Conversations about Religion can be rich and enlightening and I’ve had many conversations just like this. I’ve also had and experienced the exact opposite of that. And through each, I have learned so much... Again, this has been in my heart for a while and I’ve avoided sharing this, but the more I ignore , the clearer it is I need to get it down... so, here it is thus far...
1. What is your goal of a conversation about religion? To listen and learn different perspective? Or lambaste and lead other to be persuaded? The goals of those conversations couldn't be more different, and I will only participate in one of the above types of conversations in this subject matter. 2. Be cautious when you use any phrases with the word "Biblical" in it. Ex) "It's biblical!" "That's biblical". There is a vast difference between something that IS in scripture and Bible-Breathed and something that is a choice by Religious groups. Religion and the Bible are not synonymous with one another. Overlapping, yes... but NOT the same. How one Religion decides to organize their worship schedule or worship style is NOT the only way something can be done. Religious choices and Biblical Truths are not synonymous. 3. Be willing to see outside of your norm. You will never know when someone's testimony or faith journey will have the power to change how you view a subject matter or life experience. Take heart in knowing that our faith journey is unique to each one of us-God given as a matter of fact- and because of that our unique experiences have the power to shine light on others who haven't experienced the same thing. What a beautiful concept to think that not one of us will have the same exact journey with Christ than anyone else. Let's engage in story, be brave to share testimony, be humble to learn from each one, and be grateful for the molding being done by The One who started us and continues to refine us. 4. One on One- you and God- that needs to be the first, the constant, the first stop before anything. You can share as many verses with cute font and background as possible. You can join the Bible studies, hopefully not just for the free coffee and child care. You can go to a church multiple times a week and be counted for in attendance.... but if you are not setting aside time to be filled and challenged by The Big Guy Himself- you're simply missing it. It's not easy. Distractions will come in abundance. Most days it will take all of the discipline you can muster. It is HARD- hard, but good. This is a warning against agenda pushing and judgemental conversations. Conversations that aren't actually conversations (where sides are already formulating responses before the one speaking is complete). A warning against combative talk about Christ and His followers (doesn't that sound like an oxymoron?)! No matter your age, experiences or backgrounds we can ALL learn from each other and share and learn from one another faith journeys if we choose to listen more than we speak, keep a mind open to perspectives and insights new to us and above all ground ourselves in the Love that comes from the One who showed what love without condition truly is. What does that mean? Reckless love? We sing about it, read about it… but for real, what does it mean?
That’s how it all started… I started asking these questions. Little did I know, that I was about to embark on a journey where I not only got the answer but I was living, breathing, and sleeping the answer. Reckless love in the midst of crippling confusion. Steadfast love in the midst of despair and heart break. Reassuring love in the midst of unknowns on top of unknowns. This is what has become clear to me over the last few months… and that, for sure was not my intention…. but today, I sit here… in the midst of it all… with an overwhelming peace… because of this Reckless love… in the midst of all the other junk. Two months ago my world was shook after a year that was hard to begin with. Two months ago the norm that I have known for 12 years shifted drastically after decisions were made that I was not a part of. I had been praying for direction, clear direction to be precise, for a while now… and in the midst of this norm obliteration… I knew it was the clarity I was praying for…. and although I did not think it was going to look the way it did, none the less, it was there. In the midst of heartbreak, betrayal and brokenness- I had clarity and I knew I could navigate what next because of God’s Reckless love…. This is where the love showed up… in the midst of utter brokenness. Scared and sad… this is where the journey fueled by Reckless Love began. With confidence gone, feelings hurt, heart broken, and anger building…. I knew I had a choice on how to handle the next steps… so I retreated to my place that is safe… my turtle shell. This is an ugly but healing place. And it is here where I am raw and able to bear my soul. “Lord, I’m trusting you. I have no idea what is next… but I trust you.” 24 hours later is when my phone rang. “Hi Mom.” I said as I reluctantly even answered the phone. “Mellissa, I got a call to go and look at a store front downtown on Monday…. and I want you to come with.” My moms store where my hubby and I were vendors just closed in a yucky and sad way and we were all still healing from the end of THAT norm. What on earth? AND -Thanks but no thanks I wanted to say. I had just had my norm ripped out from under me and now I was supposed to go look at a new adventure to start… boom… just like that? Absolutely not. No confidence. No passion. I felt like I had nothing. Monday came and my mom called again… she asked me to come and look at the space. This space, that came out of nowhere. On the heels of my moms previous business just closing… this space fell into her lap. After resisting in her own way… She went to the space… not wanting to start anything new, only to find that the sweet owners of this building wanted it occupied as they were in the process of accessing funds via grants. So they wanted us to know that they didn’t want rent. They just wanted the space used and to pay utilities…. Huh? So I went to the space after learning this. We walked in to see a beautiful store front that had abounding potential for our little pop up shop for furniture and home decor. I was excited for my mom… but still wanted nothing to do with it at all. Then I saw the wall that separated the front space from the space that continued. I walked through the door and saw a floor that had the potential for something I had been dreaming about internally for a long time… a yoga studio. My thoughts began to swirl at potential and possibility. About the impact this small space could have on someone in need of rest, care, confidence building (oh wait, was this me? or someone else? both?). My mom knew the potential here… one space… two purposes, utilizing both of our passions. I looked at the wall that split both spaces and I said “thank you but no thank you. This space is too small for yoga.” “Take it down.” the owner said. Huh? You see, the space is going to turn into something else eventually. They are going to rip everything down to the studs… so the owner said… do with it what you will. We want this place used. What on earth. The reckless love seeped into this space and into these conversations. Suddenly the obliterated confidence and shattered heart began to shift into a space of …. what if? We prayed… we cried…. we resisted… we wondered…. and finally, we did it. There were so many instances in the course of the week as we were making this decision that led us to travel down this adventure. This adventure did not start because our hearts were broken but it did start the healing process and repair of our hearts. We needed to start a new norm, in the midst of worry mixed with hope. Worry about finances but hope for healing. Worry for purpose but hope for impact. Worry about the future but hope for guidance. All of it wrapped in reckless love that is clearer and clearer everyday as God continues to show up and gently remind us who WE are because of who HE is. So my new norm is still being sorted out. I wake up every morning to teach students who are learning English and live in China. I do this before my kids wake up. I began homeschooling my preschooler and prepping my kindergarten for a school change for next year. I am able to sub at a local gym that is so near and dear to my heart. I get to teach Sing Song Yoga with a non-profit ministry that I believe in boundlessly (see what I did there?) and I get to run a store with my mom and grandma. And this store is getting its very own yoga studio in it where I will be able to teach yoga to kids, teenagers and adults in a community that needs positive outlets of self care and self confidence for all age groups. This isn’t necessarily what I envisioned my current reality to be… but I know that God is here. He has us. His reckless love is always present but sometimes we are too loud to hear it. I’m learning that God still works to make that clear… even if He has to answer us with clarity that stings and surprises. So I am sitting in this new space… with gratitude, grit, and grace. I am looking forward with hope, perseverance and trust…. trust that we are loved. Trust that we will be taken care of…. Trust that we don’t always need to know WHY but assurance in the WHO that is a part of orchestrating it all. IT is here that I will care… deeply… because of reckless love but I will not carry it, because that isn’t my job right now, my job is to trust, and listen, and look for and receive this Reckless Love that shows up when I least expect it. No, I’m not dying. I’m taking a break. When did breaks become such a negative/weak stigma in our society? When did being constantly stressed and busy turn into a social standard that either knowingly or unknowingly people strive for? When did "busy" become a normal and excepted way to answer the question "how are you"? When did the chronic-more syndrome strike? Why is it, when people press pause, do others think that something is utterly wrong? How did we get here? I refuse to let myself live at this place and in this place of chronic stress and busy any longer. So I’m taking a break. I’m not dying, I’m actually going to breathe, and BE, and pause. When I declared this break, people asked if I was having health issues. Did I receive a bad diagnosis? No, I just need a break. Some wondered if my marriage was in trouble, "Are you and Chris OK?" My marriage is wonderful. I just need a break. Finances. Are they going bankrupt? Is there house in foreclosure? No! I’m just taking a break! Why must it be that the bottom needs to fall out of someone’s life in order for them to choose rest? In the last nine months I have had a student commit suicide, a surprise pregnancy followed by a devastating miscarriage, two babies in school, stress had an intense job, a family business closing and a schedule so packed that literally most minutes were claimed in every single day and none of them claimed for rest. So I decided to pause, even if not one of those occurrences in my life would have happened, I should still be "allowed" to pause. Taking a break so you can rest being has sure become counter-cultural. And this is not OK. Look at our world. We see a mental health crisis sweeping over multiple age groups. We see anxiety, in young people specifically, rising at a scary rate. We see health, relationships, and joy declining everywhere. We see the plague of "more" taking over. More time spent doing. More items and obligations on the calendar. More money. More followers. More busy. More, more, more! Stop. Pause. Breathe. Take a break. Rest, it leads to restoration. If we don’t rest. We will never be restored. We need to change our mindsets and what it means to take care of ourselves. We need to get rid of the stigma on self-care and rest. We need to lead by example for our young people to inspire the need to restore not the need for more. No! I am not dying. I am OK. I am simply taking a break. Care - not carry. We knew it was a miscarriage before we got the official call. We knew as we were sitting in the dark room looking at a sac that we had seen so beautifully twice before, but this time it was empty. Like a black hole. We knew that the baby was not there, and we were so confused with God.
This baby. Completely unplanned. Completely a whirlwind surprise. We had gotten home from a family vacation to find out we were pregnant, and no one was more shocked than my husband and I. We had two beautiful and wonderfully energetic kids and we were VERY clear and content with being DONE having kids. We were even preventing it, except there is this thing... a warning on the side of the box that tells you that this way of protection is 99% effective. So we, we were the 1%. I called my husband after taking the pregnancy test and he laughed till he cried and I cried until I laughed. We couldn’t help but acknowledge that this was Gods’ plan, another reminder that we were not in control. It took a few days after being in shock to acknowledge that this was our new norm. We had given away every single item associated to a baby and had not a onesie to our name. We told our kids, told our families, everyone else was shocked and excited and slowly, we too started to wrap our heads around God giving us a third, unexpected, wonderfully surprising third baby. And we vowed to figure it out and embrace everyone’s else’s excitement. I felt awful, which I knew was a good sign. Ate pasta for every meal for a week because everything else felt like the equivalent of eating raw chicken. My boobs were so sore the shower hurt and Oh Lord..... my gut was growing waaaaaay faster with this one than my other two. Here we go I thought,… Our first ultra sound was scheduled for my birthday. I thought this was a perfect way to ring in my 31st year, seeing the heart beat of our baby. My husband met me at the doctors office and we walked in with excitement and joy. I got on the table like I had done many times before and couldn’t wait to see the little blink of the growing baby that had been making me so sick and so tired. The ultra sound tech was quiet. Taking lots of measurements. Asking if I was sure that I had pregnancy symptoms. I wanted to tell her to ask me what I would do if something grazed my nipple right now and my answer should give her hers. She said that she wanted to try an internal ultra sound because she was wondering if I wasn’t as further along as what I thought . Totally a possibility, I thought, because again, this was a total surprise and I didn’t keep track of anything. Again the quiet. The tech said too little as she searched and searched. All we saw was a sac, my gestational sac, completely empty. Like a black hole. The tech got up and said she was going to consult with my OB. This was new. The other two times we were here for this, this did not happen. I started to tear up, but husband held my hand and told me all the right things, but my heart was worried and my mind was racing. I don’t remember much about the conversation with my ob other than there were two options here; I was either or as far along as I thought and it was truly too early to see anything or I was having a type of miscarriage called a blighted ovum, where basically every thing was growing except for baby. All the pregnancy structures and hormones were there, but baby either stopped growing or never grew. So she explained the week of tests that I would need to endure and she ended the talk by saying, “Happy Birthday”. I lost it. Worst birthday present I’ve ever had. The next five days were full of worry, confusion, blood test, pokes, questions and peeing in cups. My pregnancy hormone numbers kept rising but not at the level in which they should have, but everyone around me cheered hope and positivity... but I was down right scared and skeptical. We went in for our second ultra sound a week later and saw the growth in every structure but then again our eyes focused on the big black hole. No flicker. We knew then at that moment. The ultra sound tech was so kind and easy to read, she had “I’m sorry” written all over her face and we knew even though she wasn’t able to say anything. We left with heavy hearts and praying for some weird miracle for this surprise baby. We would have to wait 24 hours for the official call from our doc. It was an awful 24 hours that finally ended with the answer that deep down we already knew. No baby. Blighted Ovum. The surprise baby that turned our world upside down was no more. My doctor explained what was going to happen next and gave me my options. One was to go in for a DNC, which she suggested, because of the structures that were continuing to grow and we so hormone based, of my body didn’t pass all of this in their entirety, the left over had high risk of turning into cancer. I told her to schedule to surgery through tears and she cried with me on the phone. I went home that day heart broken. 6 weeks before I was crying because I did not think a third baby was in my life plan and now I was crying because it was gone and I was devestated? I was so confused. The next part of this story is graphic and true and leaving it out would not fit the purpose of me sharing this journey which is to be real and honest with the reality of miscarriage, something that in my opinion is not openly talked about enough. So be warned before you read on... The next day was one of my favorite days of the year. I’m a teacher at a virtual school and orientation day was the day where all of our students met in one place to start the school year off right. It’s the day where I get to hug each one of my kiddos and I absolutely adore it. I was determined to go AND to have my bucket filled and not wallow in sadness, I could do that after my surgery, which was scheduled for the next day. I wore shorts and my school shirt as the heat already began to rise for the day. We were expected to have over 185 kids and their families arrive and I was at check in. I truly felt fine as I set up the name tags and check in paperwork. Students started to arrive and my face started to hurt from smiling so much. One of my favorite students ever came running up and wanted a hug. I stood up to greet her in all of her excitement and that’s when it happened. I had to fight to stay upright as the pain in my stomach took over and a warm rush of blood left my body, soaking in to the blue green chair beneath me and running down my legs, in front of all of these people and there was nothing I could do. Somehow I held it together, got to the bathroom and then absolutely melted down. I needed to go home but I was scared and sad and honestly in pain. My beautiful coworker and friend found me, helped me think through a plan and soon I was on my way home. I should mention here that my husband is a builder and on this day his phone was broken and I had no way of getting ahold of him. But I thought it was ok because sadly miscarriage is more common than many realize so I thought I could handle this. The problem was, I never had had a truly honest conversation with anyone about the physical pain and trauma that miscarriage entails. I had never really asked questions to anyone in my life that had been going through it and I hate that I didn’t take it more seriously with them. I got home and continued to bleed. Uncontrollable. Over and over I prayed the same prayer that I had been praying since the first ultra sound, “Equip me Lord. Equip me with what I need to navigate this.” The bleeding continued and I still couldn’t find my husband. I started to feel queasy and light headed as I was in the shower, not to mention absolutely disgusting and that is where I knew something wasn’t right. I was already scheduled for a DNC the next day but I thought I would call my ob and just ask some questions, I obviously had never done this before and never heard of this from anyone else who had in this much detail. Shame on me for not asking those around me more questions when they were going through it. The doctor told me to get to the er and that I couldn’t drive myself. Oh boy... I still couldn’t find my hubby and all of my go to people were gone. “Equip Me Lord…” Not even one minute later my sweet neighbor and friend called, knowing about the miscarriage and telling me how she wished there was something she could do for me. God is so crazy sometimes... I told her yes, I needed to go to the ER and I needed to find Chris. She put her hubby on a mission to find mine and he had four guys looking for him as she pulled into my driveway to be my personal super hero for the day. She has saved me many times before this so I shouldn’t have been surprised. She didn’t come on a white horse or on a chariot, but instead a mini-van full of kids. But to me, it was the same. As we drove the pain continued to grow but I ignored it as I was stunned by the people around me's willingnes to stop their day and help us. It was humbling and I didn’t feel worthy of it. We finally found Chris at a verizon store getting his phone fixed after calling verizone head quarters and an operator calling him to tell him his wife was having an emergency an emergency and needed to talk to him. I felt awful that this is how he was finding out. I told him to meet me at the ER and I would explain when we were together. As we pulled into the ER parking space a beautiful family with a newborn walked in front of us and were getting ready to take their new bundle of joy home. I couldn’t hold back my grief any more and neither could my superhero chafaure. She shouted, “WHY?! Why the timing of this? WHY now?” I sobbed as I stepped out of the car. As I checked in alone, through my tears, the check in nurse held my hand and said “I’m sorry” more times than I could count. She was an angel. I was wheeled back to the ER room where my husband met me and we wait to find out what was going to happen next. A handsome, young doctor came in with a wonerfully warm old school OB nurse and explained to us that we needed to stop the bleeding before we could go any further. Basically what was bleeding was not what was supposed to be bleeding and the end goal was to rid my uterus of what it needed to get rid of but in the mean time we needed to stop the other bleeding. Scared, in pain and so so sad, we said ok and they started bringing in the equipment. Long tubes and a big machine surrounded us and he explained the we were going to need to do a procedure with suction to get rid of what was interfering with us being able to see what we needed to. For whatever reason, the tubes had to go next to me and up over my head to where the contents were disposed of. I scooted down on the bed, vulnerable and mortified and so, so sad. The machine started and the most horrible sound echoed in the room. The contents of the vaccuum sucked through the tubes next to me and I sobbed, mourning what could have been. The doctor said “I’m sorry, is this uncomfortable for you?” and before I could answer, my wonderful nurse squeezed my hand and said “No! This is emotional for her!” Another superhero to my rescue. The procedure was awful, I still have dreams about it and I’m sure I will continue to. But it lead us to be able to have another internal ultra sound to see just how much I had passed naturally. The short story of a long wait basically showed that I didn’t pass all that I needed to and I would begin to be prepped for surgery. As I sat in pre-op, I had my book “Everybody Always” by Bob Goff. As I read I continued to cry. Continuing to ask the question “Why God? Why did you bring us here? To this surprise? Through the joy and now surrounded by confusion and pain?” I was wheeled down to surgery, put on the operating table, arms strapped down and I have never been more scared. Finally they gave me medicine to put me out and I woke up knowing that this was the official end of our summer surprise. The next days were awful and sad and painful and I was in a daze for most of them. As I finished “Everybody Always” I saw that Bob Goff, just like in his first book, left his phone number in the back for anyone who wanted to to call him. In a moment of bravery, I picked up my phone. To my surprise he answered. I couldn’t believe it. He was exactly like I thought he would be. I told him what the last few days had been for our family and he paused and said, “Mellissa. Your story is going to bless someone someday.” I couldn’t help but say his full name because I felt as if I was talking to one of God’s decibels; “Thanks Bob Goff!” This is why I am writing this. For someone who is going through something and feel alone. You’re not. For someone who went through something and maybe never had the words, maybe you can connect with a few of mine. For someone who needed to know that its ok to be confused with God, I am right there with you. This is just the beginning of this for us. We are just beginning to process this and have so much work to do. But I refuse to feel alone in it, because I know I am not. I refuse to hide the details of what I know will be a life changing moment for both me and our family. This isn’t just good to talk about its’ important because like what was said in church today, “Our lives are an earth recording of a heavenly message” and I have no idea what that message is, but for whatever reason, God needed me to get this message out today. I’m caring and carrying this one, that is for sure…. Dear Negativity,
I am writing you today to officially break up. After nearly 31 years, it’s time for us to go our separate ways. For too long, I have relied on you in order to “make sense” of the struggles in my life and avoid problem solving altogether. For too long, you have monopolized my mind, manipulated my thoughts and mandated my time. It’s over. Proverbs 21:23 says - “Those who guard their mouths and their tongues keep themselves from CALAMITY.” Calamity is defined as a “disastrous event marked by great loss and lasting distress and suffering” (Marriam-Webster). Umm… that is powerful. I could avoid this “CALAMITY” by guarding how I talk and how I think? Grounding myself in positive, life giving thoughts, actions and conversations can guard me from lasting distress and suffering? Well, why didn’t someone tell me this 31 years ago? Because our culture thrives off of negativity. Many of our upbringings and thus current lives had/have elements of negativity and “never enough”-ness a part of them, comparison has become an epidemic in the social media centric culture we are now a part of. Our sermon today was about “What you sow is what you reap”. I have heard this 1,000 times in my life, but never, until today, was I hit like I was. My words, thoughts, actions and reactions are all seeds that I am planting, either internally of externally in my circle of influence. What I plant with these seeds is something that has the potential to continue generationally. This means that justifying a bad attitude, negative talk or the woah-is-me mentality can live on for generations…. is this the legacy I want to leave? Certainly not… This is NOT what God has called me to do or to be. We are supposed to live out God’s light into our world, to both others and ourselves. We need to stop speaking negative over our lives and our circumstances because what we say, to both others and ourselves, is what we see play out in our lives. It is literally impossible to live a positive life with a negative attitude. Our pastor said today, “You can’t LEAD someone else to a positive life with a negative attitude”. Mic drop. We need to get this right. We as humans, we as Christians, we as parents, we as friends, we as influencers. People are depending on our JOY in order to combat the every growing culture of dissatisfaction. Because a life dissatisfied is the opposite of how God has called us to live. The biggest perspective change for me today was when this was said: “A lot of what we are living right now was a dream or a prayer of our past.” So the negative things I am thinking in my world right now, when put through the “things I prayed for in the past” filter, really change the way I think about this idea of “negative”. “Ugh! My kids are driving me nuts!” - I prayed for active, funny, talkative kids. “Ugh! My job is so frustrating and time consuming!” - I prayed for a career that would inspire me to use my gifts and talents to make an impact in this world. “Ugh! If my husband leaves one more pair of dirty underwear on the ground… I”m going to loose it!” I have a husband, who works hard, comes home to me every night and…. and honestly, we have money to buy underwear and laundry detergent. Perspective change. Has my “woah is me” life over the last few years really been what I thought it has? Or was it because of the way I have handled situations, through the lens of negativity instead of joy? Would my struggles in the past have been different, less in number or frequency or even non-existent if the way I spoke into my life and the lives of people around me would have been grounded in satisfaction and encouragement? I don’t know…. But what I do know is that today was a shift for me. For my sake, the sake of my family and for others in my circle of influence. As contagious as negativity is, I want to radiate joy more. We get to choose how we speak, live and act. So today, I officially Choose Joy. And not in the put it on a painted sign and then it becomes true kind of way, the for real way. What would our lives be like if they were grounded in joy, encouragement and satisfaction? How would our perspective change? How would our influence grow? How would our impact for The Kingdom be used? Dear negativity, As T- Swift says, we are never-ever-ever, getting back together. - Care, Not Carry. So God has been speaking to me again to write and I’ve been fighting it because this topic it’s personal, controversial, and scary.
But truth is all of those things too. The tension between vulnerability and bravery is a very tender place and this is a place I’ve been sitting in for weeks. Gay. GAY. So much big behind one small word. Big feelings. Big opinions. Big love. Big hate. Big controversy. Big misconceptions. For me, it’s a big journey. One that I’m still on, still praying about- Big time and still doing big learning and research on. I have fought this post for a long time- but for whatever reason, it’s clear I need I get this down. So here is a piece of my big journey with this small word. When my brother came out, it felt like a big bomb went off in my world. I truly was in a state mourning, that is the best way I can describe it. He was supposed to make me an aunt! I was supposed to stand up in his wedding and be BFFs with his wife and all of that was gone all of a sudden, at least in my vision of it. I was mourning the death of the future I had established for my brother. But, that’s when I had my first, at about 1,000, a-ha moments. My vision. That is what I was morning. The vision I had for my brother. The future I created for him, not the one he had from himself. I was making a job for myself that was not mine to have. How selfish is that? You know, you can share your opinion about controversial issues over and over , but what you believe is not truly tested, established and solidified until it’s staring at you from across the Thanksgiving table. Until it becomes a part of your story. Your kids story. Then you need to get real with how you feel. With where you stand. With what you believe. Because you’re going to be asked, talk to and talked, specifically if you are from a small town. This was/is my experience. I have lost count of how many questions I’ve been asked from every end of the spectrum. And it’s fine! I welcome them! How I have carried them (or lack there of) has been a huge shift from the beginning of my journey until now. How do you feel about your brothers fate as far as eternity is concerned? Do you as a Christian women believe it’s OK to attend a gay marriage? All the way to “Do you really believe being gay is a sin?" "Don't you believe that it is how your brother was made?” And literally everything in between. So I prayed, study, said "I don’t know" a lot. And the questions kept coming. After weeks that turned into months, I woke up one day with the sentence scrolling almost like a banner across my mind; “It’s not your job to figure it out.” Huh? That felt like a cop-out. Over and over I played that sentence through every hard question I wrestled with over the past two years. What? It’s not my job to have answers to each of these? It’s not my job to have it figured out? OK God. I'll sit in this for a bit. You’ve been pretty clear here... so what is my job? Because the questions are going to stop it’s not gonna get easier but clearly God you have a job for me in mind. I didn’t want to have an easy out. Complacency was not driving this. I wanted to be confident in what God has equipped me with, and do so with strength, wisdom, humility and continued vulnerability. So I continue to pray, study, question, listen, and write. I wrote my face off. Until one day clarity struck: It is your job to love. "Love others as I have loved you." "Be an example of Christ love." "Love one another." Love is your job. It’s not my job to figure it out it’s my job to love and be the hands and feet of Christ . The best hands and feet of Christ that I’m capable of being. This realization was both a weight taken off my shoulders and a simultaneous charge for me to pick up and carry out. It was not my responsibility to have the answers all of these questions that would not stop coming, it was my job to do the best example of love that God gave me the capacity to do so. It has become clear that this is not an easy out that results in giving up what I believe in and abandon what grounds me. Quite opposite actually. This means to pray more. Study harder. Listen with intent. Because this job, this love one another job – it’s harder than any of us can understand. It’s a constant challenge, a consistent reevaluation and ever-changing task that is only attainable with a direct link to Christ. In so many ways, it’s almost as if I have just started this journey, but the huge difference behind it is intentionality. To be intentional about Love first and for most. To be intentional about learning and saying I don’t know. To seeking multiple perspectives, not just ones that line up with my own personal ones. But most of all- intentional Love. So for all of the questions out there, I don’t have an answer to them other than the word love. Keep them coming, but just know that. Specifically Christ’s Love. That’s my job. To study this. To show this. The rest of it, that’s Gods work not mine. My job is to love. Care not Carry. HAPPY NEW YEAR! How cool that we are in 2018! I have a feeling that this is going to be a great year, a year of growth and balance coming off of 2017, that is for sure. One powerful thing about the new year is reflection and reassessing. It is so important in the year that you just pause and then reassess what the next year needs to have in it in order for you to grow and prosper and move forward. This is something that is so easily forgotten, so easily thrown to the way side. I have made it a goal to inspire reflection in all areas of my life, and in the new year, that starts with "My One Word". So every year for the past four years I have chosen one word for the year. This is NOT a New Years resolution, more like a filter for life stuff. It came after reading the book "My One Word" (great book if you haven't read it). Its purpose was to focus my attention, time, energy and heart. Four years ago my word was "be" because I was struggling with being present wherever I was after just having my first kiddo. I was constantly anxious about things other that where I actually was. I was mentally absent for most of the year before I chose this word. When I was at work I was worried about Macie, when I was with Macie I was worried about work. "Be" became my filter, my reminder. I put this word everywhere, I played it on repeat in my yoga practice, I prayed it hard and aloud. BE was my focus.
Last year I decided on "simplicity". I was on overload with stuff, relationships, responsibilities, anxiety, expectations and work. God was speaking into me that I needed some drastic changes to happen and it all started with this word: Simplicity. Get rid of the complicated. Here, my focus became to shape my life in a lighter, freer and more joyful way. To simplify, to say no when I need to even when (not if) it was hard. Last year was my year of simplicity. So, all through December I was really thinking about what my word for 2018 should be... what do I need constant reminders of, what should my filter be? What have I struggled with in 2017? What is God speaking into me? What have others tried to also inspire in me? Through much prayer and reflection... My Word for 2018 is ENOUGH. Enough- To remind myself that I am enough… I am not lacking as a mom, a teacher, a wife, a human… I am not "less than" rather, I am still growing. I am strong enough, thin enough, content enough. I have enough stuff… I can be reminded of content-ness. ENOUGH. I am enough for the people in my world who love and know me, I will not feel lacking based on others expectations of me or how I do what I do. I am enough because HE made me, every single quirk and trait, to be exactly what I need to be for the life that I have. I will have my filter be ENOUGH so that I can remind myself to life the best that God has for me, not that best that he has for someone else. I am ENOUGH. So your next question for today is:
If you had to choose one word to be your filter for this year, what would it be and why? Would it be family, because you are wanting to invest in your family instead of other things that suck your time and energy and happiness? Would it be proactive, because you are going to work on being proactive instead of reactive or a procrastinator? Could it even be listen? To be intentional about truly listening to those around you and to what God is speaking into you instead of always being the one to talk? Think about your word, choose it here today and if you are comfortable feel free tell me WHY you chose this word! Happy New Year! Deep and Wide
No… I’m not talking about the children’s worship song. I’m talking you and how you invest in care. Are you few and deep or are you many and wide? Stay with me here… Each of us have a different capacity for caring and also a different mindset when living out what it means to care with others around us. Some people are able to care deep, I mean all in, with a smaller circle of people. While others are more apt to extend their care with less of a depth mindset and more of a breadth mindset; higher quantity of people in their life, but less ability to go deeply within those multiple relationships. It can simply be put as this; some people prefer a few friends who they are able to do life with in a deep, care hard, in an all in kind of way. Few people, deep care. Others were not made with the ability/capacity to go that deep in relationships but have the ability to maintain a larger capacity of people they consider “their people”… I don’t want to say quality over quantity, but some folks might resonate with that. Many and wide caring people have the gift of connecting with a variety of folks and thus can have a very vast circle of friends. Recently, I have been thinking about this idea of connecting with people and how as I have gotten older, I have changed what group I consider myself to be a part of. As I navigated tricky friendships in my life I have come to find out that I am someone who craves deep friendships with a few folks. I am all in with my people, they are basically like my family and I can treat them that way because they are not in large quantity. Because of this I am not able, nor do I wish to have tons and tons of “close” friends. Instead, I prefer a few folks who get me, my depth of care, and are able to understand me at the level in which God created me to be able to maintain. This has taken me a lot of hurt, confusion and frustration to get to. Broken friendships, unmet expectations, confusion about why I care and others around me didn’t seem to reciprocate. Then something happened in my life that felt like an ah-ha moment. I had a friend for a long time who I cared about deeply. She was like the sister I never had (or I thought as I was living through this relationship). As we grew and changed I always felt like there was something lacking in our friendship. Why was I always feeling like I was caring so much and that same level of care wasn’t returned back to me? After a series of events and tons of life changing moments and general growing up… it was time to go different ways. Of course because of the person I am, I felt this sense of failure, like I didn’t do enough to make this relationship work. It was through a lot of prayer and conversations with my “deep” people, that I realized it was all ok. This friend and I simply were not giving each other the level of care in which we both needed. I was a few and deep person and she was a many and wide. And that is ok. God does not create us to be able to have both a deep and wide investment in caring relationships that can be maintained for long periods of time. Some people just simply don’t have the capacity to “go there” as far as depth of investment in caring. Talking about struggles, failures, worries, what ifs, problem solving, inquiring… these things terrify the many and wide folks. They hate it and that is ok. I can not do wide spread care with many many people. It just does not fulfill the way I was made to do relationships. Likewise, people who were made to have many friendships but not ones that consistently connect on a deeper level are just simply not made to go “deep”, that is not fulfilling to them and it is actually intimidating and sometimes paralyzing. I truly believe you are either deep or wide. The more I began to think about this, another layer about the deep or wide concept emerged. I started wondering if it was possible to be someone else's person with out them being able to be your person? For example, if you are a “wide- and many- caring” person and you are friends with a “deep-and few- caring” person, that deep-caring person might fulfill the needs that you have for sustaining relationships. Their version of a go to person, even if that is not YOUR version of a go-to person. However, that same “deep-caring” person may not feel fulfilled by that particular “wide-caring” person not for any other reason other than, the wide-carer simply was not made to be a deep-carer. And that is ok. What you are for someone may not be what they are for you, but the point is that we all need a someone. So today I am thankful for the deep and few carers in my world and also for the many and wide. Each example shows me how I need care and how to care and how the power of caring is one of the most essential components of the beautiful and crazy world, regardless how you do it. So, how do you care…. Deep or Wide? It's like a film strip scrolling through, scene by scene, of moments of your past day or days. Glimpses of events where you were just in the moment, living, breathing, managing and it's not until you look back on the moment where the guilt creeps in:
Questions and judgement... Did I screw up? Was I being judged? Should I have done this differently? Is this just mom guilt, or is it something more? Irrational fears creep in as your mind starts to take control of itself. “Handle it” you say. “Just calm down.” You chant. You lay there. Awake. Needing to be asleep but you can't turn it off. It is there, when everything is quiet and all the other folks in your home are sound asleep where the dark enemy of anxiety crawls in to the cracks of your memory. Suddenly your memories are second guessed and remembered in a different light. A critical light. You know you're your own worst enemy... You know you're thinking too hard about things, overthinking... Others who don't understand tell you. But that doesn't mean the thoughts and feelings go away. It doesn't mean they disappear. ——————————————————————————------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This was one of my pieces of writing at the peak of my anxiety tornados last Spring. My head was full, my body was weak, my soul was starving and my heart was hurting. Anxiety is such an interesting topic and from my experiences there are three camps surrounding it:
Everyone deals with anxiety differently and this is my story, from my perspective, from the honest depths of my struggle. At the peak (or should I say valley) of my battle with anxiety I was “functioning” fine on the outside. But on the inside I was a stinkin’ mess. I prayed about it, talked to my husband and friends about it, bought the books from amazon to help me with it, Read Phllipians 4:6 until I could recite it backwards, all of these are good and healthy things…. except, for me, I wasn’t able to get out of my hole. But I was a “do-er”. I got stuff done. I handled “it”. I CARRIED a lot. I helped others…. How on earth was I even going to be able to ask for help? It was in the science lab at my school where God came to me, to smack me (spiritually) in the face and force me to be honest with myself. (My high school science teachers would laugh out loud here knowing I was in a science lab!) I was cleaning ok, thats what I do when I’m anxious. A substitute teacher (whom I hardly knew but was such a nice dude) approached me with a serious as ever look on his face and said “Mellissa, I need to talk to you.” I stopped dead in my tracks. He was serious. “Ok…” I said, nervously, because in my experience conversations starting like this at 8 am on a Monday don’t always end well. He sat down. “I don’t know if this will be weird to you or not, but God speaks to me sometimes.” I breathe, blink, my face…. a mix of inquisitive and confused. “Last night, he spoke to me about you.” My mouth drops. Then so do I, right into a chair next to him. When someone tells you that you have a message from God being delivered, you sit your buns down. “Mellissa, God wants you to know he loves you so much. You are doing great in this life. You are a great mom and a great wife.” Pause- Honest moment: There were times in my anxiety tornados that I would pray these words thinking I wasn’t doing well enough. Wishing that I would have some confirmation that I was on the right path. Seriously, word. for. word. Did I think it would ever come from a sweet sub I barely knew, nope. But God is in control (and has a weird sense of humor). Tears filled my eyes and I was trying to comprehend was he was saying. “Mellissa, God also knows you are struggling right now. He knows that irrational fears are keeping you up at night and you aren’t getting the rest you need.” Pause- Say what? Who told you this sweet substitute teacher? Because I seriously have only talked about this with my closest friends. Shocked face continued… “Mellissa, God knows you are struggling with one particular irrational fear that plays over and over again in your dreams and when you lie awake at night, and he wants me to tell you ‘Let it go! I’ve got this.’ He loves you so much and you need to give yourself a break.” Insert water fall from my eyes and a tightness in my chest, yet a lift off my shoulders at the same time. How did he know this? How did he know that I had been having a re-occuring dream of my kids being kidnapped for months? How did he know that after EVERY, I am serious, outing we did with our family (whether it be grocery store or restaurant or more) I would lay awake that night replaying every step of the event questioning whether or not I put my kids in danger or not? How did he know? He didn’t. It was God. “Mellissa, give yourself a break today and rest in the fact that God loves you so much.” And he left. I sobbed. I was confused. I always wondered if I was ever going to have a “God Moment” where I was directly spoken to…. but at this moment, I had no question. God was telling me (through this sweet substitute) that I needed to let it go. I knew I needed to seek help in a way that I hadn’t yet. And that meant wearing a humility covering and calling my doctor. The week of God’s message to me, I made an appointment with my doctor to talk about things, and I tried to blame it on EVERYTHING under the sun, hormones? My my thyroid? Maybe it was because I Was approaching the big 3-0 and after I went over that hurdle I would be “cured”. Then he asked, “Mellissa, what is this really about?” And I fell apart. I told him everything. My struggles. My anxiety tornados. My irrational fears. The worry I had about the family and friends around me that would judge me for getting help or getting on medicine because anxiety “isn’t real” and it is actually a “spiritual issue”. The fear of judgement is equivalent to less than and not good enough. Both of these phrases are crippling to people with anxiety. We talked through options (my doctor is amazing and through and one of the best physicians I’ve ever know) and decided that what was the worst that could happen? Things couldn’t get worse. So he gave me the prescription. I brought it home and talked to my husband about it. Right there he grabbed the prescription paper from my hand, grabbed my other hand and prayed about it. “God, if this is going to be what help Mel reach the potential you have for her, gives us peace and confidence about this.” We did this for 5 straight days. After the 5th day it was clear to both of us that this was the next step in this journey. I filled my prescription and prayed over the first pill I took. After 4 days, I finally slept through the night since before becoming a mom. Rest, my friends. Mental, physical and spiritual. 3 weeks into the journey (which obviously we hid from everyone around us because me being on medicine was still a weakness to me then), we were at a restaurant on the patio. Our kids were playing and I was watching them with a smile on my face and the sun on my back. “What is wrong?” Chris asked. “Nothing.” I said (and I meant it. It wasn’t the woman way of nothing when your really actually mad, I was being genuine”. A few minutes pass… “Mellissa, what is wrong?” “Nothing Chris, I’m fine.” I really was. He asked again. “DUDE. I promise! I am ok! I am just enjoying this moment!” And then he said something that confirmed more things than I can even put into words… “Oh. I am just not used to you being HERE. I am not used to you being present. I am used to you being worried about this, thinking about that… always somewhere else. I think I am getting my wife back.” Anxiety was impeding me from living out the potential that God had for me. Was I surviving? Yes. Was I doing it well or at the capacity God intended? Absolutely Not. Jen Hatmaker (my literary BFF) says about bring struggles into light in order to inspire healing; "Healing requires partnering with Jesus in the work He is accomplishing in us. We move. WE engage. We do things. Sometimes that involves therapy or medication, and by the way, there is not shame in either. It is not "lack of faith." Rather it is a sign of incredible strength." (Hatmaker, Of Mess and Moxie, p.40). This is my struggle. This is my hurdle. This is what I pray for most and cry about often. This is also when I write and when I am the most honest with myself. Since my journey of healing starting this spring… I began to analyze the me that I am becoming after all of this and because of all of this. Could it be that anxiety is a vessel that God is using for inner acceptance and honesty and humility and release of power to God himself? I wonder if this struggle is God’s way of inspiring growth. Is this like one of those confusing parables where I am supposed to learning something deep about my inmost self through unexpected conversations and interventions? This is my story. My struggle. My journey. It is real. PLEASE, if you ever have though that anxiety is a made, be considerate of those who are dealing with something that is not only real, but hard and tricky. And please be understanding that saying things like “anxiety is a spiritual issue” or “Why can’t he/she just chill out?” only makes suffers feel more alone and ultimately more anxious. My challenge is for folks to ask how people they think are struggling with anxiety how they truly are and mean it. Give space and time to allow conversations to happen. For folks who are struggling, pray. Ask for words, for clarity, for bravery and for humility. Imagine the work God could do through the lives of so many if we all had a REAL conversation about REAL anxiety? CARE. Not Carry. I've already stated that words are close friends of mine. There are times where I can literally visualize phrases, sentences and sayings that will someday come together to form a new piece of writing. I believe that God uses this avenue to speak to me... and I also think I'm a little weird. Either way, this post came to me over the course of few days after a hard and amazing small group time about family.
My small group is amazing. Full of people I am honored to do life with for so many reasons, one of which are the tricky topics we navigate together. This month was about family. How to honor the family that you have been given even when (or should I say especially when) it is hard. We listened to an amazing sermon (https://passioncitychurch.com/gathering/dont-waste-your-family/ ) about not wasting your family. Here, we learned that NO MATTER WHAT, there is always something to be thankful for when it comes to the biological family that you have, the one that was not chosen BY you, but FOR you from the Big Man Himself. NO matter what hard circumstance your biological family brings, there is literally always something to be thankful for, even if it is only the gift of life itself. So not only did it make me think about not wasting my family, it made me think about not wasting my time on this earth filled with frustration about the biologically family I have (or should I say the biological father I have). I do not talk often about my biological father, because quite honestly I don't think of him often. God gave my mom and I a man who is now husband (Tom) who adopted me when I was seven and it has been the greatest honor to have become his daughter. I actually often forget that I'm adopted because I am so much like Tom (Dad<-- not biological but FOR SURE real). There was so much potential for me to have this deep rooted hatred for my biological father for abandoning my mom and I. But after the last few days, I began to contemplate the power of a perspective change. A little back story; the condensed version... my mom got pregnant when she was a teenager. My biological father was never a part of the equation of my upbringing (or literally my being brought into the world. Nothing, Nada). My mom took me to college with her and we did life together for 6 years on our own. She is a warrior. Strongest person I know. Then she met Tom. He's a vet and the coolest cat around (pun intended). They got married and Tom was able to adopt me officially a year later. So it wasn't until I was 7 that I was able to experience what it was like to have a dad. They had two boys who are my brothers and we are a weird and wonderful family unit. Below are the words that have been stringing themselves together in my mind ever since my small group message and today, I share them with you because in EVERYTHING there is something to be thankful for and literally EVERYTHING happens for a reason. Dear Biological Father, In a lot of ways, this letter was 30 years in the making. 30 years and 10 months to be exact. That is when I was made. By you and my mom. 30 years and 10 months ago, I was given the gift of life, and how amazing is that? Even though I was unplanned, and essentially, unwanted, a gift this life sure is. After 30 years of trying to understand your place in all of this, I have come to the conclusion that it is just that, that time 30 years and 10 months ago, that was your one and only place, and for that I am thankful. I am thankful that you gave me the gift of life. It has taken me 30 years to be able to connect a positive word to you because there has been a lot of confusion and frustration about your role (or lack there of) in my life. But I am no longer comfortable going forward with my life without you knowing that in-spite of your abandonment and absence, I owe you this thanks. So, thanks for life, for real. I wanted to reach out and share a few things that have been recently been bubbling to the surface for me as I am on this journey of motherhood of my own now. I want to be able to speak to my own kids someday about the God's plans always make sense eventually, you just need to be patient. Someday you will see how each step, hardship and struggle was woven together to be the tapestry of your wonderful and beautiful life. So here are a few more thank yous. Thank you for leaving my mom and I. Being alone for 7 years with a young mom and no man taught me tenacity, hard work and independence. All three of which I posses and practice each day. And I do not believe I would have these things if my family dynamic would have been different from birth. I am also thankful for the gift of family, true family that has absolutely nothing to do with blood or genetics. Being adopted into a family that loved me unconditionally from the moment I joined is a gift that has shown me that love has no boundaries, especially DNA. IF you would have remained a part of my life, I would not have been able to experience this unconditional love. Thank you for not paying child support. This taught me so much about responsibility, providing for my own children and planning financially in a variety of reasons. I am thankful that we had to struggle financially because it made me to be fiscally responsible for my own family today. I sometimes wonder if you wonder about me? I don’t know if you do, but if so, here is your chance to put that wonder to rest. I am good, great actually. I am loved and I know how to love. I do not have abandonment issues or daddy issues (my father is actually one of the most wonderful human beings on the planet. Another thank you that I have, because if you were my Dad I would have never been able to be adopted by this rock str of a dad and that would just be devastating). I work hard and have a fulfilling career. I am a mother and wife and have created a beautiful life grounded in God and surrounded by family. I am thankful for this life I have and that did start with you. So if there is any wonder about me you can know that I am thankful for the start. I hope this can bring you some peace of mind, because it certainly has for me. Thank you. Care. Not Carry. |
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