I went to bed last night with every intention to start writing right away- before Emma could stand creepily over my face and whisper she's hungry, before I could start washing dishes, making breakfast, scouring the internet for vacation spots. But I'm super awesome at distracting myself, at prolonging the inevitable. I will find words for the way I feel. I will, but it would be healthier if I just let myself write and try to find the words now instead of later. I want to be good with words, true with words, but I doubt myself every time. I wonder if I'll feel more confident in time or if I'll forever be fighting for meaning in my words...
I recently read a blog post by Don Miller (http://storylineblog.com/2015/01/28/do-you-only-matter-because-of-what-you-do/) about him visiting a therapy center. Upon arrival guests had to surrender their phones for the week, drop their last names, and their ace cards. Don describes our ace cards as important, impressive things we wear like badges and throw down on the table to make people believe us to be something or someone other than our true selves. We use our ace cards to hide shame and self-doubt. But we are more than what we do. We have great intrinsic value. But I forget that a lot. I forget that I matter and that I am doing good things with my life.
You see, I don't really have any ace cards to hide behind. I don't work an interesting job, I don't travel to exotic places, I don't cook Pinterest meals every night, I don't go out to fancy places and wear shiny black dresses and sip champagne (usually). My life, me, the things I do, they don't Instagram well. I'm not topping the charts of social media in anything but honesty and vulnerability. All I have to offer you is me. I really hope that is enough.
What have I been up to lately? What do I do? Where am I going? They're the questions I ask myself and people ask me on a pretty consistent basis. And, in an effort to calm one of my many emotional storms as of late, my sweet Dan reminded me that we've been building- slowly, quietly, and with great pain. We've been building a marriage, a family, friends. We've been focusing our efforts on raising a child to know she is loved and wanted by us and by God- just the way she is. My father-in-law said that the past almost-six years may have been hard for us, but they haven't been for Emma. She has always had food and shelter and comfort and two engaged parents and love. And he's right on two counts- it has been hard for Dan and me, and it hasn't been for Em. It's hard to say no to things I love like travel and exploration and music and art and other things that other twenty-somethings are off doing right now. It's hard to come to terms with what I willingly said yes to. In my defense, I don't think anyone ever really know what they're signing up for in marriage and parenting. But I picked it and I picked to stay. I chose to commit and connect and grow and build. And I think those are good things.
I matter because of who I am- lover of light and color and sweaters and friends and wine and yoga and Dan and music and books and being understood and Emma and chocolate and tea and God and grace and hope and blueberries and dance and justice and adoption and positive change and sundresses and the beach and puppies and breaking unhealthy cycles and watercolors and painting and candles and french fries. Who are you? What do you really love to do? Be honest. That person matters.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Never alone
It's been two months since I last opened my blog. That's sad for me, really, because I love to write. It's not just an outlet or a hobby, it's a need. I have to write. But I didn't. Holidays have a way of sending me on a tailspin of emotion and they launch me into a depressing black hole and when I land on my feet again I am completely disoriented although the world looks exactly the same as when I left it.
Yesterday was probably the hardest day in the last four years of my life. I woke up mad, hurt, hopeless. And if you know anything about waking up it's that that is really just the worst way to do it. Might as well bury your head in the pillow and try to sleep and then wake up again. Declare a do over, or something. But I didn't. I didn't have the courage or strength to say "do over!" I just wandered with furrowed brow, miserable all day. Because the car needs an engine repair that will cost all of our savings, my kid won't stop whining my name (for the last 4 days), there isn't enough money, I haven't found a job yet, my husband hasn't found a higher paying job, we feel unstable internally and externally, we keep trying to make things happen for ourselves and it's just not working. When I made it to that last thought I remembered that I had left God completely out of all of it. I didn't ask him for help. I didn't tell him what I needed or what was bothering me. Probably because he's invisible, eternal and I'm temporal. I am bound by time and space and body and this provincial life and he is not. I overlook him because he is beyond and above and separate from all the things I do or deal with every day. But he isn't really. My friend Lisa reminded me that I never walk alone. God never asked me to. He is Emmanuel, God with us. We are his greatest treasure. He pursues me still even though if it had been me in the garden instead of Eve, I would have eaten the fruit. If it had been me meeting Jesus I wouldn't have believed he was the Son of God. But he loves me anyway and he gave me Jesus anyway to get back his treasure that was lost all those years ago. This treasure is dirty and ungrateful and doubting and selfish, but he wants me anyway. He wants to fix my car and heal my heart and give me a home. Because he's my dad and he loves me.
Yesterday was the worst day, but at the end of it I remembered that I really am loved. I really am cared for. My friends reminded me. I didn't spend a second of my day alone. Friends in the afternoon, friends at night. They surrounded me in the best way and snuggled me and reminded me to listen for God's voice. Walk the walk of faith which is hard and I often feel like I'm stumbling blindly, but I am never alone. That was the best thing to hear (and feel). I am never alone and neither are you.
Yesterday was probably the hardest day in the last four years of my life. I woke up mad, hurt, hopeless. And if you know anything about waking up it's that that is really just the worst way to do it. Might as well bury your head in the pillow and try to sleep and then wake up again. Declare a do over, or something. But I didn't. I didn't have the courage or strength to say "do over!" I just wandered with furrowed brow, miserable all day. Because the car needs an engine repair that will cost all of our savings, my kid won't stop whining my name (for the last 4 days), there isn't enough money, I haven't found a job yet, my husband hasn't found a higher paying job, we feel unstable internally and externally, we keep trying to make things happen for ourselves and it's just not working. When I made it to that last thought I remembered that I had left God completely out of all of it. I didn't ask him for help. I didn't tell him what I needed or what was bothering me. Probably because he's invisible, eternal and I'm temporal. I am bound by time and space and body and this provincial life and he is not. I overlook him because he is beyond and above and separate from all the things I do or deal with every day. But he isn't really. My friend Lisa reminded me that I never walk alone. God never asked me to. He is Emmanuel, God with us. We are his greatest treasure. He pursues me still even though if it had been me in the garden instead of Eve, I would have eaten the fruit. If it had been me meeting Jesus I wouldn't have believed he was the Son of God. But he loves me anyway and he gave me Jesus anyway to get back his treasure that was lost all those years ago. This treasure is dirty and ungrateful and doubting and selfish, but he wants me anyway. He wants to fix my car and heal my heart and give me a home. Because he's my dad and he loves me.
Yesterday was the worst day, but at the end of it I remembered that I really am loved. I really am cared for. My friends reminded me. I didn't spend a second of my day alone. Friends in the afternoon, friends at night. They surrounded me in the best way and snuggled me and reminded me to listen for God's voice. Walk the walk of faith which is hard and I often feel like I'm stumbling blindly, but I am never alone. That was the best thing to hear (and feel). I am never alone and neither are you.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
life-bored
There's no pretty way to start writing about what's been on my mind lately. I feel SUPER bored with my life. I'm at frustration level, for sure. I feel underutilized- no way am I tapping in to my full potential. At all. And when I begin feeling that way I think terrible, illogical things like "Might as well have another baby. If I'm going to be trapped at home with Em and my body worked to grow a baby that one time, might as well have another one. Right?" Newsflash, Brain, THIS MAKES NO SENSE. You feel trapped and dissatisfied with your life? How about I throw you a baby, at least two years of no sleep, mountains of laundry and poor hygiene? Still sound good, Brain? Sheesh.
My life-bored feeling is just a symptom, though, I think. I think my main problem is that the spiritual being part of me that needs to be connected to and cared for by God, the part that needs to create and think and do things that bring order to chaos, that part of me feels suppressed by the functional being. I can execute tasks perfectly- it may take a long time due to constant interruption from the most adorable tiny person- but I can do them. I can wipe noses and cook dinner and clean house and adventure to the park and read stories and make crafts and play imaginary games and catch up with my husband and tuck my tiny human in for bed and tutor kids and shop for groceries and read my Bible and sometimes even read more things that aren't Facebook. I can do all those things. But what do I want to do? I want to rest. I want to just be me. I want to run and dance and sing and play with Emma without the constant "mommommommommom!" I want to read actual books and write and sit outside and garden and dig my toes in the sand. I want to learn new things like how to salsa dance or play piano or crochet or speak French. I want to drink wine and stay up late talking to Dan and my friends about hopes and dreams and fears. I want to date Dan every night and I never want to say goodbye. I want to eat good food and make new friends and lasting memories. I want to snuggle old friends and lean into being understood. I want to adopt kids- a house full of people who know they are wanted. I want to be snuggled. I want to travel and explore new things. Some of the things I want are more realistic than others, I get that. I think I'm going to start trying some of the more realistic things on a weekly basis. So I can feel sane and be a person instead of a robot. We're not supposed to be robots, you know?
We'll talk more soon!
Love,
Leah
My life-bored feeling is just a symptom, though, I think. I think my main problem is that the spiritual being part of me that needs to be connected to and cared for by God, the part that needs to create and think and do things that bring order to chaos, that part of me feels suppressed by the functional being. I can execute tasks perfectly- it may take a long time due to constant interruption from the most adorable tiny person- but I can do them. I can wipe noses and cook dinner and clean house and adventure to the park and read stories and make crafts and play imaginary games and catch up with my husband and tuck my tiny human in for bed and tutor kids and shop for groceries and read my Bible and sometimes even read more things that aren't Facebook. I can do all those things. But what do I want to do? I want to rest. I want to just be me. I want to run and dance and sing and play with Emma without the constant "mommommommommom!" I want to read actual books and write and sit outside and garden and dig my toes in the sand. I want to learn new things like how to salsa dance or play piano or crochet or speak French. I want to drink wine and stay up late talking to Dan and my friends about hopes and dreams and fears. I want to date Dan every night and I never want to say goodbye. I want to eat good food and make new friends and lasting memories. I want to snuggle old friends and lean into being understood. I want to adopt kids- a house full of people who know they are wanted. I want to be snuggled. I want to travel and explore new things. Some of the things I want are more realistic than others, I get that. I think I'm going to start trying some of the more realistic things on a weekly basis. So I can feel sane and be a person instead of a robot. We're not supposed to be robots, you know?
We'll talk more soon!
Love,
Leah
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
October
October is always cause for reflection. On October 3rd Dan and I celebrated our 9 year date-iversary and on October 5th our hilarious Emma turned 4. HOLY COW. I don't even really feel old enough to have been dating my husband for nine years, to be married, to have a child... to have a child who is 4. I mean, really?!
It sneaks up on you, though- time. It's like a fat house-cat lurking around dark corners and hiding behind fat house-ferns/palms, only catching a glimpse of that elusive animal as it races by with a catnip toy. You're not even fully aware of what's happening and then you try to play the scene over and over again in your mind so you can hold onto it for just a moment. It's pretty enjoyable to watch a fat cat run, after all. Seriously, though, it's important to pause and remember where you've been. If it's painful or traumatic, don't stay for too long, but acknowledge that it happened. Tip your hat to where you've been, rise again, and move forward. I think that if we never take stock of where we've been, we'll find ourselves there again. I hate that. I feel like I find myself in the same forests, lost in the same trees and heavy fog. I can't ever get a handle on who I want to be and where I want to go so I end up wandering. This October, with Dan's help, I'm taking time to say goodbye to the past and making some plans for the future. Who do I want to be? What do I want to have accomplished in God's ultimate plan to save many lives? What can I contribute?
These are serious questions, but they're no 10-year plan. I don't believe in that. Donald Miller in Storyline talks about how God's will for our lives is the same as it was for Joseph when he was thrown in a pit and sold into slavery in Egypt- to save many lives. I want to get in on that, not the pit part but the saving many lives part. In light of that I want to be a woman who loves deeply, who takes time to be kind, compassionate, and true. I want to enjoy my life and the people in it, breathing them in deep no matter my circumstances or the duration of our relationship. I want to be all in. I want to travel, go on adventures with Dan, be reminded of God's love for me by drinking in the natural world. I want to get my hands dirty rescuing slaves, widows, orphans, the poor. I want to be a really good friend, wife, mom. I want to encourage Emma to open her eyes in wonder and belief in God so her life will be filled with light (Matthew 6:22-23 MSG). I want to adopt kids from here and all over the world, just like God adopted us.
This October I feel hopeful. I know I'm approaching 30. Every year that passes reminds me that I will not refer to myself as "young" for much longer. But the things that God works out in our lives take time, often many more years than we would like. I know a little about that. But as I examine my false starts and failures to launch, I remember that God is mostly concerned about my character. He's refining me and making me more like him so that I may resemble him, so that people will be drawn to him by the story he tells with my life. Maybe you feel like I often do, like my life is a collection of setbacks. But God has given us some materials and a hell of creative license. Let's make something beautiful with the mess.
Love,
Leah
It sneaks up on you, though- time. It's like a fat house-cat lurking around dark corners and hiding behind fat house-ferns/palms, only catching a glimpse of that elusive animal as it races by with a catnip toy. You're not even fully aware of what's happening and then you try to play the scene over and over again in your mind so you can hold onto it for just a moment. It's pretty enjoyable to watch a fat cat run, after all. Seriously, though, it's important to pause and remember where you've been. If it's painful or traumatic, don't stay for too long, but acknowledge that it happened. Tip your hat to where you've been, rise again, and move forward. I think that if we never take stock of where we've been, we'll find ourselves there again. I hate that. I feel like I find myself in the same forests, lost in the same trees and heavy fog. I can't ever get a handle on who I want to be and where I want to go so I end up wandering. This October, with Dan's help, I'm taking time to say goodbye to the past and making some plans for the future. Who do I want to be? What do I want to have accomplished in God's ultimate plan to save many lives? What can I contribute?
These are serious questions, but they're no 10-year plan. I don't believe in that. Donald Miller in Storyline talks about how God's will for our lives is the same as it was for Joseph when he was thrown in a pit and sold into slavery in Egypt- to save many lives. I want to get in on that, not the pit part but the saving many lives part. In light of that I want to be a woman who loves deeply, who takes time to be kind, compassionate, and true. I want to enjoy my life and the people in it, breathing them in deep no matter my circumstances or the duration of our relationship. I want to be all in. I want to travel, go on adventures with Dan, be reminded of God's love for me by drinking in the natural world. I want to get my hands dirty rescuing slaves, widows, orphans, the poor. I want to be a really good friend, wife, mom. I want to encourage Emma to open her eyes in wonder and belief in God so her life will be filled with light (Matthew 6:22-23 MSG). I want to adopt kids from here and all over the world, just like God adopted us.
This October I feel hopeful. I know I'm approaching 30. Every year that passes reminds me that I will not refer to myself as "young" for much longer. But the things that God works out in our lives take time, often many more years than we would like. I know a little about that. But as I examine my false starts and failures to launch, I remember that God is mostly concerned about my character. He's refining me and making me more like him so that I may resemble him, so that people will be drawn to him by the story he tells with my life. Maybe you feel like I often do, like my life is a collection of setbacks. But God has given us some materials and a hell of creative license. Let's make something beautiful with the mess.
Love,
Leah
I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.
Psalm 27:13-14 NIV
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Sincerely Insecure
I am always nervous when I sit down to write. I have stupid, one-sided conversations with myself. Will anything that I say matter? Will it be true? Will it be helpful? Will I be clear? Will I be understood? I don't know! So much of the time my mind feels like a jumbled mess of dirty laundry tossed about an already cluttered bedroom. I'm a mess. My life is messy. I feel insecure a lot. It's WAY easier to just play Candy Crush and drink wine until my mind numbs, slows. It's what I was doing two minutes ago. Because I'm scared. I'm scared that if I call myself a writer, dreamer, lover of all things good & right & true then I'll have expectations to meet. And history will show that I am a failure. A complete screw-up. I never really get off the ground. I never really start anything. I never really do anything.
That's what history shows about me. But you know something awesome? Way better than all of that is that history proves my God is faithful. And I may be wandering in desert, around the same damn mountain over and over again but just like the Jews, His favorites, His chosen, God gives me bread for my body and mercy for my soul- new every morning. My friend says that God mixes up a new batch of his grace for me every day. New. Every day. He leads me while I stumble around in the dark. His Word is a lamp to my feet. Not the sun, not a bright, radiant light that I can see the whole span of my life with, but a soft, gentle light to illuminate my feet so I can see just enough to follow His. I would be lying if I said I remember this all the time and practice walking in the low lamplight, listening for God's voice. I would be lying if I said that even when I am doing these things that it is easy. I'm afraid every single time. Here's why: I'm afraid I won't actually hear God. I'm afraid that He's too big and I'm too small, He's too quiet and I'm too loud, He's preoccupied and I am forgotten. But none of that is true (except that I am small & loud). God is faithful. His character is tried and true, the same yesterday, today, and forever.
I guess my hope is that if I'm brave and I tell my stories that you'll be brave enough to tell your stories too. And then we can be friends. You will know me and I will know you. Then we can remind each other of the truth when all we can hear are the lies. We can pray for each other with purpose and commitment, because when you hurt, I hurt. When you have joy, I have joy. Because I have let you in and you have let me in. Vulnerability, authenticity, honesty. All require bravery. All are necessary for relationship. That's what I'm after. Relationship. Restoration. Wholeness. Hope. Love. All the things that God is after, my heart longs for too.
I am sincerely insecure, but I want to be strong and courageous. Another friend told me that fear and faith occupy the same place in our hearts and minds, but they cannot both exist simultaneously. Fear or faith. You pick. I am so sick of fear and insecurities being louder than the truth, louder than my faith. I have faith in God because he never changes and he never falters. He has faith in me, despite me, because I am hidden in Christ. All he sees when he looks at me is his precious, perfect, blameless son. And he doesn't (not can't, just doesn't) see that I look like hell- tattered, bruised, separate, screw-up. He sees Jesus. That's all I want to see too. Jesus. He's my only hope. My plan A. There is no plan B. Only Jesus. Remember him with me. Remember him when all you can see is yourself and you look ugly. I've felt really ugly lately- wretched on the inside. He's better, I swear. He's making me better. He'll always be making me better. I'm getting there. Thanks for going with me.
Love,
Leah
That's what history shows about me. But you know something awesome? Way better than all of that is that history proves my God is faithful. And I may be wandering in desert, around the same damn mountain over and over again but just like the Jews, His favorites, His chosen, God gives me bread for my body and mercy for my soul- new every morning. My friend says that God mixes up a new batch of his grace for me every day. New. Every day. He leads me while I stumble around in the dark. His Word is a lamp to my feet. Not the sun, not a bright, radiant light that I can see the whole span of my life with, but a soft, gentle light to illuminate my feet so I can see just enough to follow His. I would be lying if I said I remember this all the time and practice walking in the low lamplight, listening for God's voice. I would be lying if I said that even when I am doing these things that it is easy. I'm afraid every single time. Here's why: I'm afraid I won't actually hear God. I'm afraid that He's too big and I'm too small, He's too quiet and I'm too loud, He's preoccupied and I am forgotten. But none of that is true (except that I am small & loud). God is faithful. His character is tried and true, the same yesterday, today, and forever.
I guess my hope is that if I'm brave and I tell my stories that you'll be brave enough to tell your stories too. And then we can be friends. You will know me and I will know you. Then we can remind each other of the truth when all we can hear are the lies. We can pray for each other with purpose and commitment, because when you hurt, I hurt. When you have joy, I have joy. Because I have let you in and you have let me in. Vulnerability, authenticity, honesty. All require bravery. All are necessary for relationship. That's what I'm after. Relationship. Restoration. Wholeness. Hope. Love. All the things that God is after, my heart longs for too.
I am sincerely insecure, but I want to be strong and courageous. Another friend told me that fear and faith occupy the same place in our hearts and minds, but they cannot both exist simultaneously. Fear or faith. You pick. I am so sick of fear and insecurities being louder than the truth, louder than my faith. I have faith in God because he never changes and he never falters. He has faith in me, despite me, because I am hidden in Christ. All he sees when he looks at me is his precious, perfect, blameless son. And he doesn't (not can't, just doesn't) see that I look like hell- tattered, bruised, separate, screw-up. He sees Jesus. That's all I want to see too. Jesus. He's my only hope. My plan A. There is no plan B. Only Jesus. Remember him with me. Remember him when all you can see is yourself and you look ugly. I've felt really ugly lately- wretched on the inside. He's better, I swear. He's making me better. He'll always be making me better. I'm getting there. Thanks for going with me.
Love,
Leah
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Confess
There's something to confessing, lots of things actually. It sheds light on the ugly things in me which hurts a lot. I don't like to be reminded of my shortcomings or confronted with new ones (which, of course, were probably always there but just never had opportunity to present themselves). Those ugly things- thoughts, feelings, actions- when confessed can even hurt people I love. I think that might be the worst part. In a moment of weakness I could fall and not only hurt myself but leave heaps of collateral damage in my wake.
That's the hard something about confession. I promise there's a beautiful something too. I know because Dan taught me.
Last night we were talking about me & my failings. I explained the situation, scattering very sincere apologies throughout. He helped me talk through it- I am not my feelings. Feelings fade, pass, they're liars. We're human. We err. It's ok. He said, "You know I'm not perfect." And that was it. He forgave me. He held me.
Now I'm exposed. He knows who I really am, what I really think. But he didn't do anything terrible and he didn't make me feel ashamed. Because he loves me. He wants to help me. He wants to go places and do things in our life together and these confessions just help him know me better. It prepares us to fight the good fight together. And we will.
Find someone you love & trust, someone who understands you. Confess. It's hard, but it's beautiful. All part of God's redemptive work, making things whole.
I love Dan & I am so grateful he loves me back.
That's the hard something about confession. I promise there's a beautiful something too. I know because Dan taught me.
Last night we were talking about me & my failings. I explained the situation, scattering very sincere apologies throughout. He helped me talk through it- I am not my feelings. Feelings fade, pass, they're liars. We're human. We err. It's ok. He said, "You know I'm not perfect." And that was it. He forgave me. He held me.
Now I'm exposed. He knows who I really am, what I really think. But he didn't do anything terrible and he didn't make me feel ashamed. Because he loves me. He wants to help me. He wants to go places and do things in our life together and these confessions just help him know me better. It prepares us to fight the good fight together. And we will.
Find someone you love & trust, someone who understands you. Confess. It's hard, but it's beautiful. All part of God's redemptive work, making things whole.
I love Dan & I am so grateful he loves me back.
Friday, September 19, 2014
I write.
I don't write for you- not at first. I write for me. Because I need to, I have to. I'm realizing that now- just now, actually. I keep telling myself I'm not a creative person. I don't have anything to offer as far as creative things go. I keep saying that all I need to do is find my thing, my fit. And that thing is unique and fun and sacred and hard and gives back. See, so it can't be writing because I just told you I don't write for you. I write for me. Because it connects me, the creation, back to my Creator. I was made to make beautiful things, to bring order to the chaos, to offer wholeness in the face of all that is broken. It's hard for me to see how writing can do any of those things. Writing. My writing, my stories, my words. It seems so selfish. Yet as I put these words on paper, it feels like things coming together, it feels like tasting a hint of that wholeness I am desperately after- it's there, just barely on the edges of my tongue. It's exciting. It's scary. I'm accepting God's invitation to co-create with Him. If I don't I may very well stay the same. I may not change. I may not do brave things. But I want to. I will be brave. Something in me is burning- low, warm, and small, but it is radiant! I will not smother my creativity with my own fear and doubt. I've done enough of that. Hang out with me for the journey? So, that's scary for me too. I'm asking you to hold me accountable, to encourage me wherever my writing adventure leads. If I'm honest with myself, I have no idea where this will go. But I am brave, my God is big and faithful, and my heart yearns for adventure. I know I was made for more. I'm going.
I write.
I write.
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