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Life's Little Lessons

"If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud." – Emile Zola

The Girl on the Train 

I looked at her standing in the crowd and instantly fell in love. Her hair was unique and fun plus she had the cutest little outfit on but surface aside, she exuded a peaceful confidence … was fierce yet tender, like someone I’d love to sit with and get to know over coffee. However the doors of the subway train opened and she turned and smiled and then walked out of my life and carried on with her day and my friend affair ended. 

And as things go, my sadness dwindled because as a people watcher, there’s a plethora of people to pay attention to. More people to investigate, more people to carefully croon with my curious eyes and my inquisitive heart and more people to day dream about. You know how it goes, if you are one who is even slightly interested in the person standing in front of you, you find yourself in a place of wonder about them. WHO are they and WHAT do they do? I for one cannot stop my brain from checking them out. 

I am THAT person with scrolling eyes who sometimes lingers a little (and awkwardly) too long. And I make no apologies. 

Over the last however many years, I have found myself in a place of intrigue of the human race, particularly drawn to diverse individuals. People who are unique in every way imaginable. Perhaps it’s because I am on my own quest for individuality and self-acceptance. Perhaps that is why I haphazardly chose to graduate college with a Sociology degree.  Perhaps that is also why I love the person of Jesus. 

You know who I mean, right? Not the religion of Jesus or the Church of Jesus that one would attend on a Sunday morning, but the very PERSON of the Lord. 

He has always been and will always be about people. He’s interested. He wants to get to know every single one of us. This is the largest part OF Him that has been most challenging to wrap my brain around. That God Himself, the very One who knit me in my mothers womb and supposedly knows ALL about me, is intrigued and curious about WHO I am. This is NOT the Jesus I grew up hearing about and it BLOWS MY MIND, but here I am, staring some poor lady down in the subway train because she has caught my attention and I wish we had time to talk so I can find out more about her. 

Now I know where I get it from. 

Friends…let yourself me curious about people. Don’t discount the draw. I truly believe we ALL want to be seen. We want to know that someone is interested in WHO we are. Like the REAL us. Not the us that wears cute hair and fun outfits but the us that is honest and quirky, adventurous one minutes and a homebody the next. The us who takes too much on and struggles with temper outbursts and then feels like shit for doing so. The us that decides to try again. 

Jesus wants to know THAT person. 

And if He wants to know them, I want to know them. I don’t want to pass them by because I don’t think it’s His nature to do so. Even if time and situations don’t allow personal interaction, I can give them a part of my heart on the subway train. I can completely envelope them in my love with one simple thought … even as they walk out onto the platform and the doors close quickly behind them. 

Ask The Question

Recently I asked someone a question because I wanted to better understand what was happening in a situation *READ: in our relationship* with them, or more so, what wasn’t, and for the last few days, I have been mulling over their response. 

TRYING TO UNDERSTAND IT. 

TRYING TO UNDERSTAND THEM. 

What I have been trying to do is apply their answer, their way of thinking and being and living TO ME. I’ve picked their response up in my hands and dropped it into a compartment in my brain that has been longing for an answer. I’ve attempted to absorb their words into my heart so I could begin to grasp the void that has taken place and in doing so, I’ve become increasingly unsettled. 

There has been no reward for my sincere diligence in trying best to understand.  

Not Fair.

So yesterday, in the midst of doing everyday random things, Jesus whispered, “Your question is a very good question, but you asked it to the wrong person.” I stopped. In my spirit I knew what He was talking about and soon my conscious mind knew as well.

Asking THEM the question was good. Seeking to understand is not wrong, in fact, communication is a good goal in any relationship, but I needed to start with ME. So the rest of the afternoon, I talked with Jesus about what a particular situation in my life looked like TO JESUS.

TO ME. 

I think it was the best starting point to move forward and to keep connection alone. 

If you have a sense of wonder IN you, ask the question. Do not be afraid, like I was that day several weeks again, to come across eager or excited, scared or confused. Just ask the questions that need to be asked so you can better understand.

B-U-T…ask the question first to YOURSELF before you ask it to someone else. Often we (I) want to understand others ideas or their perspective before we’re willing to grapple with our own. I know if I would have asked myself, “What does this look like to ME” and then gave myself permission to be fully honest, I would have most likely rested in my identity and then asked the other person, “What does this look like to YOU?” so we could have moved forward further.

TOGETHER. 

But here we are, in my opinion, stuck. Each with a different idea of how things are to flow. We could have both went forward on the same page, at least in the same book, walking towards a common goal instead of things being left in a state of confusion where expectations take root and people fall short. 

Disappointment.

And I have been filled with it. I realize now, it could have been better avoided if I would have just had the guts to ask the questions I really wanted to ask from the get go.

Don’t make assumptions. Find the courage to ask questions to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. – Don Miguel Ruiz

So friends, before you seek to understand someone else and why they do what they do and think like they think, make the time to better understand yourself first. Ask yourself the questions, even the hard ones. I really do believe you can rest a lot easier, be more peace-filled, EVEN JOYFILLED, when YOU know that YOU know…

for YOU.

It turns out my idea of this situation is similar in parts but completely differently then the person I first asked the question to AND THAT IS OK. We all have these pictures in our head of what something looks like. Our lives are all shaped very differently so to say “I am right and you are wrong” serves no purpose. What does serve purpose is the asking, “What does this look like to me?”

This. 👆🏻

You were not created to grace this planet walking around in someone else’s shoes, making your life look like theirs with their thoughts as your own. You were uniquely created so go ahead and ask others the questions in order to better know and understand them. Trying to understand their WHY’S and WHAT’S is good and will help foster intimacy and connection. 

Just remember to start with yourself first. 

Ask the question. 

 

 

 

When Corners are Crooked

As you may know, I’ve spent the last fourteen, now fifteen days of my life immersed in painting projects in my home. Our son is a Marine Recruit in Parris Island SC and will soon be graduating and home for a brief stay. One thing I wanted to do before he came home was paint his room and give it a more mature/adult feel. Well here we are, day fifteen and I’m quickly finding that one painting project leads to two which ultimately leads to six.

I’ve painted his ceiling, cut in the walls, rolled the walls, painted his trim and the door; painted our daughters door because it’s beside his door and well…the difference is noticeable. I painted our front door red becuase we’ve lived here almost sixteen years, and as penitence for my neglect, painted it not three but FIVE coats. Plus there is white trim around the door, touched up red door after splattering with white paint; decided to paint the “other” front door (that we no longer use) so we would be unified and then began painting the outdoor bench with the leftover red paint in pan because I was tired and needed to go to bed and then the white pillars with the leftover white paint in the pan becuase I was bored and still have to touch up white door trim on the THIRD side door (because I loathe my existence) and finish bench, chairs and pillars that are now started but half-assed….plus touch up my son’s ceiling in his bedroom.

Did you follow me? Because I feel confused.

The whole entire point is…do you know how many times I have had to touch things up? A drip here, a drop there? I promise you I do not like to paint and I am no expert…clearly, but once you start, you are compelled to continue or LIFE IS JUST NOT RIGHT. I am not trying to be a perfectionist but when you use RED paint and the corners are crooked, imperfections are noticeable.

And none of us like our imperfections to be noticeable. 

Life is much like my painting projects. One event flows into the next with no definite begin or end and are full of spills and slops (you should see the concrete on my front porch). All I can say at this moment is this: Seldom do things go as planned and rarely do corners match. Mine personally are a little crooked (plus I have a unique one-hundred + year old house) so instead of getting all out of sorts, ALL THE TIME, I do the best I can in making lines meet. My ultimate desire is to merge (rather than collide) colors and in doing so, if I need to take a few extra days (or weeks) and take the painstaking time to touch things up, so be it.

I am tired feeling BAD for needing to touch things up. It happens. Life does.

So for the love of God sweet friends, go easy. Can you tell this is getting worked of me? It’s like showing up for work. I AM punching my time card EVERY DAY. I am in a very grueling yet freeing season of learning to be kind to myself and others by letting go of expectations while maintaining my hopes, dreams and desires and most importantly, not compromising WHO I am.

And when I give myself permission to be me, ALL THE WAY THROUGH, I no longer feel badly for making a few spills a long the way that need touched up as I go. And if I can learn to do this for me…just think of the possibilities. 

YOU would be included.

A win for all.

Progress

Advancement. Growth. Unfolding. Working. Process. Movement. Practice. Stepping.

These are all words I’ve used to describe life and though there are moments when I would use other words, I’d say I consistently choose these ones because they are all relatively positive and enough relatively positive moments mean something GOOD is taking place.

Life is.

But let’s not hung up on my word choices because I’ve seen word choices hang people up ** as in SHUT PEOPLE UP ** So let’s do this…before we go any further, posture yourself to hear my heart more than you hear my words because the last thing I’d want is to trip you up with mine. 

Ultimately, my words convey that I’m somewhere fluid and not just sitting stagnate, decaying in some corner sucking my thumb. I’m developing. I am a work in progress, like film taken from a camera that finds herself in a dark room for a short periods of time behind some closed door. But here’s the thing…the very best moments happen in the dark, like the development of life’s precious ones. 

For the last TWO WEEKS, I’ve been painting. To hear myself say those words, one would think I’ve painted my whole house, but that’s not the case. Not in the least. I have in fact painted my sons bedroom from top to bottom, some doors, a rocking chair and the start of a bench. I wanted to be done three days ago but I’ve found myself standing on my front porch at 7:45 PM more days than not and am tired of wearing crappy clothes and being adorned with grey, red and white hands. I’m slightly exhausted and ready to move on with regular living, but here I am, still painting. 

Why in the hell is this taking so long? 

Good question. 

For a bit yesterday, I began to feel bad, like l-o-s-e-r bad. Like I SHOULD have been done, I should have been THERE, but I’m not. I am HERE, still. And since thinking like that was getting me NO WHERE fast, I decided to think about Jesus who says, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” – Matthew 5:44 Sometimes, I am my own worst enemy. This is truth. Sometimes I don’t need your opinions of me, I have enough of my own. During times like this, when I start to feel the weight of my own expectations and that I should be further along than I am, I have to choose to step back and remember I AM making headway. I AM advancing, growing, unfolding, working…

I AM IN PROGRESS. 

Matthew 5:44 helps me remember to go easy, to let my enemy off the hook and remove the chains, even when I’m the continued culprit that places them there. It helps me remember to be kinder to myself because in the end, I am commanded to love my neighbor as myself and if I am being a little too hard HERE…won’t I also be little too hard THERE…with you?

YES. 

So I keep at it. Because really that’s all I have to do in this great life **I just need to keep at it** It’s the place between the starting line and the finish. It’s the place between where film is placed IN the camera and the picture is placed ON the wall. Ultimately it is one brutiful and ongoing conversation with Truth Himself…asking Him what is mine. 

You don’t need to be any place other than where you are at. – Jesus

Keep painting today my friends. At least keep takling what’s on your plate, on your mind and in your heart. I’m going to keep takling mine. If that’s all we get done today, it will be enough. 

 

Permission Granted

I remember watching a documentary on television when I was in high school about air traffic control personnel. I vaguely remember hearing the words, “High rate of stress that often leads to anxiety and depression,” and I felt sorry for the poor souls that chose high levels of stress as their career. At the time, I was preparing myself for my first year of college as a Sociology major with the goal of one day obtaining a Masters in Counseling. What did I know about massively large vehicles, traffic patterns and safety, let alone high rates of stress that leads to anxiety or depression? 

I was 18. My parents paid for my car insurance. 

20 years later. Ask me what I do.

My husband and I are school bus contractors for our local district.

Ask me what my job looks like on any given day. 

Air traffic control personnel, but with buses. High levels of stress, not always, but there are days and with a husband out of the country on a missions trip, stress runs high. 

Luckily for me, I am surrounded by amazingly great people. “Can I help?”

“Yes. Yes you can.”

In the long run, one of my helpers is also a very dear friend who when I mentioned attending her Bible study this evening as she helped me from point A to point B, said “Don’t even.” 

Maybe she said something else, like “I hope you can make it,” or “Try really, really hard to come,” but I’m pretty confident she said something that totally let me off the hook because she knew I had a good hour left of work, two hours from Bible studies start. 

**Because she knew I had left my kids home alone. Because she knew my chicken was still laying frozen on my counter. Becuase she knew I’d feel a tinge of crappiness for NOT being able to do all things.**

Sometimes we need someone to come alongside us and see what we can’t. Our blind spot. Sometimes we need someone to say, “Done even.” 

In my case…

Don’t even try to do all things.

Dont even think about trying to do all things. 

Should she have pushed me? Should she of planted the seed that encouraged me to push through so I could sit in her living room WISHING to God I was anywhere but there because I wanted to be at home with my people after the last half of my day went to hell in a hand basket? 

Absolutely not. She knew what was BEST for me. Even if I didn’t. 

If you don’t have a friend like that, find one. Find a friend who knows your season. Find a friend who knows your heart. I’d tell you her name but then I’m afraid you’d steal her from me and that would just make me all sad because I’m slightly territorial and jealous by nature. Do yourself a favor, just find someone who walks with Jesus. Like WALKS WITH because I kind of think in the end, He says the same thing when those “SHOULDS” pop into the picture. You know, all those religious things we all agonize one time or another over. “I should. Because.”

 Sometimes you need a good kick in the pants to get you moving if you are stuck hiding out in your cave too long. Sometimes you just need someone to see your heart and give you permission to stop the crazy for a bit so you can get off your hamster wheel and rest without making you feel badly for it. Sometimes YOU need to know the difference. 

Your value does not increase if you show up and it does decrease if you don’t. Know YOUR capacity then take a moment to see the capacity in others. Give them permission to slow it all down when they need too because chances are, they are caught up in the same vicicious cycle of DO as you are. 

Rest is needed folks. It helps you guard that little ole heart of yours, which is a very good thing to DO. 

Shift

We are seven weeks into boot camp which means we are on day forty-eight and have one scripted phone call and ten letters. The long and the short of it is is…I miss our son. What I wouldn’t do to hear his voice and to tell him I love him.

And on Friday at 9:46 AM he called my phone.

I was giving my full attention to the person I was in a meeting with and when they walked out the door and I looked down at my phone, my heart broke. I had missed him. Maybe it was my own sadness and longing to connect but a very big part of me heard it in his voice as well. My son on the other end, miles and hours away, longing to do the same and here we were, both broken for it.

A lot of emotions started to go through me.

*I was thankful I got to hear his voice. This was not a scripted call nor did he yell into the phone as Marine Recruits typically do. This was our son. Our compassionate, loyal and witty son. “Hi Mom, its Tristan…” He sounded serene, mature and my thoughts drifted to gratitude.

*I was angry. Angry at the person who preoccupied my time. Angry at being distracted that I couldn’t even look down at the screen of my watch to see who was calling. Bitter, my heart was turning ugly.

*I was heartbroken. I write him several times a week and in each letter I tell him how much I love him, how much we ALL do but knowing he was trying to reach out and I had missed an opportunity to audibly speak those words….it just hurt. I called his girlfriend, which looking back now was the WRONG person to call. You don’t ever call the girlfriend because part of me thinks that was just mean, but sometimes you just need someone to cry WITH you. Someone who gets it, who gets YOU. 

This is just a small example of life as of late. Thoughts and emotions are all over the place for all particular reasons. Our son was calling us to let us know they were evacuating the base because of Hurricane Irma and as I sat in my vehicle praying for this natural storm to disippate, I realized I needed to shift my attention and my focus to the storm inside of me. *CATEGORY TEN* I don’t know how, on my own, to stop it. It’s raging and appears to be gaining speed with gale force winds and destruction that’s imminent. I want nothing more than to hide under the bow of my boat as the water laps my feet, deep within myself, and stay there safe and protected, but I hear Jesus whisper, “Stand and speak to the storm.”

So today I took a stand. I made a phone call. I made two. I reached out for help. I need to start focusing on navigating MY boat. As much as I care for the safety of others, I won’t do anyone good if I drown in a few inches worth of water.

Sometimes the first person you need to save is yourself.

Speak to YOUR storm.

Capsize

I used to think that if I trusted the Lord enough with my heart, I could withstand whatever came my way. And when I say withstand, I really mean “with ease”. I would not be as buffeted by the waves and the wind, I could still swim and not drown in a sea that was trying to consume me. I still believe this deep down but experience has taught me to approach life a little differently. Time spent with Jesus and time spent with others have shown me…steadily swimming, stepping, and standing looks like something. In fact, it looks like someone. I have a very big part in HOW I withstand.

I sat a couple of weeks ago in a circle of ladies, in a women’s group that I started over seven years ago, as we shared openly. We have cultivated an atmosphere of honesty, trust, and faithfulness and there I sat that particular morning, being partial and half in all of these things. Why? I was afraid to show up honest, being completely raw and naked in a space that I helped create to be just that. Why was I struggling with this?

Trust.

My “used to” way of thinking has come from experiences where I bared my soul and cracked myself wide open, not FOR them but FOR me, and found that not everyone is safe to do that with. Some have gossiped or shared or poked fun. Some have genuinely cared but had not the maturity and/or the knowledge to know what to do with it, to do with ME, and they mishandled my heart in ways that wound. NOT intentional I know. 

IS the person of Jesus enough in these places? Yes. Does He reach His hand into the water when I’m drowning? Yes. Does He walk me through and grow me regardless? Will He restore and heal? Yes. Does He love them just as much as He does me and care about their process just as much as He does mine? Well, yes.

I CAN trust Him that much.

But I no longer think my heart, and the contents of it, should be so casually or flippantly laid bare.

I’ve sat with the Lord a great deal since that morning and asked Him WHY I’ve come to guard my heart in such a way, as in protect. I realize I feel safer offering my heart in this sort of format, but not so much in that. Why?

Control. And control as I know it is rooted in fear.

If I open up and share my heart HERE…in a blog or some post and it goes out to the world then I’ve beat you all to the punch. There’s little to no intimacy required on my end even though I’ve given the appearance of depth…of being open and honest. I type, I click and I share. What you do with it then is really up to you, but I can step out of the picture and tarry on with my day. However, when I sit face to face and our eyes make contact I find myself in a place of intimacy and connection and the waters rise…there is nowhere to run. No where to tarry on to.

Sometimes I don’t know what to do there. It is harder to recover when things in THAT space become misaligned. Impossible, no. Harder, yes.

This knowledge is a double-edged sword right now in my mind and heart. I believe strongly in being open and honest. Open where you show up fully you, uninhibited and honest where you present your heart like an offering. I believe that when you do, His love is strong and wide enough to cover all sins…even sins against your gift of vulnerability…even YOUR sins. Sins like expectations that set others up for failure and you up for disappointment when responses are different than anticipated. 

BUT (here’s the other end of the sword) I also believe not every person is at a place in his or her life where they are to walk with you and your truth. Not everyone’s response is safe. Your boat should not rest in everyone’s harbor.

Sometimes I wonder outside of how I FEEL, what I truly believe in my core.

So I’ll end with this: I’m going to keep swimming, stepping and standing with Jesus. I’ll keep trying to show up ME, as open and as honest as I can in that moment, I won’t try to BE somewhere I am not. I’ll keep trusting that my heart is focused on the Lord and that through Him and His love, I’ll be shown how to best live this life through the lens of Love.

If there is a harbor, I want to abide in it regardless of wether I feel it is safe. His love capsizes me with grace to know He is with me in it and I just know if I keep choosing to show up, eventually I will.

Fully.

 

let it happen 

We had two small dogs and one cat. Then we began raising puppies for The Seeing Eye and adopted the first one we raised back because she did not pass her testing. Then this cat got dropped off at our house and then and then and then…

Let me start over. We have three dogs and two cats PLUS we raise puppies for The Seeing Eye. This past weekend alone, meaning SUNDAY…we had several animal related incidents and when I say several, I mean way more than two, the worst being the Seeing Eye puppy was bit by a poisonous snake on a family hike. Long and short of it is, she’s going to recover despite the fact that her face is severely swollen due to the toxins from the bite plus she’s tired and a whole lot of sore but through it all, I’m keeping the main thing, the main thing….she’s alive.

So I crawled into bed late Sunday night grateful.

AND THEN…

Our four year-old lab, our adopted back wonder pet, crawled under our very large king-size bed in the middle of the night and made the most gut-wrenching of all sounds and I just didn’t have the energy or the can-do to wake up and hurriedly grab her, pull her out from the pits of hell, drag her heaving body down the steps and out the front door to glisten under the moon light.

So I let it happen.

And my husband says, “Aren’t you going to do something?”

No. No I am not.

So I went back to bed.

For those of you who don’t have animals, you are thanking God at this very moment for that decision. If you are not a pet lover, you may not get why us pet owners endure the things we do for our animals, but I liken the whole thing to having kids whom you love that wet the bed, throw up in the middle of the night or destroy freshly painted walls with crayons.

Pets and kids…sometimes there’s little difference between the two.

Point being, that massively large dog who army crawled under our bed in the middle of the night is an accurate portrait of what life looks like at times. It’s during these moments, I often find myself half asleep, trying to grab the dog out from underneath the bed by its hind legs, just hoping we make it out the door before a ginormous mess occurs. I step in and deal, adjust, fix, mend, plan.

I CONTROL.

And I just can’t anymore. I’m not that great at it anyway. In fact, I kind of suck.

I’ve become increasingly aware this past year through a series of events that I often step in too quickly with my actions and/or with my words because I am afraid. Afraid to let others be responsible for their own choices. Afraid to set limits that say “This is what I am and am not going to do.” Afraid the dog’s gut-wretching sound in the middle of the night means my carpet is going to be ruined, thereby destroying the look of the home. MY house. Do you hear what I’m saying? I am afraid how YOU and your stuff will affect ME.

REFLECT me.

Fear.

It’s lulled me to sleep.

And in my slumber, I’ve never fully allowed myself to BE who I was created to be so I can’t imagine extending you the honor.

Because living is messy. Pieces fall to the ground and clutter fills the floor with debris.

On my carpet. In my home.

And what if one day, on MY watch, you crawl under the bed and need help in the middle of the night…

Isn’t it my job to save you? To mend? To fix?

Will be enough if I just stand in it WITH you, responsible TO you and not FOR you?

Yes.

The other night my decline made space for my husband to get up and take care of the dog. In fact, I would have made space for ANYONE in the room if they were there. I didn’t have the expectation that he would get up and I wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t. I rested in knowing I was done for the day. If I were to become involved, it could wait.

I could. 

I felt empowered and free in that chaotic moment, in the bigger picture…in my life full of uncertainties late at night with that gut-wrenching sound happening beneath my bed. It is one of the craziest of all things but it grabbed my attention enough to wake me up. I made sense out of a whole lot of life in a moment and it was holy.

Friends, let it happen. Surely the sky will not fall on your head.

In Theory

For some strange reason, Saturday was rough for our youngest. She was all out of sorts and the way she was behaving, showed it. I think I could have been a bit more patient with her had Friday night NOT occurred. Yes. The pile of hardships is growing.

Friday night there was spider in her room, and not just any spider but an elusive spider. Heaven forbid we’d go to bed knowing there was a spider, somewhere in the room and so…for the first time in YEARS our youngest slept in the middle of our bed because there were tears and screams and this all led to a NOT good Saturday.

I’ve given up understanding. I don’t want to know. Whatever man. Get into bed.

So Saturday. I won’t even go into it BECAUSE I JUST CAN’T, but I about lost myself altogether and in the midst, all I wanted to do was send this child and her ginormous fit to her room. And I did. “Go to your room and stay there till the end of the day.” 

It was 11:00 AM

I wanted the situation out of my mind so I put my daughter out of my sight.

Because you know what? I had my own stuff and I was tired and frustrated.

Friends, I am done giving the world the right or “good” answer. This is my honest one.

Then I sat downstairs in the office and my entire house was quiet indeed, too quiet, and that silence washed over me something terribly awful. This was not at all what I wanted to do. Sometimes I curse, as in, “Damn it. Jesus, you are SO good to me. Even when I show up all tired and frustrated and clearly, not-so-great…you stay. You don’t leave. You don’t send me to my room. You remain. Damn it.”

Sometimes grace is a bitter pill to swallow and sometimes, unconditional love, love that does not demand that you change…harder yet.

So in theory…what is for Him and I can be for others and me…Right? Isn’t that how this whole three-person relationship “in theory” works?

We’ll see.

So I called her down. I bent my knees and lowered my voice. It wasn’t trying to make quiet, it just was. My settled heart longed for relationship. No matter what.

We went for lunch. She sat quiet, sad and ashamed. By the middle of lunch she had moved closer. By the end, her arms were around my waist and her head tucked up against my chest.

Jesus.

She’s ten and I’m her Mom. That “Let’s see if this works” seemed easy but I have other, much bigger relationships that I’m not quite sure how “in theory” would apply. Bigger relationships? Aren’t they all? Oh to listen to your own self speak…

Honest…I’ve been hurt. I don’t know if I am willing to say, “Here’s my heart. Draw close. Spend time with it so you can hurt it ALL OVER AGAIN.” Yeah. I am not sure I am ready **willing** to do that again.

So I’m talking to Jesus about trust. Why am I not trusting HIM here, in THIS place? If I am out to give you honest and I show up vulnerable and you betray my trust in some way, would I stop fully showing up? Maybe. Probably. Yes. I’d somehow adjust. I’d not want to, but reality is I’d transform somehow if history lends itself to be accurate because if I show up and you don’t, then we get stuck in this vicious cycle of circle around…repeat. What kind of “relationship” is that anyway? **RECIPROCITY** You do for me, I do for you and so forth and so on.

But I know differently…

If the person of Jesus is not just some theology to theorize and He literally shows up in my house, at my door, and sits across from me at my desk while my house sits all quiet and nice and pulls me close and says, “GO GET HER,” and I say “NO. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. I CANNOT. WILL NOT…”

Even if I said “YES,” becuase my head assocaites the request with ease because she’s young and small and somehow simpler…

Couldn’t my bigger, more difficult relationships kind of go the same? “GO GET THEM.”

“ALRIGHT JESUS.” And off I go…

I am not there. WHY am I not there? I don’t know…

Perhaps I don’t want to.

I can’t be somewhere I’m not. Honest.

 

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