Disqualified From My Own Will

I like the ocean, but I love San Francisco Bay. The calm of the water combined with the ability to wear cozy clothes practically year round is my favorite combination. 

I love the dampness in the air of the South Bay Area where I grew up. I love the local donut shop, the way flowers bloom and grow so effortlessly in that perfect combination of dew and sunshine, how every street seems to carry a memory and how the city Easter Egg Hunt and 4th of July picnic is actually for the entire city. 

Sacramento is massive - there are so many subdivisions that someone telling you that they also live in Sacramento could very well mean they live almost 45 minutes away. 

I miss my high school friends - out of my close circle, I'm the only one who's moved away. I have some very bad, painful memories from my hometown, but memories don't really stay where you leave them anyhow and because of this, I would move back to the Bay Area in a heartbeat if I had the opportunity. 

Or would I? 

I live in Sacramento. We are financially okay, own our home, have our children in an exceptional school and my ministry is thriving. This would lead one to believe that It is God's will for us to be here. 

Would I want to be outside of God's will? Isn't it funny how subconsciously, our response is often a resounding "yes" even though we know it would lead to our own destruction? 

Of course, rationally, as I wrote in my previous blog post, I know I am meant to live in Sacramento. Sacramento is healthier for me, and since I've been in the area since college, it's honestly the only place I've ever test-driven this whole concept of being a grown up. 

But still, there's that knee-jerk reaction to run toward what feels good. What feels right. What feels like it would somehow be better. 

Yesterday, we were disqualified for a $10,000 grant we worked hard for. The disqualification was incredibly grey and could easily be viewed as unfair. People have said some very nice things: 

You need to alert the media.

You need to contact an attorney.

How dare they do this.

How could they think you cheated/don't impact the community/count for anything? 

When I found out, my heart jumped in my throat - I was surprised, saddened and fiercely protective of our ministry that works so hard and still struggles financially every month. I fired off a response email, keeping my composure, and then a few hours later I sent a text to the grant coordinator that was definitely less than Christ-like. In the flurry of my sweet defenders' opinions, I contacted whoever I thought could potentially reverse the decision.  

It was unfair. Hadn't we earned it? Didn't we deserve to have something come easily for once? 

Back in the Bay Area yesterday, I attended a get together for a friend that ended up feeling like I had stepped into a time machine. Everything and everyone was exactly the same, and many looked at me with a "where the heck have YOU been" expression. 

There was sting after sting. 

Oh, I haven't heard from you since you ran off to Sacramento to be a dancer. 

You remember Tammy, right?

Um, kind of....I think so.....

The awkward fake hug. The odd realization of needing your GPS to get back to the freeway afterward because it's been so long the streets seem to have changed. 

Gratefully, the guest of honor was thrilled to see me. She hugged me tightly and thanked me multiple times for driving so far. Her arms felt like the home and validation I craved. It made it possible for me to keep a smile on my face all afternoon as I drank flavored water that tasted uncomfortably like garden soil and talked about the weather approximately six separate times with various

friends -turned-acquaintances.

When you're discussing weather for more than 20 seconds, you know you've lost touch with the soul standing before you, no matter how precious they might've once been to you. 

I could fight harder for the grant. I could raise absolute hell, burn bridges and drag the offending foundation through the mud. 

But would that place me in the center of God's will? A place that honestly sometimes I don't desire to be because it's harder and lonelier than the alternative? Do I want to win $10,000 from a foundation that actively funds "women's rights" including abortion under any circumstance and gender reassignment? I mean, no wonder they don't like us. 

Just as I felt uncomfortable at that party, I feel even more uncomfortable responding to an organization's judgment with hostility and revenge. The line between tenacity and hard-heartedness is very faint and thin. 

Thus, it would seem we've been officially been disqualified from the grant. And I've been officially disqualified from my former hometown hangouts. But I haven't been disqualified from God's grace, peace and love. 

I just pray that this morning I can experience it. 

 

French Fries for Dinner

My kids had french fries for dinner last night.
Oh, and Lucky Charms for breakfast because it is St. Patrick's Day tradition.

I wish this weren't another post about depression. I wish that I were typing these words instead..... I AM HEALED! IT'S ALL GONE!

Not gonna happen today. And it's okay. No really, it is.

Last night was one of the worst nights I've had in a very, very long time. Since October, to be exact.

When a relapse starts, it feels as if  I've been kidnapped. Fear and darkness grip me, and it can start anywhere, anytime. I can be standing right next to you and you wouldn't even know it has started up again if I catch on quickly enough to its sneaky ways and stuff it down.

Compulsive thoughts.
Sweaty hands.
Insanely fast heartbeat.
Dizzy.
A craving for physical pain to overcome the mental pain.
Endless thoughts of suicide.
Feeling everyone hates me.
Self-destructive behaviors.
Fear of abandonment.
Identity disturbance.
Impulsivity.
Inappropriate & intense anger.
Disassociation.

That was last night. And today. But again, it's okay.

Why?

Because it's a part of my calling in life - at least thus far. It makes me really, truly appreciate all of the things God has given me and preserved for me that I simply do not deserve.

How can I be so ugly/angry/depressing/unstable and have truly the most wonderful friends on earth? What have I done to deserve my two beautiful babies? To have a solid, consistent husband that never wavers in his love for our family?

How can I look mental illness in the eyes when instead right now I can look directly into the heart of Jesus? And a million other pretty things?

In the midst of this early Spring, I have started to really enjoy living in Sacramento. I realize how good it is for me. How it is healthy for me to be here, even at times when I don't want to be.

I love that there's a frozen yogurt shop wherever I roam.
I love that I can go swimming in March.
I love the community - we have so many charity events from 5Ks to galas that we're invited to.
I love that my children were accepted to a charter school with free Montessori education.
I love the slower pace of life.
I love that people smile at each other.
I love my son's t-ball team.
I love how all of our favorite restaurants are not chains or carbon copies of just another location.
I love how there's much less traffic than back at home.
I love the drive to support small business and local farmers.
I love the horses my kids give sugar cubes to on the way to school sometimes.
I love there's a nature preserve in the backyard of Sam's school.
I love my church.
I love that we have a house payment that still leaves us vacation money.
I love my husband's amazing family.
I love the grocery store clerk that remembers my kids. (in a good way!)
I love the ministry God has chosen me to direct, and how far it's come.

Yesterday was a hard day. Today is a VERY hard day. But there is absolutely no reason to despair.

One of the hardest things about this battle is that it's sooooooooo verrrrrrryyyyyy loooonnnng.

I've opened up more as of late, but those who I've opened up to awhile ago (and thank you for being a part of that exclusive club, I know it's not easy) - their reactions change. They will tell you to "do better," or "try harder." It's their reaction because it's not their battle and they have no clue how hard you're trying. I'm glad they don't know.

I'm glad they haven't walked away from this impossible-to-love girl.

It's hardest to ask for prayer when your drama becomes "normal" to others. You are trying to slay this stubbornly fierce dragon, and just because people have learned the appropriate automated responses to your hysteria doesn't make the battle any less scary than it was the first time they heard about it.

That's why I make lists of the things I love. You can too, if you have darkness sitting on your shoulder, waiting to devour you whole. People help. Lists help. A healthy dose of determination helps.

Also, Jesus helps. More than anything, Jesus helps.

My kids will probably eat french fries for dinner again tonight. My circumstances have not changed in the past 24 hours. But it's okay. Jesus knows I'm changing, even when it's slow going. And HE never changes, no matter how much I fear He will.

Let's not give up today.

Slap Rehab

I saw this video today. 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ninOz5ValUM

If you're too restless to watch a four-minute video, it is clips of total strangers slapping each other in the face. 

I am a recovering face slapper.

I don't think I've physically hit many people. There was one girl in high school (deserved it) amd one other person (didn't deserve it). But I have emotionally slapped many, many wonderful people in the face over the years....and we've all slapped Jesus. 

Isn't that truly a horrific thought to realize we've emotionally belted the savior of mankind? But you have. So have I. We all have sin, and it sucks. 

I love the video because that's how my heart worked for a very long time: 

1) meet someone 

2) hurt them before they could hurt me

3) become friends, laugh, sometimes eventually trust 

4) never see them again

I have a lot in common with the strangers in this video. 

Sunday was the final time I allowed myself to act as an emotional face slapper. I am now officially enjoying retirement. 

When I slap people, I slap Jesus. When I go into self-serving survival mode, I shut out Jesus. And I can't afford to do that anymore. 

Maybe you agree with the below statements: 

I've been hurt.

I've been abused. 

I've been abandoned.

I've been gossiped about.

I've been afraid.

I've been shamed. 

I've been lied to. 

Maybe you don't yet know that: 

Christ was hurt.

Christ was abused.

Christ was abandoned.

Christ was gossiped about. 

God's heart broke when you were afraid.

God ached when you felt ashamed. 

God cannot tell a lie. 

I know for certain that: 

He has built me up again. I do not have to be afraid. 

He has given me peace, although sometimes I lose track of it, it is never truly snatched away. 

He has restored me. 

He has made safe places. 

He has caused me to trust again without my even realizing it. 

He transforms. 

He is patient. He is kind. He is a God of second chances (and 2nd, 3rd, 4th....) 

I don't need to emotionally slap people in my life. Sure, there have been plenty of predators, but I don't need to always assume I will be the prey. 

Viewing the world through our hearts shouldn't be an "eat or be eaten" situation. 

God can let our guard down. God can rebuild what has been broken. 

There's no need to hit out once you realize that with Jesus, you can always lean in. 

Circus at Dawn

I live in a circus. And while being ringmaster certainly has its blessings, I'm not a fan of working the graveyard shift. 

3am. Sam crawls into our bed. I'm too tired to move him back, and since he sleeps diagonally, Frank gives up and goes to sleep on the couch. 

5am. Charlotte crawls into our bed. Here's the conversation as best I remember it, as I was in a dead sleep when it began: 

"Sa-am! Move over!" 

(I'm always impressed with how she makes his name two syllables. Sometimes even three.) 

"No." 

"Sa-am! I said move over!" 

"I can't! I'll break the eggs!" 

"Sam, there are no eggs in the bed. Make room for your sister, please." 

"Sa-a-a-a-a-m!" 

(Wow! That was six!) 

"I TOLD YOU I'LL BREAK THE EGGS!" 

"Sam! There are no eggs in the bed!!!! Move over right now or you need to go on time out!" 

(Please God let him move over so I don't have to get out of bed to put him on time out. Miracles do happen. I could still get to go back to sleep....) 

"Fine! I'll move over, Charlotte! But I am going to crack my eggs on you!" 

I hear a slapping noise. Sam starts crying. I hear another slapping noise. Charlotte starts crying. 

"You guys!" 

"Sam hit me with his egggggsssss!" 

"She pushed me first!!!! And then hit me!" 

"You hit me with eggs first!" 

"THERE ARE NO EGGS IN THIS BED!!!" 

"Wahhhhh! Yes there are! *hic* *sniff* there were dinosaur eggs and I was supposed to protect themmmmmmm!!!! aHHHHHHHH" 

"Wahhhhhh!!!!"

(Charlotte, because she clearly felt left out.)

"Okay, back to your beds. Both of you. " 

"Nooooooooo!" (In unison.) 

"Yesssss!" 

I pick each one up - Sam thrown over my shoulder in a fireman carry, Charlotte under my other arm. If it were daylight, I could've caught a glimpse of Frank fake-sleeping on the couch as we barreled down the hallway and into their room. 

Girl in bottom bunk. Boy on top bunk. Wailing like their toenails are being pulled out, I close their bedroom door. 

They are fast asleep in less than five minutes. 

6:30am. "Mama! Look what I learned in school! Lemonade! *clap clap clap* Crushed ice! *clap clap clap*" 

Sam continues through some other junk food/drink list, clapping what I'm fairly certain is the wrong amount of times. 

"And then there's this part, but you don't have to do it." 

(He starts to roll around on his back, kicking his legs. Then he starts to do the work across the bed. At this point I'm fairly certain he's adding his own signature flair to a playground game he liked, but felt needed further artistic expression." 

He's shouting and clapping about chips, Pepsi, one, two, three.....when Charlotte appears. 

7:45am. Charlotte hollers from the living room as I'm back in bed, catching up on the Kardashians. 

"Mama!!!! Don't you remember that if I ask for juice and you give it to me, I'll spill it?!?!" 

Happy Friday, everybody. Mothers everywhere - be strong. 

Healing from the Top Down

I am ridiculously distractable. 

I am jumpy when I hear/feel movement behind me, and my attention is usually drawn toward whatever is seen in my peripheral. I'm just not any good at paying attention. 

On the the other side, I find life to be much easier when I force myself to be nothing but focused. A Mulan instead of an Alice. A tunnel instead of an expansive country road. A Mary Instead of a Peter. To sit at the feet of Jesus and listen instead of speaking before thinking. 

Last night at bible study, we chatted about the story of Jesus healing the paralytic. You know, the one where his friends got together and dropped him through some poor schmuck's roof so he would be front and center before Jesus and be able to walk? 

And Jesus, as that clever guy often loves to do, turned the whole thing upside down by healing him, yes. But first telling him his sins are forgiven. 

Excuse me? Did the man come for legs or salvation? I'm guessing the former, but how cool and amazingly special to receive both? The best 2 for 1 deal on Earth! 

And it really humbled me. Probably even more importantly, it silenced me. 

I could go on and on about the theological insight behind this story, the different thoughts people had at bible study....but at the end of the day, this human being was focused on a broken physical body, and Christ before him prioritized the spiritual. 

I've stopped praying for the healing many of you now know I need. It used to be a big secret, I used to just be perceived as aloof, snobby or stand offish. Now trust is more a part of the everyday and a whole mess of people have seen my heart on my sleeve, knowing exactly what "my ailments" are. I need healing. Big time. 

Which is exactly why I'm no longer praying for it. I will certainly have those desperate moments with God where the Holy Spirit prays on my behalf. God knows my heart and so to cease petitioning my greatest desire to Him is basically impossible. 

But....consciously, I'm done asking. And I'm ready to start thanking. 

Thank you, God, for my salvation. 

Thank you, Jesus, for giving me a gift no one else can snatch away. 

Thank you, Father, for healing me from the top to bottom - in other words, your order of priorities, not mine. 

I've never been lowered through a roof.  The closest I've probably ever come is my friend Anna belaying me down from a climbing wall and I was not too thrilled about that.  

But I AM laying at the feet of Jesus, just like that paralyzed man was centuries ago....and leaving it up to Him to set the priorities when it comes to healing. 

That's kind of hard, you know? But it's definitely possible and I'm focused on it. I can be thankful and assured of my eternity. 

What else, really, do I need? Certainly I want a lot. But needs? I'll be just fine because at the end of the day, I've received the best sort of healing imaginable. 

Colorful Faith

I've always seen the world in black and white.

If someone is upset with me, they hate me.
If something doesn't turn out right, it was all wrong.
If someone criticizes me, I can't do anything right.
If something cannot be immediately accomplished, then it will never be completed.

Black and white thinking is something that's very dangerous, especially for women. It's been the downfall of my entire life, and one thing I've loved over the past several months is God revealing to me all of these wonderful shades of grey I never knew existed before.

If someone is upset with me, it doesn't mean that God is.
If something doesn't turn out right, there are still usually a lot of valuable things about it.
If someone criticizes me, it's a chance to grow.
If something cannot be immediately accomplished, then there's a different path toward it - or else a path toward something even better.

This is the longest stretch of time I can ever recall where I've consistently felt God's love. I know that such a statement as God not loving me is ludicrous coming out of the mouth of someone who directs a ministry, but it is something I've always struggled with. It's something I've written often about, because it is always something I have to overcome. Every single day, I need to make the conscious decision to climb over my temptation of self-destruction and choose to accept Christ's gift all over again.

 I live in a very fickle world - I write professionally, where editors change their minds on a whim and publications often survive about as long as a California winter. I direct a creative arts ministry, where right-brained people often seem to pick and choose the things they don't like about our structure, my leadership, and sometimes just me in general. I grew up unconditionally loved under a heck of a lot of conditions, and I am, by nature, fearful, self-loathing and critical. I'm also ferociously loyal - to those I love, but also to my own distrust toward life.

This is all why I feel so grateful for the past several months, where I've really felt free to be myself. And to learn that "myself" is actually not all that awful. I've seen God prune in areas of my heart that had been choked up by weeds long enough, and also I've found myself realizing how hard I actually had to work to remain a person who doesn't trust and only loves to a point. It's quite an exhausting commitment, honestly.

Over the past couple of months specifically, those shades of grey have transformed into brilliant colors. I can laugh without worrying about how stupid my face looks. I can hang out with friends, or not hang out with friends - I am no longer afraid to be alone with myself. I've seen a lot less of people that have proven to be toxic, and I can find that balance between acting selfishly and acting smartly.

I'm no longer waking up in the morning and consuming emotional arsenic for breakfast.

These vibrant bursts of color into my life have been incredibly encouraging, and while I'm not sure if my perception of reality was more accurate then or now - I am definitely enjoying the now so much more.

I've gotten really into bible journaling lately. Maybe I'm just late to the party, but it's a fairly new concept to me. It isn't writing in a journal after reading or hearing a sermon - that's something I've done forever....it's actually writing/drawing IN the bible.

I've been craving the return to a regular bible. I know that's terribly vintage of me, but I'm tired of phone bibles. The word of God (at least to me right now), deserves more than to be nestled between my Pinterest and Facebook apps. I don't want a text message notification to pop up over the scripture I'm reading, attention whoring its way to the center of my focus. I'm over it. I'm done. I want to feel the pages, curl up with an actual book, literally hold the word of God without having to worry about its battery life. 

And I want to create. 

For the first time in my entire life, I feel free to learn every nook and cranny of God's character. No one in my life has permission any longer to tell me that I'm not good enough to kneel before my Savior, and God is always present to work me through the flaws I do in fact continue to carry. 

I am, in fact, one of those tragically vicious right-brained people I fear in my ministry. If I'm doodling or taking notes, it means I'm listening. If I'm journaling during prayer or worship, it means I'm fully engaged. That might be strange, but it works for me, and the discovery of this awesome, amazing bible journaling concept has taken God's word and transformed it for me in a way that when times get difficult again (and I know they will!), I can look back and physically see the colors of love, peace, hope and....the most rare of all....JOY. 

God pulled me in further recently, and placed a special mission on my heart. It's not something big. It's not going to change the world. It doesn't involve a budget or business plan, and it won't require anyone to sign a commitment contract or go through a volunteer training.....it's pretty simple, really. 

God has instructed me to color the crap out of this bible - to be completely free and vibrant in what He speaks and what He calls me to create.....

...and then give it to my daughter. 

My feisty, blue-eyed, crazy curly-haired Charlotte June. This girl exhausts me. She's always stuck to me like glue. She is a big reason why I've slowed down my ministry commitments as of late. Sam loves to be at the studio - Charlotte loves to be the center of my world. 

I pray daily that God will be the center of hers someday. That beyond Sunday School lessons and watching mommy speak at touring events....beyond reading to her about Noah's Ark and why we celebrate Easter......that the gospel will one day be so colorfully clear to her. That she will ALWAYS know God's love for her - and she will never allow anyone to cause her to doubt it. 

When storms come, and she feels like walking away from everything, that she will remain in the comfort of His love.

I know that's a very lofty prayer. It's one that I'm still praying for and committing to for myself as well. But, what I do know is that one day I can give her this bible full of brilliant colors and words that God promised to give to generations, and I hope that it will grip her in the same way God's love now grips me.

His promises are amazing. Nothing compares.