The Reality of Halloween

My kids love Halloween. Especially Sam. He starts deliberating over costume options around Valentine's Day. For whatever reason, overpriced cheap Made in China superhero ensembles does a happy Sam make. 

Charlotte has more of a silent, passionate love for Halloween that can be summed up in one word. Lollipops. 

Is it because they are on a stick? Because the color rarely aligns with the flavor? Whatever it is, girlfriend would take down a mighty grizzly with her bare hands if she were to be paid in Dum Dums. 

I would imagine that walking to my execution would be a very similar feeling to what I have when I take my children trick or treating. I blogged earlier today about how Halloween is a positive thing for our family, and I stand by that. 

It's November 1st that we really have to pray against. 

You see, my sweet, blue-eyed little cherubs will kill for candy. They will destroy you for a Laffy Taffy and it is essential to have a game plan in place before the insanity sets in. 

This picture is so sweet, but then...crazy eyes...beware November Eve.....

I went over the ground rules with the midget corn syrup junkies I have to share accommodations with tomorrow. 

1) one piece of candy max per day 

2) the rest goes in the trash on Nov 13

3) food eaten before candy

4) chores completed before candy 

I offered them my bribe one last time - my standing proposal since we detoxed from Easter:

Hand over all your candy beyond pieces that equal your age (6 for Sam, 3 for Charlotte) - and I will buy you a toy (totally cheating. I just found an old unspent target gift card), or give you a dollar per pound. 

The kids turned down both toys and income. 

Give us Jolly Ranchers or give us death! 

So out we went. It was a perfectly hazy dusk outside. A beautiful deep purple sky, the ground damp from rain. 

It was a lovely backdrop in which to kiss structure and control goodbye. 

And so it began. 

The first neighbor told the kids how cute they were, and that they got "extra candy for living next door." 

No. 

A few neighbors later gave them handfuls because "we haven't had too many kids yet tonight." 

Please no. 

Another house gave them huge pixie stix.

Why does this neighborhood hate me? 

On the final street, someone gave them a handful of candy, and then ANOTHER handful for being "so polite." 

You idiots! Don't you know the kryptonite of polite children?! I'll give you a clue....it's not quinoa! 

The last handful was the worst. It was 100% lollipops. Charlotte's face went blank. Pretty sure she was thinking how the tootsie roll pops tumbling delicately into her plastic pumpkin was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

Goodbye, world. I'll miss you. 

When we got home from trick-or-treating, Frank told us about how he gave out candy to kids that "he swears they were 30 years old," and I quickly duck into the office saying I need to get a final article done before the clock strikes November. 

The day of battle. 

When I come out of the office, Sam and Charlotte are fast asleep. There are multiple candy wrappers scattered across the coffee table. 

Who could blame Frank, really? These children know how to access the candy. They swoop under the radar and snatch that chocolate before you even know what hit you. 

They are terrorists. I swear to you, the terrorists are all out there eating M&Ms "fun packs." 

The plastic pumpkins rest high on a shelf for now. I should throw it all away. Stop the addiction, then the addict. 

Unfortunately, I have a little shred of maternal compassion left, knowing the little pirates worked hard, and they will be seeking out their spoils first thing in the morning. 

Okay, November 1st. Come and get me. 

Why I Celebrate Halloween

I've written a post similar to this in year's past, but my thoughts on the matter have definitely matured and deepened over the years, so I am giving it another go.

I am a Christian. I celebrate Halloween. And I believe God is okay with that. Because I don't really celebrate Halloween in the way you may think - I celebrate the gifts He's given me....my beautiful kids, a chance to slow down, and lessons I'm able to pass on. I am a first generation Christian - all the traditions I make for my family, I'm the first. There is very little from my childhood I can pass on to my children. (Although there is some!) And I'm honored to have the chance to do that. 

One of the most beautiful things about Christianity (when done right), is it's all about relationship. You have a personal relationship with Christ, and that is expressed in so many ways. For me, I worship through dance, writing and guitar music around a campfire. Those are ways I connect with God.

For some, having a personal relationship with Christ and expressing that involves a large church service or a Wednesday night small group (oooh I like that one, too!). Some get out in nature (um, not me) and some serve on worship team (Not me either. You're welcome).

However you choose to express your love of Christ, as long as it obviously isn't unbiblical, God will confirm in your heart whether it's right. That's why I love days like today, where Christians all around me are reacting to Halloween in a wide variety of ways. Some are completely ignoring it - it's just another day. Some are going all out with elaborate house decor and costumed kiddos. Others fall somewhere in the middle. It truly seems to be a choose your own adventure for bible believing Christians. I love the diversity, the different takes on it, and seeing how people seek first and foremost to honor God in the way they believe is best.

For us, we sort of agree with everyone.

Our children dress up. 

Once you're done judging me and thinking about what a heathen mother I am, here is more detail.

Our children are not allowed to be anything scary. So far, this hasn't even been a point of contention. Sam is running around school in a police officer costume right now, his most intimidating weapon is a parking citation. Charlotte is in preschool dressed up as Minnie Mouse. They are small and they aren't going for the guts and gore yet.

When they do, it will not be allowed. We stick to cartoon characters and creativity. I have wildly creative children. To not allow them to express themselves in a costume on this day would not only (in my opinion) cease to really take any sort of stand for Christ, but it also makes them grow up to be disappointed and resentful when they are left out of something they love. I am the director of a theatre arts company - costuming and silliness are a big part of our life. Halloween isn't any different for us as it would be during a dance show or children's musical.

But, knowing that what you wear does define who you are to a point (unfortunately), our children do not wear anything offensive, violent, etc. Their costumes just portray gentleness, a helpful spirit or joy. So far, Sam has picked out two Yo Gabba Gabba characters (joy!), a zookeeper (helpful and gentle) and a police officer (hopefully helpful). Charlotte has gone for a ladybug, monkey and mouse. So far, so good ;)

Our children trick-or-treat.

Every year, trick-or-treating gives us an open door to our neighbors. They marvel at how big the kids have gotten, and then the momentum of that nighttime knock carries through the rest of the year. We build relationship, and it develops a chance to share God's love.

Our kids also "reverse" trick or treat. We load them up with plates of baked goods and they give some to all of the homes on our street they take candy to. They are being raised to learn that trick-or-treating is also about giving - not just getting.

Trick-or-treating is also a fantastic opportunity to speak to our children about how our bodies are temples, and we shouldn't dishonor God by filling it with junk. Candy is limited to one piece a day, for two weeks. A lot goes in the trash on November 13 (or more often Frank's stomach). We learn about health, and how amazing it is that God made our bodies capable of so much!

Our children carve pumpkins. 

I share with them the Pumpkin Gospel - about how God picks us especially, washes us clean, but cares most about our insides. He scoops up the goop of our past and then prepares us to shine his light. The kids are reminded that for every jack-o-lantern they see, they should aim to be someone who radiates the light of Christ from the inside out.

Our children do not watch scary movies. 

I can't watch them either! G-rated flicks all the way! Even those that contain magic or a dark villain - not likely it's gonna play in our house.

Our children do not go to the Halloween store. 

Costumes are homemade or purchased at Target....thankyouverymuch! That Spirit Halloween store is nuts. There are zombie babies, screaming corpses, electric chairs and torture chambers - all of which you must walk by in order to reach the children's costume section.

No thanks. Not going to plant that stuff in their minds. Sorry. I'm sure it's lots of fun there - but my mama's heart cannot handle it.

Our children do not decorate our house. 

We don't do Halloween decorations. In fact, we are that crappy house on the street with the bowl of candy out front with the sign that doesn't ever stop the first teenager that approaches it from dumping the entire thing in his/her bag.

We're too busy taking our kids to see neighbors, friends and family, scoring some free dessert for the next two weeks, and talking about ways we can shine for Christ every time we see a poor cut up pumpkin.

A lot of Christians decide to silently protest Halloween, and good for them. As for our home, we choose to redeem something in a world that completely belongs to the Lord. Just as a Christmas tree is a pagan symbol but every single Christian I know still puts one up.....we aren't going to give Satan the credit he wants when it comes to Halloween.

It's just a day. And we are confident in the ability to make it fun and meaningful in a way that honors God. 

So, just like every other day in my life, I long to please God by turning away from the scary darkness, and redeeming things for the Light instead. 

One Year

Originally, I wanted to do a lot of fun, celebratory things today - but I am swamped with work and the studio move - so a simple celebratory blog post will have to do. 

Today has been a year of freedom from self-injury. 

I know that sounds silly, but for those who have struggled with it, they know that it's a victory. Perhaps a silly victory in the grand scheme of things, but still an important one nonetheless. 

For years, I felt depression and fear so intensely, I would need to cut or burn myself to "release" some of the emotional pain. It started when I was still in high school and continued on until around the time I got married. I went years without doing it, and then one day I just fell back into it. It was like an alcoholic taking that one drink.....you feel better, even though your common sense tells you that you'll feel WORSE after.....it is just such a relief to have a break from the "noise," even if it is very fleeting. 

The last time I turned to that form of relief, I cut up my legs with a pair of kitchen scissors. The cuts did not go deep, but were purposeful enough that I  now have scars to match the ones on my stomach and arms. 

I called someone who came over right away, and she got the wonderful (ha) privilege of seeing the blood all over my legs and what a crumpled, pathetic mess I was. I felt like a shell of a human. I didn't feel better. I wasn't making anyone happy by acting this way. I determined right then to stop. 

Choosing healing was the best decision I ever made. 

It has not been an easy year. The desire for self-harm has been so strong, I was hospitalized for a few days over the summer. I've had to talk to a lot of people, and go to therapy. (For the millionth time!) 

I am on medications. I know these can be abused and aren't always necessary, but I've made peace with the fact that they are for me. I can control my depression and anxiety on meds. I can without, too, but I could also probably lift a car up in the air with my bare hands if I truly set my mind to it, right? ;) 

I am so grateful I've made it an entire year. I am not who I once was. God makes us a new creation continuously! When the Potter asks for clay, you better believe I'm there with my arms outstretched ready to be formed. 

So, today I celebrate. I am celebrating God's goodness. His strength. His love. The fact that I've discovered it's not that difficult to be brave - and, in fact, in a way it's rather fun. 

When God Says No

Admittedly, there are times I think that somehow God will "give" me something in exchange for all I've been through. 

This is complete crap. Not only is it conceited and skewed, it's also far from biblical. 

Sometimes, I find myself thinking, "After all that has happened in my life, and the fact that I'm still committed to Christ and serving Him....certainly He'll bless me if He really loves me." After the fight I've had to put up just to remain in His presence, it would be nice to have a prayer answered. 

This is the part of the story where I should be struck dead with a lightning bolt. The end! 

But, despite my sass, ungrateful heart and shaky faith....God still gives me another day. 

I work my rear off for my ministry. We found a building that would solve all of our logistical struggles. The owners loved us. They gave us a key so we could start the bonding process ;) We believed we were set. 

No, I believed I was set. 

I, I, I. Me, me, me. 

Gosh Tam. Seriously. Who are you to demand special gifts from the God of the Universe?! 

So we lost the building today. The dream has died, people. 

But here's the funny thing. Despite my selfish nature, God has been working on me. He has changed the way I pray. 

You see, I never prayed "God, I want this building." Instead, as my view of God evolves and becomes more healthy and accurate, I learned to pray instead, "God, please have Your will be done. Put us where is best for us to do Your work." 

So.....because of all that I've been through in my life, and because God loves me (and all of us)...He did, in fact, answer my prayer. 

His will is being done. 

Now, it's up to me to confidently walk in His decision and find joy through my disappointment. To know that HE is on the other side of this. He knows exactly where He wants this ministry to be. 

Thank you, Lord for your goodness. 

Thank you, Father for your protection. 

Thanks that this ministry has never gone without. 

Thanks that you're already waiting for us at the landing place you've chosen. 

Thank you for your incredible, kind, loving patience as I learn the most important lesson of all. 

To get the heck out of Your way while You  lead me further from my own desires and closer to Your amazing, perfect peace. 

Sweet (and Sour) Sixteen

On the bookshelf in our bedroom sits an album filled with photos from junior prom. In some of the pictures, there are people who were once best friends but have drifted into being just Facebook friends. There's a dress I loved so much and now I see it and think it's actually pretty darn ugly. Life happens, perspectives change. 

In that album though - and honestly probably my reason for hanging onto it - a person who was very precious to me is in a few of the photos. She was there the night I became a Christian - the most important and right decision I've ever made. She stuck close to me through those first shaky years and I told her everything. She was wise, she was beautiful, she was strong. And she volunteered to do my hair on prom night.

Then one day I broke her. The ugliness of a particular sin combined with the 16 years of wounds endured before I had even met her caused everything to turn to dust. I was an angry, scared teenager, and she - a mentor, friend and practically a sister - walked out of my life as quickly as she had entered it. 

I lived life next to her for another year, but she placed an emotional fortress around herself that was never disarmed. I was never forgiven. 

Years later, I see glimpses of her life through others' wedding photos or baby showers.....but the fortress is still there. My one time hero refuses to friend me on Facebook. 

It took me a very, very long time to look through that album and accept the fact that I wasn't a hideous beast. 

Our friendship-turned-catastrophe spurred on a cycle of dysfunctional relationships for years. I danced the same steps everytime - meet, grow ferociously close, break it in two. Sometimes it was because of my oh so charming histrionics. Sometimes it was my penchant for self-destruction. Eventually, it became my inability to trust and let people in. 

(Approximate location of the portal to Hell younger Tam created: )

There are now four people who refuse to friend me on Facebook. 

In hindsight I realize some of my actions were not ideal. But I also realize now that no one has the right to determine another person's worthiness to God, either. 

Boundaries are good. Boundaries are healthy. Cut people off if you must (and sometimes honestly it's best)....but if you find yourself going out of your way to ensure they know firsthand how dirty and worthless you now think they are, you are likely following your own rules instead of God's. 

I miss the hero from my past every single day. Chances are, I'll never get to speak to her again. I've said I'm sorry. But the apology bounces against the silence and returns to me. 

If I were able to sit down with my 16-year-old self, I would tell her to spend more time falling in love with God instead of fearing Him as cold, distant and conditional. I would give her this list of 16 reasons as to why she mattered then, and why she matters now. Matters to someone who knows every inch of her ugly, and is still thrilled to know her. 

1. God loves her. 

2. God forgives her. 

3. She is safe. 

4. She has permission to be happy. 

5. Her filth is gone. 

6. She is not called to live in fear. 

7. She is the princess of a great King. 

8. There is Someone who can handle the hurt. 

9. She has a pulse. She has another chance.

10. There are people who value her.

11. There is a God who will always value her. 

12. Her pain will help others. 

13. Nothing separates her from Christ's sacrifice. 

14. She can be someone's hero.

15. She can choose to stay through someone's catastrophe. 

16. A mighty, mighty Savior can't wait to someday meet her face to face. 

There is no fortress of unforgiveness to be found. 

To the four people who have made the permanent decision that I'm not worthy of a place in your corner of the world.....thank you. Because without your rejection, I would never have a heart to love others so big. 

I am worth knowing. I can be a horrible, wretched, mean girl. But I can also be caring, funny, intelligent and strong. I've spent so much time liking you and hoping you'll decide again one day to like me, that I've forgotten to just take a deep breath and be grateful for my life. 

It's the saddest thing when someone decides someone else no longer matters. Oh, the great things we could've done and the adventures we would've had! 

But instead, I'm choosing to be thankful that by losing you, I've gained a strong Father instead. 

And P.S.....if you are reading this and knew me in high school....yeah, sorry about that....

 

New Beginnings

The last few months of 2014 are turning out to be a major time of renewal for my life, specifically Royal Stage. Please take a moment to read this post fully - we covet your prayers and help!

The bright side of all I'm about to write, is that our ministry is healthier than it's ever been. Our teachers 100% have a heart for our vision and understand the importance of not compromising to the world's standards. Our participants are learning, growing, loving and inviting! We are having a wonderful season together. We've had some amazing "alumni" return to the group to participate again and have also welcomed some stunning newcomers that we are so thankful for!

The downside.....our Roseville studio has become an unsafe place to be. Our first priority is always the safety and security of our ministry participants. Royal Stage is currently home to:

1. Survivors of sex trafficking who are brought to the studio weekly for dance/drama therapy
2. Abuse survivors of all types who take weekly classes and/or serve as teachers
3. Girls who are still working to overcome struggles with cutting, eating disorders, addictions, etc.
4. A great, growing group of children who we really want to teach a different path through the arts
5. A wonderful, solid, healthy group of teens/adults who are pursuing God and thriving.

Over the past couple of months, we have been going through some tough stuff with our Roseville studio (which is where 80% of our operations take place).

1. Our rent has been tripled since 2012.

2. The store next to us got a new owner, and he has bullied and harrassed both our clients and those patronizing the buisness on the other side of him.

3. This store owner has also acted illegally on a few occasions, The police have noted everything as a civil matter, and the landlord is noting everything as a police matter, which means if things were to escalate, we have zero support or help in terms of safety and security.

4. The studio is located two doors down from a liquor store, which has brought more than a few incidents down our way including drunken fights, homeless men approaching our young girls, etc.

5. Our back dock has become a hangout for drunk people who have fallen asleep against our building and a recycling plant that drops freights during our classes that have now caused property damage to our building.

6. Heading into another winter, our bathroom and prayer room will continue to have leaks and last year was the second year in a row that panels fell out of the ceiling and caused significant water damage until we could convince the landlord to come fix anything.

We are not trying to be Negative Nellies - the building was SO perfect for us two years ago! We loved it, were blessed with so many miracles, etc. - but it is no longer a location that aligns with our vision to be a safe place for young women working through a whole array of stuff.

We don't expect God to do heart surgery in a place we are so distracted by the chaos around us, that we cannot even properly focus on Him.

THE GOOD NEWS is we have TWO awesome opportunities, one of which WILL happen by November 1st. (which is a whole other story!)

We have located a building that is close but in a much safer location, will allow us to have multiple classes run simultaneously and provide us space for meetings, prayer, counseling sessions and even naps! :)

If this falls through, we have confirmed a move-in date of November 1 with another space in our current complex that is further away from the drama and will allow us a bit more space than we have now.

WE NEED YOUR HELP. Seriously. I apologize from the bottom of my heart that my life does not allow me time to approach you all individually - but we are praying that everyone who reads this will have a heart to get involved.



First and foremost, we need prayer. Prayers for protection against stress, dissension, discouragement and the financial pit that comes with the process of relocation.

Secondly, we really need help financially. Don't run away yet. We don't need a lot of help. God has been amazing to us. We need to raise an additional $2000/mo in financial support to become the studio we aim to be going into 2015. This will cover ALL moving costs, future bills & maintenance, and the ability to have a 100% FREE summer camp in 2015 in Sacramento.

That means we only need 200 people to commit to $10/mo! Ten bucks is so easy - it's something most of us can do to help, and God will stretch it so far.

Please consider filling out this form to start donating $10 monthly. 

This is our regular donation form - you'll see  it asks for $25/mo. Don't panic. If you can do that, fantastic! Thank you! If you can't, then $10 is what we ask, and is beyond wonderful.

Lastly, we need some specific donations of goods and services - we need hardwood "click together" flooring OR marley flooring. (if you don't know what that is, it's okay. Please do not attempt to buy it without consulting a dancer!) :)

We need mirrors (they cost $80 each and we can tell you where to get them, or if you have mirrored closet doors, those work too).

We need STRONG GUYS! We are installing floors, hanging heavy mirrors, etc.

We need TRUCKS. So much. We always need trucks. Gah. Stupid truck need. I don't know what the thorn in Paul's flesh was....but mine is always a lack of truck transport.

We need party planners! Yep. We're gonna have a party when this is all through.

Please help! I know you can give your time and finances to a million ministries - and I'm sure they are all great. Please tithe to your churches, tithe to your neighbor's missions team....but if you've got ten dollars each month to give, we would love to give it a great new home :)

On Being a Kid in Adulthood

My childhood was a stark contrast of both absolute bliss and having to grow up too fast. I had all the toys and trips I wanted, I went to private school until 6th grade, I grew up in the Bay Area with gorgeous weather, the ocean 30 minutes away and heck yes we had the Disney Channel when it was still premium cable.

But, there was also a lot of darkness, fear and things that were pretty hard to stomach as an 8-year-old. So when the bible says to have "faith like a child," to me that can easily mean to be afraid, timid, untrusting or ashamed. 

It was the biggest relief of my life this weekend, even after being a Christian since high school, to finally FEEL instead of just "know" that God loves me and wants me to trust Him fully. Like kids should with those who take care of them. 

My own kids, who are 3 and 6 years old, are pretty secure in their little lives. Mom runs a ministry and dad has a large, loving family, so they get a lot of attention and reassurance that there's a corner of the world that thinks they are just awesome sauce. While many of us lack being told we are loved enough as children, I'm fairly certain my kids' love tanks are not only full but overflowing. 

We are so blessed. 

I started thinking about the other attributes my children have, and what it truly means to have childlike faith. I've spoken about this before, but for whatever reason God is bringing it up in my head again. 

Be Happy 

I don't mean that God wants us to be rich, drop dead gorgeous or famous...but have you ever observed the simple happiness of a child? They laugh at the silliest things, get excited about things in life we find mundane (my kids' personal freak-out-with-joy events include the car wash and the claw machine at Denny's). I really believe God wants us to be happy just to be here. I see my daughter putz around the house in a princess dress and cowboy hat, singing at the top of her lungs and then leaning in for a tickle from me....she's happy where she is at. She's in the moment. 

Be Compassionate

Kids hate it when people are sad. Have you noticed that? If there's a kid crying within the vicinity of one of mine, they get SO concerned with a look of distress on their face like we would get if someone's head randomly fell off right in front of us. Only they are horrified at someone tripping and falling on the playground, at someone not sharing the swing set, at a baby crying because their pacifier has dropped on the floor. 

Kids believe that we are all in this together, so everybody should play fair and help each other so no one is left crying alone. 

Be Awestruck 

On car rides, my son loves to have me "guess" what he's thinking. The dude is so transparent and predictable, I almost always guess right, and he is AMAZED. He legitimately thinks I have a super power. God knows ALL our thoughts. I am not a big nature girl, but He created mountains, oceans, animals, our hearts....it's kind of incredible and I don't even understand how it all works. Sometimes I'm just in awe that I get to be here. 

Be Trusting 

My kids never hesitate to ask for help. They don't believe there is any sort of limit on how I'll care for them. Sometimes they come into our bedroom at 3am and vomit on our sleeping heads, and it would never even cross their minds that we might be angered by that. And we're not. We know they can't do everything themselves, and we signed up for the ordeal of having them rely on us 24/7. How much more does God, who created the universe yet calls us children, want us to rely on Him? 

Our children are sinners to the brim. Sure, they have big blue eyes and silly little voices, but they also lie to us, argue with us, steal from each other, disobey at times and flood the bathroom after playing circus sharks in the tub after being told not to for the hundredth time. 

Still, we love them. How much more does God the Father love us? 

Thus, while I know first hand what awful, annoying little beings they can be, I encourage you today to be more like the Sam or Charlotte in your own life. Let the little children lead you....because believe me, they've got this whole love, joy, trust and rely thing down! 

PS - Matthew 18. Good stuff. 

Knowing my Name

What is your name? Obviously we all have the names our parents gave us at birth, but if you were assigned to an adjective or attribute, what would it be? 

I hope that when my time on earth is through, my name will be Faithful. Strong.  Persevering. But admittedly, in my current state my name is more often than not Scattered, Timid or Selfish. 

It's a gradual process, defining what my name truly is. 

I was chatting with someone yesterday about how people tend to flake on church attendance. Every church seems to have the faithful fold, and then there are always a dozen or so names of folks who would be so valuable and such a blessing to the congregation if they made it over on a weekly basis. The same holds true for Royal Stage - we always have our solid core, our floaters and our newbies. 

Women tend to be exceptionally guilty offenders of routine and reliability. Myself included. There are birthday parties, potlucks, board meetings, school field trips, work commitments, ill relatives, friends in crisis, kids to care for, cars that need repairs, groceries that need to be purchased, dinners to cook, clothes to wash, thank you letters to write, homework to look over, schedules to be made (and then broken), Sunday school to teach, gatherings to plan and so much more.....us girls tend to become the social and emotional spokesmodels for our families - and too often we give everyone a fragment of ourselves until there's nothing left for what truly matters. 

I really admire women in my life who know what their name is. They know it is God-fearing. Mother. Wife. Mentor. Friend. They aren't going for a lengthy title - they are simply content to be whatever God chooses to call them. 

I wonder how life would change if the rest of us were able to slow down and learn to hear our name. If we just stopped the world for a bit and reprioritized our lives to put God first, family second, relationships third, and everything else as details. 

I know it's hard. I know it's not popular in the world we live in. Nonetheless, I am trying my darndest to slow down and really love God fully, and trust Him to then expand my heart and my time to include everything else He's called me to.

I want my name at the end of the day to be "His." 

Speaking of names, Sam has decided his name is short for Samson (it isn't) and that we simply forgot to tell him (we didn't). He wrote us this precious letter the other day - totally unprompted, which is always the absolute best. In the words of my friend's husband, maybe we don't suck at this parenting thing. 

Fearless

Trust is hard. It's something I think I've mastered, and yet I have to continue to practice it purposely each and every day. Sometimes I long for the day when trusting comes as easily as breathing or dreaming. 

This weekend was retreat -  in two senses of the word. One, I was literally on the women's retreat for our church's district. Two, I completely retreated from the last bit of fight I've been putting up for so long. 

I officially resigned this weekend from living life with my fists up. 

I wanted so badly to hear God this weekend, for Him to shout so clearly that there was absolutely no mistaking His voice. When my face was hit with the first touches of mountain air and we settled into our room, I was hesitantly hopeful my want would turn into a reality. 

The speaker was incredible, and the companionship was sweet. I was bowled over with the existence of a very real blessing in my life - the presence of strong, capable, God-loving women who live to build hope toward Christ instead of spend time tearing each other down. 

I resolved not to cry at retreat, which was likely a stupid resolution for a weekend where they gift each registrant with a pack of tissues, and then proceed to hand out extras at some of the meetings. Nonetheless, I steeled myself against the flood of emotions I knew I'd have to work hard to avoid, all but verbally daring God to break down my final (and pathetically precarious) wall. 

I knew I was in trouble when the main speaker referenced two bible stories I've long identified with: the bent over woman (Luke 13) and the demon possessed man (Mark 5).  

Or, in the specific ways I identify with their stories....a woman unable to look up from her shame, and a person so unhappy he physically cut his body to find relief. 

Those were sadly both me. The cutter at this time last year, and the ashamed downward girl until....um....yesterday? 

I could write a novel about this weekend, but I'll shorten it a bit: 

- I wanted to hear God speak but my fear pushed Him away. 

- I pouted when God didn't speak. 

- I so desperately wanted to hear God speak, I decided that nothing in my life was worth the cost of silencing Him any longer. 

He's not going to force His spirit upon me. I used to think he would, because isn't that what people do with me? Force me into their mold, their reality, their opinions? As a very broken, very raw ministry leader, I thought God would just join the pile on party and officially break me until I started to obey. 

But fortunately, like someone said this weekend, God is a gentleman. 

Last night was a time where my perspective changed. Last year, in the same room, God called me to be determined. This year, He called me to be brave. Not to be a brave fighter, (which I think I sometimes am, because otherwise I wouldn't still be here), but to be brave enough to let the victory be HIS. 

To let it go. To know I can't do squat in my own strength. To stop getting in the way. 

This is how I ended up face down sobbing into the floor, pleading with God to fix everything.

Please, Daddy. Just fix it. 

And, because His ways are not mine, He fixed everything by.....wait for it....not fixing it. 

Yep. I didn't receive an instant healing. My hurts are still there. But through some ridiculously intense crying, my heart and my prayer started to change. I went from "please help, please fix, please reverse time," to a new prayer of, "Jesus, if the only thing you ever give me is Your sacrifice on the cross, that needs to be enough." 

I cried and cried - and people, I have two modes in life - silly/sarcastic and UGLY CRY. 

So as I covered a corner of the carpet in tears, snot and Maybelline, I acknowledged that Christ's sacrifice was so impressively fearless, that I have no right to be afraid. 

All of the hurts I've faced (the big ones), God showed me how He was there waiting for me, but I turned to something else instead. I served God around Him, never beside or within Him. 

Falling into His fearless heart, the anxiety and unrelenting pressure and thoughts were gone. It was as if God said to me all but audibly, "Oh, how long I've waited for permission to love you!" 

God is a gentleman. He'll let me completely wreck my heart before He will ever force me to do anything. 

While praying with someone later that night, it felt as if something/someone physically got up and walked out of the little chapel we were sitting in. 

And the crazy stopped. All was completely, remarkably quiet. 

My fight isn't over. I am back from my holy honeymoon and already feel my feet slipping.....but this time it's different. 

My fight isn't over, but I'm no longer the one fighting. 

God loves me and He is for me. He loves you too, and is standing by ready to be let in. 

Together, we are fearless. 

Showing Up

I cringe when people use the Christian-ese phrase, "God showing up" for them. For you non-church folks out there, it basically means powerfully feeling the presence of God and/or having Him provide for a need you have, answering a prayer, etc. I get the language and the heart behind it. No one is wrong for saying it, and most people do.

But I never do. 

I don't because I really struggle with feeling God sometimes. And to me personally, declaring that He showed up for me would insinuate that He wasn't already there. I need to remind myself continuously that God is here. He is for me, He loves me, and He is not angry at me. That's just where I'm at. I cannot extend any language that would lead my heart to believe once again that He's left me. I've had enough moments in my life where the desert is so intensely dry, there seemed to be no chance of relief. God just becomes some sort of mirage that is constructed out of what others have told me. 

This is wrong. God shows up for me all the time. He's never left.

Remember that, Tam. And follow the advice of others that when things feel okay, write them down so you have those little memorials to look back on and be refreshed.

So here I am writing them down.

I am ridiculously blessed. My life is so easy. But lately, particular circumstances sent me absolutely over the edge. And in my usual routine of having a spiritual temper tantrum, I declared to kingdom come that God wasn't there. He wasn't "showing up." As strong as my faith is to many outside of my church bubble, I was on the brink of just thinking there is no way in heck I can do this anymore. I can't do ministry, I can't do parenthood...I can't do life.

Then it hit me that in all my despair, I was actually pushing against God instead of pressing into Him. If the spiritual realm were a physical one, I was like a little kid punching at a strong, solid Father, raging that I wasn't getting my way.

Once again, I decided that intimacy and trust was scary, and God was no different. Just like people, He was laughing at me while I was hurting. He already had one foot out the door, and I just needed to say or do one more thing wrong and He was out of there. God was not only failing to "show up," He was persisting in His leaving.

When I realized I was fighting against God, and was giving in once again to my irrational fears thanks to a combination of an insecure life and some unfortunate personality quirks, I stopped. I stopped fighting. I just stopped.

I went on to pray the crappiest prayer ever. It was probably about four words long, and my heart was half in it. To sum it up, I told God, "I am done. I need help. Fix it."

Just that little ounce of faith. Just that little tiny step toward sanity again and believing in what I always so publicly claim to believe caused the first step in what I hope is a transformation.

God showed me I was loved. An amazing person in my life was willing to meet me at 11pm to hear my hurting heart.

I have a pastor that buys me tacos and gives me advice. And he's not afraid to tell me the truth, even when it's going to hurt, because he knows what God is saying, and he knows that God knows what I need.

I got a raise today for a writing job that I was really struggling with, but pushed through the madness to complete because I knew it would keep me somewhat centered and quiet my mind. And now she's going to pay me more? Right after I got a traffic ticket I had no idea how I was going to pay and was stressing me out?

A pastor of another church, who has observed my ministry from afar randomly sent me an email today offering encouragement, mentorship and resources I have been dreaming of. I never reached out to him for anything before, and he contacted me.

Last night at a meeting I was terrified to lead, what I thought would certainly turn into World War III actually turned into an incredibly peaceful, encouraging time where people commended the ministry and its efforts rather than focusing on the struggle at hand.

God has protected and provided and "shown up," even though all I took was the measliest little step toward Him.

I am not great. I am not strong. I am not brave. I am emotionally wreckless and spiritually clumsy.

But God hears the cry of His kids. He cares about our little things.

In Him there is safety and grace and healing.

I'm not there yet. I have a long, rocky road to get to where I hope to be.

But God is not only showing up, He is next to me every step of the way.

My number one prayer is that I never forget this again.