looking ahead

Picture from IF: Gathering

There's something about a year's end that causes one to reflect on what has been and dream about all that will be. To exhale a sigh of release, and inhale deep, inviting hope for a brand new year.

In reality, the hurts, mess and un-forgiveness we refuse to address will follow us over the new year's threshold. January 1 is not the great eraser of all the bad of a past year, nor is it the magic wand that grants every wish and whim in the future. I spent much of 2015 hanging on to hurts from 2014. I thought I'd forgiven everyone, but in looking back I realize that I didn't let go of the guilt and shame that plagued me; instead, I clung to it like a security blanket. I don't even know what I felt guilty about, but lies have a way of creeping in and becoming their own reality.

It wasn't until around October that I'd had enough and decided to release. The words of that prayer echoed in the dark and the tangible peace in that place gave me the confidence to release everything. My biggest dreams. My deepest desires. My knuckles had been white long enough and in a whispered breath I placed in his hands that which should have been left there all along.

The very next day the Lord began to put some of my wildest dreams into motion. The very next day. I have said yes to some exciting opportunities and walked through doors that were not previously in sight. And as I look ahead and think about a new year the word that has been impressed upon my heat and mind is expectant. This year I want to be expectant.

Expectant that He hears my prayers.
Expectant that His promises are true always.
Expectant that He specifically placed each desire upon my heart.
Expectant that He is working out all things.
Expectant that He is able to do far more that I can even imagine.
Expectant that He will continue to guide me in my purpose.
Expectant. In. Him. Only.

This new year will be full of ups and downs, joys and tears. And through it all I want to be more audacious and bold and expectant than ever before, starting with my posture, my prayers. I want this year to be marked by the victories won on my knees, my attentiveness to his word and my obedience to his voice. I am saying good-bye to 2015 with a deep peace and fond memories and lessons learned. I am looking ahead at 2016 with confidence and an expectant hope and joy for all that is to come.

Will you join me?

The best is yet to come.

Welcome, 2016!

empower her

Dear marvelous you,

You are beautiful. You are smart and creative and have something so uniquely special to offer. Your presence is not only requested, it's required. We see you. We need you.

I know, your dreams feel big and scary and impossible. You are filled with all the reasons and doubts of why you should give up on the passion that is embedded into your very being. The thing that just won't quit you.

And you see her, the one doing that which you have wrapped your hopes and dreams around and your precious heart breaks and spills it's pieces as the lies of doubt root themselves a little deeper.

But, here's what you should know.

Her success does not take from your portion. You have not been disqualified, nor do you have to take the left overs. In kingdom work there is room enough for us all. And while there are a million somebodies, we have only one you.

So, will you be brave? Will you rejoice with her even if your season is one of waiting? Gratitude has this ability to turn stone to flesh, and that which has become stagnant to flowing, living water. And as your tender bruises begin to heal and turn into opportunities, please don't forget to look around and notice the her that is struggling to find her way. Please empower and encourage that precious soul, for we only have one her as well.

Sophia Nelson says it beautifully, we need to lift other women as we climb.

As you begin to find your place, your seat, remember that the heavenly table is never full. The women that you see are not your competitors, they are your comrades. They have experience and resources to share, and so do you. And, you know what? They need to be encouraged too. Often the strengths that others see are the very insecurities that they struggle with every day. We need a strong force of women standing together, encouraging and challenging one another to step up and be the courageous warriors that this world needs. There is too much at stake; this is too important.

Don't hold out on us, we need you.

Love,
me

the middle seat

Air travel is exciting, often exhausting and boasts of some of the best people watching around. I have met some of the grouchiest, funniest and most interesting people while sitting in airports or flying high above the ground's safety. Strangers becoming friends is one of life's grandest mysteries and greatest gifts. And while I have experienced such encounters, the shared words of this post carry a different message.

Matt Wertz is on my flight right now!!! I avoided eye contact and didn't sit in the available seat beside him...

The text was sent through shaking fingers to a handful of my dearest friends last week. Their responses were full of exclaimations and encouragements to be bold and questioning my life choices. In some small way I imagine they were sharing in my jitters and hoping that the character, (me), would do something that would awe audiences for years to come. But, let's back up.

My fate had been sealed, I was going to be sitting in a middle seat. Now, perhaps this day was going to be filled with smart choices, but once I recognized the person in the black KC hat the day was as good as gone. The seat next to him was empty and full of a million reasons why I should avoid it, plus I was wearing the wrong shoes. As often happens when I am nervous I became acutely aware of my hands and I did my best to walk as a composed adult down the aisle, resisting the urge to climb over, knock down or tackle the passengers in front of me in order to find safety in some less assuming middle seat. As I passed by him my bag either brushed his shoulder or knocked his head so hard that he got whiplash, I cannot be sure, but an excuse me or I'm sorry was out of the question since I had completely forgotten how to form sounds and make words.

The regret had already set in as I sent the text to the masses.

Had I chosen the seat beside him, there is a high probability that I would have been awkward and nervous and spoken complete gibberish. But, maybe after a couple of deep breaths I would have introduced myself and thanked him for using his gifts and talents to bless others. Maybe I would have mentioned how when I moved to Colorado five years ago I danced around my house to Everything Will Be Alright almost every night, or when I went through a tough situation with a church I Will Not Take My Love Away acted as a consistent reminder to a weary soul. And, maybe I would have mentioned that I first heard him at WorkPlay with some friends and we titled our evening: Three Andreas, Two Birds, One Stone. Maybe we would have chatted and laughed together as old friends for the entire flight, or maybe after the introductions we would have both gone about our airplane business. Maybe..

But I passed up an opportunity to encourage someone that I appreciate; and although we have never met, he has blessed my life through his words, his music, his creativity. I had the opportunity to do this in person, shoulder to shoulder, looking him in his eyes and calling out his gifts.

The could haves are the things that steal mind space. And really, as much as I wish I would have sat in that middle seat, it's so much more than that. I wonder what middle seats I'm avoiding right now. The ones that I know have potential for good, but I'm letting my insecurities call the shots. Where am I saying yes to fear? The middle seat may not always be the most appealing, but it might just have a view that is able to both surprise and excite. It's one thing to risk failure, that's hard and stretching and refining. But, what about risking success? It carries the same weight.

And maybe it starts as small as saying hello and taking that middle seat.

what I learned in September

The lines of August's ending and September's beginning blur together, becoming but a moment in time, a blink of an eye. The old and the new marry as one, with no skip or hiccup or noticeable interruption. A constant momentum moving the moments forward. Taking time to reflect reminds the mind and soul that so much is happening and, better yet, there is more to come. September was heavy with a depth of rich and invaluable learning:

My pen needs to create words and thoughts and things that can only be expressed through ink.

Words help tell our stories and relate to one another. They convey both the good and the bad, the lovely times and the bruised times. But lies often slip in to whisper about shortcomings, convincing the creator that the gift is not actually a gift, but rather a silly dream and a waste of precious time. These lies tried to become a permanent companion and caused my footing to slip for a time. My pen begged to scratch the empty pages, but the mind had already surrendered to the lies. The words were locked and buried, safely hidden somewhere in the deep.

But eventually the words needed to escape and became too strong to contain, a force much like the moon pulling the tide. The words begin to flow, the dam shattered. An unexpected opportunity caused the heart to sing and through the fear I submitted a yes to participating in a writing intensive webinar. 

Women's ministry is still woven into my very being.

This reality serves as a balm and sweet relief to my soul. A rough season of seeking community with depth left me weary and worn. I rested until I became restless. Women's ministry is sealed somewhere on the strands of my very DNA. And although this season looks very different, the outpouring of love and life remain one of those glorious mysteries of which I will always long to be a part. To know and be known. To walk alongside women, to provide counsel, to invite others to walk alongside me. It's hard and messy and lovely and refining.

Writing love notes to strangers is a game changer.

Pretty stationary and fancy pens do not a letter make. It's the words that are formed and the encouragements expressed that touch hearts and help heal and mend those who are broken or hurting or just simply trying to get by. More Love Letters allows strangers to share life through letters. Speaking words of love and life and truth is a joy and privilege. Leaving a note for a stranger to find is exhilarating, and it provides an opportunity to offer prayers for neighbors that you may never meet. There are also opportunities to write letters and speak directly to the specific needs of strangers. It's one of those blessings that you give and yet somehow receive. If you're looking for a way to love your neighbor, write a letter. It might just change someone's life..and that someone might just be you.

There's never a good time--just pick a time and buy the ticket.

After years of well intentioned words the only thing left was to take action. She moved with her family to New York--a Bama Belle in the Big Apple. The only thing keeping me from hugging and chatting and sharing moments with a dearest of friend was busy. The ever present schedule and to-dos. Reasons and excuses to stay will be ever present, but living and adventure and taking a vacation are real too. I bought the ticket. So now there is the counting down of days, outings to plans and outfits to choose. Because I'm going to New York.

Foam rolling hurts and I hate it, but I love it.

Lifting and running and barre make the muscles scream in pain. And foam rolling hurts. I'd rather skip the rolling, if you don't mind very much. But skipping the rolling would not allow the muscles to recover as they could. Staying comfortable and avoiding the pain is preferred, but that's not how muscle recovery works. Or life. 

Sometimes we have to walk through the hard, and usually for longer than we'd prefer, in order to enjoy the benefits of refinement, in order to become a better version of the very one we were created to be. We rub against others and learn some tough lessons and find that our rough edges begin to smooth out a bit. The process allows us to die to ourselves more and more, becoming more undaunted in our radiance of love and life and freedom. 

I prefer smooth and polished and fierce. (I also prefer long and lean and strong, in the muscle area.)

It's okay. I'm a little bit high maintenance.

There is a problem. Ignoring it will not make it go away. Listening to and caring for the body is a discipline. Maybe I'll have to cut out wheat and dairy and *sad sigh* coffee forever, or maybe just for a season. But when the body is feeling better, sleeping more soundly and enjoying more energy the sacrifices pale in value. 

Even coffee..sort of.

Learning and sharing is fun. What have you learned in the past month(s)?

I need you to know

The past months have been for reading, for listening, for observing. While the season has been heavy, my soul has relished the quiet moments found somewhere deep in the noise. The still has given me space to fill my lungs and breathe. Releasing tension, inviting calm. I've taken notice of the beauty around me and given thanks. And while I have a good life and much to be grateful for there is something I need you to know.

Sometimes I'm not okay. 

Some of my days are sad and dark and messy. I like for you to see a polished exterior, well groomed and lovely, allowing only my pillow to hold the secrets of shed tears and whispered prayers. I rarely speak about the very thing that rests upon my surface, this one care that I have learned to hold in and push down.

I want to be a wife and mother. More than any other hope or dream, I want to be a wife and a mother.

It's not that I'm alone and I haven't forgotten the truths that speak of who I am. Nor am I hopeless. But I rarely talk about this deep, unmet desire because I worry about what you will think. I worry that you'll think I'm needy and petty. I worry that you'll think that there are more important issues that should concern me. I worry you'll give me the crummy advice that seems to easily slip through well intentioned lips. I worry that you will feel uncomfortable or pity me.

I haven't told you of the days where the constant stream of tears left my cheeks stained. I haven't told you that the hardest thing I do each week is walk into church..alone. I haven't told you that it's sometimes a struggle being around the ones that I love the most because it often reminds me that I'm still waiting.

Perhaps I do think about this desire too much, wasting precious thoughts and tears. But perhaps in not speaking it I have kept myself locked and caged, making it impossible for you to truly know me.

Quite honestly, most days I am fine. I have a job that I love and the best family and friends. But sometimes I need to tell you that I'm not okay. And when this happens I'm not looking to be fixed.

I'm giving you permission to see my depth. I'm inviting you to share yours.

Sharing from the deep is scary and uncomfortable, it's also brave. It a risk to be raw and real and honest. It's a risk to shed the pretty and reveal the scars. But it's a risk worth taking because while it opens us up to rejection and criticism, it also positions us to receive love that is able to pierce through the walls we've built and cradle the burdens that we so desperately want to share and need to share.

Sometimes we have words to offer one another; sometimes we have only a shoulder, a tissue and a prayer. Which is enough and okay.

Perfection is a lie and it hides the beauty that is found in our mess. Beauty is in the cracks and broken pieces that have found the strength to mend and live on to tell their stories. It's there in the scars that know how to hope and look ahead expectantly.

Beauty lives in the places that are not okay but dare to have the faith that they one day will be.

moment by moment

Moments cannot be captured.
They must be embraced,
                                         experienced.
For they are fleeting and special,
constantly moving in order to make room for the next.
The good with the hard, linking together they create life and growth,
movement...

meaning.

inspired I venture

Three days ago he wrote a book. I didn't know him so I googled him. I bought his book. I read his book.

The penned words were lovely, captivating even. I was hooked - the words were new, yet familiar. There seemed to be an intersection in his words and my thoughts and after some moments I couldn't tell who was sharing and who was thinking, both were feeling. Perhaps that's the beauty of writing that is raw and real and hard and true. It pierces a depth that cannot be measured. It strikes a chord and creates a melody that sings of life and passion and living in the now. A reminder that life is messy and short and beautiful. A reminder that life is precious and meant to be shared.

Our stories very different, yet common threads weave them together. Like fighting to be thankful, with much to be thankful for, and struggling through the reality of deep unmet desires. When tears are shed and moments lost because the one thing missing is the loudest voice of them all. And the have-not wins that round, even if for only a moment. But also the times of deep love, the pouring of oneself into others, encouraging and pressing forward. Of living in community, sharpening one another through the good and bad. The times when love triumphs and is the victor by a landslide.

But mainly the tears. The ones of hurt, of joy, of deep longing, of sadness, of celebration. Perhaps honest and brave, or other less attractive adjectives. But always real.

I am left feeling hopeful. My story is not finished, I have breath in my lungs and dreams yet to realize. And so do you. We have been given the gift of here, of now. We have great opportunities still ahead. Let's link, arm in arm, and press on. Together. Choosing love. Recognizing the privilege to share in the stories of others, and to have others share in our own.

And to Jamie Tworkowski, (founder of TWLOHA), a man I have only met through the Internet, I say thank you. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for your vulnerability. Thank you for the humble strength you seem to selflessly share with others. Inspired I venture on.

Get If You Feel Too Much

to look them in their eyes

Pondering important life things on my way into work this morning, my mind and heart were content after being submerged in a room full of women wrestling through the reality of the incarnate God. Just take some time to bask in that truth..you will feel small and insignificant and incapable of full comprehension, because all of that is true. Jesus. Fully God. Fully man.

With this in mind I found myself recounting Jesus's life. The way he loved. The way he served. The way he emptied himself..for us. Sinners. Jesus, the man. Yet, God. And as my thoughts turned into prayers of how this truth does and should shape the way I live I noticed two men walking across the street. Both of them carrying backpacks bulging with all their earthly possessions, one toting a large dog. I meekly smiled at one of the men and was tempted to look down, turn the radio station, make an "important" phone call, anything really. But why? Why did I want to look away so quickly?

Maybe I could have justified my thinking and not given it a second thought. But the conviction in my heart was to dignify these two. But how? Love your neighbor as yourself. The command surged through my veins. The thoughts were swirling..what can I do now?

You can look them in their eyes and wave.

So simple. So small. But this morning, while I was stopped at a red light and two men and a dog crossed the street in front of me, I waved. As a neighbor would wave to another. With shocked looks, they waved back, smiling from ear to ear. I waved again and fought back the tears threatening to spill over. That was it. No words, no money exchanged, but I know that Jesus was there in that moment. Those men are my neighbors and deserved to be dignified with notice--deep down we all want to know and be known. And, quite honestly, a friendly wave was the very least I could have done, it cost me nothing..

..but created a rich and invaluable learning moment on loving thy neighbor.