Automobile Insight: Overdiagnosis

Automobile Insight: Overdiagnosis

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I shared how my car not starting led me to a revelation of spiritual truth in my last blog post, but I guess I still have a lot to learn. My car still won’t start.

We have seemingly gone through everything. Tested the battery: it is fine. Tested the starter: it is fine. Located and removed every fuse and relay in the car and all are functioning properly. Ran electricity straight to the starter and it cranks up the engine, which seems to be just fine. So why won’t the car start when I turn the key in the ignition?

I am a creative person, but ultimately I have the mind of an engineer. I am a fixer. Just visualize the person in your life that is the most likely to try to fix everything–all the time, overanalyzing everything along the way–and multiply that by like 100 and that is me. I can’t stand when things are broken or just inefficient. And the “whats” in fixing isn’t ever enough for me, I must also understand all the “whys.” As in, I don’t just want my car to start, I want to know why it isn’t starting now.

I may have become slightly delirious given all that has happened this week, most predominantly the poison ivy rash that has developed into splotchy red and insanely itchy patches all over my body and one location of gnarly looking blisters at what I’m assuming is the unfortunate location where I came into direct contact with the poison ivy oil before spreading it around my skin. My only desire at this point is to go to sleep and wake up when it’s all over. In normal circumstances, I would go full-throttle in uncovering the mysteries of my car and disregard everything else until I found my “why.” However, these aren’t normal circumstances, my body is weak and tired with all my resources being diverted to healing my annoying rash. Just put a pin in it. I’ll worry about the car when I have enough energy to drive it.

At least that is what I would have done. This time. Because of the circumstances. But, now that I’m married, everything isn’t just about me.

In my crippled state, my husband decided to carry the fixer torch for me. I would come home from work, fall asleep on the couch as he spent hours tinkering with the car desperately seeking the solution to get my car started again. In retrospect, I should have been grateful and showered him with praise for staying up late night after night chasing every lead when I didn’t have the strength. But, I didn’t do that. No, instead I just got upset and even snapped at him a few times for not waiting for me, “I thought we were going to work on the car together. I thought you said we were a team,” and for buying parts, “Why would you spend all that money on parts if you don’t know if we actually need them or not?!”

The frustration continued to build as I watched my husband get so fixated on fixing the car, he didn’t seem to be thinking straight. I really became concerned about my car as I had flashbacks to that one time my brother took apart a lawnmower and couldn’t remember how to put it back together. You can’t just take everything apart haphazardly. Won’t help my car start if it’s in a pile of pieces. No disassemble! Anyone else remember Henry’s Awful Mistake? The extermination of a single ant in the kitchen is not worth the destruction of your entire house.

I started to worry that my husband was so far into the weeds, he’d lost sight of what was important–that we get the car to run. Even if it cost money and requires us to take it to an auto mechanic. Even if the mechanic gives us a running car and can’t explain why it wasn’t running before or how he fixed it. Having a running car is what is important. So, I marched out to the garage late one night and encouraged him to come inside and get some sleep because as much as I appreciate what he’s trying to do, he’s really just running a risk of causing more damage when he’s too tired to function properly.

My mind started to turn through the whys of my darling husband’s actions. He is adamant about getting at least 8 hours of sleep every night. He falls asleep on the couch if we’re watching TV past 9 PM. He’s usually the calm one, no worries, no problems. And here he is staying up until 1 AM with tunnel vision on finding the problem with my car. Why couldn’t he just take a break to regroup? Let it go. Chill out a bit.

I am going to blame the poison ivy for my delay in processing the information, but the irony finally hit me that this must me how my husband feels about me. All the time.

It is possible to overdiagnose a problem. The medical community actually has a growing problem with overdiagnosis as thousands undergo “preventative” treatments they may not even have and others are being diagnosed with diseases that have no treatment and thus leave the patient with a lower quality of life drown in fear and anxiety over something they can’t change or control.

I personally find it important to understand the whats and whys; but I’m starting to learn how important it is to keep yourself from being consumed by asking questions and seeking solutions. Not everything that is broken needs to be fixed.

My husband got caught up trying to fix my car. Meanwhile, I’ve been caught up for years trying to fix his life. Magnifying and rehashing everything from his past. Trying to find a solution to repair the relationship between him and his ex, so our children can witness their parents having a healthy working relationship, like I know something he doesn’t about a relationship he was in for 20 years. I might be trying a little too hard. Just maybe.

I’m astounded once again by how much this man loves me.

Love is the answer. In case you were still wondering. The second lesson from my car that won’t start is a demonstration of unconditional love. Love is the why behind my husband’s seemingly bizarre behavior, and the driving force behind the persistence to pursue at all cost. My husband loves me and knows how much my car means to me, and just wants me to be happy. I’m glad he is also mature enough to already know this and appreciate the overdiagnostic fixing I try to implement out of my love for him.

Love truly is the greatest gift. Don’t squander it.

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body [a]to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:1-13 NKJV

Automobile Insight: Unmet Expectations

Automobile Insight: Unmet Expectations

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Monday morning I was going through my normal routine, I got in my car to go to work and turned the key…

I’m a person of high expectations, and my expectations for my car is that it runs–every time I turn that key. I spent the time and money laying the groundwork to meet that expectation. I bought a brand new car, a reliable brand and model. I am adamant about taking care of it. I have done everything I can to maintain the expectation I have. It is the most expensive thing I’ve ever purchased (and by myself). I’ve had it for over 10 years. I’ve kept up with the maintenance, and have never had an unexpected repairs. I’ve done everything imaginable to keep that car in a condition where I can always count on it to start and take me where I need to go. Every time.

Monday apparently missed that memo. I turned the key and… nothing. Nothing happened. Well, all the dash lights lit up like a Christmas tree, but there was no sound–not even an inkling that the engine was even trying to start.

I am just going to be honest here, I don’t handle unmet expectations well. I am a detail-oriented and very strategic person who plans and prepares so things will go as expected. No surprises. That is what I like. That is what I expect. So, the car not starting thing didn’t go over well. Especially on a day my husband had gone out of town with a friend to go kayaking and I was breaking out in a poison ivy rash I just hadn’t noticed yet… needless to say, by the end of the day I felt I was living out a storybook. Mel and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

The car situation pales in comparison to the other unmet expectations in my life. But serves as a perfect metaphor. Your car won’t start and everyone around you has an answer or judgement. You become frustrated and defensive– “No, I didn’t leave a light on and drain the battery. No, I didn’t forget to fill the gas tank. Seriously, stop looking at me like that. I did everything right. This should not have happened.”

Our expectations say it shouldn’t happen. But it did.

Same thing happened with my career. I went to school and worked my butt off. I was an honor student who studied non-stop, graduated in the top 20 students of my high school class, was offered multiple college scholarships, went to college and continued my dedication to education over socialization, duel majored in growing and competitive industries (Communication and Technology), graduated with honors and a passion to use everything I learned to make an impact in the next place I landed. Well, where I expected to land: a career in the field I spent my whole life preparing for. But when I turned the key, that car didn’t start either. It’s been over a decade since I graduated and I still don’t have a job in “my field.”

My expectations were that if I followed the plan and worked hard I would get the job I wanted. I followed the plan. It just didn’t work the way I thought it would. So far none of the redirections along the way have fixed it either. It just is. I have to live everyday knowing my life just isn’t what I expected and no plan is impervious to unforeseen circumstances. Most of our expectations are unwritten and unspoken. I never really thought about my expectation of my car starting every time I turned the key, but it came barreling to the forefront of my mind the moment it wasn’t met.

My car not starting is sad, wasting my potential in a job where I feel underutilized is depressing, but not being able to diagnose and fix the brokeness in my family is life shattering.

When I married my husband I knew things wouldn’t be easy forever bonding myself to a family shattered by divorce. However, I still had expectations that things would be better than they are. I guess I thought I was immune to surprises, having come from a broken home myself. That I had the answer key, and a map to all the landmines so we could cross the desert without igniting any fatal explosions. But, sometimes I turn that key and the car doesn’t start.

For the three years we have been married, I have daily walked past the bedroom we set up for our stepchildren–a room that they have never used. It breaks my heart to see it empty, I can only imagine how much more it hurts my husband. I long for something I have never had, but he longs for something he lost–the children he created and raised. He recalls fabulous memories of camping and fishing with his kids and remembers a better time; while I have only dreams of my imagination of what I wish for things to be like. We both have our own unspoken expectations. If we allow those expectations to go unchecked and sideswipe us when they go unmet, it can destroy us, our marriage, and our family.

Take a lesson from me and my car: be cognizant of your expectations of things and people. Don’t allow yourself to drift into despair when things don’t go as you expect. We have terrible seats for analyzing our entire lives, our perspective is incredibly distorted being right in the middle of it. I don’t know why my car wouldn’t start Monday, or why we still can’t figure out what is wrong with it, but someone else does. Maybe I just needed to learn this lesson. Maybe I needed more patience. Maybe if my car had started Monday morning, I would have died in a fiery car crash on my way to work. Afterall, while my job seems like a huge mistake that took me down the wrong/unexpected path–if I hadn’t struggled after college I wouldn’t have moved, if I hadn’t moved I wouldn’t have gotten the job I have now, if I hadn’t gotten the job I have now I wouldn’t have met and married my husband, and if I hadn’t married my husband I wouldn’t have started this blog. So who’s to say things aren’t meeting expectations? Just not mine.

So, if you put your key in the ignition and your expectations aren’t met the moment you turn it to the “start” position, try not to be upset. Re-evaluate your expectations. And praise God for knowing what you need every moment of every day. He is not worried about my car never starting again, or my job never bringing me fulfillment, or my family being broken forever, no, God has a much better perspective of the big picture. He is aware of all the work my husband and I have put into building a foundational marriage to break the cycle of divorce for our children, and all the preparations we have made in our home and our hearts for the day our children come home. Maybe I’ve seen the film Field of Dreams one too many times, but I truly believe our work will pay off and my family will be reunited. God sees all of your hard work, too. He is using our struggles to teach us, because our God isn’t a God of meeting expectations, He really prefers to exceed them.

“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.”  James 1:2-8 NKJV

Father’s Day Special

Father’s Day Special

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As I think about Father’s Day and the Anniversary of me starting this blog, I thought it would be a good time to do something a little special and share an excerpt from a novel I am working on. The book is entitled, “Busted Hearts.”

Tristan felt a tug on his shirt and turned looking down at an energetic four year old with a sparkle in his big brown eyes and world class grin across his face.

“Mr. Tristan! Mr. Tristan!”

“What is is, Billy?” Tristan asked, stooping down to get eye-level with the little boy.

“This is for you,” Billy said while the smile that already engulfed his face seemed to get impossibly larger.

Taken aback, Tristan stuttered for the words to say, “Uh, Billy, this is supposed to be a gift for your dad.”

The little boy’s smile faded as he looked down at his shoes, “I know, but… but I don’t have a dad.” He continued to study the floor as his expression teatered between an onrush of sadness and deep contemplation.

A flood of emotions passed of Tristan. He had really stepped in it this time. How was he going to fix this? Poor kid.

“You could give it to your mom,” Tristan quickly threw out the first thing that came to mind.

Billy giggled as the smile returned to his face and he replied with a playful, but confident tone, “You’re so silly Mr. Tristian! Mommys can’t be daddys!”

Tristan was relieved that the awkward moment of sadness had passed as fast as it had arrived, but remained at a loss as to what to do next. Thankfully, the little boy took the lead.

“Daddy’s are boys!” Billy continued between more giggles. “Daddy’s are big boys–like you, Mr. Tristan. Daddy’s are strong and they take care of you and teach you how to be a big boy… and they play games with you!”

Tristan struggled to process the words coming out of the little boy’s mouth. His mind transported him back into time, looking down at his own son when he was about the same age as Billy. Dante’s eyes were a striking dark green, but held the same sparkle and passion as Billy’s brown ones. At least they had. Then. It has been a long time since Dante’s eyes has displayed that kind of energy and life. Tristan was overwhelmed with fear as he worried: Will my little boy ever be the same? Will he ever have that sparkle of joy in his beautiful green eyes again? Will I ever even get a chance to see those eyes again?

Billy stood there still holding out the Father’s Day craft they had worked on during Sunday School class, “Pleeease, you can be my at church daddy” Billy pleaded while waiting for Tristan to accept his gift.

Tristan couldn’t find words, but nodded in agreement and accepted the necktie-shaped foam cut out with “#1 Dad” sprawled across it. He just stared down at the word “Dad” as he stood up and the feelings of doubt and despair rushed over him. I don’t think I’m much of a dad, Tristan thought to himself, much less a number one ranked dad. My kids hate me. They never want to see me again. I’ve hurt them, ruined them. I’m no dad. Certainly not one anyone wants.

Tristan’s self-deprecating thoughts were cut short as little Billy brought him back into the present moment. Tristan looked down again, this time Billy had his arms wrapped around Tristan’s legs and let out a quiet confirmation of his intentions, “I love you, Mr. Tristan.”

Tristan’s eyes darted around the room to see if anyone else had seen what just happened. Sure enough, his eyes met with the downcast glare of Ms. Betsy. He had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking right now, too. It was the same look his wife had given him to remind him of what a true disappointment he was: Tristan, the man who doesn’t listen. Tristan, the slob. Tristan, the failure.

Tristan wished he could pick up the little boy and hold him close and tell him that he loved him too. But in this day and age, a man can’t even touch his own children without being suspected of malicious intentions–let alone someone else’s child.

Daily Forgiveness

Daily Forgiveness

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They say “forgive and forget,” but you can’t really ever forget. You never forget. You never forget the pain when people hurt you. It stays with you like a scar, a tattoo upon your heart.

But you have to forgive.

You need to forget. You long to forget so you can move past the pain and into a future without it, free from the pain. Unfortunately, this is one of those times in life when you have to be realistic about what is and is not possible. You can not forget your past. You cannot remove pain entirely from your life. You cannot eliminate the perpetrators of your pain from this earth–or even just from your life.

However, you can forgive. You can choose to not hold a grudge, to not seek revenge. And you can choose to love unconditionally. The problem with those choices is that it’s not a “one and done’ kind of thing where you forgive and release your feelings, choosing to love your enemy going forward, and you get all warm and fuzzy and never look back, and never get upset about it again. At least I have never experience that–if you have found a way to do it, I need to come and learn your ways!

Without the magic of “forgetting,” our only hope is endurance and persistence. That choice, the choice to forgive and overlook (not forget or condone) wrongdoings–to choose to view people from God’s perspective–that choice is a daily choice. Every. Single. Day.

You have to forgive.

Every.

Single.

Day.

Because the people who hurt you will never just magically disappear. Your life will never be completely free from pain. In order to free yourself from the bondage of forgiveness, headed down a trail of bitterness towards a lifetime of anger and resentment–you’ll have to commit to forgive those who hurt you. Every Single Day.

So, take the first step. Choose forgiveness today. But keep things in perspective because you probably won’t feel much different tomorrow. Forgiveness isn’t a single action, it’s a lifestyle. Forgiveness requires you to choose love. Every. Single. Day.

How do you choose to love someone you don’t feel like loving? You pray. Jesus instructed us specifically to pray for those who hurt us. Do you know why? I’m sure they probably need prayer since God will bring the vengeance for their evil actions against us. But I don’t think that is why Jesus instructed us to pray. I believe Jesus was giving us the key to forgiveness, showing us how He was able to forgive while he was a man. So if you don’t feel like praying for the person who hurt you, be even more encouraged to do so. Because those prayers will soften your heart and allow you to truly forgive.

The Most Depressing Time of the Year

The Most Depressing Time of the Year

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I love Christmas. Love. With a passion. You will definetly see me skipping around this time of year, wrapping everything I get near and singing “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” while watching Hallmark movies nonstop,  but it doesn’t always feel that wonderful.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years all pile up to form a trifecta of togetherness that can overwhelm anyone who is separated from a loved one and lead them down a dark drag of depression and desperation. I have countless stories of of tears and drama that make up the ghosts of my Christmas’ past. One of the hardest things is dealing with a crash of reality after taking on an extra expectation of miracles… because it’s Christmas–the time for miracles, right?

My husband and I are still waiting on our Christmas miracle (or anytime miracle for that matter). 2017 marks the sixth Christmas we have spent together. Our memories together are joyous and wonderful things to celebrate–and I have the Hallmark ornaments to prove it! However, this time of year (and every moment we celebrate throughout the year) is a double-edged sword of joy and heart break. 2017 also marks the sixth Christmas we have spent alienated from our children.

Every year I hold onto the hope that the magic of Christmas will bring peace and reconciliation, and so far every year I have been disappointed. The more I hope, the harder I hurt. But I cannot stop believing. I will not stop believing. God intends to heal our family. My job is to wait and trust. And I will continue to do as I have every year, and trim the tree, wrap the gifts, and stuff the stockings in the anticipation of my family being whole at Christmas. One day it will be. And that will be the most wonderful time of our lives.

Christmas_2017

Your Choice

Your Choice

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God has been dealing with me a lot lately about praying for those who persecute me. One thing is for sure: I don’t want to. Honestly, I’d rather stew in anger and hope they rot in hell for making my life a living hell. That is not the Christian way, and definitely not what Jesus would do. It seems fair in my rational earthly mind. But life is not about being fair, it’s about doing what is right. God loves all of his children, and in order to become like God, we have to learn to do the same. The quickest way to melt the cold hard feelings of resentment and bitterness is to love the object of our pain by gaining new perspective. Anyone hurting you, is hurting themselves and in desperate need of love. Instead of heaping more anger and pain, we have to learn to forgive and pray that they would find their own peace and security so they can love their self, so they can love others.

An open letter to everyone who has hurt me:

Everyone gets to make their own choices in life. I apologize on behalf of the people in your past who taught you otherwise. The people who attempted to control you and make your choices for you. They were wrong in stealing what was yours. They were wrong in teaching you to repeat that behavior in an attempt to validate yourself by controlling others. What you have lived through and the pain you have endured is not right and it is not fair. However, your past pain does not give you the right to continue the cycle by inflicting the same pain onto others.

Speaking life and hope or speaking death and destruction into the lives of others is your choice. Forgiveness or bitterness is your choice. Praying for those who persecute or attempting to manipulated and control others is your choice. Allowing grace or pursuing revenge is your choice.

You cannot use what others have done to you as an excuse for our own actions. From this day forward, know that every choice you make is yours alone. You will be held accountable for your choices. You may choose to try and control other people’s choices, but even if you are successful at first, it will never really work because they have the same right to their choices as you. And they will be held accountable for their choices, just as you are for yours.

Use your freedom of choice to set yourself free.

Choose Life.

Choose Love.

Choose Freedom.

Choose Forgiveness.

Choose to Pray.

I have made my choice. No matter what you do, what you say, what you choose. I choose to love you. I choose to forgive you. And I choose to pray for you.

Love Always,

In HIM,

Mel

The Climb

The Climb

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I was frustrated, annoyed, broken, and feeling helpless… so, I took off on hike to clear my head. I told myself, “I’ll get out deep in nature away from everything,” but that proved to be much harder than I anticipated. First, I had to pick the trail. From our cabin, there were two directions I could go in (1) take the local, wide trail used by bikers on property, or (2) travel a section of the Appalachian Trail that is narrow, rocky, and pretty much goes straight up a mountain. Since  I’m a total Type-A “Finisher,” taking the Appalachian Trail seemed like a bad call, seeing as how I could not finish the trail and and would always want to keep going. So, I opted for the easier trail, but I heard so many voices in that direction and was reminded that I wanted to get away from noise. Sigh. Guess, I’ll have to go the hard way. So, I set off on a section of the Appalachian Trail wondering how far I would end up going.

“I’ll just go a mile in and find a place to sit down and write,” I told myself. Just calm down and enjoy nature. But, I couldn’t. The frustrations continued as I climbed, while I could hear the birds and the rush of the white water flowing down the Nantahala River, I could also still hear the cars driving along the highway; which appeared to run parallel to the trail. “Am I really going to have to listen to trucks driving by the entire way?!? Can’t I just get away!” I was tired, still frustrated, and growing ever more impatient with my path. It’s so narrow and one side drops straight down. Large rocks and tree roots are scattered about the pathway, so I have to pay attention to where I walk. I keep pressing on. No big deal. I’ll just keep going until it clears out and there is a big rock to sit on to relax. I kept climbing. Finally, I hit a curve in the path that revealed a big rock cropping, and thought, “this is perfect” while setting my bag down and taking a seat to rest and drink some water. I could see and hear the rush of the water… what a beautiful place. Then, I heard a large truck going by. Great. Looking out past the water, oh yeah there it is, the highway still following me. “Leave me alone! I just want to get away from the noise and pressure of civilization!” So I grabbed my stuff and kept going. Haven’t really hit a mile yet anyway, I can keep going and still make my way back. Surely, I can hit a quiet space before getting in too deep. So, I kept climbing. For a while the path seems to just continue to wind around the mountain, with little opportunity for openings… what if there aren’t any more rocks? What if I keep going and going and never find a better place? Maybe I should go back? Maybe I should have taken the other trail after all. Or just stayed back in the cabin and sat outside on the porch? God, what am I doing?

That’s about the time I started to notice the analogy that God was using my trip to teach me a lesson about life. He says “Narrow is the path and few find it”… this path is surely narrow, and I haven’t see a soul since I started out on it. Oh my gosh, what if I get bit by and snake and die out here because I set out on the trail alone?! What if I take a turn somewhere and can’t remember how to get back? God seemed to say to me “Relax, just trust me. Keep going.” Ugh. So, I climbed on. But my mind continued to wander. I finally found another rock. This time it protruded from the path. Just big enough for me to sit on, and be out of the way if someone happens to come by, which didn’t seem likely at this point. All those passing through probably left much earlier in the day and where way ahead of me. I looked down at my FitBit, and realized I’ve been about my mile now… also the climb was even steeper than I thought, since it calculated I had climbed the equivalent of 42 flights of stairs! Gee Whiz. “This is good,” I told myself. I can make this work, I mean, it’s kind of small and all… but I better stay here.

Then I heard the highway. Come on man! “Just rest. And don’t worry about what lies ahead,” He prompted. I used the Relax feature on my FitBit, to control and slow my breathing. For the first time, someone walked by… going in the opposite direction. I thought about stopping him and asking him about everything he’d seen, how far until it opens up, is there an nice area that I can go to sit and write? But I was reminded of another way my trip was like life… we can’t do that. Each of us has our own purpose and unique perspective and we can’t base our future on other’s past experiences. He looked like a serious Appalachian Trail hiker, probably gone many miles… he wasn’t looking for quiet alcoves God-made for writers. Had I asked, it probably would have just discouraged me further–there probably were several that he never saw, because that’s not what he was looking for, not his goal. This is my journey, and I’ve got my own guide. I just don’t trust Him all that much because He wont let me see the freakin’ map! Why can’t I just see the whole plan so I can KNOW.

Time to press on. “But how much further?” And all those questions flood back into my mind, and “What ifs”… But, I keep going. I start to build myself up with encouragement, hey, it looks like we’re finally turning away from the highway. I can hear more birds, feel more sunshine. This is great. I thought about life and complacency. The way we get somewhere and decided to stay with what we know instead of traveling further because we’d rather settle for what we know than to travel ahead into the unknown. Those first two places I stopped where nice, but not what God had in store for me. I passed another rock and then another and thought each time, “Well, I could stop here, but what if there is something better?” and kept on going. Now my confidence is growing, I’m trusting, I’m knowing. Something great is waiting for me, I just have to keep going. Then nothing. Passing more logs than rocks now. Oh great, I slip back into the sea of doubt, “I should have stopped back there.” I’ve made a mistake. Where are you taking me? I’m tired and thirsty. I only planned to travel a little ways. I only took a single bottle of water, which is more than half gone now… FitBit stair count has risen to almost 60. Dang, that’s a lot of stairs. I was too confident, now I’ve missed something… I can’t keep going, this trail goes on for a very long time. “Just trust me. You have everything you need for what you are going to do.”

Then I see it.

A perfect little spot, away from everything. And a rock formation that looks like a bench. Surrounded by trees and nature. Far enough away from the road, that I no longer hear a constant flow of cars, but only hear an occasional plane or train (and I love trains, so that’s cool with me). Can you imagine if I had stopped earlier? I never would have made it here. I could have made due with something else, but this, this is ideal. This is what I needed. This is what I really wanted. OK, it would have been even better if I was looking out at a beautiful waterfall, but I don’t even know if that is a possibility along this trail (at least as much as I can travel right now)… but maybe it’s just not the right time…

After I sat down to write, I started having hikers passing by one after another. And I realized a few other things.. (1) Most people are traveling alone (2) they have a lot more provisions than me (3) everyone has a different goal.

Our walk with God is very similar to hiking the Appalachian Trail. Those sounds of civilization are like the worldly influences we face in life. Once we are enraptured with God’s love, we think we’ve outrun the world, but it keeps following us, and occasionally catching up. We have to just keep pressing on. Our lives come with peaks and valleys. The hardest climb is to the peaks, but it comes with the greatest reward. So keep on climbing, and don’t be afraid to trust your guide.

Man of Sacrifice

Man of Sacrifice

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The other day my husband turned to me and asked, “How is it that every day you get more and more beautiful?” I smiled and replied, “Because I love you so much.”

Awwww. So sweet right? My husband is the best. And I am proud of my comparison to Sarah. That’s me so devoted to my husband and God, that I am blessed with great beauty… a princess.

The next morning I awoke, shaking away a strange dream. My husband and I were on a train, and I was sitting beside him, but pretending to sleep while he chatted with another passenger (my husband is the kind of man who has never known a stranger and seems to have a life goal to talk to every person on earth.) At some point the passenger points to me and makes a comment about my beauty and my husband tells him that I’m his sister.

Weird. I think God is trying to tell me something…  I reflect on the book I’m currently reading “This Crazy Little Thing Called Marriage” by Greg and Erin Smalley, and how at the last group meeting when we were discussing our husbands’ spiritual leadership one of the leaders asked everyone to describe their husband’s character with one word. I chose the word “sacrifice.” It was the first thing that came to mind, as my husband will constantly sacrifice himself, his dreams, his desires, for me, for his children. But after I said it aloud, I internally kicked myself because there were like a hundred “better” words I could have chosen. Or were there?

I know many of you are probably smarter than me and get things right away, but I can be kind of stubborn, so sometimes I have to be told things a hundred times before I listen…

My husband and I are in a spiritual struggle right now, fighting for our family and our children. I tend to get pretty heated over the entire thing, because of my past. Great fear enters my mind for my husband’s children because I constantly picture them going through the struggles that I had while I was living with the consequences of my parents divorce. The thoughts, the actions, the words, the tears–all of it floods my memory. And I ache for their broken hearts. I know I’m not their biological mother, but I want so bad to save them from pain, to take on their pain so they don’t have to feel it. I love them with a love I never thought possible, even though they don’t even know me! And I want to save them from going through the same destructive years I lived in depression, fear, bitterness, and hatred. I want them to know nothing but love and happiness.

We got some bad news concerning the struggle and I was devastated. I tried to hide my tears from my husband. I tried to logically find a way to change our circumstances. But then I just broke down and cried out to God, demanding to know why everything keeps going wrong. Where are your promises?! Where is our victory?!

God replied by pointing out several things to me:

1.) Do YOUR Job.

It seems like I’m forever having this conversation with God:

“Stop trying to do MY job. You’re terrible at it.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“Your Job.”

“Which is what?”

“Wait.”

Sigh. “But I want to DO something!”

“Well, wait for me to finish doing my job and then I’ll tell you what needs to be done next.”

“OK.”

And then I start trying to meddle again because I don’t feel like anything is being done, and it starts all over again.

2.) Remember Your Story

I am often prompted with the question “How did your story end? You’ll have to hear my entire Salvation story another time, but the short version is that I’m alive today because someone interceded for me.  Anytime I question the power of prayer, God seems to bring that up… me being living proof and all.

3.) You’re not as spiritual as you think you are.

I often get a little high horsey, when it comes to the subject. I got saved when I was 8, and had an undeniable salvation story when I was 15. I’ve spent most of my life studying scripture, and have lived a relatively “spotless” life. Sometimes, it seems to intimidate my husband. He heralds me as the “prayer warrior” and lets me do all the praying, talking, leading Bible Study groups, and giving advice. So, I can tend to get so caught up in myself, I forget that my husband is the leader. I mean, looking at my resume, aren’t I the more “qualified” candidate? Um. No. Actually not. My husband has much greater faith than I do. Like Abraham. Abraham, the “Father of Faith.”

4.) You can’t steal HIS story.

I never really thought of it that way… but the logic is solid. It’s like trying to parent your kids by putting them in a plastic bubble. You can’t keep them from every bad thing. Even if you did, they wouldn’t be able to live a fulfilled life. My story comes from my deepest, darkest moments. Those are the moments when God shines through. You can try to keep your children from every type of harm; but doing so will also keep them from their purpose, their destiny. Because God turns pain into purpose. We are driven by our experiences. Without the moments that cause us to call out for God, we live like we have no need of Him. I can’t steal my husband’s story, or my children’s stories; I can only live out my own and allow God to write theirs.

 

So, to sum it up, after three consecutive messages I received it: God thinks my husband is strong like Abraham. I should too. I see the evidence every day. One of the greatest stories of Abraham is his willingness to sacrifice Issac for the Lord. One day my husband’s legacy will be similar–having to be willing to lose his son in order to save him.

It’s important to note that God never expected Abraham to actually sacrifice his son, God was interested in Abraham’s heart. God judges us by our heart, not our actions. God is interested in the why not the what. So, if you’re going to be like Sarah, be the Sarah who grew more beautiful everyday for respecting her husband. Don’t be the Sarah who freaked out when Abraham left to make a sacrifice with her only son, likely traumatizing herself with her thoughts–that ended up being totally off the mark. Trust your God. And trust your husband. Your husband is well-intentioned and acting on his heart. Chances are your husband is scared to death of what he is doing, he just has more faith than you in the final outcome.

Must See New Film: “Priceless”

Must See New Film: “Priceless”

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Next week is the theatrical release of the movie “Priceless.”


Check out our special message with Joel on our YouTube Channel.


And then, check out the official movie trailer.

 

Ready to join us on October 14, 2016 to watch the film?!? I believe this film has the capacity to change the film industry as it relates to “faith-based” movies, opening doors the same way “October Baby” did for real, moving stories on hard-hitting subjects. Movies that challenge an internal evaluation and show Christian values, as opposed to a religion-focused message. After all, defining a person’s worth is not a religious issue, it is a human issue. At the very least, I think it will make an emotional impact on your life (In case you were wondering why I don’t say much in the video clip, Joel had just shown us some clips from the movie and they brought me to tears). 

You can read more about my “October Baby” experience here. And even though I have yet to see “Priceless,” you can read about the impact the message behind the movie has already had on me here.

What am I Worth?

What am I Worth?

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Five years ago I moved to a new city with a desire to restart my life. Looking back, I had no idea how different my life would become. It’s not really that I have changed into a new person, but more so that I have changed the way I think. The way I think about life, people, God, but most importantly: the way I think about myself.

I am a very involved individual. I’m tentative and cautious when making decisions, because I know that once I a make a decision I become fully invested, moving headstrong and feeling everything. Books, music, and movies are a very real part of my life because I feel everything so deeply. I grew up watching “Reading Rainbow” and fully believe that I can go anywhere or do anything that is in a book. Because I can. I have. I been transported to new worlds, because I feel so deeply. It is a real world with real impact on my real life.

If you had asked me several years ago about my worth, my shoulders would have dropped my eyes would have turned away and I would have searched desperately for something to say all the while wishing I could just disappear. My worth? Nothing. I am worth-less.

I spent a lot of time trying to outwardly convince others that I was special, but it didn’t help me to believe it about myself. There are many things I experienced over the span of five years that made me reevaluate my worth. I don’t have time to talk about them all, so I am going to focus on one. I want to preface this blog with the disclaimer that another person does not and can not define your worth. However, the people in our lives can help us to see our true worth. So, don’t confuse those two things, it is an important differentiation.

Growing up in a divorced home, I adamantly maintained the thought that I would never get married. Ever. Why would I? I have nothing to offer but brokenness, failure, and pain. And sheer pessimism, because marriage never works. I lashed out at a lot of good men who attempted to tell me otherwise, accusing them of trying to sweet talk their way into my pants.

I have since discovered that the truth is that marriage (and relationships in general) does (do) work, but only when the parties involved know their own worth. That means not defining your worth by the relationship itself or the other person.

In February of 2012 I attended a Winter Jam concert. I went to see my favorite band, Skillet. Since it is a $10 at the door event with no assigned seating, I camped out in front of the door for several hours so I could get in early and sit up front. I was alone, so my planned worked like a charm–one empty seat at the end of the second row. There was only one surprise that night, an opening band by the name of For KING & Country. They were only given a short time on stage, but they stole it. Three songs crammed together, with a simple banner hanging behind them; you would think it would be difficult in this scenario to find the impact, but their lyrics and the passion behind their music pierced through my soul. In particular, the song entitled “Busted Heart.” I knew I needed to hear it again, so during one of the breaks I made my way through the crowded concourses in the civic center looking for their merchandise table. At the table I found the duo selling their not-yet-released album for $5, while signing autographs and taking photos with fans. It reminded me of the first time I saw Skillet live, at a youth hall where they walked around talking with everyone after the show. Humble beginnings with the potential for amazing things.

If you don’t know anything about For KING & Country you should know this, brothers Luke and Joel have a mantra: Priceless. They spend time at their shows defining a woman’s worth as “priceless” and calling men to a return to chivalry and a challenge to all to honor and respect one another. It reminds me of another moment from my past, as a teenager attending a Rebecca St. James concert where she talked about purity and challenged all in attendance to a vow of celibacy until marriage (Coincidentally enough, Rebecca is Luke and Joel’s sister). The messages are similar, but this one was more about who I am and not what I do. The priceless label applies with no strings attached. Respecting one another is an unconditional act, it is never “earned” or “deserved,” everyone should respect everyone else. If you’re a human, it’s what you do.

When I first heard the song, “Busted Heart” I was at a turning point in my life. I felt broken and worthless, but wanted so much more. I had spent so much of my life in church and I knew I could–I could find peace, happiness, joy–I just didn’t believe that I deserved it. I didn’t believe I was worth it. I cycled over and over again from being hopeful about changing my life and then sulking in depression of my past and never being able to outrun it. Like the lyrics from the song, I was “in need of a change” and “desperate for grace.”

Later that year, I met the man who would become my husband. My husband has an amazing heart and truly loves unconditionally. He was the first person I ever felt loved me without strings. He didn’t place unnecessary burdens or expectations on me. He didn’t love me for his own selfish gain. His respect of me was never altered by what I did or what I thought or what I believed. He just simply loved me. As I was.

I have spent so much of my life feeling as though people would only love me if… If I do this. If I say that. If I believe this. If I… [fill in the blank]. My husband showed me that not only could I be loved, but that I was loved. Just for being me.

My husband didn’t change my worth. But he did show it to me. Like a mirror, the way he treated me reflected back and reminded me of who I really was. He allowed me to see myself, instead of forcing something different on me. And I was accepting of what he was saying because I finally felt relief from the pressure of trying to prove myself.

Every human life is priceless. Period. No one or no thing can redefine your worth. You are priceless. You do not have to earn love or respect. You do not have to prove your worth. You just are. You are priceless.

I admire For KING & Country’s message and invite you to follow them. Listen to their music. Read their book. And on Friday, October 14, 2016 go see their new film “Priceless” and take a friend. It might just change your life.