Tag: acceptance

Change Considered

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Change Considered

2020 has been a lot of things, change being the most prevalent. Change in plans. Change in how we operate. Change in our world. And change is hard. Really hard. Our bodies often resist change…until it’s no longer change, rather a new normal.

I used to hate that phrase, “new normal.” If it’s new, then it probably doesn’t feel at all normal! It masks the truth: change is happening, and I haven’t decided whether or not I like it. Most of us are experiencing copious amounts of “new normals,” in various parts of our lives.

It certainly didn’t feel normal not spending Thanksgiving with our extended family.

Seeing shelves in stores emptied as a desperate attempt to control something in our lives isn’t normal.

Watching business close, walking past locked doors, and witnessing owners pleading for their livelihood is not normal.

Nope, I still HATE the phrase. I have spoken (for you Mandalorian fans). I don’t particularly like change. It makes me uncomfortable. Leaves me a bit anxious. Tests my faith, which is difficult for me to admit.

As my husband drove me to physical therapy this morning, we happened to pass by a familiar face I’d not seen in quite a while. I sent her a quick message and put my phone away. I didn’t see her response until 4+ hours later, because everything about PT was just plain hard!

My regular therapist wasn’t there. I usually go much later in the day. The room was set up differently. I was doing things that didn’t at all feel familiar. I could tell my body was not accepting all these changes well because it was new and NOT normal.

After coming home and crashing (literally poured myself into bed and slept for about three hours), I found my friend’s response. She shared a scripture. It was one I knew well, and upon reading it, I had to stifle a laugh.

It began: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds…”

I’m sorry, I have to stop right there. Joy and trials should not be in the same sentence. It’s an oxymoron. Literally. We do serve a funny God!

“… because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.”

I know that I don’t like being tested. I know that I am often weak. I know I’m not always steadfast. None of which, I believe, sets us up for perseverance. Period.

“Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature”

Um, I think I just proved above I am not mature with the whole test thing. Did you not hear the virtual stopping of my foot like a two year old? Arms crossed. Face fixed. And stubbornness exuding from my core?!

“… and complete, not lacking anything.”

I want to be complete! I want to lack for nothing! But do I really have to be mature? Must I endure the testing of my faith? How can this possibly produce perseverance? Seems to me it’s bringing forth my inner most child-like temper tantrum.

Ok, enough is enough. Let’s put it all together.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” James 1:2-4

While change (or trials) may not FEEL at all joyful, we still have a choice in how we consider it. What kind of mindset we’ll don while facing it. Whether we’ll be open enough to accept what’s coming could actually be good for us in the end.

Believe me, it’s a tough concept. We are most comfortable when things are stable. Unchanging. But that’s our immaturity showing. Our flimsy faith.

In order to be complete, we sometimes have to undergo a metamorphosis. That means change. A trail, maybe even refined by force or fire, before re-emerging, beautifully changed. From great tragedy comes great triumph.

A tiny seed, split, turned into a mighty oak.

A wiggly worm, cocooned, brought forth into a butterfly.

A grain of sand, irritant calcified, produced a pearl.

We love the finished product, rejoicing in its miraculous transformation. We don’t lament what it used to be. And yet, we often miss out on our own potential “rebirth” due to our reticent change resistance.

Now the words “consider it pure joy” makes a bit more sense, because we all want to be “complete, not lacking anything.” While our faith may be tested, God’s goodness is unwavering. He remains solidly sovereign. And that, my friends brings us hope to traverse any trial, joyfully.

Take that, 2020. While you have changed us in countless ways, we will continue clinging to Him in anticipation of something more that completes us. Because He is a good, good father. And the best is yet to come!

Enough

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Enough

This morning, I “happened to” call a friend out of the blue. Truthfully, I cannot even recall what the prompting was. We chatted, as if no time had passed since we’d last talked, and it just plain felt good. Normal. As we were hanging up, I made reflexive apologies for my accent and thanked my friend listening through my broken speech. She responded with, “yes I know you have an accent, but I just hear you.” Instant tears In that moment, I felt all the ridiculous insecurities about the voice that comes out of my mouth, which currently does not sound at all like “me,” melt away. Just like that.

To my friends who have had enough…

Feel they aren’t enough…

Think they aren’t (blank) enough…

I see you. And more importantly, El Roi does.

My prayer for you today is you see past the imperfection, deficit, or affliction that is weighing upon you. Blur it out through the lens of God’s filter. Apply as easily and readily as any go to media filter. Roll past it like the waves lap upon the shore—focused, purposeful, and swiftly. Change your position, literally. Pluck yourself from the rubble you feel has accumulated around, suffocating you. And hear me say these words to you:

YOU MATTER

You are enough. As is. Right now. This moment. Breathe that glorious truth in, then exhale the rest.

How can I say this truth with outright assertion? Because God tells us “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). So whatever you may think, feel, or see as weakness is actually just the opposite. It is in these spaces where God is strongest and declares you enough through His power. And that my friends, should be enough.

Different isn’t Worse

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Different isn’t Worse

Everyone loves an accent, especially a British or South African one. Longer vowels, truncated consonants. Mysterious in nature. Different cadence. Soothing, some might say.

I, however, do not hold this affinity. Unfortunately, I slip entirely too easily, unbeknownst to me, into this accent. Foreign Accent Syndrome. It is one of several inexplicable symptoms that I still sometimes experience…one year later.

It’s infuriating.

It’s humiliating.

It’s exhausting.

The accent, the delayed speech, the difficulty walking, the inability to translate what’s inside my head out to the rest of my body, the hyper sensitivity, the pain.

I ABSOLUTELY HATE IT!

And yet, in spite of it all, I am incredibly grateful. To be here. One year later. “Recovered.”

8/21/19 is my well date. I woke up that morning without any of the afore mentioned symptoms. Peculiar. Unimaginable. Remarkable. My husband couldn’t believe it. My neurologist couldn’t explain it. My friends couldn’t comprehend it.

I’d struggled eleven months. Endured speech therapy. In home therapy. Physical therapy. And then, literally overnight, I was well.

Against all odds, my “mysterious” illness left me. I was given back my life…well, sort of. Most days. It’s decidedly different now. But different isn’t worse.

I’m honestly not sure how to describe it, other than a gift. Though I knew with absolute certainty God would guide me through unwell, and back to health, I wasn’t sure what that looked like. How it would feel.

Employing sheer audacious tenacity, and copious prayer, I navigated my new normal. Return to normal? Different normal? Would this last longer than a glow stick? Or would I relapse, defaulting back to a reduced capacity? Didn’t matter. I was more “normal” than I had felt or sounded in what felt like forever.

“The Lord is my strength and my shield. My heart trusted him, so I received help. My heart is triumphant; I give thanks to Him with my song.”

Psalm 28:7 GW

And, oh how I sang! I distinctly remember joyous tears cascading down as I caught myself singing one of my favorite worship songs. Something I was utterly incapable of doing for those eleven months.

Save a small handful, you will never fully comprehend the roller coaster this has been; however, it may give you a glimpse into the unseen complexity of another’s life. We are all gloriously different. Life would be entirely mundane if we weren’t.

So today, one year later, I’ve decided to accept my difference. My new normal. It certainly beats continuing to futilely fight it. And because I’ve finally come to the conclusion, different isn’t worse. Different is simply different. By His divine design. Who am I to argue?

L-O-V-E-D

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L-O-V-E-D

Another In The Fire

Take Heart

YOUR NAME IS POWER

God Is Love

Graves into Gardens

JOY INVINCIBLE

Keep Me in the Moment

No One Ever Cared for Me like Jesus

Above was the “random” playlist during my worship time this morning while I ran 2.23 miles. There are many emotions as I type this, but I will start with my initial purpose: to run for a cause. Nowadays, there is so much focus on race, injustice, fear, conspiracy, and the overwhelming desire to be HEARD! There seems to be only two camps: right and wrong. The desire to practically SCREAM our opinions at each other must be further fueled by the restrictions that have been imposed upon us during this pandemic. That’s the only thing I can come up with…because the insatiable need to WIN, to be RIGHT, to be HEARD has apparently completely overridden our “directive” for kindness or decency.

So, I embarked on my run with purpose. I was running for a cause. I was running for freedom. I was running for someone who’s life was needlessly taken and no longer had the opportunity to walk (let alone run) on this Earth. I was engulfed in gratitude with each stride, reflecting on where I was one year ago and what a blessing it was running on my own two feet. Coupled with the fact that I haven’t run in awhile, truthfully, I was not sure my legs or lungs would make it through running the entire 2.23 miles, but I went about it with purpose, and my God sustained me!

As I ran, I tried to imagine what it would be like to survive in a state where I constantly looked over my shoulder. Where the color of my skin caused others to treat me differently. Where fear (in myself and others) created such visceral hatred. I simply couldn’t…couldn’t imagine it. And as the worship songs continued to play in my ears, I had a revelation.

Our society is so ridiculously focused on the concept of WINNING and being RIGHT that we have become oblivious to the “WIN” noose that has been slipped over our necks in the process. “WIN,” in this instance, stands for Wrestling In Negativity. We’ve been blinded with such self-centeredness and self justification that we cannot possibly process anything that isn’t on our “side.” Therefore, our “win” our “rightness” becomes absolutely vital because if it doesn’t look like us, doesn’t act like us, doesn’t believe like us…then it simply must not be good for us! Anything “different” is seen as a negative and a threat.

For whatever reason I think in acronyms and correlations…that’s simply how my brain works. The “WIN” acronym made my mind move onto this next car train. In my head, I counted out these letters in the following words: B-L-A-C-K, five. W-H-I-T-E, five. Five on one hand and five on the other. While neither word shares any of the same consonants or vowels, they are both equal in the number of letters. Why can’t we, as a society, accept that we are ALL different–and it has NOTHING to do with the color of our skin?

“I found out everybody’s different – the same kind of different as me. We’re all just regular folks walkin down the road God done set in front of us. The truth about it is, whether we is rich or poor or something in between, this earth ain’t no final restin place. So in a way, we is all homeless – just workin our way toward home”

― Denver Moore, Same Kind of Different as Me: A Modern-Day Slave, an International Art Dealer, and the Unlikely Woman Who Bound Them Together

Everybody is different. The same kind of different as me. Imagine the wonderful possibilities this simple shift in thinking would create and how it would revolutionize our world? I am different. YOU are different. WE are different, but we are the SAME KIND OF DIFFERENT.

I round the corner, exhausted. My heart yearns for people to stop the ravenous need to win. My legs are tired. Sweat rolls into my eyes and tears threaten to break free. I don’t think I can keep running…then I see a man at the end of the street. He’s smiling and waving. Once I pause my music, I hear “Great job! I saw you running ’round the corner. Keep it up! You’ve got this…”

I’ve never seen this man before in my life. He doesn’t know me. And certainly, there’s no way he knew I was on the verge of giving up.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, as I rounded the next corner on the way towards home. I am revitalized. I am intent on completing. I look down at my tracker, only .5 miles left…what shocked me even more than this stranger’s impeccable timing for a pick-me-up was the lyrics to the next song.

“I’ve been thinking ’bout time and where does it go

How can I stop my life from passing me by, I don’t know

I’ve been thinking ’bout family and how it’s going so fast

Will I wake up one morning just wishing that I could go back?

I’ve been thinking ’bout lately, maybe

I can make a change and let you change me

So, with all of my heart this is my prayer

Singing oh Lord, keep me in the moment

Help me live with my eyes wide open

‘Cause I don’t wanna miss what you have for me”

-Jeremy Camp, “Keep Me in the Moment”

The Hoover Dam couldn’t have held back the tears (sweat or no sweat). My God, thank you! Thank you for keeping me in the moment. Thank you for never giving up on me, even when I want to give up. Help me, Lord, to live with my eyes wide open. Abba, you are such a good father, and I don’t wanna miss ANYTHING you have for me. I will push through. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13).

I pass my house because the tracker says I have not quite reached my goal of 2.23 miles, my initial purpose. The last song on my trek? Steffany Gretzinger’s “No One Ever Cared for Me like Jesus.” KID. YOU. NOT.

This morning’s run was an experience like none other. I had set out with one purpose: I was running for a cause. God had another purpose.

I cannot fathom what Ahmaud Arbery’s family is going through, especially today, but I pray they feel loved. Loved by countless people running across the globe today, whom they will probably never see, in memory of their son. Loved by God in such a palpable way that transcends any pain. Loved by a man, they never met, who also died…so they could one day be reunited with their son in a perfect world.

Thank you, Lord, for revealing yourself to me today. I am in awe of your greatness! Yahweh, please place your hand on our world. We are a broken people. Help us move into your fold, so we might stop seeing ourselves as different at all…only loved. In your son’s most holy and precious name I pray, Amen.

Beauty in the Mess

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Beauty in the Mess

The great myth: we are in control of our lives.

I think, especially on whatever number quarantine day we are in today, the recent worldwide events have proven otherwise. We are arrogant in our thinking, naive in our believe system, and just plain stubborn to our core. Yesterday was a prime example…

Because I knew things were beyond control outside of our four walls, I cooked up grandiose plans of how this Easter would look inside our home. We would wake up early, bright eyed and bushy tailed, to greet our children at the bottom of the stairs, so we could meet the morning head on with excitement as we joined together in our “traditional” Easter basket opening celebration. Reality? My husband and I woke up late, as in after 10am late, because we had stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, only to be suddenly awakened by the blaring of the truck alarm in our driveway at 4:30am. Thankfully, nothing was broken, nor appeared to be taken, but the event kept our hearts pumping and brains spinning, making the subsequent minutes following flow like molasses on a cold day. Regaining sweet slumber was as hard to find as toilet paper! About 10:30am, once the coffee finally began to do its magic and both kids came outside (past the baskets waiting in full view) to get us, we strolled back into our designated spots on the couch and very anti-climatically “opened” our Easter baskets.

Having taken note of the day’s first “failed” moment, I thought, it’s ok…we can still salvage this! We’ll go on to collectively (and cheerfully) make cookies, which we would never have time for on a “normal” Easter Sunday, dress up, take pictures, set the dinning room table with our china, and eat while video chatting with family. Yeah, I know—grandiose, social media worthy, wishful thinking.

Breakfast was a bit haphazard, because it was so late, but we made a plan for the rest of the day. I got busy preparing the cookie dough so it had time to set up in the fridge. For whatever reason, I decided buffalo chicken wings would be on the lunch menu today. I do them in the air fryer (ie “healthy” right?) and they are incredibly labor intensive. During the in between wing rotations, we roll out the dough and cut out our shapes. Timers are going off every few minutes (was that one for the cookies or wings?), and things were much more chaotic than I’d envisioned. Cookies cooling and wings ready, we decide to eat lunch upstairs while watching Pitch Perfect 2 (because that’s totally what you think of for Easter, right?). We munched with messy buffalo sauce-covered fingers and laughed at the inappropriateness of the movie.

Upon re-entry of the world from “the man cave,” we realized it was 5pm. Cookies still needed decorating and delivering (in social distancing appropriate fashion), dinner required attention (as in starting), clothes changed from our shorts and t-shirts, pictures taken, china placed, and family video meeting organized. We set to work on our designated tasks, charging ahead as “planned.”

About 7pm, when dinner was “supposed” to be served in actual serving dishes, upon our dinning room table so we might enjoy it on our fine china, I had another reality check. I was just now back from our stealth cookie delivery operation. Dinner was at least thirty minutes out. The puzzle and other paraphernalia still commandeered our dining room table. The dishwasher was finally done running for what seemed like the 80 billionth time this month. And, we were still clad in our casual clothes.

I looked at my family and decided this is was not only good enough but beautiful in its disarray. We microwaved slices of ham in the microwave because, despite spending a couple hours in the oven, it was still cold in the center. We served from the stovetop, ate at the dinner table on “fine” disposable plasticware, in our shorts and t-shirts. We laughed as we talked about the movie we’d watched, incorporated song title references into our conversation (a silly game we play), and pushed the green beans to the side of our plates because they flat did not taste right.

After eating our respective dinners, we “Zoomed” with some family, which was an absolutely hilarious spectacle. Cousins in their bedrooms on laptops, some with magical backgrounds, others with screen savers not wanting to be seen. Louder than normal voices, repeating what we’d just said, heard from the room next door (as to limit the feedback) so the people outside of our four walls on the other side of the screen could hear us. Laughter at the odd camera angle of one participant. Unexpected wonderful chaos.

It wasn’t what I’d imagined.

It certainly wasn’t what I’d planned.

But in the middle of the mess, it was an absolutely perfect day. Against all odds, we managed to scrap the superfluous stuff and something beautiful emerged: a non-picture perfect day of events which will forever be captured in my mind. And most importantly, a gentle reminder dispelling the myth that we are in total control of the events within our lives. Truth be told, we never were…and I am one day closer to actually accepting that reality. I pray that whatever your Easter looked like, it was filled with incredible joy that our risen Savior planned for us oh so many years ago.

Transform Not Conform

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Transform Not Conform

November 19, 2019

As I looked down at my taco, thankful it was especially hearty this morning, I had an idea. I would do the unthinkable—open up the tortilla, spread out my breakfast, and eat it with a fork. It seemed completely ludicrous as I did this; however, I was able to take my time as I savored it. I was able to enjoy a normal forkful, instead of a monstrous mouthful. I was able to prolong my meal, not worrying about speed or size of each bite for fear of its filling falling out and spilling everywhere. I ate, peacefully and purposefully, relishing in this newfound novelty I’d discovered, enabling me to intentionally slow down something could have easily become robotic and mechanical. Applying the unwritten “code” on the taco-eating program.

At first, I didn’t understand the stares I received. Was there something on my face? Did I spill on my shirt? Then, as I looked around, I realized I was the only one “sacrilegiously” eating my breakfast taco. It was obvious this was simply odd behavior. Finishing scanning the tables in front of me, my eyes landed on a man seated off to my left side. He too had decided against the “traditional” taco eating tradition, and as he brought his fork up to his mouth, our eyes met. Briefly, a smile flashed across his face, an acknowledgement, if you will, of our unspoken bond before he took his bite. I returned the favor, raised my fork, gave him a little nod and smile in “cheers” fashion. Happily, I went back to enjoying my breakfast.

When I finished eating, I looked over again towards my comrade, and noticed he’d already left. I was slightly saddened, as if I’d missed an opportunity. Though we had not spoken a word to each other, I felt we’d made a connection. It was an “I see you” moment— a recognition and validation of the other. How much a stranger’s approval meant in that moment made me realize how difficult it is for us to go against the grain and do something “outside” of the norm.

“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect” (Romans 12:2 NLT).

So often we look at others, longing for acceptance, and believe if we could just duplicate their actions, we too would be included, valued, respected. This type of conformance is not only confining, trapping us in a copycat mindset, it derails us from fulfillment of His purpose.

We only have one lifetime to figure out how we want to spend eternity. It’s up to us to step out, make ourselves available to receive His direction—no matter how outside of the box everyone else finds it. And in the following, we are perfect in our obedience, which pleases Him beyond measure.

All this from a taco, I know. His revelations come in unique ways for each of us. There was no mold when you were formed, my friend. When we will stop unnecessarily trying to cram ourselves into one?

I’m Sorry

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I’m Sorry

I corrected myself. “I’m actually not sorry. I have no reason to apologize.”

Increasingly often, I find myself saying “sorry,” and I’m not sure why. Why do I feel the need to apologize on someone else’s behalf? Why do I feel the need to apologize when I’ve done nothing wrong? Why do I feel the need to apologize when I’m the one hurting, crying, frustrated, or upset? Why am I sorry?

If I’m honest with you, I will confess that a majority of my “sorry’s” are not actually heartfelt towards the receiver. “I’m sorry you have to put down your phone and come to the table.” “I’m sorry you have to help me.” I’m sorry you have to put away the clothes I’ve washed, dried, and folded.” These “I’m sorry’s” are covered in sarcasm and drenched in exasperation. They are not sincere nor do they seek forgiveness. They are knives hurled at the other person in a retribution effort for whatever “crime” I feel they have committed.

Does this make me mean? Probably…

Does this make me feel better? Briefly…

Does this help the situation? Not really.

These types of “I’m sorry’s” are not only unhelpful, they are unwholesome. And yet, they come out of our mouths more frequently than do genuine requests for forgiveness. They are used in attempts to make us feel better while intentionally jabbing the other. They are not kind, and simply put, they meant as malice, masking our true feelings.

No wonder we are so skeptical of everyone and everything! When what comes out of our mouths are not rooted in kindness, truth, and love, we become hardened, because we suspect everyone is doing the same. We build walls around ourselves and our hearts in protection. We hide behind carefully crafted facades so that we might feel safe and “in control,” when those very barriers do nothing other than keep us separated from the people we want acceptance from. Marinade in that one for a minute…

We must temper and soften our “sorry’s” back to their original place of an apology, or appeal for forgiveness. We must eradicate the ever popular “sorry not sorry” phrase from our vernacular. We must stop passive aggressively seeking to put ourselves above one another. We must remove our cloaks as well as our daggers. We must admit when we are wrong, even and especially when we feel we’ve been slighted in the process.

Wrong in our motives. Wrong in our words. Wrong in our behavior.

“If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:8-9 NIV).

I am sorry for my contribution to this spiteful act.

I will focus on the intention behind the words I speak.

I do ask for a transformation of my heart today, to more closely resemble that with which is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy…and put these into practice, so that I may feel His peaceful presence (see Philippians 4:8-9 NIV).