August Due Date

August has arrived for the third time. The infamous due date to our little Faith MaryJo that we lost in 2015. We never made it to that preassigned August 27th due date.

Part of me is incredibly grateful, and part of me is incredibly sad.

We knew we wouldn’t get to take her home right from the beginning… We knew we would lose her either sometime during the pregnancy, during the birth itself, or very shortly after the birth. I was convinced I couldn’t survive living through any of those options, but knew I had no choice in the matter. As long as I chose to continue living, I was going to have to live through that loss.

At the time, I honestly thought I would not have been able to hold her and have her pass away in our arms… but after surviving her stillbirth delivery, I distinctly remember thinking that I knew I would have been able to handle it if that had been the scenario God would have given us. But we didn’t get to hold her and feel her breath and feel her damaged little heart beat for an unknown number of minutes.

Her first breath would never be taken here on earth, her heartbeat was already silent.

I remember being completely and unexpectedly overcome and emotional when that first August had arrived. I was unprepared for the rush of anger and the unexpected change and flash of emotions the flipping of the calendar would bring to me. And while I was a little more prepared last August, it was still incredibly hard. I think it’s always going to be, and I think that is actually the way it’s supposed to be. I think the yearly sting and reminder that the needles of this month continually prick me with over and over again, are actually God’s intention of growing me and healing me. It’s merely all in the manner in which I choose to look at it, process it, embrace it, and live through it. I can numb and attempt to avoid all emotions all together, or I can enter in to this month as a time of reflection, of gratitude and praise, a time of mourning and loss, a time to realign my wayward path back to God straight on, or at least as straight on as I can accomplish in my messed up fallen earthy state.

Yes, I’m sure there’s a purpose and a plan in the ache and emotions of August. August will always be a trigger, August will always be hard. August will always be the month when we should have said hello to our perfect and precious little bundle of long awaited pink but didn’t get to. August will always be the month of unknowns, of what ifs, of what was lost, of what was given, and what was taken away. August will always be the crashing reality of my life’s good, bad, and ugly. August will always be a vivid mix of all that once was, and all that never will be, all blended into one big shiny explosion of the brightest colors mixing with the blackest blacks of night.

There are days I get it and can fairly navigate forward with a positive outlook. There are days I struggle, days I honestly don’t get it, don’t want to confront it anymore, don’t want to address it, don’t want to try flip the pain and sorrow up-side-down in search of finding the rainbow within the storm clouds of thoughts, feelings, emotions, and memories.

In just a few short days this dreaded month with all it’s baggage will have again passed. I will again reach out to flip the calendar and we will start a new month, a fresh month. The demons and skeletons will still remain in the back of my closet, but the door that is currently flung wide open, will hopefully close again.

I will always wonder who she would have been, who she would have become. I will always wonder how she would have changed the world and brightened all of our days and lives with her smile and personality. I will always wonder why this date has to come and go filled with loss and emptiness, rather than joy and fulfillment.

And yet I guess in a way, I do know that she has changed the world and brightened our days, and she has filled an emptiness with unexpected joy and fulfillment, even though her physical body isn’t here on earth beside us, as she resides with Jesus wearing her Heavenly wings.

No I don’t get it, I don’t understand it, and I certainly don’t like it. But I trust it. Well, most days I trust it… and on the hard days like today, when I do stop and question every single bit of it… I will say the words declaring that I trust it… hoping that if I continue to say it long enough, and often enough, I will again slide into that comfort and awareness of that trust… even when I don’t want to, and I surly don’t feel it.

Well baby girl… you’ve been dancing in Heaven now for over two years now… over two years you’ve been disease free and laughing and dancing on the streets of gold, which I’m sure sparkle brilliantly in the sunshine. I miss you and I wish you were here… but I trust you are who you are, you are where you are supposed to be, and you are doing what you were created to do, all with your beautiful, delicately wispy angel wings flowing effortlessly behind you.

It’s our Journey to Faith… continuing on day after day… month after month… year after year.

{ Next blog post "Heaviness" HERE }

{ Previous Blog post "Early Morning Failure" HERE }

Early Morning Failure

I am an early riser. I’m also currently in a season of being an early exerciser.  (Notice my use of "currently" and "season" ~ yes... this too shall probably pass, as it has every other time I've found myself in this same place in life...)

My alarm goes off at 4:20am every morning. I’m up and going (after feeding the dog) shortly after. Get it done, check it off the to-do list, and get on with tackling the rest of my day.

As summer fades into fall quickly these days, the dark night is seeping longer into my early mornings. I spent much of the summer getting to watch the sun rise, with the early dawn lighting the sky shortly after I was out. But not any more. Dawn’s hellos are getting later and later, and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a sunrise while still out.

It’s getting a little colder in the morning, and it’s getting really hard for me to continue to get myself out there right now. The last several weeks have specifically been a struggle for me. If I’m honest, I want to admit I want to quit running. I want to quit counting the points from the food I eat. I want to eat the chocolate and drink the alcohol and pop.  And I'm not talking just a little indulgence... I'm talking like all the chocolate and all the alcohol (and why not throw in an entire bag of chips while we're at it).

I am nearing the one year mark of when I finally decided it was time to do something about my health, do something to celebrate God’s gift of my returned health, and do something for myself and my body and my outlook of life.

Two years ago tomorrow was the due date for our daughter, Faith MaryJo. The precious little baby we had prayed and pleaded to God for for double digit years. The precious little baby He finally granted us, but then lost to the disease Trisomy 18 and had to say goodbye to at the local cemetery, leaving her there while we went home to figure out how to keep on living, while she went home to Heaven to celebrate a full life and health with Jesus.

My body, mind, and soul ached and struggled and remained in a state of utter unhealthy for a long long time. As my body finally began to heal over a year later, it gained back weight, lots of weight, and my mind and soul gained back bitterness, lots of bitterness.

I was an unhealthy, unhappy, pool of ungrateful.

But like He’s done His entire life with me, God kept just slowly pulling me in, slowly pulling me closer and closer to Him. Holding me, carrying me, whispering to me, drawing me back to Him while I adamantly pushed Him away and held Him at a distance. Oh I love that about Him. #grateful.

It was a year ago I sat in the same place, on the couch of my camper, in the beloved campground community at the lake. God was stirring in me, satan was battling in me, and I was simply stuck on the couch. My feet hurt thanks to my bunions, I hadn’t walked or ran or done any form of exercise all summer. My heart ached due to my losses and my bitterness. My soul was empty but longing to be filled, restored, remade. Satan was in his heyday, but God knew I was created for something more, something greater, and He knew I was capable of overcoming the dark season I was currently sitting in.

He believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.

The last twelve months have been a huge journey for me. A huge time of hardship and hard work. A huge time of overwhelm and overcoming. A huge time of highs and lows, goods and bads. I go back and read through some of my blog posts from a year ago, and I’m struck and humbled how far I have actually come this many months later.

My body is in better shape today. In fact, this is probably the healthiest and physically strongest I have ever been in my entire life. I’m awed and humbled by the miles my legs have run and the food choices I’ve made to eat. I’ve battled a mind deeply programed with past unhealthy diet tendencies to choose to invest and indulge in many many healthy calories every single day, filling my body with the needed nutrient to nourish, change, and succeed.

It’s been a long year, it’s been a hard year, but it’s also been a good year. And now interestingly enough, I seem to have hit the road block, the stumbling block that inevitably happens in every lifestyle change. The “I want to quit” stage.

I’m there, I own up to it, I admit it. And as much as my mind is screaming at me to just quit, my soul and my body are still putting up a great fight. It is my earnest plea that I don’t allow myself to quit, that I don’t backpedal and fall back off the bandwagon, like I’ve done every single time before when I’ve reached this same bump in the road. In the past I have been a repeat quitter, a repeat failure.

So, all of this brings me to today. To this morning. To my 4:20 a.m. alarm.

It went off, and I got up, mostly because the dog was starving and needed to go out, not because I wanted to. It had rained most of the night. It was cool, windy, incredibly muddy. The radar showed there was more rain coming. It was thundering, lightening, and dripping. I chose to make coffee, do my devotions, and read instead. I listened to the heavy rain outside and knew I’d made the correct decision, and also sat there feeling defeated, a failure in a way, because I hadn’t gone out and gotten in my half marathon training for the day.

I laid down and as I dozed, I dreamt about tornados. Lots of tornados. I will need to look all the details up in my Dream Encyclopedia book when I get home (I’m uber intrigued by dreams) but I’m sure it all has to do with the chaos, the shrapnel, the darkness, the storms raging within me right now.

My husband left at 7am for the day, I have our youngest here by myself. Half marathon training can get a little tricky when you work full time and have a full time family. I’m super grateful for my supportive husband, but it is quite necessary most days that I get my training in before 6am when he has to leave for the day. And of course, that didn’t happen this morning, and I found myself laying in bed defeated and dejected because of the rain, and my poor attitude, and with internal war with my health and running these days.

I sent a message to my accountability friend. And then a reply came almost instantly - she was also still in bed and was just going to do it later today.

Later today. She was going to do it later today, and she carried no guilt, no shame, no regret. She was enjoying this raining Saturday, thankful for the gift of extended rest.

It dawned on me right in that exact moment that I had already chalked my entire day off as a failure, an incomplete, a DNF (Did Not Finish in running terms) by 4:33am when I decided to sit down on the couch with my Bible and hot coffee rather than go out running in the rain, in the black of night.

That’s what satan wanted me to believe, that my day was a loss, my willpower wasn’t enough, my accomplishment no longer attainable. He whispered yet again that its time to quit, time to stop, time to let it all go and indulge and become lazy and bitter again.

But that is such a lie. I actually have all day.

I also have “later today” to complete and do and accomplish. I haven’t actually lost and failed my today until 11:59pm tonight. And even if I didn’t do anything today, that “rest” thing - well, that isn’t a loss or failure either, contrary to what satan wants me to feel and believe.

Life does not go as planned, I of all people should know all about that. Time and time again God has continued to hold my hand, pull me along, and show me over and over that He’s in control, in His timing, in His plans, and in His planned journey for me. He’s got this, and I need to let it all go, trust, and faithfully obey.

I need to listen, be obedient, and faithfully continue to share my story. I need to graciously continue to roll with the punches of life, letting go to my death grip of perfection and expectation.

Yes I want to quit. But as I’m continuing to navigate deeper into this really hard season of wanting to throw in the towel and just be done, forever … I am also faithfully and diligently trying to just get up every morning, breathe deep, pray diligently, and tell myself over and over “Not today. Maybe tomorrow, but today will not be the day I quit. Not today.”

And it's not that someday I know I won't actually quit running, because someday I know I will.  Someday my body will simply no longer allow it... but I don't want to quit simply because I just don't want to do it anymore.

I know I’m not the only one battling perfection and expectation and wanting to quit. Whatever it is in your life you are weary of, tired of, sick of, needing to regain control of… know you aren’t alone. We all cycle through seasons, we are all battling something every single day, most days many somethings… We all desire more, and greater, and better things for ourselves and those we love. Some of that is for materialist things, yes… but I know deep inside all of us, we all have this insane pull to be more, be great, be amazing, be on fire for something far beyond us.

God created us with a connection to overcome and accomplish great things on His behalf. He wires us all with the ability to do unbelievable things and become amazing people. He equips and calls us into a rich ministry within ourselves, so we can go out into the world (whether that is across the street or across the world) and show, and share, and shine His story and His goodness, ultimately passing along and igniting in others that which is burning in us. It rarely is easy, but I have found it is always rewarding.

It’s all this crazy dance with me and myself, me and God, me and satan, me and the world. It really all is a bold, magical, and sacred rhythm of trust, intimacy, response, and story within our steps, and twists, and turns. It’s graceful, it’s turbulent, it’s hurtful, it’s healing, it’s exhausting, it’s exhilarating, it’s hard, it’s easy, it’s exhausting, it’s exuberating, it’s short, it’s long, it’s quiet, it’s loud, it’s the desire to quit, it’s the perseverance to overcome.

I haven’t failed myself, or anyone else, yet today because I simply didn’t set out and complete what I had planned to accomplish earlier this morning. I still have the rest of the day. I still have “later today”, and I need to shove away the whisper of inadequacy and failure that’s rasping it’s lies within my mind right now. I need to stop listening to the inner cry pushing me to stop and to quit. I need to simply hold out my hand and figure out how to hold on to the small pull forward and not let it go. I need to hang on until the season passes.

Granted I have no idea what battles will come alongside whatever my "next season" will bring… but for today I need to continue to battle the urge to quit. I need to continue to try tune out the lies of not being enough. I need to continue to overcome the urge to choose the easy road instead of the hard road.

God has me here, right now, for a purpose, for a plan, for a reason in this season. I am thankful, I am grateful, I am hopeful. And while I openly admit I am battling the desire to pull away, turn away, walk away… I look at the past three hundred and thirty some days and see the tangible results of choosing yes over no, hard over easy… and even though I don’t want to… I know I must continue to muster up whatever I need to to continue to inch forward and not give in to the downward roller coaster rush I know could inevitably happen if I were to merely open my hands and let go.

God brought me this far… I cannot go back now. I cannot turn around, I cannot quit quite yet today.

Not today. Maybe tomorrow, but today will not be the day I quit. Not today.

{ Next blog post "August Due Date" HERE }

{ Previous blog post "What Just Happened" HERE }

What Just Happened

One of those crazy out-of-the-blue things happened to me yesterday morning… I fell during my morning run.

Not just a graceful little “stumble” - I’m talking a full-on body and ground collision like I haven’t experience in decades.

I honestly don’t even know what happened. I think I tripped on a crack in the road or something. One minute I was running, the next minute I was surging forward, barrel rolling, and somehow ending up with feet in the grass, back and butt over the curb, shoulders and head on the road. My behind-the-ear earbuds got knocked out of my ears and were laying on the ground next to me.

I quickly tried to get back up, of course looking around to see who might have witnessed this. Luckily, I saw no one. I slowly tried to put myself back together and examine all the damage. I hurt everywhere and my mind was still attempting to catch up to what had just happened.

It was 4:30 a.m. I was only two blocks from home, the sky was pitch black… and this had completely caught me by surprise.

I’ve been struggling with finding the inner desire and willpower to even continue my current training. Right now, I really really want to quit running, forever. Monday I was still at the lake, both Tuesday and Wednesday morning it was raining when I got up, and then yesterday morning, the first morning I finally convince myself to get up and get back out there again… I fall... and I fell hard.

I found myself all week continuing to try navigate all the “heavy” within me - all the negative, all the emotions, all the thoughts of quitting and failure whispering its lies to me. It’s been one thing after another, and I know that satan is trying his hardest to entangle me and wrap himself around my mind and body. It makes me frustrated, it makes me mad, it makes me want to weep.

He seems to be winning right now.

After a few minutes of gathering myself under the faint glow of a streetlight, and assessing the damage the concrete had left to my body, I was beyond grateful nothing seemed to be broken. My glasses hadn’t broken, I hadn’t hit my head, I know I had rolled over my arm that my iPhone was strapped onto (which I take out of it’s protective case while I run because of the stupid headphone jack) and was shocked to see it hadn’t cracked, and no bones were broken. My palms, knees, shoulders, hips were all sporting road rash and blood.

Lucky. So so lucky. I knew it, and I was grateful in that moment. I was still banged up, I was still hurt, I was still rattled. I was sure I’d be stiff and sore for days to come, but I was grateful.

I debated quitting the run and heading back. Heavens, I was only two blocks from home. I debated attempting to complete my initial training mission for the morning. I compromised somewhere in the middle. I wasn’t able to get in the entire distance I had hoped to complete, but I didn’t turn immediately around and head right home.

I did not give satan the satisfaction of completely winning.

I got home, my wounds and muscles starting to clearly scream at me through their pain and aches. I showered, assessed all the damage in full light, and bandaged myself up as best as I could. As I pulled open the outer bandage seals, and pulled off each half of the bandage to expose the adhesive, carefully applying it to my skin, to cover and protect the raw and vulnerable skin, I couldn’t help but think about how similar this moment was to real life.

How often aren’t we in a somewhat dark season, feeling alone on our journey, attempting to survive the moment, dutifully tying to put one foot in front of the other, just trying to reach a new destination, trying to reach a time of greater light and clarity, trying to find the gracefulness in our steps as we navigate the less than perfect conditions surrounding us. We’re out there in life, struggling, fighting it, surrounded by the hard and the dark, yet faithfully attempting to persevere, attempting to do that next right thing… only to be unexpectedly struck down, out-of-the-blue slammed down even further than you thought possible. It’s like getting blindsided during some of our darkest hours… as if the initial blackness of the circumstances aren’t heavy enough… something of of the blue attacks and decides to hold us down, hold us tight, and refuses to let us go… We’re left reeling and un-oriented.

How often don’t we find ourselves in life laying there hurt, wounded, alone, wondering what in the world just happened to us? Wondering how to get up, how to assess it all, how to fix it all, how to dress all our wounds and hurts for quickest recovery? And wondering why God would allow something worse to happen to us when we were already clearly in a point of low.

We stand there in shock, assessing the situation, surveying the damage, asking ourselves and God the deeper questions of the why’s and what’s and where to next. We don’t get it, and we don’t want to have to figure it out.

We will never understand why God allows those little cracks in the roads of our lives to occasionally reach up and grab us every-so-often and trip us up, bring us down, hurt us, stop us. It wasn’t a brand new path I was on this morning, it was a trusted, tried and true route taken a million times. And yet for some reason, something got in the way, something unexpected came up and took me down.

We get caught off guard when the unexpected happens, when the wrinkles in life trip us up, bring us down, set us back, hurt us, and damage us. We are taken off guard when we trip and stumble and falter on the mishaps and cracks that come before us. And how often doesn't this happen when we’re already struggling, already traveling in a season of dark and difficulty, already deep in the battle set before us. We know where we want to go, we even know the path we want to take to get us there… but it’s dark. It’s so so dark. And it’s hard. It’s so so hard. And then it’s that “one more thing”… One more thing happens. One more thing gets added to our burdens, our darkness, our heaviness. One more thing gets added to that backpack we’re carrying that already is so so heavy and filled with so many bricks and burdens.

Adding insult to injury. It’s the thing that tries to break us, tries to wound us beyond repair, tries to take over completely and leave us lying there wondering what happened and how in the world to get back up and try piecing it all back together again.

Sometimes the wounds and hurts and cuts gash us deeper than we fear we can survive. Sometimes we feel grateful, knowing it could be so much worse, yet grumbling and still having to stumble along through the onset of pain, weathering the discomfort left to still endure, slowly back tracking to grant ourselves the time and space to heal and recover to the capacity needed to restore our health… our physical, mental, spiritual health.

We feel so alone and so broken in the dark… And yet we’re not. We’re not alone, and our path and our journeys are not random. Our footsteps are carefully set out before us on our life’s journeys. We can choose to stay on the couch or we can choose to get up and do something. Some days we’ll accomplish great things, some days we won’t. Some days we’ll find great success, some days we won’t. Some days will go smooth and careful, some days won’t. Some days we will fall, we will get hurt, we will need to stop for the care and healing needed to regain our health and strength.

I can’t help but think of one of my life verses. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.” Psalm 23:1-3

He MAKES me lie down in green pastures… He RESTORES my soul. He brings me down, to simply bring me back to Him.

Yes, these trials and setbacks happen for a reason. Yes, our hurts, aches, bruises, wounds, and falls happen for a reason. They happen as a means to bring us back to Him, to allow Him to fill us, to restore us, to heal us, to carry us, to return us, to hold us close.

But you know what, sometimes He doesn’t grant healing, sometimes He doesn’t answer the prayers and pleadings we cry out to Him with. Sometimes He remains silent for long seasons. Sometimes He leaves us in the dark seasons longer than we want. Sometimes the pain will become even worse tomorrow.

I will never understand the why’s and how’s and reasonings of that, but as my life continues to tick by, I find the deep breaths of needing to somehow simply try faithfully trust this journey, embrace my falls, welcome the darkness, and allow myself to see, experience, hurt, heal, and sometimes even be carried through the many seasons and situations I encounter.

Most days this is definitely easier said than done. Most days I wallow in my sorrow, I feel sorry for myself, I ache and I long for answers and understanding I know I’ll never attain.

We aren’t alone in our darkness, in our unexpectedness, in our pain. We don’t have to heal alone, we don’t have to be entirely self sufficient every single second of our lives.

It’s ok to hurt and take the time needed to apply the bandages and ointment needed to mend our hurts and our cuts from the blindsided battles we continually encounter in this one life God has granted us.
It’s ok to grieve. It’s ok be angry, to be sad, to be disappointed, to be anxious, to be messy, to be emotional, to fall apart for a while. It’s ok to question, to cry, to feel utterly lost. We need to endure the battering and the bruising, weather the pain and the hurt, to receive the joy and promise of recovery and the glory of our salvation.

So much of what happens in our lives is so hard to understand and navigate. So many situations threaten to undo us, overtake us, overwhelm us. There are so many things we will never know this side of Heaven. But I believe God simply wants us to try trust the journey before us, trust the mishaps and setbacks, trust the darkness and the falls, trust the healing and hurts, trust the reassurance and reasoning behind the promise of eternal life.

I physically fell yesterday morning, and I fell hard. It was unexpected and unwanted. My body is left aching and sore. My strained muscles need to rest, the bruises and cuts need to heal, and I need to figure out how to continue forward without quitting entirely, even through that is exactly what I want to do. That is exactly what the enemy wants me to do.

I need to hang on just a little tighter, just a little longer. I need to allow this to set me back, but not break me entirely. We all need to hang on just a little tighter, just a little longer. We all need to allow the unexpected to set us back, but not break us entirely.

I wish I had a quick three point word of advise to navigate through this, but I don’t. I will simply trust the journey, trust that I am not alone, trust that we all fall in life, that we are all walking around battered and banged up, and we are all working on figuring out how to get back up and get back into the game of life.

And I will trust the darkness and the unknown is simply leading to a greater light and understanding… maybe not today… maybe not tomorrow… maybe not even next week or next month. But someday, someway, somewhere, somehow, there will be a greater light and understanding, and all this will make sense, all this will be clear.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me besides still waters. He restores my soul.” Psalm 23:1-3. He MAKES me lie down in green pastures… He RESTORES my soul. He brings me down, to simply bring me back to Him.

{ Previous Blog Post "Wanting To Quit" HERE }

Wanting To Quit

Yesterday I wanted to quit running. Forever.

Wanting to quit running is not anything new within my mind, and I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve actually gone through with it and actually quit. And then invariably, days… or weeks… or months… or sometimes even years have snuck by, but I have always somehow come back to lacing up those tennis shoes again one day and slowly slowly slowly venturing back down the road.

I’ve never really considered myself a “real runner” - I am merely someone who is not coordinated, and not athletic, who tries to move her legs slightly faster than a walk. But this summer has been a little different, I am coming to grips with this reality. I’ve taken my health and my training to a whole new level, and for the most part, my mind has somewhat compliantly been following along. Oh it’s still a tremendous fight of mind vs body every single time I lace up those shoes, but this year I’ve been blessed with returned health, blessed with feet without pain, and I’ve embraced that all a little more seriously than I have before. I’ve changed what I eat, I’ve changed how I exercise, I’ve changed how I rest, I’ve changed how I think. Well, at least for the most part anyway, there will always always always be a huge part of me battling against every single part of that required transformation.

I would say I actually almost consider myself a runner right now. That’s actually hard for me to write for some reason.

I’ve been on this current health and fitness journey not quite a year now. It was in the fall of last year, after finishing up camping season for the year and facing the colder temperatures of the fall in the midwest, when I realized the full magnitude of my weight gain and finally embraced the even fuller magnitude of what I felt God was calling me to do about it.

I fought it like no other. I first had to get my mind on board, and then I had to battle my body to respond. And then I had to battle them both day in and day out to work together with what I chose to put in my body, what I chose to put on my body, and what I chose to do with my body. For me, I would say most days the largest battle is always my mind over my body. My mind is wired to quit much sooner than my body is most days, but neither one are overly strong or confident so it’s really a lose lose situation.

But I kept fighting it, and slowly I began winning, tiny achievement, minuscule accomplishments. I made several poor choices, I made a few wise choices, but I just kept getting up and battling mind vs body. It took a long time, but at one point I found a new routine, a new rhythm, a new food pyramid that I was able to somewhat embrace and follow. And I knew if I ever allowed myself the grace of complacency I would surly fall entirely off the band wagon and catapult instantly back into the bad habits of the older me. I knew this “season” was probably going to be short lived and I knew I’d end up rollercoastering back down, like I always do. It’s just a matter of time, it always is.

I live in fear of when this “season” is going to finally end. I’m not sure if my mind will win and I will yet again simply quit trying and caring, or if my body will win and some health issue will simply swoop in and take over.

So I have clung to the routine, clutched tightly to the habits, nearly worshiped the new rhythm of success in fear of stopping, fear of failing, fear of quitting entirely. I haven’t dared to give myself an inch, because I know I would immediately snatch back a mile. I keep getting up, I keep persevering, because the one day I don’t, the one time I don’t, that will be it altogether, the end of it entirely.
But yesterday I hit a wall taller and thicker than any I’ve encountered in a really long time. I’m fairly sure I am emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted right now, and I wanted to quit running. Forever. I just didn’t want to do it any more. I didn’t want to set the alarm anymore. I didn’t want to try anymore. I thought about it all day long. Not just a “Ugh” thought in passing, but the “I seriously want.to.quit” talk with myself all.day.long.

I don’t want to run the two 5K’s and the Half Marathon I’m currently signed up for in October. I don’t want to walk, I don’t want to interval train, I don’t want to treadmill, I don’t want to elliptical, I don’t want to eat healthy. I don’t want to care anymore.

It’s too hard, it’s too much work, and I’m just too tired right now.

As I sat on someone else’s private dock last night watching the rays of an almost missed sunset peek through the dark rain clouds settling on top of it, I found myself in tears. The heaviness and darkness within me also settling heavily on top of any sunshine and colorful rays I once radiated from within me. I felt hidden, burdened, dark, heavy, defeated. I wanted to quit. Forever.

I know it’s August, and August is hard. I know it’s just a season that will pass. I know I’m just tired and stressed and emotional right now. I know this. But as I sat there, my tears blurring the magnificent pink and purple hues, I wondered if it was time to quit, just be done with all of it, just “run away” and hide (pun entirely intended). No more social media (posting or following), no more blogs (posting or following), no more text messages (receiving or sending) of encouragement.

I could hear the swirl of comments in my mind assuring me it was more than ok to take a little time off, to allow myself extended time to rest, heck some would even encourage me to quit if I really wanted to. I could see the social media comments and messages coming in in my mind if I were to publicly admit what my mind was privately screaming.
Yes everyone… I’m sure it would all be ok if I took some extended time off, to rest for a while… but I carry this fear of quitting so tightly in my hand right now. I hold this card of no-turning-back with white knuckle strength, so afraid the forward-success card will carelessly slip from my fingers and carelessly blow away in the wind. It will flitter and float and laughingly dance away in the fading summer breeze, chuckling and chanting “You are a failure… you are a quitter… I knew you couldn’t continue this success forever…”

I know taking some “time off”, I know “resting” does not make me a failure or a quitter or any less “successful”. I know this, but I also know myself and my past tendencies and repeat history time and time again that has left me in a forty-two year old battle over perfection vs reality, and the minute I start to unravel, the minute I start to lose the battle - I quit, I surrender, I walk away. Right now my little story says I’m currently almost “winning”, I’m currently almost a “real runner”, and it’s a story I’m convinced will instantly disappear if I choose to stop battling it, even for one day.

And I have absolutely no idea why suddenly I even care.  Who cares if I'm a "real runner" or not... who cares if I'm "successful" or not... No one really honestly cares, or sees, except me.

I’m not actually sure where I’m even going with all of this, or why I am even writing any of this. I’m sitting here and I want to quit running, I want to sleep in and never exercise again. I want to quit eating healthy and stop counting food points. I want to stop buying fruit and vegetables and fill up on chocolate and chips and sweets and whatever I want to really eat. I want to stop caring, stop investing in my mind, and my soul, and my body. I want to stop devoting and encouraging. I want to stop doing the hard things, stop having to choose to do the next right thing, stop the inner whisper accusing me of being selfish selfish selfish. I want to stop the good-bad / right-wrong / yes-no conversations and arguments inside my mind that I battle every single day, all day long.

I think we all battle this in one degree or another. No, I don’t think so… I know so. Maybe yours isn’t with running, or exercise, or food, or health in specific, but I know we all want to quit choosing the better options, quiet doing the hard things, quit needing to listen to, identify with, and following through with the right things. We all have the option of the easy button in our lives, we do ~ and we all know it. We all have the option to set the alarm or not. The option to get up and do the things or not. The option to think the thoughts or not. The option to say the words or not. The option to live the life or not.

Satan wants us to choose ourselves, choose the easy, choose the quit option. But God designed us to choose Him, choose the hard, choose the winning option. He created each of us unique and individual, each with our own gifts and talents. He chose to breathe life into each one of us and He assigned each one of us our own one life, filled with bravery and courage and mission and purpose and amazing greatness.

There are days we’ll get up and fight the good fight, and there are days when we just won’t want to anymore. We really can’t choose to just check out, to walk away for a while. We can’t choose to listen to the lies. We have to simply open our hands and reach out to the outstretched hand waiting for us. We need to allow ourselves to be guided, pulled along, and sometimes even carried. We need to be vulnerable and honest, we need to ask for help, we need to require accountability, and ultimately… we just need to “do” - and we need to “do” every.single.day.

We simply need to set the alarm and trust God will awaken us, trust He will grant us another day of life, love, and laughter. He is not required to continue granting us this daily gift, and we are not guaranteed our tomorrows, but we must simply set our alarm and trust it will go off.

And then we have to get up and embrace the day. Get up and be brave and embrace the challenges. Get up and be courageous and simply do the next right thing, whatever that might be. And if we stumble and mis-step, well then we need to get up, brush ourselves off and simply do the next right thing, by doing the next right thing. And no, it will not be easy.

We need to keep going, even when we don’t want to, especially when we don’t want to. We need to admit that yes, we want to quit, but then we need to hang on just a little longer, just a little tighter…

Just a little longer my friends we need to hang on and just keep getting up.

So… I set my alarm, even through it was forecasted 100% chance of rain all morning. But it wasn’t raining when my alarm went off (of course it wasn’t!!?!!), and I decided to be a “running-nonrunner” for just one more day. It wasn’t great by any means, but I chose just get up and do it, and that is as great as it needed to be I guess.

I might still quit tomorrow, but for today, I chose to not quit. I chose to hang on just a little longer… just a little tighter. And that thing I know YOU are also wanting to quit today… well, just hang on just a little longer, just a little tighter…

You can do this… I can do this… We can do this. Embrace the hard. And how about we all just agree to do all this “hard” together. You be real, and vulnerable, and love and encourage me, cuz Lord knows I need it… and I promise to be real, and vulnerable, and love and encourage you, cuz pretty sure you're going to need it too. There will be days like today when I want to quit… and days like tomorrow when you’ll want to quit… and hopefully, Lord willing, we won’t all want to quit at the same time on the same day. You help keep me from quitting today, you help keeping all those around you love from quitting today, and I promise to help you keep from quitting tomorrow. Let’s believe in each other so we can ultimately be able to believe in ourselves.

Let’s simply try to be better together. Because life is so much better not having to do the hard stuff alone.

{ Next Blog Post "What Just Happened" HERE }
{ Previous Blog Post "Dogs, Due Dates, & Disappointments" HERE }

Due Dates, Dogs, and Disappointments

Have you ever wanted something… I mean really wanted something sooooo badly you didn’t quite even know what to do about it?!?

I feel like I have had this most of my life. Like it’s this underlying theme of my life… Unfulfilled dreams, unanswered prayers, ungranted hopes and wishes.

Maybe it’s me… maybe there’s something wrong with what I’m wanting and asking and wishing for… maybe I’m the habitual debbie downer always carrying around a luke warm glass half empty. I don’t know… But what I do know, is that tonight I didn’t get what I wanted…

Our precious little Lily dog is nearly like another child to me. Yea, I’m one of "those" people. We adopted her several years ago, didn’t know her age, didn’t know any of her history, didn’t even know her real name. She was a mess when I went to meet her, in fact - she was such a mess I couldn’t leave her there… So I took her home with me, vowing if it didn’t work to have her in our home, I would find another loving home that would work for her. But the crazy thing - it did work, and she soon had her cute little fur wrapped all around this mama’s heart.

This summer has been hard on Miss Lily, and probably more hard on me. She has really aged this summer, her knees, her hips, her back are so so sore. She’s lost almost all her teeth, she has trouble getting around and spends nearly all her time sleeping. We know our time with her is drawing to a close, and my heart aches watching and helping her grow old gracefully.

For about a year we have talked about whether or not we should get another dog before Lily passes away. Lord knows, this fur mama wants another dog to love. We talked and looked into puppies, but absolutely can’t afford them, and neither of us really want to take on training a puppy. We had an opportunity to adopt a dog earlier this summer, but she was already quite old and we didn’t want to go through the aging process again so quickly.

Long ago my husband and I set the defining traits of what the “perfect” next dog we adopt would need to have, and left it that if God would bring that opportunity about, we would go from there, at that time. Female, around two years old, house trained, able to travel well, able to interact well with kids and other dogs, be of the yorkie breed or yorkie breed mix (size, temperament, appearance, yorkie tail, absolutely non-shedding), and the adoption / re-homing fee could not be over $200. Oh, and we didn’t want to drive more than a few hours. So we’ve been loving on our Lily and just keeping our eyes open.

And then last night there was a dog listed on a local swap… a dog that seemingly met all the requirements. And we were first in line to meet her. I found myself an emotional and nervous wreck all day. It felt like I did when we were in the process of adopting our son. Good gandhi so many unknowns, so many emotions in the wait. I was soooooo hoping this was the one… the next Crane to join our little clan. I was certain she was going to be the one… As we drove out of town on our way there, I was certain she was going to be coming home with us. In my mind she was already ours and I was already in love with her (that's kinda how things tend to work in the adoption world for me I’ve found) {wink}

And then we arrived, and met her… and she was absolutely perfect, and sweet, and lovable, and well loved, and met every single criteria… except she was twice the size of our Lily, and carried an incredible amount of youthful energy. I knew immediately when I saw her.  Deep within, my hope caught short in my throat. She was just too big. Someone mistreated and hurt our Lily before us. She cowers, she hides, she spends the majority of her time in the dark recesses of the underside of our couch or in the far black corner under our bed. If we had taken this dear, adorable, lovable, nearly perfect dog home with us, our poor aged and ailing little Lily would have never ever come out from hiding the rest of her tired, pain filled days.

I knew I could very easily fall in love with this little gem of a dog… I also knew that I was going to have to walk away and drive home without her. My husband told me no, he also knew. We both had to tell our ecstatic nine year old no. And then someone had to tell my poor heart no, which was of course left entirely up to me.

We thanked the wonderful young man for letting us come meet her and we would let him know for sure in the next little bit… And within about two blocks I was already in tears. Emotions were already raging out of control in me… it’s August for Heaven’s sake. I’d already spent the majority of the last several days crying and near mama meltdown.

It wasn’t so much that I was sad… It was that I was so incredibly disappointed. So incredibly disappointed. My heart so hoped and ached to be able to bring home another dog, open up my heart and home with a new little lovely that would in fact love me. When adoption runs in your veins, I’ve found you’re able to love fully before even meeting. Love fully without question, without qualms, without reasoning. You simply trust… and leap.

But this was not meant to be, and I was crushed. Deep inside of course I knew it’s for the best and that this wasn’t meant to be, this isn’t the right timing, this isn’t the right dog, and that I have to trust God’s plan…

I continued to cry and I continued to be emotionally overflowing. We arrived at the local ice cream parlor and the boys ordered ice cream. I sat and watched them eat, wishing I was still thirty pounds heavier so I wouldn’t have to care, so I wouldn’t have to say no, so I would be able to indulge and feed my sorrow with empty, yummy calories after calories. But I didn’t. I didn’t order any ice cream, I didn’t indulge my sorrows with empty calories.

We took our seat at an outside table… And there beneath the table were two pennies laying on the ground. Pennies from heaven. A little hello and hug from above from our Faith MaryJo.  More emotions.

As we drove home I found the tears unstoppable. This was the second time I’d driven home from the ice cream parlor in utter mom sobbing meltdown. The last time had been on our anniversary two years ago, while I was still pregnant with Faith. I had been poured into non-maternity wear, just having turned forty years old, and carrying a dying child, one that I had begged and wished for for nearly twenty years.

Distant memories of before and my current dashed dreams fed my exhausted emotions, leaving my husband in the seat next to me becoming increasingly agitated and angry at me. Yes, I was disappointed that what I hoped would be the perfect fit, was in fact not. What I had invested hours of emotional baggage and pre-processing into had been for nothing.

But this wasn’t really all completely about a dog. This wasn’t completely about my anger and disappointment at God because the size of this dog was two times too large.

No, this wasn’t just about a dog… this is about my anger and disappointment at God because the size of my baby had been too times two small and the answer to my prayer had been that of utter and shear disappointment. Death had been her final answer. We had driven away tonight and our family status had not changed. The same way we had driven away from the hospital after she had been born and our family status had not changed.

Yes, this is more than a dog issue for me… yes, this is a disappointment issue between me and God. This is a “God, you took my baby!” issue. She was supposed to have been born full term and healthy in August. She was supposed to have milky fair skin, red hair, blue eyes, ten perfect fingers, and ten perfect toes. But she wasn’t born in August, she was already in Heaven by August. And she wasn’t perfect and healthy, she had fluid on her brain, a hole in her heart, and trisomy 18 in her DNA. God called her home before we got to take her home, and that broke me to my very core. The hurt, and confusion, and disappointment was devastating and beyond comprehension.

Tonight’s tears and mama meltdown are ultimately about my disappointment in not getting to grow my family and share my love and my affection and care… and apparently whether that is a baby or a dog, both are able to stir up some pretty strong emotions in me right now. It’s a matter of needing to trust God’s journey for my life, trust His timing in the wait, trust His answers in the unknown. And we all know I’m a control freak… so waiting on the Lord and trusting completely in Him is hard for me.

God continues to age and slowly take our Lily from us, she’s on “puppy hospice” as I’ve been referring to it this summer, and we are in the process of already grieving and saying our goodbyes as we prepare.

August was the month we were supposed to say hello and meet our little Faith, but we have already had to say our goodbyes long ago to her, and we continue to grieve. We don’t get to plan a fun sparkly pink birthday party and officially enter into the terrible two's this month. Most days I’m ok with that, most days I have fully come to grips with that… but on occasion, like the days of late, it’s just been a little harder to handle and process than most days.

But I'm entitled to grieve, I'm entitled to my tears.

This too shall pass, I know it always does. This overwhelm of sadness, emotions, and numbing disappointment will again lighten and ease away, it always does. God will continue to be faithful in His love for me and my family, He always does. It’s just somehow maneuvering through this tricky time of triggers and reminders that aren't always the smoothest, quickest, and easiest for me.

Most days right now my husband doesn't quite know what to do with me, my tears and my roller coaster emotions and outbursts have left him edgy, snappy, and grumpy with me.  He chooses to avoid me while he sits on his phone in front of the tv (don't worry, I'd totally avoid myself too if I could right now!!).  You know, he quite honestly does think all of this, all these tears and drama tonight, is in fact... about a dog... although part of me is also fairly certain he's also dealing with some deep underlying wounds of unexpressed life disappointment over the travesties and trials of this life.

It is about a dog... about a precious dog that is in our home and nearing her last days, about a precious dog that will one day welcome into our home and family but we haven't found yet, about a precious dog that we met but will be finding her new forever home in another home with another family tomorrow, it's about memories and feelings from the adoption process we've traveled with our son, AND... it's about the little girl that we also didn't get to welcome into our home and family in the way we wanted her to.

We prayed, we begged, we pleaded for the miracle of her life... and we were left utterly devastated when that had a disappointingly different outcome than what we wanted.

We're left in the wake of the disaster, the aftermath of the storm... left to merely trust the journey, obey the call, and continue to pick up the pieces of this one life we've been granted, one day at a time.  Laying it all at the foot of the cross is hard for me.

I battle thinking I know what I want, and I know when I want it, and I think I'm perfectly fine being the one completely in control of the events and timelines of my life, and my families life.  But over and over I have been shown that this is not the case... I am not the best one left to control and navigate every detail of my out-of-control life.

I live with so many fears and failures and utter disappointments when I'm the one attempting to run the show.  I struggle with trusting God's timing, I'm uncomfortable living within the invisible syllabus of my life's outline.

I want to know, I want to control, I want to understand...  But God wants me to obey, to be submissive, to blindly trust.  What is meant to be in my life will be, what is not meant to be in my life, is not meant to be.  It's a fairly black and white concept in my incredibly messy and boldly vibrant, rose colored life.

{ Next Blog Post "Wanting To Quit" HERE }
{ Previous Blog post "Passports and Poverty" HERE }

Passports and Poverty

So, I have been sitting on this blog post for a long time, a really long time… like months… actually, more like years.

I’m not totally sure what is keeping me from writing it… oh wait, yes I do… I simply do not want to “go there…” I don’t want to really process, really look within, really question, really ask myself some of those hard questions that I know I’ve been avoiding, know I’ve been tuning out, know I really don’t want to know the answers to.  Because if I do finally do all of that... there's a very good chance I'm then going to have to also take the next step and actually do something about it.

I am forty-two years old, and I do not have a passport. I do not have a passport on purpose, and I will be the first to openly admit this. I tell myself my reasons and justifications are two-fold.

The first reason is that I do not like to travel… well, that’s a lie, I actually love to travel, but only within a four to five hour driving radius max, and only to really cool nature rich, quiet places (like Turkey Run in Indiana, Starved Rock in Illinois, Black Hills in South Dakota, Osakis in Minnesota…) I do not like to fly, I do not like congested heavy traffic areas and crowds. I have never been on a cruise, nor ever plan to. The thought of buses, taxis, trains, subways, or other chaotic forms of public transportation nearly renders me into near panic. I have no desire to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Eiffel Tower, or vacation at a fancy tropical island with white sandy beaches and blue drinks with little umbrellas (I don’t care how amazing their sunsets might be…){wink}

I jokingly say that I’m claustrophobic in large crowds. It’s pretty much the God’s honest truth. My blood pressure heightens just thinking about it.

But it’s the second reason that I’m going to finally spend some time on today. I do not have a passport mainly because I do not want to travel to another country and witness the pain, the poverty, the lack, the hurt, the disease, the lost, the less than, the culture, the heritage. And it’s not that I am cruel and heartless, it’s not that I do not have a raging empathetic heart and over abundant emotions… it’s in fact that I actually DO - and I know point blank, that if I were to place myself first hand, with my own two feet in the dust and clay of the countries that would require the prestigious stamp in a passport, it would completely and utterly mess.me.up! And Lord knows, I am messed up enough right here in my own house, in my own town, in my own state, in my own country filled with it’s wealth, greed, power, and prestige.

(I feel I need to just quietly whisper that there is a very tiny small third reason - and it has to do with bathrooms and toilets and indoor plumbing and cleanliness and comfortableness… and well, I’ll just leave it at that, but I’m fairly certain you get where I’m going with that… Oh, and one last small contributing factor - the paperwork involved. I am one of those people that internally absolutely shuts down when faced with a stack of paperwork, forms, lines and lines of words and words and multiple things to do, and get, and complete, and sign, and mail, and follow up on, and wait for, and possibly have to struggle through. Applying for a passport rates right up there with online banking, insurance claims, and FAFSA.)

Ok, and as always, I digress… But seriously here - If I’m utterly honest with myself, and with you - I know in factual black and white that I battle the beast of materialism and consumerism. I battle with gluttony and indulgence. I battle with selfishness and feeling poor in the richest place in the world. I want, I desire, I feel sorry for myself, I am overly anxious, I am frivolous with what I own, I am self-centered with what I want, I am inconsiderate and blind to what others need and lack.

I rarely read or watch the local news, I never read or watch the national news. I don’t follow politics, I couldn’t tell you which sports season it ever currently is, and I’m rarely aware of any current or popular events near or far.

It’s not that I totally live in a bubble (I do work at a church)… but I do chose to just not know a lot of things a lot of the time, and I am absolutely ok with that. Or at least I tell myself I’m absolutely ok with that… I do on occasion think God is not exactly ok with that though. I’m fairly certain He’s not exactly ok with this more than just “occasionally.”

On top of all those horrible attributes I listed about myself above, I am also infertile and my whole life I have longed to have babies, lots of babies… and have battled nearly two decades through the flux of pregnancy announcements, birth announcements, and adoption announcements in the realm of those surrounding me. I genuinely and sincerely want to rejoice in all the joy of new life around me, but my damn soul always, always, always hijacks my greatest intentions and the tears, and hurt, and emotions always, always, always win. I am quite certain my little heart could not possibly bear what I would see and feel, and not get to take home with me, in the streets and villages and orphanages of Haiti, and Africa, and the like.

Many of my very close and dear friends have traveled multiple times to all these amazing other countries, so many gorgeous stamps in their passports and photos in their scrapbooks… And every single one of them have all been touched and ultimately changed in major ways over and over by the stories, and history, and ancestry of these places and situations… They have seen God do, and be a part of thee most amazing stories of redemption, and salvation, and restoration, and healing… and not just in the lives of those they are visiting and interacting with - but within their very own lives. They have seen the poverty, they have physically walked where Jesus walked, they have mingled among and touched the men, women, and children in the countries where skin color is rich and the lives are poor… They’ve witnessed and personally encountered the realities the governments, the economies, the tragedies, the natural disasters.

I have an adopted child in my very own home, with my very own last name, that carries a heritage and skin color different than mine. I should be longing to show and discover and share with him his culture, his past, his lineage,… beyond the caucasian Dutch in which he was adopted into, which we can easily celebrate every May at the local Tulip Festival. Yes, he needs to be proud of being an American, and celebrate the heritage of the family he lives with, but he also needs to tangibly touch and experience that which ultimately is pulsing and flowing within his very DNA.

All of these things, these places, these people, these cultures are all so.far.away right now. They are all so foreign to me, so distant, so elusive, so evasive, so big, so scary. I am just trying to keep my life simple, keep my life easy… by using the excuse that my life is already hard enough… that my mission field is already that which is in my surrounding neighborhood… that my purpose is better fulfilled and found within the walls of my own home than within the wilds of the untamed expanse of the entire world beyond my immediate eye sight.

I guess I just try to use the excuse that I keep things small and easy, because I can barely handle that which is directly in front of me most days already. If I can’t handle my own life within my own tiny realm of current destiny, however in the world am I going to be able to handle and process anything beyond that?!? I am so messed up right here, right now, in my very own shell, in my very own comfort zone, why ever would I ever consider stirring things up even more???

But it’s not me that is the one in control… it’s not me that really knows what’s best for me… Have I not learned over, and over, and over again in the past several years just how not in control I am, and how God’s plan for my life is not usually what I have planned, or want, or control, or hoped for, or am at all comfortable with???

Now, granted not everyone is called to change the world or personally touch the lives of those beyond the borders of their current homes and communities… but I also know I can’t just flippantly continue to state “I am not one of those people…” I am not exempted and excluded from that merely because I don’t want to… because I don’t want to be in a place of uncomfortable, in a place of conviction, in a place of inconvenience, in a place of then needing to process, needing to see, needing to change, of being bothered beyond comprehend, of being catapulted into an even more messed up state in my mind than I already am.

You know, maybe a small part of me is currently so messed up because I am merely avoiding the whisper to in fact go and get.messed.up. Hmmmmmmmm. I’m fairly certain I want to go back and hit delete over that last sentence. And if I don’t delete that, then I’m fairly certain that I need to not continue on and hit “publish” on this post, making it available for the world at large to view on my behalf.

No, it’s ultimately not my call whether or not I’m going to need (and continue to refuse getting) a passport to go fishing in Canada, or vacationing in Mexico, or on a mission trip to Haiti or Africa or Pura Vida, or an overflowing handful of other places God might want to use me at. This leaves me with the bigger question - what really am I going to do with whatever God is calling me for?

It’s God’s call… it’s God’s purpose… it’s ultimately God’s plan for me, not my plan for God.

I don’t know if this feeling I keep fighting off is really a call to the extreme on the other side of the world, or if it’s a call to merely walk through the backyard of my own house… but regardless of the final destination, or at least the next destination, I know I need to stop hanging on to my current comfort zone with such a clinched, white knuckled grasp, because I’m only continuing to just strangle out any hope of freedom and growth. I know that growth and change come in the places of pain, and uncomfortable, and obedience. I also know, those are all incredibly hard avenues to have to live and travel within as we journey through the ultimate roadmap on the grand search for purpose and place in our lives.

We all want simple, we all want easy, we all want cookie cutter, quiet, and comfortable. We want the glamorous, the notorious, the prestigious, the noble. But that is not always the call we are given. That is actually very, very rarely the call anyone is given. We are here with the purpose to praise, glorify, and grow God’s kingdom. We are to seek justice, love mercy, and humbly offer grace in abundance. Some will fulfill this to the extreme, some will attempt valiantly, and most will fail miserably. Some will obey the call, some will ignore the call, some never even hear the call.

May I simply hear, and may I obey.

May we all hear and obey. Whether that means passports and plane tickets, or backyard barbecues and an increased tithe (or dears Heavens maybe even all of the above) may our purpose and mission field be clear and our response be timely.

May our uncomfortable simply, somehow, become our comfortable... wherever that may be, and whatever we may need to get us there.

{ Next Blog post "Dogs, Due Dates, & Disappointments HERE }
{ Previous blog post "August Anxieties" HERE }

August Anxieties

It's officially August. I officially flipped the calendar page yesterday. I am officially home from vacation, and I officially entered into my fall internal panic mode yesterday.

August means it’s time to think about back-to-school. New teachers, new classrooms, new subjects, new shoes, new backpack, new school supplies, new unknowns in so many realms. The old backpack and the contents of the locker and desk from last year are still exactly where I left them on the kitchen floor on the last of school. Yes, I am one of those moms.  I haven’t touched them, and Lord knows I don’t want to. But the time is closing in and I know soon I will need to touch and tackle that horrid monstrosity.

August also means it’s time to reflect on the reality that I only have one child going back-to-school. I officially have a college graduate now, officially an adult working in the big wide world of full time employment. I cannot be that old, I cannot have a child that old, I cannot process that I need to come to grips with all that is involved in the continued transition of parenting small children and that of parenting adult children. These are two entirely different, and difficult, worlds I need to navigate.

August means it’s time to mentally walk away from vacation mode and figure out where to start with all the work needing to be done. It’s time to start to think about fall programing and details at work. Securing volunteers, confirming calendaring, brainstorming changes, tackling the millions of big and small details involved in starting a new year. And this year, we add the start of a new senior pastor into the mix, after a busy season of vacancy and transition. An added blessing, but also an added change along with the natural stresses involved in individual and corporate change.

August also means time to again come face-to-face and carefully reach back and touch some of those monsters and skeletons sitting in the back of my mind’s dark closet. August is a trigger month for me personally… August always seems to open a door and allow a little bit of light to seep into my dusty dark protected areas that I try keep hidden and closed off. August ushers in pain and hurt and deep sadness. August holds on to unknown answers and unresolved feelings and internal conflicts. August marks so many feelings and obstacles, so much chaos, so much emotional baggage.

August is also this odd time of it actually still being summer for a few more short weeks. There is in fact a little time left, a little time still at the lake, a little time to still celebrate the quickly fading days of heat and freedom before the start of so many new things.  I need to intentionally protect, hang on to, and celebrate these last few days and not just let them slip mindlessly through my fingers.

After a somewhat low stress summer of intentional relaxation and soul care, for some reason I am suddenly a freight train of emotions and crazy on the inside right now. And honest to goodness, this is the me I hate. This is the me that I used to be every single day, this is the me that I have to wrestle myself away from day after day in my attempt to live sanely and not get forever lost into the oblivion of over processed "busy" in life's unmet dreams and expectations.

I have also come to realize this unsettled internal buzz of feelings, is often a time of God at work in and around me as well. These feelings and inner tension the result of the heightened sense and presence of God’s calling, God’s whisper, God’s direction, God’s desire working within me. It’s often Him bringing me to the steep precipice of change, the pointed call to something bigger, something greater than I’m wanting to see, know, tackle, or even consider.  It’s the unsettled feeling of anticipated and projected change, whether that be God ordained or earthly forged.

This is the me that has heightened tension on the inside, a wild mind on the inside, a quickened pulse and over alert mindset racing around like a madman on the inside. This is the me that is battling looking like I have it all together on the outside, but fall apart at the seams on the inside.

It’s a feeling I don’t enjoy, I don’t like, I don’t desire to be stuck at. This is a feeling I have been consciously trying to reign in, be conscious of, to overcome for years… and yet, year after year… here I am, sitting at my desk amid piles of papers, incoming emails, outgoing messages, phone calls, pages and pages of to-do lists (both for at work and at home), in personal and group meetings, and juggling so many appointments here-and-there quick-a-minute before school starts. Dentists, orthodontists, pediatric speciality doctors, ENT appointments, well child checks, eye doctors, school supply shopping… and I could go on and on…

Every year I somehow manage to just continue forward every minute, every hour, every day. I somehow manage to just get everything done, get everyone what they need and have requested, but it’s all a crazy whirlwind inside me… out-of-control bumper cars all plowing into each other, all trying to get away, get ahead, get control, but ultimately none end up actually getting anywhere at all.

I know this is a season that “this too shall pass”… it always does… but I also find it just a jolting reminder of just how intentional I need to be to try reign this personal chaos all in, how purposeful I need to continue to be guarding of my time and the rollercoasters within my mind.

My personality is one of high function, high stress, high expectation. I have come to find this is both a grand strength and damning weakness. It drives me to accomplishment and achievement, yes… but it also drives me to utter despair, burnout, and overwhelm if I'm not careful.

I know I’m not alone, I know many, many are stepping into a similar mindset and battling similar mind games right now. Many of us have jobs of heightened crazy, families and homes in complete chaos, minds with out-of-control and falling apart tendencies during these crazy seasons in our lives.

I know we all carry insecurities, and expectations, and attitudes that weave together the colorful (and not so colorful) parts of our personality. And it’s in that rainbow of activity our true colors most often shine, or simply fade and fizzle away.

I find myself wondering why I can't control all of these feelings during this season better. If I know it's coming, why can't I stop myself from feeling this way, reacting this way, getting sucked in and sucked up with the the day-to-day drama of self-induced busy and emotions? I’m fully aware it’s going on, I can feel my metabolism screeching to a near stop, I can feel my cholesterol and blood pressure levels rising. I can feel the weight already coming back on. I can feel my insides getting caked with thick tension sludge and a sticky miry muck.

I want to eat all the chocolate. I want to drink all the coffee. I want to tell myself I’m too stressed and busy to continue to care well for myself, and that all those poor choices would be entirely justifiable right now.  I want to tell myself it's ok to quit running, quit half marathon training, quit weighing in.  But deep inside I know none of that is ok, none of that is acceptable.  And I know that's exactly how I got to where I was just twelve short months ago.

I’ll be the first to admit it, I do not have my poop in a group right now, but I’m slowly learning that that's ok. I’m slowly coming to grips that life is not about perfection, not about knowing and conquering, it's not even about the arrival, the end, the final product….

It’s simply about the journey. It is all about the journey, even when we don’t want it to be. It’s about weathering the seasons of change well, or at least attempting to survive them better than we did the year before. But you know what, even if we don't, that ok too. Be conscious of, be aware of, be mindful of, be attentive of, be grace filled towards the feelings, and emotions, and thoughts coursing through you during these times of heightened insanity.

Change is not here to break us… it’s not here to burden us - it's here to broaden us, to grow us, to mold us, to better us, even though it may sometimes feel like it’s absolutely earth shattering in the interim.

I have a hard time giving myself grace and fixing my eyes on the little shaded path set directly in front of me, rather than the entire mountain looming in the far off distance, that mountain that looks unattainable in ever reaching.  I have also found that sometimes the little path I'm currently on, doesn't even bring me to that big 'ol mountain in the distance, that one I spent all that time and energy worrying about how I was going to climb and conquer.

While the tension and emotions and stress triggers continue to attack and rage inside me, I actual delight in the realization that all of that didn't reside in me much these last several weeks.  My intentional hard work to protect myself and my family time, granting myself soul care and rest this summer has started to bear fruit.

Yes, it's August.  Yes, the next season of change is quickly approaching again.  May we all find a way to simply embrace it all, rather than drown in it all.

{ Next blog post "Passports and Poverty" HERE }

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