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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

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forgiveness

About Last Night

When we’ve gone through something enough times and we get sick and tired of being “sick and tired“, we promise ourselves that next time, if faced with a similar and familiar situation, we will do better. We will make different choices. We will respond differently. We will do anything but be…sick and tired.

And I have been doing well. I’ve placed my feet upon the path of health *not happiness* and each day I’ve drawn a new breath and a had stronger step. But the other night, there I was. Face to face with a situation that was oddly similar and familiar.

Same story. Different day.

And through it, it brought up an immense amount of fear, an entire of ocean of it to be exact and I found myself drowning somewhere in the middle. No one likes to drown. I’m done drowning. It’s the sick and tired” I no longer want to subject myself to.

So, I swam. I swam far far away out of tide that was trying to pull me under. In reality, I literally hopped into my Jeep and didn’t look back and when I got home, I sat under the carport and cried.

And after things settled, and they always do, I was able to sit and listen to Truth and identify what was the similar and familiar that I could not quite put my finger on in the moment and call it by name.

Rejection.

Same story. Different day. Different person.

Here’s the things about rejection. It’s NOT a person though it is easy to attach a name with a face. It’s not one particular heartbreak. It’s a wound. A lie. An evil spirit from the pits of hell. It bides its time and patiently waits. It uses any hosts it can find without permission. People will show up in our lives as unsuspecting pawns in a game our emotional wounds try to play with us and unbeknownst to them, old situations arise in us that are similar and familiar and we are faced with the choice to sink or swim.

Or drive far far away.

The thing with rejection is that it feeds you the lie that you are not good enough which makes you feel small and insignificant. Flip the coin. Same story, different day…it can also feed you the lie that you are too much. Too much to handle. Too complicated or too messy. Heads or tails. It whispers one or the other.

Both lies place a heaviness in your heart that’s suffocating. A heaviness that makes you feel “bad” for being who you are, like if you could just mathematically fit into the equation, things would be different. But they are not different because here you are, finding yourself in a similar and familiar situation because you are feeling rejected and with rejection brings shame because if you had been more than or perhaps just a tad less….

And it’s your fault, so you apologize.

“I am sorry for being me.”

And that apology leaves your insides raw and achy because you know that you’ve stopped another layer of your identity away so you can be less or more of the person someone else wants you to be.

I wish I could go back in that moment the other night and know at that moments notice what I was dealing with but I didn’t. I just know what was taking place was hurting and I took that hurt personal. I made it about me. Things weren’t going the way I had hoped because there was something I was doing or perhaps not doing right. If I had been dot dot dot, things would be different.

Lies. Just lies.

Days later, here’s some things I’ve recognized:

1. There is no once and done. Learning, or rather, unlearning, is a life-long process. As Maya Angelou once said,

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

And each day after that, do your best until you know even better. And so on and so forth. It’s how this one wild life works. It’s not a race or a competition so go easy on others and yourself. I truly believe at the end of the day, we are all truly doing the best we can.

2.  Most likely what you are “sick and tired” of will chase you around your whole entire life unless you deal with it, and not once and done deal with it but continually and intentionally deal with it. You are not Jesus and are not the embodiment of perfection. Rejection has been my nemesis. My lie. My inner wound. Do I recognize it right away? Not always. Am I doing better with calling it by name and seeing it for what it is? Absolutely. Someday I’ll stand face to face before it and I won’t run. I won’t need a stone or a sling to knock it off kilter. I’ll just stand and rest in know that I am neither not enough or too much. I am who I am. I will just be.

3. I am not one to avoid confrontation. I am learning to say my thoughts and express my needs without being an asshole, to respond rather than react. I’m not necessarily afraid of that though I do not enjoy it. I don’t need someone to agree with me, in fact I question relationships that agree on everything because we are all different and unique with different and unique thoughts and experiences and yet we tend to show up to the table the same? Come on. I don’t buy it.

What scares me is that we out one another. We cross each other off our lists because we value being right more so than being in relationship with one another. So rather than be crossed off someone’s list, I’d rather run away or build a high wall to protect myself. I am afraid of is being vulnerable, of showing up and then being rejected for it.

These are thoughts that I’ve had since the other night. Knowing why you sink or swim or erect a high wall is important. Ask the question: What is going on inside of me? It’s revolutionary question because there is always an answer and that answer will help you do better next time.

4. Don’t take anything personally. My face-to-face situation that was oddly similar and familiar from the other day had nothing to do with me being not enough or too much even though my feelings told me so. The person in the situation was not trying to be malicious or harmful. How I felt actually had nothing to do with them either. Rejection is a blame-shifter. Since it won’t take responsibility for being an asshole, it tries to make everyone take the fall. We are all journeying along, reacting or responding to life and to one another. Keep your focus on where it needs to be.

5. I’d be remiss not to mention that I walked into the situation with high hopes. It’s enticing to go with the vision that pops into your head of how you think things are going to go and run with it. Needless to say, expectations, even seemingly good ones, can lead to being disappointed, which ultimately can lead a person with high hopes *like me* to feeling rejected.

6. Forgive and move on. I realize I still have healing to do which just embodies everything above I’ve previously mentioned. There is no once and done when it comes to healing a deep wound and forgetting it and calling it healed it doesn’t work. Forgiveness does. Do it with yourself and others and get on with it and when it come back up, which it will, do it again and again and move forward. If you don’t, it only reattaches the wound to you so you can drudge a heavy ball and chain through the mire and much creating more of a mess. Forgive and move on.

7. Jesus. ALL of Him in ALL of this. Always. The end.

Friends, my words of advice are to keep at it. Simple and sweet. Wherever you are at, keep going. Do the best you can with your one wild life. I think that’s the very best thing we can do with it.

 

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Own It

A couple of weeks ago, I showed up at the vet for an appointment with two dogs only to be told, “I’m sorry. Your appointment isn’t until tomorrow.” But it was on my calendar. I vividly remember booking the appointment the week before and going over the date. Could I be wrong? Perhaps. Do I think I was? I truly don’t.

And tomorrow didn’t suit.

I have had happier moments. And apparently kinder ones.

And this week, another vet appointment. I walked into the reception area and was greeted with a smile from the vet tech, the same vet tech whom said several weeks ago, “I’m sorry. Your appointment isn’t until tomorrow.”

As soon as I saw her, I remembered that I wasn’t quite the kindest as I walked out the door with two dogs wrapped around my feet who were most likely wondering why the heck they were walking in and then quickly walking back out.

Silence and *possible* stomping speaks rather loudly.

Truth was, I was mad. Was it because I cleared my morning and loaded two excitable dogs into my Jeep and drove across town which is never easy or convenient during a work day? Was it because I didn’t want to be wrong and admit I may have made a mistake with the date? Was I expecting whomever made my appointment to be held to a higher standard, one of perfection, than I myself would be willing to held to?

Grace indeed is a crooked road.

But is a doable one.

As soon as I sat down, I apologized. I told the vet tech I was sorry for not being the kindest the last time I was there and I left it at that and made no excuses.

She accepted my apology and told me that my silence *and my stomping* didn’t quite seem like me and maybe I was just having a bad day. Perhaps other things were going on.

Boy were they ever.

I wish I could say that I *never* behave badly and that I am the poster child for good behavior but I obviously have my moments and some of those moments are rather large. I take my frustration out on innocent people after I allow it to build its home in me deep and wide. Through a series of unfortunate events, I’m learning that it’s important to recognize the WHY and then make amends with the HOW.

It’s important when you realize that you’ve stepped outside yourself to allow your heart to be searched so you can figure out what is REALLY going on in it. I wish I could say that I could do the figuring out all on my own but I can’t. I get snippets here and snippets there but if I really want to be the person I say I want to be, to be the person that God says I already am, then I need His help. And He gives it.

And when He gives it, there is always a small charge, a price to pay on my end. Recognizing my error or places of potential growth usually cost me the things that I often try to hold dear and close like pride, the very presentation of myself. It’s humbling to make the journey to the offering slab and lay my heart in front of another person and ask for forgiveness and admit I made a mistake.

It’s called vulnerability.

You cannot change without searching your heart and taking responsibility for your behavior. You are kidding yourself if you think you can maneuver around this process and negate this step. And if you are in a relationship with another person who refuses to take ownership of their actions and would rather place blame then take ownership, you are in a relationship with a stubborn-hearted person and the same pattern will most likely cycle back around again and repeat themselves. It’s the very definition of insanity.

If your heart gets checked and you realize that you’ve stepped outside yourself an inch or two…own it. Say you are sorry. Be sincere. Don’t make excuses. And if your heart is rarely checked…you are the author and perfector of your own faith and I wish you well.

It is very hard to be in a relationship with someone who is never wrong.

Wish Them Well

At some point in our lives, we’ve all been hurt. Taken advantage of. Lied to. Disrespected. Not appreciated or treated with dignity, respect or any kind of love when things unravel at the end.

The thing is, none of us are ever immune from being on both sides of the equation. That’s just how life works. We unintentionally hurt people and we have been unintentionally hurt.

I genuinely believe people are doing the best they can in the moment, even when their best, quite frankly, sucks. That genuine belief can often make it challenging to reach deep inside ourselves when someone has hurt us to find an ounce of compassion or a genuine desire to wish them well as they move on in life.

My own struggle with this has been an ongoing, and by no means, linear path. I have always desired to wish those people who have hurt me well—to genuinely (and I mean genuinely) want them to be happy and at peace.

Why?

Because we ALL deserve this, no matter what mistakes and missteps we’ve made in the past. It’s the Golden Rule.

“So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them.” – Matthew 7:12

But oftentimes we may find that we have a different inner dialogue going on inside our heads. We may want to do the right thing and wish them well, but instead we find ourselves thinking:

“You don’t deserve to be happy after the way you treated me. I hope someone treats you like you’ve treated me *or worse* so you know how it feels.”

 I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. – Romans 15-20

Ever? Please for the love of God tell me that Paul and I are not alone.

If we are, so be it, but if not…cut yourself some slack. The struggle is real. You’re human.

When people hurt us, we want them to hurt back. Sometimes we want worse for them *like for them to die quietly in their sleep* It’s the inner child in us rearing its ugly little head.

Unfortunately, thinking that way is never going to get us what we actually want, which is real contentment and peace in our own lives. We can’t move forward from a relationship if we’re still looking backward, casting stones at the person or people who have hurt us.

Trust me on this one.

How can we expect ourselves to be truly happy *and I mean the no-bullshit-I’m-not-still-holding-grudges kind of happy* when we’re still exerting energy wishing someone from our past ill will?

Truth is, we can’t. We’re still giving the pain power over our life. By not choosing to forgive and letting go, hoping that they’re miserable, we’re allowing the pain to continue to cause us even more harm. And trust me, they don’t know or care that we’re still obsessing over them and losing sleep thinking of all the ways we’d like to see their life blow up in their face.

They’ve moved on—remember?

But us? We’re continuing staying stuck energetically and emotionally in an experience that already caused us enough pain. We become the poster child of what insanity looks like.

This is one of the most important and hardest (to practice) life lessons I’ve learned in 2018:

When somebody doesn’t want us to be in their life, they’ve done us a monumental favor by letting us go.

Even though we may secretly obsess over the details, it doesn’t matter HOW they hurt us and let us go. They may have done it in the most cowardly, selfish, manipulative and hurtful way…they did us a favor.

Point being, people either want to be in a relationship with you or they don’t. If they’ve hurt you, they will own their part, ask for forgiveness and make the changes needed on their end or they won’t.

Period. End of story.

We can’t convince other people who have hurt us that they have and we certainly can’t control how they handle things and process through. We can’t change the past and how things took place. We are powerful but not that powerful. What we can control is what we think about and how we treat people. We can shift our focus in wishing those people the highest, most genuine healing and happiness and love the universe can bring them, because those people *the ones who have little awareness or consciousness of the pain they’ve caused others* they need it the most.

Because the overused cliché is true: Hurt people hurt people.

We spend so much of our lives telling other people what they should feel and how they should do things, from loving us to letting us go. I’ve learned that the best way we can teach people to be better in these situations is to model what being better looks like with our actions and not our words.

It means modeling kindness and forgiveness and understanding, even when we feel they don’t deserve it and life is not fair. It means modeling taking the high road when every fiber of our being wants to take the lowest road possible.

It means having enough love for ourself that we want to be free of the past so that we can have a better future—one that doesn’t involve lugging around that old story of the person who brought us so much pain like a backpack full of jagged rocks.

So on your heavy days, envision yourself toting that jagged backpack around and ask yourself if it’s worth it. Trust me, it’s not. It will wear you thin like paper and you will topple down the mountain you are trying to scale.

Just put it down and let it go. Cycle. Repeat. A zillion times as needed because this type of thought process is like upside down thinking. Wish them love. Wish them happiness. Wish them a future filled with all of their own dreams coming true. Thank them for setting you free.

I promise, in the end, you’re the one who will feel a whole hell of a lot lighter.

Church is for Hurting People

It was a sign I never saw but was the topic of conversation around a dinner table years ago. My friend drove by a local Church and saw the sign along the road and it read, “The Church is for Hurting People.” We wondered if they knew what they said.

Maybe they did. Maybe it was their invite to come. “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28

Either way you look at it, it is true.

The Church should be a haven, a safe place for hurting people, people down on their luck and exhausted from the rat-race of life however if you have ever been IN the Church, especially in leadership, you’d know, just like I came to find out, the Church hurts people as well.

OH. DOES. IT. 

So I left it. Partially.

I stopped showing up and withdrew my all-in heart and played it safe on the sidelines. Through it, I came to know Jesus more intimately, personally. I discovered “Church” was not just in a building but a group of sister-friends, within my family, on the lake, at home on a day where physical and mental rest was needed.

Church was IN me, whereever I went. Why would I ever need to subject myself to the drama that “Church” brought? Because to be honest, I fell short in Church. Someone was always following Jesus closer and running faster and speaking louder and more freely. Someone else was sitting in the front row instead of corralling in the back and they were NOT holding their heart back or walking in with the baggage I carried. After a while worship seemed to exist for the approval of man and it all seemed like a ridiculous parade of paupers pleading for the attention and approval of a few.

And I don’t do cliques and as a recovery people-pleaser, I felt like it was a weekly trap that made old wounds surface and sting.

The lake or the early Sunday morning run never made my heart ache the way that building did and Jesus spoke clearly and I grew.

Or did I?

Fast forward to Thursday night. Book club and nine of the best ladies I know are gathered around my table and a fellow leader speaks up and bares her heart raw. She is hurt. By Church.

And I think of the marquis sign outside of the Church I never saw.

“The Church is for Hurting People.”

Our book this month was “Braving the Wilderness” by Brene Brown. One of her quotes that stood out to me as my young friend talked was this:

“Courage is forged in pain, but not in all pain. Pain that is denied or ignored becomes fear or hate. Anger that is never transformed becomes resentment and bitterness.”

Often times when we are hurt or we interpret someone else’s actions or comments negatively, especially in regards to WHO WE ARE, we withdraw. “I don’t like how they make me feel. I don’t like how this place makes me feel,” is common, especially in the context of Church and instead of asking ourselves the hard questions, like “Am I being convicted?” or better yet, “What is going on inside of me?” we quickly label it as judgement and walk away.

Door Closed. Heart Closed.

My issue, NOT theirs.

If we do not ask ourselves these hard questions and give ourselves time and space to answer them HONESTLY, we are confined in our hurt which then turns into anger, bitterness and potential hatred.

BUT.

But if we are able to honestly answer and do not take things personally, we can turn our hurt into compassion and learn how to connect with an open heart to make our environment, our Church, better.

Because here is the thing, we need one another and if we want to talk Church, we ARE it.

You + Me = We

And if you don’t show up.

If I don’t.

Then WE all miss out.

Full circle: I got my grown-ass-self into the shower yesterday and went…TO THE BUILDING.

And I can still easily interpret with my cynical eye the show, the parade that is often tainted by my own insecurities, but I had to walk in intentionally posturing my heart to SEE, to HEAR. And I am so glad I did.

I desperately needed and have been longing for something specific. A word from God. I am finding myself at an intersection, a cross roads in life and I need clarity as a I sit in the ashes of my pain. So I sat and I listened and received not just a word but The Word Himself…THROUGH SEVERAL OTHER PEOPLE.

I would have missed out if I did not show up to that building some call Church.

Friends, I get it. I no longer want to be caught in the trappings of religion. I don’t want to show up just in order to say I love Jesus. He is not a pin or some badge that I wear nor is He something I cross off my list. I do not go because I SHOULD. Rituals such as regular attendance…no thanks. I whole heartedly believe there are seasons and sometimes in order to gain perspective, we need to step back in order to step up and see with clarity.

But I am finding those seasons are short. They are not your typical Spring, Summer, Winter or Fall.

WHY?

We NEED one another. We do. The lake can give me a place to breathe and appreciate the glory and splendor of God and I can soak in the sun with a smile and receive some IG worthy revelation that I could share with my picture-perfect cloud that I post but we are made to crave FLESH and BLOOD. 

Life’s Little Lesson is this:

Re-engage. Show up. Wherever you are at, WERE at, there are good people there. Good and needed people who you just don’t need but whom need what in on the inside of Y-O-U. 

Please, for the love. Church is a beautiful thing. It is a beautiful people.

Forgive and Forget 

If you are like me, you’ve done your fair share of screwing up. Live and learn, its’s life and I don’t say that flippantly. No excuses, real times, hard stuff and a point in life I’d rather not go back to or dwell on, but I’m forgiven and can walk with my head high. I know who I am and who I’m not from going through it.

 
BUT not everyone shares my excitement for do-overs. Not everyone is quite as enthusiastic about grace as I am. Especially if my choices hurt them.

 
A spirit of guilt and condemnation continually tries to tether us all to the whipping post centrally located in the middle of town. It tries to humiliate us by drawing a crowd…the larger the crowd, the louder the jeers.

 
I get it. And boy do I wish I didn’t.

 
Friends…it’s really nice when we can stand together arms interlocked but there comes a time when we need to stand alone on God’s promise that our sins are as far from the east as to the west. God forgives AND forgets. He chooses to. So even when those around us  hold a pretty detailed account of our wrongs, we can stand firm, knowing our knees won’t buckle underneath the pressure to prove ourselves worthy. Because we are.
It doesn’t necessarily matter what we’ve done. Those details can be like unnecessary chatter in conversations held behind closed doors or backs. What matters most is that we learn from what we’ve done and how those little life lessons impact our current day choices.

 

Here’s the thing…even when we act like an orphan that has no home or a prodigal afraid to come back to one, we are still loved. The Father does not HAVE to love us (You know how families can be…you can’t pick them). He loves because He chooses us. He chooses YOU. 

 
So don’t let yourself be tethered back to the whipping post.

 
Forgive and forget. 70 x 7. 

 
Including yourself. Most importantly yourself.

You Will Not Have My Hatred

I am not sure where I read about Antoine Leiris but his words “You will not have my hatred,” found a way into my heart and buried themselves deep.

“You will not have my hatred,” says Antoine Leiris in a FB post that addressed Islamic State terrorists behind the deadly strike in which 129 people were killed. On Friday November 13, 2015, Islamic State terrorists struck at multiple targets in Paris including the Bataclan theatre, the Stade de France football stadium and a pizzeria, gunning down people. Over 89 concert-goers were killed at the Bataclan theatre in the worst of the attacks. Mr Leiris’ wife was among them.

“Friday night you stole the life of an exceptional person, the love of my life, the mother of my son, but you won’t have my hatred. I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to know, you’re dead souls.

No I won’t make you this gift of hating you. You have it coming, but to respond to hatred with anger would be giving in to the same ignorance that made you what you are. You want me to be afraid, to look at my fellow citizens suspiciously, to sacrifice my freedom for security. You lose. The player still plays.

I saw her this morning. At last, after nights and days of waiting. She was as beautiful as when she left on Friday evening, as beautiful as when I fell head over heels in love with her more than 12 years ago. Of course I’m devastated with grief, I grant you this small victory, but it will be short-lived. I know she will be with us every day and that we will find each other in heaven with free souls which you will never have.

My son and I, we will be stronger than all the armies in the world. I cannot waste any more time on you as I must go back (to my son) who has woken from his sleep. He is 17 months old, he’ll eat his snack like any other day, then we will play like every other day and all his life this little boy will dare to be happy and free. Because No, you won’t have his hatred either.”

Let’s be honest, most of human kind will not experience an attack like this. You and I, in our regular lives will not find ourselves being the unlucky recipient of such terroristic acts against humanity. We most likely won’t find ourselves in theatre’s, football stadium’s or pizzerias. We most likely won’t find ourselves in high-rise buildings or airplanes. We may not even find ourselves in schools, churches or outdoor concert venues where mass shootings occur. Whatever our life, Whoever we are; White, Black, Christian, Muslim, Straight, Gay, Upper Class, Lower Class, Democrat or Republican…we may never be placed in a situation where we later write, “You will not have my hatred.”

Or will we?

Let’s take this down to our level, in fact, let me bring this down to mine.

I am a White, Middle-Class Soccer Mom.

I’m straight.

I’m a Christian.

I have no clue which political party I identify with.

I have a college degree. A full-time job. Married with kids.

I vacation every summer. Eat out when I want to. Attend Church when I can.

I have never been denied a job based off the fact that I am a White Female though I have been the recipient of the occasional cat call or random solicitation for “friendships” on FB from male strangers who think I am nothing but “pretty.”

I have never been laughed at our made fun of and have absolutely never been a target of  a hate crime based off the fact that I am any and all of the above.

I know no real persecution, except that which lies within me, and for the most part, have a cushy life.

And yet I sit at times and fester.

I give them my hatred.

Things have been stolen from me.

I have been suspicious and have sought refuge in feeling safe.

I have grieved.

I have done all these things and more and day after day, my hatred seethes and disguises itself…even from myself.

Because I know that hatred starts small. It starts with one moment and then builds to two and then five…five hundred small and inconspicuous moments where fear takes a hold and plants a root.

Hurt can become an offense.

Enough offenses and you give way for hatred, even towards ones self, to reign and rule.

Can we take gut-wrenching events, like the one that happened on November 13, 2015, and make something large-scale small?

Yes.

We have to.

I want to.

I cannot afford to allow my wounds to fester because loving large-scale means I need to love small-scale FIRST. With me. With you. If I miss it here, with the person staring back at me in the mirror or the one standing before me, I’ll miss it there.

And I simply do not want to miss a oppotunity to forgive, an opportunity to love where I know it can have the greatest impact.

You will not have my hatred.” 

These are the words of Antoine Leiris. They are mine.

Will they be yours?

 

 

The Blind Spot 

I woke up this morning and I could not stop thinking about it.

“I bet that is one of the contributors. That can’t be helping. It is only hurting.”

By the time I rolled out of bed and meandered to the coffee pot, I already knew what I was going to say. I was going to come to the table, out of concern, and state the obvious.

Yes.

“THIS…is clearly not helping.”

Essentially…

“What you are doing is WRONG.”

Y-O-U.

The other day I was reading in Matthew and was really needing something. I was desperate. Ever have one of those moments? You need Truth ASAP. You need Hope. You ultimately need Jesus.

That was me.

“Please show me what I need to hear. How to live. What I need to change IN me?”

I have a lot of needs.

Well my eyes went to Matthew 7.

Do Not Judge. 

Gulp.

7:1-5 “Refuse to be a critic full of bias toward others, and judgement will not be passed onto to you. For you will be judged by the same standard that you’ve used to judge others. The measurement you use on them will be used on you. Why would you focus on the flaw in someone else’s life and yet fail to notice the glaring flaws of your own? How could you say to your friend, ‘Let me show you where you’re wrong,’ when you’re guilty of even more? You are being hypocritical and a hypocrite! First acknowledge your own ‘blind spots’ and deal with them, and then you’ll be capable of dealing with the ‘blind spot’ of your friend.”

Verse 5 is bold because my Bible it is now highlighted.

First” literally means, “BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING ELSE” and “Acknowledge” means that you accept or admit the existence or truth of and from experience I can tell you, you won’t address what you cannot see or what you do not know exists. If your heart is not convicted to repent, that what you are doing is not the best or is hurting rather than helping, you most likely won’t take the steps to CHANGE.

Repentance means you acknowledge your own stuff, your sin, and you change your mind and go in another direction. You begin to make changes in the way you think. Your mind is pretty powerful and on your own, you can redirect your thoughts but your heart is another story. Repentance means you open your heart to being searched by Jesus and overtime and as each searching takes place, a conversation happens. I believe with your can-do and your time spent with Jesus honestly accessing your own heart and answering the hard questions, like “What is going on inside of me?” you transform.

You leave your old wineskin behind and take on new. (Mark 2:22).

Do you know the process of creating a new wineskin? I did us all the favor and looked it up. It’s quite the process.

The hide is cut from a dead animal, most likely a goat.

Then it’s dried, tanned and eventually cut into the right pattern and sealed.

It’s then stitched by hand and tacked.

It’s turned inside out.

It is heated to high temperatures.

And then sealed. Again.

Dealing with our stuff is much like this. A process. A gruesome and bloody process and lately most days, I personally feel much like a goat hide.

Cut off, left to dry…left to die.

It is how it feels.

But I have to choose to believe, regardless of how it feels, that this process will be worth it. That I am a beautiful new wineskin in the making.

Because I am realizing that my old skin cannot hold new wine.

And I want new wine.

So where does this fit in with Do Not Judge?

“…and deal with them THEN you’ll be capable of dealing with the ‘blind spot’ of your friend.”

A season of life, such as this, requires a great deal of patience, understanding, grace and love.

It requires one to go easy, be kindgentle and compassionate towards themselves.

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’  The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” – Mark 12:30-31

Love your neighbor as yourself.

Perhaps only after we have walked through the process of dealing with our own sin will we know how to deal with others in the same way. Perhaps only then will we realize it’s not as easy as sitting across from the table, coffee in hand, saying “What you are doing is wrong.”

Until I can deal with me, I don’t think I am capable of dealing with you.

And it’s not a mater of want to. Believe me I want to. I often feel under obligation…

I just don’t think I quite know HOW to…

At least not in a way that’s Jesus.

And if it’s not Jesus…

Well.

Maybe

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

“No.”

And with that I go to bed.

OK.”

My daily communication attempts trying to delve past talk of kids and business fail. It is glaringly obvious, it is our only common ground. I long for deep and healing here in this place, this vast ocean that looks consuming and my continued asking feels like nagging and drudgery.

Maybe he is right. Maybe there is nothing more to talk about. Maybe this is as good as it gets. And with that, I walk up the stairs and step into the bath, delving below the surface of my life.

The water has become a drug to me. The heat is calming and soothing and numbs out my raw and achy parts.

I’m basing the whole of who I am and my happiness on this marriage. I forgave quickly. I thought I’d never mention our latest snag again. I immediately became a busy little bee who opened up her heart wide. I thought I’d work and he’d work and we would meet somewhere in the middle and this could potentially be THAT happy ending. The ending we all hope for and dream is possible and maybe for some it is, but it takes more than one to dream, maybe more than that to hope.

A mustard seed…and I had it.

But there needs to be communication and not just for a day. Not just for two. We need to cultivate intimacy and by default, I’ve been crowned conversation initiator and my initiator is tired and worn out.

I no longer volunteer as tribute.

My brain tells me all sorts of good and needed truths and I know I am full and overflowing with knowledge of WHO I am but my heart tells me another story. My heart tells me I don’t feel valued or loved, that I’m sitting around waiting for scraps and someone else’s left overs. My heart tells me if I was more important things would change and go another direction. My heart tells me a lot of things…

And if I stay here, stuck in a place that continually perpetuates these lies, that is exactly where I’ll stay.

An orphan.

Actions or lack thereof speak pretty loudly.

I’ve got to get myself healthy, for indeed I am sick. I hear the voice of my counselor in my head, “Your heart is broken. You need to heal,” and I know he is right. It is broken and I need to give it time and trying to help someone else mend who perhaps isn’t quite ready is not helping…me. I am pouring way more into this then he is and I’m beginning to feel the strain of my expenditures. I just don’t have it in me to ask one more time, “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Because essentially my tired refusal comes from a deep and hidden heart cry, “Would someone please pour into me first. I am empty. I no longer want to fix.”

And under the covering of the hot water that fills the tub, it becomes obvious.

The last time I turned someone over to the Lord with such resolve, my oldest son was six years old and was about to be airlifted to Hershey Medical Center for a skid loader accident. I remember standing over him as he was screaming, a mother whose heart was torn between what she could and couldn’t do, realizing, “There is nothing here I can. My very best works won’t help. But Jesus, if you exist, if you are alive and real, I believe you can help. He is yours.”

So I say it again, just the same.

“He is yours.”

I refuse to settle for anything less than what I know is possible.

Make Room 

The perfect morning to me is a cup of coffee, the couch and a book and time void of hustle and rush. Slow. Slow makes it truly, truly perfect and as Chief Hopper says in the very first episode of Stranger Things

“MORNINGS ARE FOR COFFEE AND CONTEMPLATION.”

And this morning I found myself having it all. The coffee, the couch and book…with plenty of time to get lost in some thought or some conversation and they walk right past, stuck in their morning routine, just the same.

“Come sit with me for a bit,” I say and I make room on the couch. I want more than just the normal Sunday Morning. I want their presence.

I’ve been thinking a lot this week about PEOPLE. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Isn’t that Christmas? I think of people in particular…their role in my life, my role in theirs and our influence on one another. I’ve been asking a lot of questions, gleaning a few answers and in between doing a lot of soul-searching.

There is more to life then living from here to there. There is a place in between.

In the past few days I’ve sat with people when it wasn’t convenient or easy and through it, I’ve realized once more how important it is to give each other our presence. We all want to be seen and heard and sometimes, most times, I liken all of humanity to the old stainless steel tea-pot that sits on my gas stove: We take time to warm up. We don’t want hurried along like we are an appointment on someone’s calendar or an errand they are running that can eventually be crossed off their list.

But sadly, most times, that is what we get.  Remnants of someone’s leftovers, their seconds, their hurry, their less than best.

Looking back now, I can see where that rush has caused more than a problem or two. Lack of presence places Constance where intact should be forged and before you know it, it’s easy to feel like distrusting strangers.

I think it’s the people in my every day crazy, when things aren’t calm and slow, that I’ve needed to pay closest attention to. The ones I’m most likely to whiz right by or take for granted have needed my solid and sturdy legs to remain strong yet bendy so I could ask simple and basic questions.

**Like**

“How are you?”

How many times do we dig our heels in and wade through the awkward silence for their answer? Their REAL answer.

Not many enough.

Conversely, last night as I was putting on my shoes, a random thought popped into my head. I thought of one person in particular, one I’ve been giving too much time and attention to though they havn’t been anywhere in my travels, no where in my circles but they indeed have been taking up space in the thoughts inside my head. As I laced up my last shoe, I didn’t think but more RESOLVED that they were a common denominator in too many of my here-and-now-life-problems. Too much of what I have rolling on the inside of me has their name attached and just like that… I made the decision to take them out of my equation.

And I realized I can do that.

Just. Like. That.

I’ve been giving them too much space through no fault of their own and in the big picture, it’s been frustrating. I’ve allowed their influence to tip some scale inside my life in a less than life-giving way and I refuse to carry them with me into the New Year.

I choose to no longer give them a seat on the couch that is housed in a room within my head. I stood tall after tying my shoes and within moments, showed them to the door. I don’t need to think about them or talk about them because to do so, places an unhealthy, unbalanced importance where it shouldn’t and afterwards, I’ve wondered WHY I’ve ever given away such a powerful choice.

And the sad but wonderful thing about this moment, in the midst of shoes and laces is this…

My resolve has nothing to do with an actual person as first assumed. Sure there’s a name but in the grand scheme of things, it could be a hundred names. They were merely just a representation of a festering wound and I think I needed someone, essentially anyone, to blame.

And since blaming does no good.

Here’s the door.

Be free.

What they represented to me has to go. I need to make room in my heart for vision and hope and joy and laughter and I don’t want to make time for the incessant chatter things past try to hold me to.

We need to free up space friends for real people. Not for the stupid things people do or our assumptions about them. Not for past hurts that keep replaying like a broken record. Not for our offenses or the sordid scenarios that we play and then rewind again and again in our head. Sometimes it IS as simple as refusing to give those thoughts an audience and if it means for a while that the name that’s attached goes unmentioned so you can quit your bad habit, then let it be so. Go cold turkey. Do whatever you can to think favorably again.

It’s not about cutting our losses. We need to look at the rooms within our homes and examine what is filling them. Sometimes it gets a little crowded with stuff and I don’t know about you, but if I’m going to have a full house, I’d rather have it packed with presence. People presence. Not poor thinking OF people presence because at the end of the day, negative attention is STILL attention and takes up space. An awful lot of it.

Friends I’m short on time and like you, I want to make my time count. I want my presence count. If I have any resolutions this year it is this:

want the person standing in front of me to walk away knowing they were heard and seen **THAT THEY WERE LOVED** and I want my thoughts to count.

I don’t have people to waste. I don’t have thoughts OF people to waste.

Neither do you.

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