Newsflash:  that strategy usually doesn't work the way I hope for it to. Not because Colt doesn't praise me. He really is great about doing that. But because even when he does affirm me after a week of being gone, it doesn't feel how it should feel because of the way I've acted. It feels crummy because I've been crummy.

So as we approached the week of him being gone, I knew I needed to pray. 

I told God, "I don't want to act like that. Being with 2 little people and doing all that comes with it by myself for a week is going to be tiring. That's the nature of it. Colt's going to be gone and the kids will inevitably act like their normal, childlike selves. Since those circumstances can't change, please just change me. Work in me. More patience, more kindness, more endurance, more self-control. Let me enjoy my time with my kids."

Well, I can officially say that the Lord answered my prayer. It wasn't the awful and ridiculously hard trial that I had anticipated. Things were normal. Messes, diapers, laundry, tantrums, timeouts, cleaning, whining, taking toys, cooking, baths. No magic and no perfectly behaved children. Just normal life. The circumstances weren't different, but I was different. More specifically, my attitude was different. And because of that, the circumstances felt different. Surprisingly, it seemed like those 7 days were even better than our normal. Truly, I had nothing to do with it. The only explanation is that the Lord was working in me and I was actually paying attention.

What I've been thinking about lately is how I pray. How we pray doesn't matter in the sense of what words we use or how smart we sound. No, what matters is our heart. The heart behind my prayers that week was Do a work in me so that I can face this week with your power and strength, not mine rather than God, just please make the kids behave and make things easy for me. We all know where that last prayer will lead – straight down the road to disappointment and unmet expectation.

Now, we are certainly allowed to ask God to change our circumstances. He is powerful and many times, he will do that. He works miracles, heals people, remedies our situations without us having to lift a finger, and gives us good gifts we don't deserve.

Yes, I believe God loves to change our circumstances. But, more than that, I believe God loves to change us.

If we find ourselves stuck, praying the same "change my circumstance" prayers over and over, but we see no fruit, it's probably a good idea to take a deeper look. Maybe the Lord wants to do something with us, not our circumstances. As Paul Miller puts it in "A Praying Life," we don't want to miss finding deeper realities because we were just looking for pleasant results. And the great part is that when God changes us and brings us to those deeper realities, our circumstances can change! The specifics of the circumstances may not be different, but because we walk through them relying on God's strength and with changed hearts, our circumstances feel different.

And so you know, just because I'm writing this with my own fingers and I believe it to be true doesn't mean I'm awesome at it. I'm learning and I'm trying. Some days are easier than others. Some days, change sounds exhausting, I refuse to listen, and I stand stubbornly in the same place. For those days, there's always grace. But some days I choose to listen, take correction, and admit the places where I need growth. It may seem counter-intuitive, but it's on those days, the days that I welcome the change, that I feel more at ease.  Because I realize and accept that the pressure is off of me.

"A Praying Life" by Paul Miller

Sometimes God really does box us in and, many times, he uses our circumstances. Sometimes there is nothing we do can about a situation. We can't fix it, we can't speed it up, we can't make it better. It's in those times that we are pushed toward God. And the best thing we can do for ourselves is to go with it. Talk with God, express our feelings and frustrations, ask him questions, humbly listen to what he has to say, and be open to receiving correction.

We were all eager to finally see Colt when he returned home. And I was eager to run a bath and spend a good hour in there alone, in silence, with hot tea in hand. But even though I was tired and ready for a break, I felt satisfied. God didn't leave me to do that week on my own. He gave me just what I needed. Instead of finishing that week wishing Colt would gush about how he couldn't live without me, the Lord gently reminded me that I'm the one who can't live without Him. I'm thankful to know a God who knows what I need, is committed to changing me, and always nudges me toward deeper realities.

opting out of resolutions, opting in for grace

Resolutions for this year?  Well, it's really the weirdest thing.  We turned the corner from December to January and it felt like a balloon deflated in me.  Not depression or sadness or anything like that.  More like exhaustion – plain life exhaustion.  An if I really want to live life the way I think I should and could and am called to then I need way more energy than this exhaustion.  So for this year, there are no resolutions.  (Gasp!)

Let me explain.

Best case scenario is that I'm an active, healthy, ministry-minded woman who is a loving wife, caring mother, loyal friend, attentive housekeeper, prepared meal planner, consistent blogger, and focused musician.  Sounds dreamy because that's what it is – a dream.  The truth is that I cannot be all of that simultaneously.  I'll skip days of exercise.  I'll tell the family we're going out to eat.  I'll lose my temper with the kids.  I'll take longer on a music project than I had planned.  I'll say something rude to Colt.  I'll push blogging aside because my mind is tired.  I'll let the laundry get out of hand.  I want so badly to do it all and to do it well.  But the kind of pressure I would have to live under to achieve all of those things to their fullest each day would require a non-human quality in me that I just don't possess.  None of us do.  There is an ebb and flow in all of these roles, jobs, and hobbies and I must accept that reality.

As I've reflected on this upcoming year, I've decided that what I need most is grace.  For 2016, I'm opting out of resolutions and opting in for grace.  (This doesn't mean you can't have resolutions and also be filled with grace.  Saying that for the sake of the easily offended internet.)

The past several months in church, an old song has made its way into the set list several times.  But a few Sundays ago, one line of lyrics was highlighted for me.  Out of nowhere, words so simple and old and familiar to my heart became like a sword.

And we can feel the love of God in this place
We believe your goodness
We receive your grace

We receive your grace.

I began to ask myself, do I really receive his grace? 

I've discovered that when I hear grace, I hear the wrong thing.  I hear, "Hey Claire, here's a cop out for all of those things you feel like you need to do and be.  Just take the grace and chill out!  No to-do lists and no stress!"  When I think of grace like that, it takes away the joy I find in chasing after what I love to do and who I want to be.  I certainly don't want to end 2016 filled with so much "grace" that I accomplished nothing, added on an extra 10 lbs., and slept too much.

But something tells me that's not quite what the Lord had in mind.

There's a difference between the grace I manufacture for myself and the grace that the Lord gives.

The grace I give myself sounds lazy and uninspiring.  It sounds like giving up.  But the grace that God offers says, "Claire, I just want you to know that I'm proud of you and I love you no matter what you get done today.  I love who you are and I love what you're chasing after.  Just remember your purpose in all of it – to know me and make me known.  Keep that in mind and you'll succeed every time."

Someone that loves and accepts me 100% even when I don't deserve it?  Why would I not say yes to that?  What keeps me from accepting grace in my life?

Pride.

Much like a child, my attitude towards God sometimes is "I do it!  I do it!"  Grace is hard for those of us who kind of sometimes a little bit think that they don't need it.  Although I feel like the Lord has lovingly educated me in that area, I still find myself feeling frustrated that I need grace.  I don't want you to have to cut me slack, God, because then that means I'm not capable.

(crickets)

Um, guess what, self?  I'm NOT capable.  I need all the slack there is!  When I decided to become a follower of God, I admitted my sin, recognized my shortcomings, and said a big YES to forgiveness, grace, and love I don't deserve.  It has nothing to do with my good deeds, my effort, or how many things I get checked off my list.  When I drop my pride, I can see my need for grace.

Personality.

"I put pressure on myself, that's just what I do." 
"That's the way I am and I can't change."
"I don't like to have to depend on anyone other than myself."

If we have given our lives to Christ, none of these excuses work anymore.  It's not a personality thing to not be okay with grace.  It's not okay to be perfectionists.  It's not okay for us to walk around with these self-made weights on our shoulders.  This is not how God meant for me to live and it's not how God meant for you to live.  We are not programmed to bear the burden of our sin or our to-do lists, and when we do, things usually get messy.  Choosing grace even when our natural personalities and instincts scream otherwise looks like, "God, thank you for making me someone who is independent and who loves to get things done.  But I recognize that I can't do it alone and I need your help.  I see that I hold on to too much.  Teach me how to give things over to you.  Teach me how to be dependent on you.  I want to be who you've made me to be and I want to live in the grace that you give me."

Guilt.

Satan's specialty.  If he can make us feel guilty for everything we're not doing right or not doing at all, then we get stuck.  In motherhood, we like to call this Mom Guilt.  And you know what, this is the year I kick Mom Guilt to the curb.  Mom Guilt is exhausting, unnecessary, and just a pack of lies.  We can't experience the freedom that Christ offers when we're bogged down by guilt.  We get so wrapped up in our failures that we start to believe there's no grace left for us.  What would it look like if I chose to accept my humanity and say yes to the grace of God in my life?

Dishes in the sink that I just couldn't get to - guilt grace.
A 4 year old who can't identify all of his letters because I haven't made a consistent effort - guilt grace.
Kale smoothies that have never been made or given to my children - guilt grace.
A recording date that continues to get pushed back - guilt grace.
Kids that have never had a picture taken with Santa - guilt grace. 
Photos on my hard drive of my kids that have yet to be organized - guilt grace.
Workouts that sometimes only happen once a week instead of five times - guilt grace.
Not sending Duke to the 3/4 year old preschool program but choosing to keep him in Kid's Day Out because it worked better for our schedules - guilt grace.
Frozen pizzas because can I just finally not cook for once? - guilt grace.

Those are small things, but they add up quickly.  If I condition my heart to believe that I should feel unnecessary guilt, I am isolating myself from grace.  If I truly lived in the grace that God is ready and willing to pour out on me, I would find myself feeling an abundance of freedom and love.

When pride, a piece of my personality, or guilt comes up against grace, I have a choice to make.  I can either believe a lie or I can ask the one who will never lie to me, "What do you think about this?  What do you say about me?  What is the truth?"  I wonder what would happen if I began approaching life that way.  That is the task at hand for 2016.

I cannot encompass the perfect version of me that I aspire to be.  And the closest I will ever come is when I allow God's love and grace to soak into my heart.  Feel free to remind me of grace when I get all I-can-do-all-things-through-me-who-strengthens-me.  2016, here we go.

i went to the movies

"The real problem has far less to do with what is really out there than it does with our resistance to finding out what is really out there.  The suffering comes from our reluctance to learn to walk in the dark."

Yesterday I did something really brave.  I was offered a chance to conquer my fear.  I've been offered chances like these off and on for the past few years and I've always declined.  But something felt different this time.  It felt less scary.  And there was something inside of me that thought maybe I can do this.  I went back and forth several times, but I ended up saying yes.

I went to the movies.

"When we run from darkness, how much do we really know about what we are running from?  If we turn away from darkness on principle, doing everything we can to avoid it because there is simply no telling what it contains, isn't there a chance that what we are running from is God?"

When you have a panic attack followed by painful anxiety, everything related to the onset becomes a trigger.  At least that's how it was for me.  Every piece of that day turned grey and joyless.  The things themselves did not scare me but the association that those things had with the anxiety terrified me.

I was in a movie theater on July 20, 2012 when I had the panic attack, so I stopped going to movies.  I was watching "The Dark Knight Rises" so almost everything Batman related, especially Bane and his voice, made (and kind of still make) me shutter.  It all happened on a weekend, so for several months, I dreaded weekends and my anxiety was sky high every Saturday.  Duke was being watched by someone else (that someone else was Sara so it was the best someone else, but still someone else), so any time we left Duke in the months following there were lots of pep talks, prayers, and encouragement from Colt involved.  We went to Fuzzy's downtown before the movie and I just recently went to Fuzzy's in Norman for the first time since.  Everything from that day became dark and full of fear.

"For good or ill, no one can do your work for you while you are in this dark place.  It has your name all over it, and the only way out is through." 

Everything that anxiety slithers its way into changes from that point on.  Everything it touches becomes something different.  Things you used to love turn into things that only bring you pain.

But I said yes last night.

It had been 3.5 years since I'd been in a movie theater.  I stepped up to buy my ticket and I thought to myself I don't even remember what the price for a movie ticket is.  I forgot that the actual movie wouldn't start at 7:15 p.m. but that the previews would start then.  About 15 minutes into the movie, I remembered that there was a cup holder for my drink.  I had been bending down to grab my coke each time I wanted a sip.  I guess 3.5 years away was a bit significant.

The previews made me a little ansy.  I forgot how movie previews throw your emotions all over the map in a matter of minutes.  By the time the movie started, I was kind of exhausted, but I knew that focusing on one plot and one set of characters would be better.  It wasn't long before I forgot where I was and what I was doing.  I was laughing, eating popcorn, and enjoying the movie.

"I learned that sadness does not sink a person; it is the energy a person spends trying to avoid sadness that does that."

We're not made to live in fear.  I'm not supposed to be scared of movie theaters for the rest of my life because of one awful, life-changing experience.  I did need time away from them.  I did need to work through all of those triggers.  I did need to see a counselor to fully understand myself and what was actually happening.  But the things my anxiety touched were not and are not forever tainted.  That's not how God works.

"I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light.  I need darkness as much as I need light."

After it all happened in 2012, I quickly threw Batman, Fuzzy's, Saturdays, and babysitters in a box labeled "THINGS I'M SCARED OF. DO NOT OPEN EVER AGAIN."  But over time, God has slowly and gently pulled my fears out of that box, one by one, and redeemed them.  It's as if he has said, "See?  Look at this one, Claire.  It doesn't look the same as it did back when you put it in the box.  It's not scary anymore."  I'm not a fearless person, no.  I will always have my work cut out for me in that arena.  But I have seen where fear gets me so I'm going to fight fear for as long as I live.

"To be human is to live by sunlight and moonlight, with anxiety and delight, admitting limits and transcending them, falling down and rising up.  To want a life with only half of these things in it is to want half a life, shutting the other half away where it will not interfere with one's bright fantasies of the way things ought to be."
 

My life before that day in 2012 was very controlled (or so I thought).  I had a tight grip on everything around me and fear was the driving force.  But on that day, the lid popped off.  My counselor explained to me in one of our sessions that a panic attack like that was probably bound to happen.  You can only bottle up so much fear before it bursts open.  But I'm so glad it all happened.  I was forced to rethink things.  I had to undo a lot of destructive mental pathways that were comfortable.  I had to ask myself whether or not I was making decisions out of fear or out of faith.  Ultimately, I realized that I had no control and that I really was just a depraved human in need of a Savior.  I would have never learned what I needed to learn or become who I needed to become without being in a dark place like that.

"God puts out our lights to keep us safe, John says, because we are never more in danger of stumbling than when we think we know where we are going."

I'm so thankful to know a God who is so kind and gracious.  I feel like I had addressed almost all of the fears related to my anxiety except for this one – going to the movies.  I knew I could trust God to take care of me but my heart just wasn't ready.  As silly as it may sound to you, I felt God's delight in me last night as I sat in that theater.  He wasn't annoyed that it took me that long to believe him.  He wasn't mad that I had waited that long to hand over that fear.  He has been patiently and lovingly waiting for me.  He has been in this with me from day one.  He hasn't missed out on one moment of the journey.

And he's doing the same for you.

You may feel stuck, but you're not.  You may feel like a situation, relationship, or mental illness defines you, but they don't.  We all have dark places in our lives, but we are not bound by them.  We are not backed into a corner forever because of our circumstances today.  What Satan means for evil, God means for good.

"It is the inability to bear dark emotions that causes many of our most significant problems, in other words, and not the emotions themselves.  The emotions themselves are conduits of pure energy that want something from us:  to wake us up, to tell us something we need to know, to break the ice around our hearts, to move us to act."

(All quotes are from "Learning to Walk in the Dark" by Barbara Brown Taylor)

a thrill of hope

When I look at the state of the world we live in, it almost feels offensive to go shopping, sing silly Christmas songs, wrap presents, and celebrate the season.  How can we celebrate when all of this is happening?  It's easy to turn on the TV and immediately land on something tragic.  And aside from what's happening in our world, what about the things that happen right around me?  People lose babies, hope for babies, say goodbye to spouses, say goodbye to parents, lose jobs, have illnesses that can't be stopped.  We all are so weary.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of nightAnd death's dark shadows put to flight.

When I look at things through the lens of my earthly eyes, the bad is often all I see.  But something happens when I remember what Jesus did.  The darkness is still dark and the sadness in our world is still there, but there is a hope that breaks through.  In the past few weeks and months, I've never been more thrilled knowing that my hope is in nothing here on this earth. 

a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

Putting my hope in the Lord isn't me shutting out the tragedy in the world and blindly following some god that I want to believe is there.  My hope is in the Lord because I have seen and experienced his goodness, grace, love, and power in my life.

I am comforted and relieved knowing that my celebration of Jesus isn't put on hold because of the darkness in this world or the circumstances I find myself in.  Rather, my celebration of Jesus begins and is increased because of it.  I celebrate because this world is not my home and my time here is not the climax of the story.  Because even in the midst of the most awful things, I can rest in knowing that the Lord can redeem any situation and will ultimately redeem everything.  Because I know that all of the good I see in the world and in people is because the Lord is gracious and still working through us.

Come, thou long expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.

"Jesus is the reason for the season" is a phrase I grew up hearing and believing.  But this year, those words seem to carry more truth and weight.  My hope is wrapped in this tiny baby's entrance into the world.  Jesus' life gives my life reason.  He is what keeps me moving and keeps me getting up every day.  He gives me joy and purpose and fills my soul.  He pushes me to love people and show compassion.  He exposes my sin and faults and offers grace and forgiveness.  He comforts and protects me.  He delights in me.  Nothing the world offers could possibly do all of that for me.  People and things will fall short every time.  Jesus is it.  He's the only reason there is.

Jesus is the cure our world is stumbling around to find. 

This Christmas season, I pray that you will experience the thrill of hope that only Jesus offers. 

 
Israel's strength and consolation,
hope of all the earth thou art;
dear desire of every nation,
joy of every longing heart.

icky feelings

Today, I decided to participate in the Hollywood Housewife's #onedayHH challenge to document all of the mundane moments in my life on Instagram.  I got to picture number 3 of the day and was hit with an itch to get some things out.  So here we are.

That was my 3rd photo of the day.

I bet some of you are thinking what I'm thinking.  That "Be Amazing" is a silly name for a women's bible study.  That the cover design is so cheesy.  That if someone or something else tells me how to be a woman, I might lose my cool.

The first week of our bible study, I made all of these observations.  And immediately, in those first minutes of being there, the Lord began speaking to my heart about each of them.  About how the title and the cover design don't really matter.  And about how the "someone" who's behind all of this and who's telling me how to be a woman is actually God.

A sweet friend addressed this very thing in our first meeting.  She talked about how sometimes with "church stuff," we get this icky feeling that rises up and provokes us to become defensive, offended, or turned off.  And when that happens, it's important that we examine things further.  What we do with those kinds of feelings is very important.  If we take them in and give them a home in our hearts, we can end up as pretty bitter people. 

When feelings like these aren't dealt with, you end up with people who leave the church for trivial reasons or write blog posts about how contemporary music in the church is all wrong or believe that all worship leaders now are just a bunch of performers.  All of this because someone felt off, uncomfortable, or didn't have enough information.  All of this because of an icky feeling.

Usually, icky feelings like these are not indicators of wrongdoing around us.  They're more than likely indicators of wrongdoing inside of us. 

In a matter of minutes during that first gathering at our church, my heart was softened.  Instead of grabbing hold of my petty commentary and sticking by it, I found myself letting go of it and asking the Lord to continue opening my mind and heart to what I needed to hear that day. 

We're several weeks into this study now and it is one of my favorite things I do all week.  It's no surprise that I love the women in my group, my leaders, the yummy breakfast, and the free childcare.  I expected all of those.  But beyond that, I am loving the challenge of doing a bible study that forces me to read more scripture and ask more questions than are on the page. 

I'm more than happy to be doing a bible study that isn't entitled something ridiculously creative, begging to be hashtagged.  It's not trending on social media and it's not the next big thing.  (Now, there's nothing wrong with bible studies that are popular and that have more current designs and titles.  I've done plenty of those and they are great.  My point is that it's not the point.)  I'm truly glad to be doing a bible study written by women who love the color purple and who chose the picture of a girl leaping for the front cover.  That means these women are different than me.  Not wrong, not cheesy, not silly, not dumb.  Different.  I can always learn from different.

Maybe it's not a bible study, but it's something else for you.  That icky feeling rises up in all of us.  Maybe someone at your church "just bugs you," so you avoid them.  Maybe you get riled up at the sound of loud music played by young people in your church, so you criticize them and their intentions.  Maybe you've been hurt by a lot of church people, so you decided to give up on church as a whole.  I'm not saying all of those situations aren't hard, but I am saying that we should push deeper until we find our real problem.  Our real problem is usually us.  Our selfishness and pride get in the way of a lot of things.  It's just easier to put blame elsewhere.

When someone or something rubs us the wrong way, let's be big enough to question ourselves and ask the Lord to reveal the places in our own hearts that aren't right.  What's my heart attitude?  What's at the bottom of this?  Where could I be wrong?