On the rare occasion that I have a free afternoon, for as long as I can remember, I’ve never had the desire to go home, no matter how tired I am.  A former boss, when I was in radio, told me once that it was because I didn’t want to face my demons when I got there.  Maybe he’s right.  As a teenager and college student you could find me with my horse, riding trails until it was almost dark.  In college I’d sit in his stall doing homework while he munched his hay.  When I got my driver’s license, I would hop in my truck and drive all over the back roads of Helena, Montana.  I was devastated when gas prices hit $1.05/gallon.  The need to drive; the need to escape; it’s never left me.

Each morning as I drive to work I pass a road that disappears into the trees.  Driving home yesterday I decided I wasn’t going to question where it went.  I was just going to go.  In a world of locked doors and gates, you can’t waste the roads that aren’t.  In five years of living in Nashville, I’ve never gone into Percy Warner Park, so I had no clue that’s where I was going.  There were no signs.

I drove at a steady speed at first, stopping occasionally to snap a picture.  As I started to pull away from one of those stops I saw a white and brown flicker ahead of me.  I stopped the car and strained my eyes.  Deer.  Several white-tail does stood just inside the tree line.  I drove past slowly hoping they would stay long enough for me to get a picture.  They didn’t.  I kept driving, this time slower.

I thought at some point I would come to a parking area where I could turn around.  But the road kept going, winding uphill and down for what seemed like forever.  I eventually came to a fork in the road with a rather large drop-off just ahead of me.  This was the perfect time to quit.  I didn’t know how far the road went and if I’d have another opportunity to turn around.  I got out of the car and looked at my options.  It was cold.  The wind was blowing and snow flurries were flying everywhere.  The feeling of escape wasn’t leaving.  I got back in my car and kept going.  I told myself that God wasn’t going to let anything happen to me.

I almost didn’t see her.  My heart was absolutely racing as we stared at each other.  I’m not sure how long the moment lasted, but eventually she turned and walked deeper into the woods.  I drove less than 30 seconds down the road and stopped again.  I got out and glanced back where the doe had been.  Laughing I looked up at the sky and thanked God.  Snow was flying all around and the trees almost felt alive.  I didn’t want the road to end.  So I kept going.

As I rounded the next bend, there was a building.  Glass walls.  It looked nice.  No one was there and there were no signs to tell me what it was.  I could have turned around there.  But the road kept going and my curiosity was peaked.

Stopping to get out of my car was becoming more and more a part of this adventure.  I wanted to touch the leaves.  Feel the snow hit my cheek.  Breathe the air.  Then another fork.  One dirt road going straight up, or the paved road I’d been on.  The choice was easy.

I’d been driving in silence the entire time and the second to last time I got out I began hearing two lines from a song that had been in my head all day.  At the next fork I could have gone down the hill, or further up.  I turned left.  The words kept repeating in my head, almost relentlessly.  My car hugged the left side of the lane tightly.  The right side was a drop off I really didn’t want to experience.  I could see the top of the hill from the road.  I wasn’t looking for a way up, but there it was.  The words played in my head again.

“So climb to the highest point, scream in your loudest voice…”

At the very top there were three smooth, log benches.  I sat on the middle one and looked out.  The snow was falling harder.  The words rolled again.  I didn’t scream.  I didn’t need to.  I can’t explain it.  I just knew that I wasn’t alone.  I glanced up to the sky for the longest time and let my heart do the screaming.  I felt so torn.  On one hand I felt lost, and the other, I felt comforted.  I began to pray.  I couldn’t even tell you what all fell out.  Desperation mostly.  To be understood.  To be wanted.  To be directed.  To be the woman God has intended me to be.

And then the words left.  Almost like the wind had carried them off, as well as the desire for escape that had been fueling my afternoon drive.  I stood up and carefully walked down the hill and rock-steps.  It was time to go home.  The snow continued to fall and I eventually drove out of the park and joined the rest of the world.

“The LORD will fight for you; you need only be still.” (Exodus 14:14)

I’ve talked about this a little before, but at some point serving stopped being fun for me.  I could recognize the value in it, but I wanted someone else to do it.  Becoming that burned out falls a bit on my shoulders.  Many friends warned me against spreading myself too thin.  It became an obligation and my heart just isn’t where it needs to be.  The rut I’m finding myself in is that I honestly don’t know how to flip that switch back.  Sure, I’m still serving, but not to the extent I was.  I want to do it all, but can’t.  Where is the line?  Do you walk away completely in an effort to find what you lost?  Will that do more harm than good?  Or do you stick it out in hopes that the pieces will begin to fall back in place again?

So much of the time I still feel like God is silent in directing me.  Accepting that He has a plan for me, and for all of us, isn’t the easiest thing to embrace right now.  As I watch more and more friends find their path with God, I feel more and more invisible and lost.  I know this season will come to an end.  My prayer is for God’s strength to push through the moments that leave me feeling so unsettled.

What do you do when you are lacking clarity and confidence?

Living in such a negative world, it is very easy to embrace the notion that “different” is ugly.  Different is unworthy.  Different doesn’t have a place.  Different will never succeed.  The list goes on and on.  But that isn’t what God created.  We were created in his image.  A perfect Father made each of us to reflect every different fiber that he is made of.  Each with a significant purpose.

For the next year I want to be fully aware of God’s creation.  I want to absorb the beauty in the different.  Even on the cloudy and rainy days that seem so miserable.  Behind every storm is the warmth of the sun waiting to shine through if we just wait for it.  Armed with only my cell phone, I can’t say that I know what that looks like entirely, but I’m going to follow the eyes of my heart.  Let’s embrace the differences of the days this year.  Let’s be thankful for the air we breathe and the joy of creation.  I pray this year brings heart change and a more positive outlook towards the real blessings God has continually provided.  What will your different year look like?

Follow a Year Of Difference: HERE

Peace.

On a surface level, this year has been anything but peaceful.  More times than I can count I’ve pulled away from God out of frustration instead of burying myself deeper in his grace when I feel lost.  Being a Christian is hard.  No, it’s not difficult to love Christ.  Not at all.  Not for me.  But to live a life where it’s not about me is easier said than done some days.  Recognizing the pure blessing that is my life in the midst of a season where so many things simply seem unfair is hard.  But I’m trying.  I love people.  I love serving.  I love my church and my small group.  I love learning.

I love.  Nothing has ever come more natural in my life.  Even on days where I’m not sure where I belong, I know I belong somewhere that loves others despite their brokeness.

And when it’s all said and done, that love is a reflection of the work God has done and continues to do in my heart and through the people he has surrounded me with.  At the end of the day, despite battling moments of depression this year, I feel what I’ve been searching for.

This past Sunday at Cross Point for our Shine On series, Justin spoke on Peace.  He defined it as a “quietness of heart and confidence in Him.”  Throughout this year I’ve felt an indescribable gnawing that I’ve chalked up to being numb.  Up till this weekend I didn’t really have a label for it.  But I think it is that quietness of heart that Justin spoke of.  While there have been plenty of moments where I’ve fought God for control of my life, I somehow managed to relinquish just enough to leave my heart in a place of waiting.  And it’s quiet there.  Much different from time spent being still, it’s a calm anxiousness that is desperately seeking God’s voice.

I have witnessed God’s perfect mercy and promise in so many situations this year.  In my life, in friends and family’s lives; He is there.  Any doubts that God can shine his glory through trials are gone.  My confidence is most definitely in Him.  It’s the waiting that pulls me down.  It’s watching other’s receive blessings and wanting so badly not to be jealous.  But it’s just there.  And so the battle continues.

As the realization that what I feel is, in fact, peace, has begun to settle in, the enemy has done his part in trying to rock the boat.  By all accounts, this afternoon was horrible.  Things were said to me that a year ago, would have made me question if I was a good Christian and if it was even worth it.  Feeling hurt and angry I relayed what had happened to a friend and she immediately said, “The devil just killed two birds with one stone.  He caused (insert the person that made me cry here) to stumble and take it out on you, and now you’re reacting without wanting to extend grace.”  (For the record, my friend tends to point these things out right when I want nothing more than to scream and throw the biggest fit in history.  It’s a very anticlimactic feeling.)  Needless to say, the remainder of the afternoon any peace I felt was replaced with a smoldering rage and desire to play out a scene from Dexter.

After driving around in an irritated fog, I walked through my front door, breathing in the Christmas lights on my patio fence.  There is something about Christmas that leaves the night air more still than any other time of year.  As I hung my keys on the wall I felt a soft whisper rise in my heart, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…”  As if a switch had been flicked, the anger I’d been feeling literally melted away.  Even now, having just got off the phone with my friend, talking more about this afternoon, my heart feels calm.

All year God has been transitioning me.  Tonight is no different.  He took my hurt and frustration, and shifted it with perspective and the chance to extend grace.  He took a simple word of reflection and brought it to life.  And not only did He give action to that word, but he gave me a reaction.  God confirmed a word that I’ve been praying over for the past few weeks.  For 2012, my one word will be ACCEPTANCE.  It seems like the most natural stepping stone for a heart in quiet waiting.  My prayer is to take hold of that confidence in our Father’s plan, and accept what he lays out for me.  He’s placed plans on my heart that, honestly, scare the heck out of me, but I will accept them and trust in God’s provision.  Looking at the whole of 2011, there isn’t a thing I would change.  I am so thankful for the heartaches, growth, people, knowledge and freedom that God has given me. Here’s to another year of accepting all that is placed before me…

How did you do with your One Word 2011? What is the word you will reflect on for 2012?

One summer afternoon, I couldn’t have been more than five or six years old, my dad took my sister, brothers and I to the fair.  If you come from a family with multiple kids, you know that you have to divide things evenly or World War III will ensue.  As we stood in the ticket line my dad carefully explained that we each had “X” number of tickets.  We could use them on whatever games and rides we wanted, but when they were gone, they were gone, so choose wisely.  We all understood and proceeded to drag my dad from ride to ride, arguing about whose turn it was to pick where we went.

As the afternoon progressed, tickets began to run out.  We were down to our final rides and this was where crucial decisions had to be made.  I spotted a merry-go-round-type car ride with jeeps and trucks and sports cars and I HAD to go on it.  My dad asked if I was sure, because this was going to use my last tickets and I wouldn’t be able to go on anymore rides.  I was sure.  I’d never been more sure about anything in my five years of life.  I got situated in a sports car and the ride began.  Not even halfway through the first lap around I saw a blue Jeep just two cars ahead of me with no driver.  What a crime!  Without thinking I jumped out of my sports car, ran down the platform and hopped in the Jeep.

Bad decision.

I didn’t know that carnival rides could stop so fast!  Before I knew what was happening, the carny was lifting me out of the Jeep and placing me on the other side of the fence.  My dad ran over and the guy starts to lecture me about how you can’t run around on a moving ride. I tried to explain that I changed my mind about the car I was driving, but the carny didn’t care.  And just like that, at five years old, I was kicked off and banned from my first merry-go-round car thing.

My dad squatted down and looked me dead in the eye and told me how unsafe I’d been and that I needed to think before I did things. (Which would become a constant theme in my life.) I cried and held his hand while we walked on to the next and final ride of the day.  We stopped at a gigantic inflatable slide-rope-jungle-gym-tube-of-awesomeness.  My brothers and I stared at it in awe like it had Heavenly lights coming off it.  Where had this thing been my whole life??

My dad handed the tickets to my brothers and they ran off to get in line for the ride.  I looked up at my dad and declared that I wanted to go on it too.  My dad told me no, and that I’d chosen to use my last tickets at the car ride.  I argued that I didn’t get to finish riding it and that it wasn’t fair.  My dad stood firm and with tears in my eyes I watched my brothers climb the rope ladder to enter the structure o’fun.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably no more than a few minutes, my dad couldn’t take the breaking heart of his criminal five-year old daughter.  With a stroke of pure genius by my dad, an act of magic to me, he produced extra tickets from his jacket pocket and handed them to me.  He told me that this didn’t change the fact that I was still in trouble.  I hugged him tightly and my dad sent me on my way.  I climbed that rope ladder with military precision and before I knew it I was leaping into a pool of plastic balls where my brothers were jumping around.  I was beyond happy!

I can honestly tell you that I don’t remember what happened after that.  No doubt there was a fight about how I’d gotten more rides than everyone else.  In the big grand scheme of things, though, I’m sure life evened the playing field out amongst siblings eventually.

Today I celebrate and remember my dad.  It’s stories like this one that make me miss him the most.  Each year around Thanksgiving as I put up my Christmas tree my mind always wanders back to a time when life, while complicated, was much more simple.  Each year I get a little older, but on this day I always seem to become a kid again.  Some years are easier depending on the season of life I’m in.  This year I am missing my dad more than ever.  Everything always felt like it was going to be alright when he was around.  I miss the colorful bubble-lights that lit up my dad’s tree and the relaxing sound they made.  I miss his voice and laughter.  I miss curling up in his lap in his favorite chair while he watched football.  I miss being sent away from the dinner table until I could get my giggle-fits under control.

I’ve never forgotten that moment at the fair and all it represented.  My curiosity and excitement for everything in life that would get a kid in trouble had certainly brought me to the age of being old enough to know better.  What stands out to me is not that I ultimately got my way.  What I see is a father who recognized his child made a mistake.  He could have easily made my five-year old life miserable, but instead he chose to extend a little grace.  His love for me overpowered his frustration at my inability to follow the simplest of rules at times.  My dad was by no means a saint.  But he loved us.  It was apparent in every word spoken, look given, or swat on the butt needed.  Having lived life without him, I can’t imagine for a second what life would have looked like without him.  I love you dad…

In trying to deal with this depression on my own, I’ve only crashed and burned.  I recently spoke with a friend who encouraged me to see a counselor.  The thought absolutely terrified me.  I’d been before, and had horrible experiences each time.  Why would this be any different?  I’m not really sure what changed in my heart that made me agree other than sheer exhaustion.  I’m tired of feeling nothing for the blessings in my life where I should feel something.  There is an underlying sadness that I just don’t want anymore.

My weeks have been filled with days that are purely survived and nothing more.  Some days I feel numb and others I feel too much.  There is no real balance and more often than not the result is a person who desperately wants to happy and understood, but it comes across all wrong.  The lies of this world cloud my head and heart on a constant basis and to combat them I’ve made myself busy.  And that busyness turned things that I loved into things that I dread.

What I’ve come to realize is that by filling every moment of my day with something, I’ve begun to leave out the most important part.  God.  How can I possibly deal with “life” if I can’t just be still with the One who can deal with my junk.  Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?  Be still and know that He is God.  To know is to trust.  To trust that the Creator of everything can heal even the deepest hurts.  To trust that this life isn’t worthless, or He wouldn’t have sacrificed his son.

These are things I know, things I believe with everything that I am.  But getting my head and heart on the same page is entirely different.  My desire to control what isn’t mine to control is a battle.  My prayer is to learn to let go.  To accept the plans God has for my life with joy and thankfulness.  I’m not there yet, but I want to be.  Maybe that is the difference this time.

As the clock ticks into the wee hours of our day of Thanks, I can’t help but reflect on this year.  Instead of focusing more on the disappointments and hurts, tonight I will choose to be thankful.  Truly thankful.  For friends that have become family.  For that family refusing to let me run and hide from what is a beautiful life to live.  For opportunities to love people I never would have loved without God pushing me out of my comfort zone.  For the roof over my head, the car I drive, and job I have to pay for everything.  For a church whose pastors and staff display Christ’s love in tangible forms on a daily basis.  For friends who tattoo mustaches on their fingers, friends who have a heart to change the lives of orphans, and friends who embrace their passions in such a way that the world is ignited with inspiration.  For my mom, who listened to me ramble on far too long last weekend at the purchase of a Christmas tree.  For my dad, who always humored me and made clothing for my stuffed animals so they would be warm.  Not a Thanksgiving goes by that I don’t wish for one more with you.

I’m thankful.  I’m hopeful.  I’m blessed in so many ways.  Thank you, Father, for never giving up on me when I get lost and can’t find my way.  Your love is the brightest star I could ever follow.

Sunday, October 23rd:

1. A day full of endless hugs.
2. A new, quiet & safe apartment.
3. Catching up with amazing friends.

My twin brother and I once talked about things we remembered growing up.  He said to me, “From as early as I can remember, you always wanted to be held…you always had your arms up…waiting.”  Quite often in my day to day walk I want nothing more than to curl up in the arms of God.  Some things never change.  There is something about being held as a child or being wrapped in a hug as an adult that makes me feel safe.  Not to mention I’m pretty sure it is recommended to have 7-8 quality physical touches per day for healthy living.  See, even science is for this.

When you think of God in terms of our Father, someone we long to hold us, pursuing Him should come naturally, right?  Talking with a friend tonight who has been having his own “Year of Spectacularness” we both commented on how choosing God on a regular basis should be the easiest decision we make.  But it’s not.  It is so stinking hard! Why?  No, seriously, why?  These days I feel like that child that has her arms desperately high in the air to be picked up, and when He reaches down, I take a step back and say, “nope, I’m good, I’ve got this.” Then I crash and burn and start the whole thing over again.  It’s completely messed up.

I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit since my meltdown in my car a few weeks ago.  What I’ve been finding is that the more I step away from a life where Christ is my focus, God continues to strip away the things that I put before Him.  And it is a horribly painful process.  I am realizing more and more just how cluttered my mind and heart are.  So much that one of my constant prayers lately is for focus and the ability to hear Gods voice through the chaos. Because as of right now, I don’t hear Him in many spaces of my heart.

If I’m honest, my direction in life and search for passion is at a standstill.  It scares me and throws me into a frenzy of comparison to others and how different their walks with Christ seem to be from my own.  My insecurity as a new Christian brings out issues of pride and jealousy.  I hate where my heart is right now.  I want to ditch this fear inside me that prevents me from letting go and allowing Him to work without me trying to intervene with my own plans.  I’m struggling and really, truly, just want to be that kid that God holds tightly to Him until everything is alright.

For I know the plans I have for you,” says the LORD. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11 NLT)

Where do you find yourself these days?

I mulled over my struggles with how much I worry about what others think of me because of some hurtful “truth in love” I received earlier this year.  Once from someone who didn’t have my best interests at heart, and once from someone who did.  I would give anything to erase the first person’s comments from my mind because they absolutely haunt me.  I find my outspoken nature is stifled because I am paralyzed by the fear that anyone might think for one second I am seeking attention and have ulterior motives for why I do what I do.

I questioned the losses of this year.  Friends, family, jobs, money, car “soundedness,” even a couch.  I’m moving to a new apartment next month and the thought of my poor, old, busted, and quite heavy couch making one more move horrifies me.  Even if it is just across town.  Someone promised me a free, used, spare couch that no one was sitting on.  It’s comfy, and would match my décor if I, in fact, had such a thing.  This afternoon, the couch offer disappeared and I had to resign myself to being ok with something so many folks would be grateful to have in the first place.

The rest of the day my mood sunk in defeat as I struggled to converse with people, grasp concepts that seemed to come easy to others, and just “get-it” over all.  I felt frustrated and upset and in major need of an attitude adjustment before going to hang with a bunch of -strong, have it all together in my mind- women.  The actual attitude shift didn’t take place until after, though.  I stood in the hallway with a friend, tears streaming down my face as I tried to put words to what I was actually feeling.  She said, “I don’t think this has anything to do with the couch.  This has to do with what the couch represents.”  And she’s right.

Her words echoed over and over on my drive home so loudly that I began to cry again.  Uncontrollably.  I was reminded recently that we have to get out of the mindset of praying for God to come be with us.  My friend said, “God is always there.  We don’t have to ask him to be there if He’s never left.”  That thought began to work through my heart as I cried and I realized just how angry I was.  So angry that I began to scream it out for God to hear in case my thoughts weren’t loud enough for Him.  Not that I was mad at God, but that I was hurt and upset in general about everything, all while He’s been right there.

You see, what the couch represented was control and what I pictured to be the life I was meant to have.  I thought, if I can just “upgrade” this one tiny thing in my life it will mean I am making positive strides, thus restoring some of my dignity from this year.  Maybe that doesn’t make sense.  But the 29 year old that I see in the mirror is not the one others see.  My goals and dreams and moments that have shaped my life are something I cling to desperately so I don’t have to live with that terrifying feeling of not knowing what comes next.  Accepting help from others feels like accepting that I’ve failed, even though I know in my heart I have not.

As the realization of where I currently am rushed through me tonight, I asked for God’s help.  Like, really, asked for His help.  I told Him I didn’t know what to do, where to start, or how to fix this mess I feel in my heart.  My tears eventually subsided and when I didn’t hear God’s booming voice with an answer, I turned on music to finish out my drive home and drown out the silence.  I began to lose myself in the lyrics.

“I want to hear the thunder of who You are, to be captured inside the wonder of who You are.  I want to live, I want to breathe, to search out Your heart and all of Your mysteries.”  

I pulled up to my apartment and sat for a minute.  I felt calm.  I felt the calm that comes with the comfort of clarity.  I truly can’t tell you the last time I was able to really think clearly with both my head and my heart.  And when I did tonight, I could hear what God has been trying to tell me.  That the stripping down of my life has not been for punishment.  It’s been for love.  It’s been to remove the things that would keep a daughter from truly loving and honoring her Father.  God has allowed for the wall of protection I keep around my heart to be crumbled away because it was keeping junk in, and Him out.

What God showed me tonight is that He is the only true consistency in my life.  I can lose my job, but I can’t lose God.  My hearing can fade, but I don’t need ears to hear Him.  I can lose a person’s friendship, but I can’t lose His.  My car can break down over and over, but He will make sure I get where I need to go.  Money can buy trends, status and the love of others, but it’s not required for His.

When everything in this world fails you, God’s love will not.  It is constant, and so, very worth it.