what a year of brave looks like.

For the past few years I’ve taken up a one word resolution (I’d like to think i was ahead of the curve, before it got super popular, but whatever). I’ve had three years of words: 2013 was beautiful, 2014 was loved. I’ll have a 2016 word, but that’s for another post. While I felt like I did well with these words– that I actually used them to accomplish something in my life– they don’t hold a candle to my 2015 word, brave.

To say brave was a word to shape my year is a bit of an understatement. 

But not in the way I was expecting.

Like, at all. I thought I knew what I needed to be brave about... and it all got turned upside on its head.

Funny how life works like that, right?

I thought it was going to take bravery to graduate college… when it took bravery to not walk across the stage on December 19th like I planned.

I thought I was going to need bravery to seek out and find the perfect teaching job… when it took a lot of bravery to say “no” to the one career I thought I’d always wanted.

I thought I was going to need bravery to enter into the next chapter of adulthood… when it took bravery to stay in this chapter longer than I planned. Or wanted.

So, really, God took the word I thought I knew all about… the story I thought I had figured out… and He changed it all. He taught me about bravery by giving me something different to be brave about. A lot of things, honestly.

The things He gave me to be brave about were far from what I was ready to be brave about. They were not what I had planned to be brave about– quite the opposite.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all this: I don’t get to choose what I’m going to be brave about. I have to be brave in it all.

In the random detours and road blocks, the twists and turns and completely unexpected life shifts– those are the moments where bravery and courage are most needed. Not my carefully constructed plans and wants. 

Bravery took on a new meaning to me this year– a bigger and scarier and crazier meaning than I thought imaginable.

I thought I knew what brave looked like going in to 2015. Heading into 2016, I know now that bravery isn’t at all what I thought it was going into this year.

Bravery looks different for everyone, but it even looks different as the year-heck, the days- goes by.

This year, brave looked like:

Choosing vulnerability over hiding:

I have never been one to really tell people everything. I’m an open book in some ways, but I only give one side of the story, one chapter of the book. I never let people fully in, because i’m afraid to.  I’ve struggled with being open and honest about a lot of things, but was determined to let go of some inhibitions and be honest– with myself and others. I think I succeeded at this in a lot of ways, and still have miles to go.

So, it was a hard thing to write about my dealings with GAD and depression, but it had been eating at me for months– I’d kept it to myself for so long, and letting myself be honest about what was going on made me feel so relieved. I first wrote about it in February, explaining everything that was going on; then I wrote more intimately about it for National Suicide Prevention Week in September. 

Those posts took ages to write– and a long time for me to hit publish. I may look like I’m more  vulnerable than I am– and sometimes my social media tendencies to be vulenerable make me look so– it takes a lot of strength for me to do stuff like this. And then I second guess every word I write and worry about people not understanding or taking it the wrong way or insert another bogus thought here.

But I do it anway, because hurting alone hurts way worse than sharing the hurt. By hitting publish, whether here or on instagram or via text (or even talking in person, which I still struggle with), I’m choosing to not let my illness and struggles overpower me anymore– and I’m letting my people into what I’m dealing with. It helps, even if it hurts. But choosing to do it is never easy for me, and i doubt it ever will be. but I do it, because I need it– and if that’s all it does, then it’s worth it to me.

 

 

 

Vulnerability also looks like asking for help, something I have always despised. But this year has taught me that asking for help makes a huge difference. Whether here in writing, or via text, social media… God has given me so many people  to do life with– in the good and the bad. Help means leaning on others’s strength when I was too weak to stand alone, encouraging notes or texts or comments from friends, or asking hard questions, for someone holding my hand and praying for me, or letting someone in a little bit deeper into my life– all of these things have been ways people have helped me this year. And I’m a better person for letting them help me. (Along with being so thankful for the helpers… they know who they are). Now I know that help isn’t something  I should despise. It should be something I constantly do– and give. We need each other so much, and I really need people to get through life, I learned. Community has been such a difficult thing for me this year– while I haven’t had a community in real life to lean on, I’ve found community through this blog and social media that has lifted me up more than words can say. Community and help come in so many forms, I’ve learned this year. As Mr. Rogers said: look for the helpers. They’re there, and they can and will be there when you need them most. 

 

Saying no:

Obviously, this was the big one this year: saying goodbye to teaching.Is it a goodbye for good? I don’t know yet. But I know that saying no to something that had been planned basically since childhood was not easy. In the slightest. He took away the one sure bet I thought I knew in my life– and asked me to trust Him in the aftermath.  It was is one of the scariest, most heartbreaking, absolutely miserable choices I’ve made. But it was clear: no was the answer. I still feel like that was the choice I was supposed to make, but it sure hasn’t led to anything but stress and questions and worry.

it took everything in me to say no. To my plan, to a dream I’d wanted for years, to what I thought I wanted.  But I had to make a choice for me: for my mental health, my phyiscal health, my stress level. There was no way under the circumstances I could do it. I wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating, couldn’t concentrate. And I hated every minute of teaching– something that had never happened to me, even when I’d had worse practicums and more difficult topics. I knew then that it was time to stop. But how? How could I be led to this one career, this one gift I have, only for a massive stop sign to be laid out in front of me right at the finish line? I mean, it couldn’t have been worse timing. But,  I don’t even want to think about what could have been if I’d kept going. If I was miserable then? I don’t think I would have made it to the end. I really do.

I did it to myself. I made the choice, at the worst time imaginable. But that doesn’t make the choice any easier or the aftermath easier to grapple with.

The aftermath hasn’t been easy. I grieved it hard, and honestly I still am.  It sent me into a further depressive spiral, freaking out about the unknowns and the future. It’s been a very hard place to be– this in-between– when I thought I had it all figured out. December 19th– the day I was supposed to graduate– was really hard, for obvious reasons. I was so ready to graduate, then I wasn’t… now, I don’t even know what  I’m ready for.

But… it’s been worth it. Even if I don’t know the answers or the future yet… it was a choice for the better. And I learned so much from choosing to leave.

Bravery requires changing plans carefully laid out… even if it’s the last thing you ever thought would happen.

I guess that’s the whole point of my life this year: bravery isn’t bravery when you’re choosing what to be brave about.

Brave is what you are in the unplanned, when your plans go awry.

Quote from my friend Kaitlyn’s book-coming in 2016!

Even when it hurts to change your plans, or to go into 2016 with more unknowns than knowns… it’s brave to do so. Because brave is braving life through the crazy changes and the hard choices and doing what is right or what is best with them.

While it was hard- so damn hard- to deal with these choices, I made it. I survived it. And while I’m going into 2016 unsure of the future, I still believe that God has it. And he’ll take the plans I had carefully laid out and give me plans that He made- full of him and full of what He‘s called me to.

 

Even if I don’t know what that looks like, it gives me hope that 2016 will be more of him and less of me. Because up until now, my plans have been all me. And he gave me this year to show that to me. 

Saying yes:

I said a lot more yesses too this year. Yes to meeting new people (both in real life and on the interwebs); yes to writing more and using my writing to both give God glory and talk about my struggles. I traveled more than I’ve ever traveled: from Mexico to New Orleans to Savannah to Chicago, both planned and unplanned trips. I’ve been more spontaneous and let logic fly out the window when it needed to. I chose to take care of myself instead of other people, which is hard for me as a people-pleaser/caregiver.

I’ve been less afraid to say yes to things that scare me, things I didn’t know how they’d turn out. Almost always I was happy I chose yes– and the times  I wasn’t, I still learned something.

And I’ve learned that when I say yes, and when I actually do things– God moves. When I say yes, He uses my yes to do big things– and he uses them to bring me back to where I need to be. He knows me well, and uses my yesses to help me see that.

 

asking questions and digging deeper: this year was the first year i haven’t been active in church since my freshman year. primarily because of transportation/life transitions and whatnot, but also because I’ve been trying to find my “place.” I went to a Methodist church when I first started going to church, and somehow landed at a Church of Christ college at a non-traditional CoC church. So, I don’t really know which one I belong to, if either. it’s a weird place to be in my faith life. Thankfully he gives me grace to figure it out– and guidance to discover where  I need to be.

In the interim i’ve been without community, which has sucked. One goal for 2016 is to find the right faith community for me.

The first line from Out of Sorts. Also known as my 2015.

Also, this whole complete life change with quitting student teaching and whatnot produced a lot of questions–both about life and faith. I’ve been reading Out of Sorts by Sarah Bessey, and it’s a book that found me at the craziest most perfect time. I’ve been using it as a guide of sorts (pun not intended) to figure out some things, both about life and faith. It gives me permission to breathe a little, to be okay with asking questions and wandering and wondering. My friend Kaitlyn writes in her new book, “the first step to receiving an answer is to be brave enough to ask a question.” God can handle our questions. He can handle everything we give him, and promises to use it to change us.

 

So, I’ve asked my questions. I’ve tried to work through them, knowing that they may not have an answer. But I’ll keep asking, keep working, keep looking, keep pointing myself back towards Jesus. Because even if I don’t find my answers, I know He is what He says He is, and that’s enough of an answer to me.

 

 

 

 

There’s probably more I might think about later, but I’ll end thinking about 2015 here. I don’t think 2015 has been a bad year, despite things that have happened. It was a whole lot better than 2014, I’ll say that. While the situations in themselves were obviously hard and difficult, they gave me hope that there’s something greater in store for me than I thought. While I still struggled with darkness that is mental illness, I allowed others into it for the first time- and surprisingly figured out I wasn’t alone. These things made it a hard year, but  I’m a better person for everything that has happened. 

Everything this year has pointed me towards making me a person that chooses to be brave. To say yes to things that are new or scary, to say no when it makes life harder. To choose to be honest about what’s going on, and choosing to find the light in the darkness.

It’s all a part of the story he’s writing, and I finally gave him the pen in 2015– even if it was jerked away from me.

(Here’s to hoping I let him willingly keep writing my story this year so I don’t need another wakeup  call like that. 😉 )

While it’s not the story I thought 2015 would bring me, it’s the story i was given. And He’s here in this story too– the one he mapped out, not the one I had planned.

While it wasn’t what I thought brave was going to look like, 2015 gave me the ability to be brave about it all anyway. And I’m a better person for choosing bravery, even when I was scared to death.

And I plan to keep choosing brave, beyond 2015. Because despite not being what I wanted? Choosing bravery and having courage about what this year had to offer was one of the best things I’ve done for myself. Now I know what I’m made of, what I can and can’t do, how to make changes and be willing to say and do what I need to get through. And to lean on Him through it all, knowing He’s writing the story and is in all the pages.

Being brave has made me a better me. I’m so thankful that 2015 was the year I figured out what being brave truly means.

Esther 4:14 was my theme verse this year— the 1st time I’ve ever had one, but it made sense. Little did I know how much that verse would shape my year.

This was the year I was created for: all of its quirks and turns and changes have helped me know myself better.Even when it was dark and miserable, this was the year God gave me to find myself in Him. And I am so thankful for it: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

And now, I’m ready to see what 2016 has in store. I’m ready to go bravely into the new year, saying Lord, bring it on. I’m excited, even if I’m a bit fearful of the future. But I know who holds it, so I’ll go into the new year head-on, knowing that 2016 is already full of Him and his plans– may I bravely and boldly seek them with everything  He has given me.

Looking back at 2015 wasn’t the easiest thing, but the more I look, the more I find Him at work in the story. And He’s so good in it all, even when it hurts.

Bring it, Lord. 2015 was scary and wonderful, and I’m ready for 2016 to bring new, beautiful, scary things.

because who doesn’t need to start their new years with a little switchfoot? I think I’m going to make it after all. 🙂

my year {in blog posts}.

I love to read, as most people know. Whether from exhaustion or mental capacity, my attention span as of late has been null… so I’m not reading as much as I used to. I do, however, read plenty- plenty– of blog posts. They’re short, sweet, and usually helpful or memorable to me in some way. While this year I haven’t been as avid of a bookworm as years’ past, I read enough blog posts to equal a few novels. 🙂

My friend Kate asked us to write about what are most memorable blog posts were this year. There are many I could put here, but I’ll pick some and talk about why they meant something to me:

Faith and Faith-Related Things:

Church and the Single Girl-Lindsey Nobles: this isn’t a topic I particularly have ever talked about… but it’s always in the back of my mind. I don’t know if marriage and family are in my future, but Lindsey articulates so powerfully the feelings of being single in a community that is so family-oriented. It’s hard somedays. Really hard.

To the conference planner who doesn’t fight to find and include single voices — not so that they can talk about singleness per se but so that not all references and stories have to do with marriage and parenting…

I need you to know something.

It is hard to be single in the Church today.

 

We are made in the image of God and we are women-Nish Weiseth: the entire time I read this post  I just wanted to keep screaming “hallelujah!” Her words are perfect here. I am new to Nish’s words (I have her book Speak but haven’t read it yet- gasp!) but she earned a follower with this post.

We are made in the image of God, and we are women.

But when I think of women, I don’t think of us cowering in the corner. I see resilience in the face of oppression. I see tenderness in the face of harshness. I see bravery in the face of cowardice.

 

I Bear Witness-Sarah Bessey: If I only could read one blog for the rest of my life (oh the horror!) I’m pretty certain Sarah’s would be it. I’m pretty sure at least 3 of her posts will make it onto this list. Her writing is lyrical and hits you right where it hurts– and I love it.

we are no longer wanderers but we are the ones who belong, with just as much a right to Love and to grace and to redemption as every one who draws breath from the breath of God.

 

You Are Enough- Shauna Niequist: Shauna’s another one of those writers whose writing has meant a great deal to me over the years, both in her books and blogging. This post came at the most perfect time, is just simply a great reminder for all of us: you are enough.

What makes you enough is your createdness. God made you. He made you, dreamed you up, spun you out of thin air. That makes you so much more than enough. That makes you a work of art–because you were created by a master.

 

You’re already so loved-Sarah Bessey: I told ya, Sarah rocked my world this year. Her book Out of Sorts is wrecking me, but it’s her blogs that have kept me going this year.

You’re already so loved, you aren’t earning a breath of love or tenderness more than what you already have just by breathing – just by existing, just by being here in the wonder. Your name is already written in the lines of the hands of the universe, you’re star-breath-of-dust and you are beloved, intimately, faithfully, wholly.

Mental health/anxiety posts: 

Why the World Needs The Mentally Different-Momastery:

Remember earlier when I said Sarah Bessey’s blog would be the one blog I read if I had to pick one? Well, I lied: I’d have to pick at least two, and Glennon’s would be the other one. She just gets me, y’all. She has done so much for so many people- me included. Her posts about mental illness helped me to not feel as crazy this year– something I am so immensely thankful for.

Help us manage our fire, yes, but don’t try to extinguish us. That fire that almost killed us is the same fire we’ll use to light up the world. And so we don’t want you to take what we’ve got, we just want help learning how to use what we’ve got for good.

 

Removing the Masks We Wear- TWLOHA: TWLOHA has been another immeasurably important resource to me in this mental health hell. I’m so grateful for all they do. This post was so hard for me to read- because it was so true for me.

We can choose to keep on being these hidden people, living in the shadows behind the costumes and scenery. Or we can embrace who we are – faults, illnesses, and all – and step boldly into the light.

 

Split Image-Kate Fagan (ESPN): This was a beautifully written, powerful, and immensely sad account of depression, suicide, and social media. What we post on social media is only a fraction of who we are sometimes– and it could mean life or death for those struggling with mental health.

Yes, people filter their photos to make them prettier. People are also often encouraged to put filters on their sadness, to brighten their reality so as not to “drag down” those around them. The myth still exists that happiness is a choice, which perpetuates the notion of depression as weakness.

 

Why I’m Depressed on Easter-Jasmine Hilland: this is a friend of mine from high school, and her words echo so much of my struggle. It’s always good to find people that can say “me, too”– even if you hate to see them fighting the same battle. Just because it’s Easter– or Christmas, or whatever special day/holiday– doesn’t mean we stop struggling for the day. Depression and anxiety is a 24/7 battle, and it doesn’t stop on the days we’d like it to.

But, as I am met this Easter season with the reality of the Cross and a God who not just overcame, but endured the Cross, I am lead to believe that our God is a God who is able to sit in our own darkness. Just as Jesus did not just skip over the Cross to get to the Resurrection, I do not think He expects us to just skip over the hard seasons in our lives to get the time of celebration. Instead, I see a God who is willing to endure very painful things with us.

The Challenge of Self-Care- Rage Against the Minivan: Kristen’s blog was one that I went back and read through the archives- her family’s story is so interesting, her writing sarcastic and funny, and her personality reminds me of mine. I wish I was in  California to meet her and pick her brain for a day. This post was rather timely, as self-care has been something I wish to get better at. It’s hard.

So if a simple, one hour walk in the morning can change my mindset this much . . . can change my outlook and the trajectory of my day and such a dramatic way, why don’t I walk every day? Why in the world wouldn’t this be something that is at the top of my to-do list? Why wouldn’t I make it my number one priority?

 

When You Want to Find Hidden Graces in The Dark Spaces- A Holy Experience (Guest Post): This was a guest post on Ann’s blog, written by a local pastor here in Nashville, Scott Sauls. A friend of mine emailed me a link to this post, with a note letting me know she was praying for me. Tip: if you don’t have people that do things like that for you in your life, find them. (i’m so thankful for mine. So thankful). Anyway, this post found me right where I was, and I was so thankful it landed in my inbox when it did.

Maybe instead of labeling anxious and depressed people as “damaged goods,” we should learn from the Psalms and Jesus and Paul about the biblical theology of weakness.

 

For Those Who Wait in the Fog- Emily P. Freeman:  Emily’s writing has always been some of my favorite- her book Grace for the Good Girl was so reminiscent of my walk in faith that I had to do a double take sometimes while reading it. This post came at such a perfect time– after student teaching ended, I’ve felt stuck in this cloud of uncertainty and fear. The unknown is so freaking terrifying. Emily’s words gave me hope that  while the fog is here now, there’s a light– and clarity- at the end of it.

“I don’t have great answers yet, but I see shapes in the distant fog. And for that, I am thankful.”

 

All-Time Favorites of 2015: 

Here’s What I Learned When My Life Didn’t Pan Out- Jenny Simmons (Storyline): So, Storyline’s blog writers lately have just been on my wavelength. i read this post by Jenny shortly after I quit student teaching. Literally the only dream I’d ever had was gone, and I was (still am) completely lost about what’s next. Jenny reminded me that I’m not the only one that’s been there, and that it’s OK to be lost.

Living without answers and a life plan became the season where I finally found faith in a God who was with me and for me despite my not knowing what came next. God felt especially near in those lonely moments and I slowly learned to trust that he knew how to re-purpose my plans. My prayers became centered around knowing God’s presence rather than getting God’s answers.

 

The Sanitized Stories We Tell- Sarah Bessey: I promise this is Sarah’s last appearance on this post (but I would love to give an honorable mention to her Advent series this year). This post made me stop right in my tracks.  It forced me to think a lot about what I say– and what I don’t say. Vulnerability is not my strong suit, but it’s something I’ve wrestled with this year. Talking about my emotions is not my strong suit (I have a draft of a post on this subject, I just can’t write it yet). I just want to hide the ugly parts and move on, but my heart nor my brain allows that. Sarah writes about that more eloquently than I ever could.

If we don’t deal with our trauma, our trauma begins to deal with us. If we don’t allow ourselves to feel our feelings, they have a habit of peeking around the corners of our lives, breaking in at the most inopportune moments.

Permission to Grieve- Kaitlyn Bouchillon: I “met” Kaitlyn last year during She Reads Truth’s online Christmas party thingamabob. She then started a facebook group for young women who use She Reads Truth, and then I started participating in Five Minute Friday Party Snailmail, which she started. So while I’ve never met her in person, somehow our paths crossed– and I am immensely thankful for it. This post was a post in her 31 day series (the entire series is great) but it came right on the heels of me finally grappling with my decision to leave student teaching. I’d written on the subject myself just a day prior, and her post gave me such relief that it was an OK thing to grieve what doesn’t seem to be grievable. I felt less alone– and that was something I desperately needed then.

You don’t have to explain it all, you don’t have to have any answers, and you don’t have to hold it together. You have permission to grieve what has been and what feels a little bit lost, but you are not lost.

 

Weak- Grace for the Road: I’ve been reading Grace’s blog for awhile now. She has a way of writing that makes me cry most days. It’s just so honest and truthful. The last few posts of hers have been very relatable to me in this season; she wrecked me with this post, because I’ve spent so much of my life doing it all on my own, and watched it all fall to the ground. Thankfully He picks us up right we are and gives us the grace to find ourselves back in Him.

One night, as tears ran down my face, I texted one of those hand-squeezing friends and told her how I much I hate it when weaknesses smother you.

And she said this: Sometimes I wonder if God lets our emotions overtake us to remind us that we can’t control everything. I don’t love it.

I don’t love it either.

But the fact is … it’s better for that box to get opened and remind me why it’s important I not try to life on my own.

(her newest post Defeated really really hit home for me, too).

 

I Know Anxiety and I Know Jesus-Hannah Collins (Converge Magazine): I remember the day a friend posted this on Facebook. It was right before I finally wrote about my GAD struggle, when I finally came clean and let my friends know I was not okay- nor had I been in months. It came at quite literally the perfect time, for it gave me a catalyst to finally be willing to share my struggle– knowing fully that it was not a crisis of faith. If anything, this mental hell has helped me grow in faith- if only from prayerfully asking for God to get me through the night every night. Praying more isn’t a cure for mental illness– nor is treating people like their struggle is a weakness in their spirituality. It is mental battle, and one I fight with faith- and medication. Thank you Jesus for medication. 🙂

Would Jesus quote Scripture to those of us who battle anxiety? The Jesus I know would wrap me up tight, listen closely, and lean in.

I really don’t need another Bible verse. I need a hug.

 

I think about this post every day. Every. day. It had a bit of an impact, needless to say.
*wipes brow* that’s not even half the posts, y’all, but these were the ones that stuck out. I might write a post tomorrow about posts I wrote myself this year, but for now, I’m choosing sleep. Hope these posts help you as they’ve helped me! ❤

light among us.

Have you ever thought about how helpful light is?

Random question, I know. But it’s something I’ve been thinking about this week.

Light–both in a literal and figurative sense– has been a recurring theme for me over the past few weeks (all of Advent, basically).

It hasn’t been a particularly light-filled few months for me. Lots of darkness– sadness, stress, worry, exhaustion, fear. Darkness overwhelms and overpowers good so easily, so quickly. Sometimes it’s hard to find the light. Especially for me lately, light hasn’t been easy to come by.  Hope for the future hasn’t been particularly present– just gloom and doom. I’m working on it, but it’s hard when bad news after bad news keeps coming.

***

I was trying to plug a charger in a few days ago; the plug was under a table, surrounded by the couch and a couple other things blocking the overhead light. I tried a few times to get the plug in, but I couldn’t see well enough to find the right place.

So I turned my flashlight on on my phone; within a few seconds, the problem was visible, I could see, and the charger got plugged in seamlessly.

I’ve had a couple of similar instances this week, at work and at home: when lights came on, everything made sense.

Silly how quickly we can figure things out when we find the light.

***

The weather has been dreadfully dark- lots of storms and clouds and mess. Winters are full of long days, both literally and figuratively- (usually) cold and dreary, with the sun setting before 6pm. Not a lot of hope to be offered by Mother Nature when it’s pitch black outside.

Yet every day that has been dark and cloudy lately has ended in an amazing sunset– a light show sent straight from the heavens.

Even the darkest days end in light.

Sunset on Tuesday

It’s amazing how quickly light can find us.

“happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one remembers to turn on the light.”-Albus Dumbledore

A light has dawned on those living in the land of darkness. (Isaiah 9:2 HCSB)

The people who had been living in darkness have seen a great light. (Isaiah 9:2 Voice)

⁴ In him was life, and the life was the light of men. ⁵ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:4-5 ESV)

What came into existence was Life,
    and the Life was Light to live by.
The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness;
    the darkness couldn’t put it out. (John 1:4-5 Message)

A light that thrives in the depths of darkness,
    blazes through murky bottoms.
It cannot and will not be quenched. (John 1:4-5 Voice)

weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5, MEV)

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. (John 1:9, NIV)

When we celebrate Christmas, we celebrate light. We celebrate hope– and hope that has delivered us from the darkness.

That hope– that light– is the Christ child.We celebrate a weary world– full of darkness and despair thanks to the Fall– rejoicing, sighing with relief.

Finally, light! Light has returned! 

In the dark of the night, there was pain— no room in the inn, a fearful virgin giving birth, an unsteady not-quite father-– yet with the morning, there was Jesus. A wee little babe in a manger– needy, frail, helpless. And he changed everything.

In that manger, there was light– a light that was born of and in the dark of the world. And it gave us a hope greater than anything the darkness gives us.

A light that cannot be overcome by the darkness– because He already overcame it. His light is forever in our midst, and no darkness of this world can hide it anymore.

When the life of Jesus came into the world, the light was returned. And that light overpowered the life of the darkness. 

Even my messy life can’t be hidden in the darkness anymore. Even my darkness cannot be overcome by the light that Jesus gave us when He was born. Light overcame the darkness, and the light is among us now, dwelling in and around of thanks to the manger. There is hope now for a better tomorrow because there is light- finally, there is light. 

Light changes everything.Hope changes everything.

On this day, the true light was given to the world to shine in the darkness. The joy was given to us in the morning after a pitch-black night.

One cannot exist without the other, I finally realize. As much as I celebrate the light, the glorious light, coming into the world, I must embrace the darkness that led to the light, too.

Without darkness, there wouldn’t be a need for light. 

So as much as I’d like to do without the darkness– as much as the nighttime hurts my brain and my heart and how much the low moments of this season have caused so much struggle and strife in my daily life– I wouldn’t be who I am without them. I wouldn’t have made the choices or understood my feelings without the darkness that brought the light.

I wouldn’t truly know or appreciate the light if I didn’t have or know the darkness first. The people wouldn’t have seen a great light if they hadn’t been immersed in the darkness first. 

So I celebrate the day the light returned to the world. I celebrate this day where the weary world rejoices. Hope is here, light came bursting forth. Jesus changed everything with light. Light won. Darkness cannot be overcome anymore.

But darkness is still needed. So, the light gives us hope. Light gives us hope that in the midst of our darkness, we will see again. Hope that even when our worlds are weary and dark, everything can change if we let a little light in. 

Hope changes everything. And so does light– and the hope that the light will return to brighten up the darkness.

Happy birthday to the light of the world, the hope of the nation– may that hope always point us back towards the light.

It gets darker and darker and darker… and then Jesus is born. ~Wendell Berry

and now, there’s a Light in the world to help us overcome the dark.

 

Merry Christmas!

 

 

in the wilderness.

It’s 1:38am and I am wide awake.

 I don’t know if it’s from sickness or exhaustion or mental anguish, but I am just worn out. Yet I cannot for the life of me sleep. I toss, I turn, I watch Chopped on Netflix until my eyes cross. But sleep just isn’t coming easily for me this week.

I feel like the past few months of my life have been so wrecked with major life decisions, that I’ve found myself a bit lost in the midst of them all. I thought I had it all figured out, then I didn’t. So what else don’t I have figured out? What else am I getting wrong?

 I go to bed every night playing the fun “what if?” game, where these scenarios that will never happen play in my head, sending me anxiously spiraling into panic. I clamor for something stable, something familiar.

I haven’t had much stability in my life since August. Everything’s been constantly changing, moving, shifting itself into unrecognition since then. I’ve been questioning and second guessing and doubting every decision I’ve made before and after leaving student teaching. And now, I worry about future plans and spring semester and money until it all overwhelms me into thinking that maybe I didn’t make the right decision. I know I did, deep down. But everything else falling apart around it doesn’t help me feel it.

I’ve been reading Out of Sorts, and have gotten to a part in the book where I keep re-reading and re-reading Sarah’s words, hoping they soak into my heart and my head somehow.

“Lean into your questions and your doubts until you find that God is out here in the wilderness too.”

“I have good news for you, brokenhearted one: God is here in the wandering.”

She’s talking about church and being the church in this part of the book. But somehow, right now it applies to just my life in general.

I sometimes think the best place for me to really see and feel God working is in the wandering. In this place where I’m really unsure about what’s next or what I’m doing or if I’m getting it right. I think this is where He is most visible: in these moments of doubt, where I struggle and fall flat on my face.

It’s in those moments where He pulls me back onto my feet.

Where He says, “watch what I can do.”

Where he works on His time, and not my own. Even when I like my timetable better.

Even when I’m in this wilderness, where I’m surrounded by nothing but my own thoughts and doubts. Even when I’m brokenhearted by life crushing me ten ways to Sunday, and I don’t know when I’ll ever feel like myself again. Even then, I still find Him. And He finds me, trying to do things on my own, wanting to do things my way and failing epically. When I’m waiting rather impatiently for mountains to move and things to change: He says He’s there, and He’s proven time and time again that He is.

He takes my wandering heart and questioning brain and promises there’s more than this. 

He meets me in the middle of my mess. In the wilderness I’m surrounded by on all sides– filled with doubt and fear and questions and darkness– and provides me an out. A light in the darkness, a comfort for the fear. A peace for the questions, with the hope of understanding them someday.

He hasn’t left me yet. He’s pulling me off my knees in the midst of this wandering wilderness I’m in. And He promises me His hand to walk with me as we figure out my next steps together.

Despite the world spinning madly about me, and the wilderness caving in on all sides around me, He is keeping me stable despite the uncertainty in my heart.  I know that He delights in answering my impossible desires– and knowing that even if I can’t logically believe that He can do what I need and want Him to do, that His doings go beyond what I can logically see or do or believe. Logic is no match for what He can do for me.

If there’s one thing this year has taught me, it’s to hold on to Him. Cling to him for stability when the world goes unsteady–because it always will. But He won’t. He’s a stronghold, and He promises to always be with me–especially when the world lets me down. It’s not the world I should cling to: not my plans, my wants, my people. It’s Him. He’s the calm in the chaos that the world is guaranteed to provide. He offers me something to hang on to when I’m at the end of my rope.

Though the past few months and the decisions I’ve had to make have brought me some of the hardest moments, they’ve also shown me what it truly means to depend on Him. To trust and have faith that He knows what He’s doing better than I do. To believe that I’m going to make it through the next 10 seconds, the next minute, even when I don’t feel like I can.

Even when I’ve screwed everything up and things feel impossible, He says nothing is impossible for Him, and I just need to show up and watch what He can do if I trust Him. I’m just along for the ride– it’s all Him.

Everything always points me back to Him.

You have surrounded me on every side, behind me and before me,
    and You have placed Your hand gently on my shoulder.
 It is the most amazing feeling to know how deeply You know me, inside and out;
    the realization of it is so great that I cannot comprehend it.

Can I go anywhere apart from Your Spirit?

 Is there anywhere I can go to escape Your watchful presence?

 If I go up into heaven, You are there.

If I make my bed in the realm of the dead, You are there.
 If I ride on the wings of morning,
    if I make my home in the most isolated part of the ocean,
 Even then You will be there to guide me;
    Your right hand will embrace me, for You are always there.

(Psalm 139 6-10, Voice)

   You have taken account of my wanderings; Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book?

(Psalm 56:8, NASB)

“Cause when I fall to sing, you’re the One who pulls me up again”

“when I’m misunderstood, Your love understands me”

beloved mess.

The past three weeks  I’ve fallen down the Netflix rabbit hole, in case you’re wondering why I’ve neglected this space. Or everything except twitter. I’m alive now, though– if only because i (finally!) finished the first season of Jane the Virgin. And despite starting the second season (ugh this show is addicting!), I decided I needed to step away from the TV for a bit. I’ve neglected Advent and everything around me for it!

In doing so, I’ve been working through Out of Sorts by Sarah Bessey, which is a miracle of a book for my life right now. It’s so beautifully written– Sarah is so down-to-earth and light-heartedly witty, it’s like sitting at a coffeeshop with her drinking a cuppa like the awesome Canadian she is. I’ve been trying to go one chapter at a time to give me time to work through the study questions (because this book needs some serious thought unpacking). But lately I’ve been too distracted, so I’ve been going through piece by piece, and saving the journaling for a time where I can be more present. Last night (rather 2:30am), I got to her chapter about church before going to bed.  She was talking about the different types of ‘churches’ when I got to a part that stopped me in my tracks.

“Jesus has become real to me, and so I can’t pretend anymore that I am not just as much of a mess as everyone else. In fact, the freedom I am finding is exactly that: I learning alongside the girls of the residential home that I’m a mess and I’m beloved, both together, and this is not the end.”

I am a mess. I am beloved.

I used to think I was either/or. I couldn’t be loved when I was a mess. With my life in shambles, with all my flaws and imperfections out in the open. I had to keep that side of me closed off, and let people see and love the good parts only. I had to be perfect– I couldn’t let the facade of imperfection down if I wanted people to love me. So I hid the ugly stuff as best as I could (and didn’t always do a good job). I tried not to let the bad traits and flaws show through the cracks– and I left my baggage out of my conversations (which backfired royally).

Living with only part of yourself is an awful way to live. I know from experience.  You deserve to be your whole self- and you deserve to be and know you’re loved wholly and fully.

We all deserve to be fully known and fully loved. Despite our messes and baggage.

We all deserve other people to see all of us, and love us anyway. To see our flaws and baggage and love us still.

We all need people to love us back to life in the midst of our mess.

I don’t need people to just see the good– I need people to walk through  with me in the bad. I need people to see the mess and say they love me for it.

It’s taken me a long time to truly believe I can be loved for myself, warts and all. I don’t need to put on a show for love– I already am. By both God, and the people in my life that walk with me through the mess.

~

I need to believe that I can be a mess and be beloved, in spite of only the flaws I see.

Easier said than done, most days.

Have you ever had a day where you can’t stop thinking about your flaws? Or about all the messes in your life? I’m there more days than I’d like to count. I’ve been there the past few days especially, thinking about how many mistakes I’ve made,  all the life changes I’ve made lately, all the things I’m bad at,  all my flaws and bad character traits that come into the limelight… I’ve never felt more like a burden in my life as i have lately, truthfully. Some days all I can see is the mess I’ve made, the flaws I have.

It’s on those days when it’s hard for these two truths to coincide. How can I be beloved when I have XYZ flaws? How can anyone love me when I screw up royally?

Truthfully, I still don’t know the answer to that. But the universe shows me that I am, even in the midst of my mess, still dearly loved, both by God and the people around me.

They love me in spite of my mess. They love me because of my mess. They love me inside of my mess.

It’s not an either/or. It’s a both/and. It’s a both together.

I am never not going to be a mess. It’s never going to happen. I’ll always have my flaws and my baggage, and I’ll always walk into valleys and messes and flounder beneath them. I’m always going to have struggles. I’ve gotten used to that (somewhat).

But I’ll also always be beloved. I’ll always be loved, no matter the mess surrounding me. I’ll always be loved in spite of myself.

Knowing I’m beloved makes being a mess a lot easier load to carry.

It took me forever to realize that it was okay to not be okay, and it’s okay to be a hot mess– to struggle and have flaws and problems and issues that you’re dealing with. We aren’t perfect, nor called to perfectionism. Hallelujah for that. I can be a mess, because God still calls me beloved. He sees my mess, sees my baggage, despite my attempts to throw it wayward deep into my heart so He can’t find it– and He loves me anyway. He loves me, the hot mess that I am. How amazing a feeling is that?

Being a mess is not the end. It’s not the end of me– it’s a part of me. Being a mess and being loved are both who I am. Both together. Not the end, but a part of who I am and who I’m meant to be.

I am a mess. I am beloved. I am a beloved mess. My weary heart sighs relief at the very thought.

I can be a mess. It’s OK to be a mess. Because I’m a beloved mess, and being loved through my mess makes all the difference.

 

Five Minute Friday {Season}

Linking up with FMF again. It’s been awhile! Missed last week cause I was on a megabus to Chicago (another story for another day) but I loved the prompt, SEASON, so here we go:

 

 

When life gives you lemons,

we make lemonade,

as the saying goes.

But what do you do

when life

gives more than a lemon?

When life gives you foiled plans,

broken dreams,

unanswered prayers–

What do we make out of them?

When the seasons change

from summer breezes

to falling Autumn leaves

to Winter chills

and Christmas thrills–

everything has a season. Everything has a place.

Until it doesn’t.

So, what do we do

when the seasons change

but we stay stagnant,

afraid of the future our plans gave way to?

What do we do

when life gives us more

than we ever imagined

and we don’t know what to do with it?

Seasons change.

Life gives us seasons– to mourn,

to dance,

to love, to die.

Scripture tells us

everything has a season.

Everything has something it can be reasoned to,

an explanation

or something to be made from it.

But life, it seems,

doesn’t always show us

how to move with the seasons unexpected,

how to make lemonade out of something other than a lemon.

What do we do

when we don’t know what to do?

How can we change with the seasons

if we don’t know what season we’re in?

TIME.

—

This is a bit scattered, but it’s been in my brain awhile. Seasons are so weird to me– it’s supposed to be this period of time where things change yet stay the same, then off to the next one. Basically, I’m stuck in this in-between season where I don’t know how to change, yet can’t stay where I’m at.

Basically, I don’t know what season I’m in. I don’t know what to do next.

I just hope something will come around and help me figure it out.