What I know to be true…

Acceptance. Surrender. Gratitude. Joy.

These words have been circling in my thoughts over the last 3 months. Circling with no place to land inside my head. No place inside my mind that I’ve been willing to open up for them.

I’ve been too angry. Angry. Frustrated. Exhausted. Weary.

These words – acceptance, surrender, gratitude and joy – have surfaced from the deep places in my heart. These words were at the center of the transformation I’d experienced in my road to recovery 5 years ago. These words were what I’d re-built my whole life around while I was finding a mentally, emotionally, spiritually & physically healthier version of me.

I’ve let these words slip away. They’ve been replaced with angry, frustrated, exhausted and weary.

I loved the life I had found on the journey I started 5 years ago. The discoveries I was making about myself. The things I was learning and unlearning. Not just about me but also about God and my relationship with Him. I discovered that I’d been living a life driven by shame. I learned that the voice of shame sounds nothing like God’s voice when you clear away years of churchy judgement and expectations that were never about God to begin with. I learned about the kindness of God. That He actually thought I was deserving of His grace and His love.

I learned that I was enough. I was seen and heard. That I mattered. I had purpose.

I’ve let that slip away, too.

Over the last 2 years, I’ve been dealing with a condition called disembarkment syndrome or MdDS that was triggered by a flight to Charleston, SC and a boat ride that we took while on that trip in October 2021. Among other things, this condition causes a person to feel like they’re in constant motion with a rocking/swaying sensation 24 hours a day. I’ve tried all kinds of things to be rid of this but it appears that this debilitating condition will be here to stay.

Most of 2022 and the first part of this year, my symptoms were low level but still being triggered every day causing me to deal with extreme fatigue, brain fog and instability with my balance. I was grateful to not have the sensation of constant motion to deal with anymore but was still battling depression for how this condition had completely derailed my life. However, I was starting to come to a place of acceptance. Thinking this is my life now and asking God how to deal with the reality of that. A step towards surrender.

3 months ago, my symptoms randomly spiked to the highest they’ve been since the initial onset in 2021. The constant feeling of rocking/swaying was back. Most days I could barely function. Could hardly walk just from one room to the next in my house. Couldn’t drive. Could barely think and while there’s been some improvement over the last 3 months, it’s still with me. I feel like I’m in a boat rocking back and forth even as I’m writing this.

The step towards surrender that I was approaching 3 months ago made a U-turn directly back to angry, frustrated, exhausted and weary.

I’ve said it many times over the last 3 months to anyone who’s cared enough to listen:

I know God has a plan and a purpose for my life. I know His ways aren’t my ways. I know He can use my story and my struggle to help encourage someone else. I know He’s working in my life in ways that I can’t see.

I know all those things to be true.

But He could fix this. He could take this away. He could heal me. He could change this.

And He hasn’t.

I know that He’s still kind. He’s still a good God. He’s still loving and compassionate.

I know all those things to be true.

But this is not the life I want. This is not the life I asked for and it’s rocked my faith in a big way. I said these exact same things in a blog post about a year ago and here I am. Still facing the same struggle with no new thoughts and no obvious way forward.

I don’t like the person I’ve become in having to deal with this condition. This is not the me I want to be. This is not the me that I was becoming.

And I miss the me that I was. The me that was growing and flourishing. The me that didn’t have to be consumed with just trying to get through the day. The me that could just get up and go for a walk. The me that could go on trips with my family without worrying about how miserable I’d be the whole time. The me that was the kind of wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend that I wanted to be.

Not this shell of myself that I am today. And what was the point of becoming a healthier version of myself only to have her disappear in the struggle?

So all the things that I know to be true about God feel like a drop in the bucket of despair and hopelessness I’ve been carrying with me.

The question I’ve been asking myself lately is – where do I go from here?

If this never changes, if this condition never goes away, how do I want to live my life?

If I have to live a life I didn’t ask for, what do I want that life to look like?

Acceptance. Surrender. Gratitude. Joy.

Acceptance. That God could change it if He chose but He’s chosen not to.

Surrender. That I choose to let go of my desire for a life free of struggle, where I get everything I ask for and have no reason to rely on God.

Gratitude. That God already knows the battle inside me to give this over to Him. He sees my anger and frustration and still He loves me. He sees my exhaustion and weariness and has carried me through every single day.

Joy. That doesn’t seem to existent at the moment but there’s hope that joy still comes in the morning.

I can add that to the list of things that I know to be true as well.

The growing and flourishing version of me has written so many things about wanting God to take me to a place of deeper surrender. And asked God so many times to take me deeper than my feet could ever wander.

This is not the path I thought I’d have to walk to get there but here I am and knowing that God rarely leads us anywhere expected, why would I be surprised?

What I also know to be true is that God doesn’t lead us down a path just to leave us on our own.

It has felt like that for me in the darkness of wrestling with the anger, frustration, exhaustion and weariness. Eyes shut tight to what I know to be true.

But finally choosing to open my eyes, I see that the me I was becoming is still part of the me I am today. She may have been lost for a time but she is not gone. And is it possible that the me I am today is still here, still hanging on, still surviving, not giving up (at least a little bit) because of the work I did on the me I was becoming?

I can see now that this path I’m on is just leading to more learning, unlearning and re-learning. Lessons I might not have been able to learn if I wasn’t struggling every day with this condition. Lessons that lead to the deeper surrender I’ve previously asked for.

And so, if this never changes and if I have to continue living a life I didn’t ask for, what do I want this life to look like?

Acceptance. Surrender. Gratitude. Joy.

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Click here to check out what else I’ve been writing!

My Times Are In Your Hands (Thoughts from the River – Part 2)

If you missed Thoughts from the River Part 1, read it here.

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Rain Drop Cabin ~ Tuscumbia, MO ~ 10/9/2022

9:02am

Packing up to go home. Flipping through my journal to put away some loose pages that I’d taken out yesterday and I landed on a journal entry from 8/20/22. I paused to skim over what I had written in that entry because 8/20/22 was the day before a very significant event took place in my family. 10/9/22 Emily was interested in what 8/20/22 Emily had to say on the day before one of the scariest events of my life happened.

The 8/20/22 journal entry was a lot about my health. Dizziness, chronic illness, etc. I had started a chronic illness devotional and had written out Psalm 31 that had been referenced in the devotional. In writing out Psalm 31, I had drawn stars next to the verses that were speaking to me at the time. These are two of the verses that I’d had starred:

"But I trust in You, O Lord;
I say, 'You are my God.'
My times are in your hands,
deliver me from my enemies
and from those who pursue me."
-Psalm 31:14-15

I don’t remember carrying these specific words with me through the days that followed that journal entry on 8/20/22 and I had actually forgotten about these verses until just now – but I feel like that seed of trust and surrender was planted on 8/20/22 before I even knew what 8/21/22 would bring.

Another reminder of how God has carried me and sustained me.

“My times are in your hands” also reminds me of the days following when my Grandma Mac died back in 2000. Even though I’m sure I’d heard that phrase before, it was the first time it was said when my times felt completely unraveled, unglued and undone.

I can’t remember exactly where we were, maybe at the funeral home and somebody asked my Grandpa how he was doing and he said God had reminded him with Psalm 31:15 in his Daily Bread reading that “my times are in your hands” and because of that he knew he’d be ok.

I really love that visual of me and my life being in God’s hands. Ever since that day, every time I picture that it brings me comfort.

I want to hold tighter to that truth and the promise of God’s tender care. I want to remember in hard times and not so hard times that I’m held. That God is carrying me.

For all of my struggle with my need to figure everything out for myself, I still see the little girl inside of me that just wants to be held and carried and loved.

My times are in Your hands, God. I trust You with today and I trust that You will be waiting for me in tomorrow just as You are here with me now.

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10:51am

So… the restful, relaxing weekend comes to a close with me packing up the van to drive home only to find out my back tire is completely flat. Had to call someone to come tow the van because I don’t have a spare tire and Jason is driving out here to come pick me up to bring me home. This can’t be real life, right?

So very frustrating. I’ve spent the last 20 minutes crying so hard. The unfairness of it all. Why would this happen right at the end of having such an amazing weekend. Add it to the list of things I’m pissed off about with how life has been going.

But then my grateful mindset from yesterday kicked in. At least the flat tire didn’t happen on the side of the road. I’m still able to get into the cabin I’ve been at all weekend while I wait for Jason to come pick me up. I have a bathroom. I can charge my phone. I just made some coffee and I’m about to eat a muffin. #BLESSED

My times are in Your hands.

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St. Peters, MO 10/10/22

8:30am

Thinking through everything that happened over the weekend. Specifically with ending my weekend with such a frustrating situation. One of the things that has been really tripping me up lately is how the last 3 times I’ve had these big moments of surrender it seems like there’s almost always something hard or frustrating that happens immediately afterwards.

I’m thinking back to July when I felt like I’d finally come to the place that I could surrender and trust God with my health after 7-8 months of feeling resentful, angry and depressed. I felt like I was finally getting back into a good place and then our basement flooded.

Then my journal entry on 8/20/22 was me marking another moment of surrender/trust. Telling God I don’t know why life is going the way it’s going but I want to trust You and then 8/21/22 started another hard and stressful time in our lives.

And then this weekend. All of the things that I felt like God was speaking to my heart. All of the things I felt like I was taking away from this time by myself and to end it on a flat tire….

It now occurs to me that my surrender is contingent on things going my way.

I struggle and resist when hard things happen. Then when I’m finally ready to surrender, I think that’s the key to things getting easier. So then when something bad/hard/stressful comes immediately following the surrender my response is:

“But I thought we were good? I surrendered! So what’s this about??”

I see now how manipulative that is. As if I’m offering God my surrender as a bargaining tool. As if my surrender is powerful enough to change God’s plan and purpose for my life.

How unbelievably prideful….

Without being overly dramatic, I feel like this has given me a new outlook on life.

I feel like I’ve been offering my trust and surrender to God as if they are a get out of jail free card. I feel like the flat tire yesterday solidified that whether you’re surrendered or not, there will still be hard things to go through.

The question I’m asking myself now is am I going to navigate the hard things surrendered or resistant?

I’ve always told myself “I can do hard things” as a way of giving myself encouragement to get through hard times but maybe the new outlook is “I can do hard things and not fall apart”…

Maybe this is the shift from just surviving, to thriving.

I’ve always felt like when people say that they must have gotten through all their hard times so now they’re done with just surviving and now they can thrive.

But now, I can see it’s possible to have hard/frustrating/stressful times and still thrive.

How?

My times are in Your hands.

Thoughts from the River – Part 1

Rain Drop Cabin ~ Tuscumbia, MO ~ 10/8/2022

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10:00am

What is it about sitting by the water that allows my worries and cares to completely slide right off my shoulders?

Sitting in this peaceful place. Sun on my face. Breeze blowing. Birds chirping. Fish splashing. Tears in my eyes. The words in my head are simply:

Thank You.

Thank You, God. For carrying me. Saving me. Sustaining me. Helping me survive.

Thank You for this place and this time. Thank You that this is EXACTLY what I needed. Thank You for this beauty. These birds. These fall colors.

Thank You for peace. Thank You for stillness. Thank You for rest.

Thank You for sunshine. For light and warmth.

Thank You.

Thank You.

Thank You.

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10:45am

It’s interesting how fog makes things more beautiful. Like needing clouds in the sky to make a sunrise or sunset more breathtaking.

Is it the mysterious quality that makes fog so beautiful? And what does that mean for my life?

Could I find beauty when my path is shrouded by a fog?

Could I just stop and admire the mysteriousness of the mist surrounding me?

The way light can move and dance as the fog breaks and shifts. Could I see that in my own life?

Something to think about…

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11:34am

What causes water to move?

The river was almost completely still this morning but now the current is starting to pick up.

The breeze is also a little stronger too.

Does wind cause a faster current?

Is this true in my life as well?

When the wind starts to pick up and I feel the pressure of the breeze on my back beginning to push a bit harder, am I being moved forward?

Even if I feel as though I’m stuck and stagnant. Am I really being pushed down river? Being moved further along the path?

Something else to think about…

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11:46am

And then, 10 minutes later 2 fishing boats come through completely changing the flow and direction of the water.

The water splashes up. Waves roll and crash. Running and rippling towards the shore.

But then, a few minutes later and the current returns.

Flowing as before with no sign of disturbance.

Except for the lingering smell of the river having been shaken and stirred from it’s slumber.

And that muddy water smell in the air takes me right back to being a kid on the lake.

Boating. Swimming. Skiing. Laughing.

So many good memories.

Stirred up from the depths of my own slowly moving river.

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1:55pm

It just occurred to me that this river is flowing to the east. I thought all rivers flowed south.

I Googled it and this is the first thing that came up:

Rivers flow in all directions because they follow the path of least resistance. The idea that all rivers flow south is mistaken thinking that often stems from people thinking that water flows towards the south because they equate the direction with 'down'.

And then apparently people often ask “What determines the direction a river flows?” and this is what Google had to say:

The direction of flow is determined mostly by the area's topography located between headwater (origin) and mouth (destination). Also, rivers not only follow one direction, some turn and twist in several directions.

Sounds a lot like life…

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9:02pm

How do I end such a restful and peaceful day without dreading that it will be over tomorrow?

How do I carry the rest and relaxation and peace back home?

The rest and relaxation of today doesn’t mean there aren’t stresses and annoyances waiting for me at home. The stresses and annoyances don’t diminish or negate the rest and relaxation of today. The rest and relaxation today has allowed me to empty my basket of burdens and lighten my load. To be still and to sit quietly. To rest.

The expectation has always been now that my basket is empty, I can’t let anything come my way that will burden me and mess up the relaxation I found.

I see now that’s unrealistic.

The rest and relaxation today gives me the space to deal with what’s waiting at home. It gives me room to take a deep breath or even a couple of deep breaths and reset for whatever tomorrow and the next day holds.

The rest and relaxation today gives me the space to remember all I can focus on today is today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

Today’s focus is gratitude. Rest. Peace.

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Click here to read My Times Are In Your Hands (Thoughts from the River – Part 2)

Only Jesus: Even When You’re Running

About a month ago, I randomly started listening to the Casting Crowns’ album “Only Jesus” and came across 4 songs that God used to speak to my heart. This is the first blog in what I’m calling my Only Jesus series. This blog is about the song “Even When You’re Running” which I have linked so you can listen. Here are the lyrics:

Do you feel Him in your heartbeat
Even when you're running?
You try to drown Him out
With your life but you still hear Him calling

With a voice you never heard
But it sounds like home
You try to shut it out
But you feel it in your bones
And won't leave you alone

His love isn't escapable
His presence isn't shakable
Right now you don't believe it's true
A better day is coming

And you don't need another place to hide
He'll find you in your darkest night
His love is holding on to you
Even when you're running
Even when you're running

As a kid you said your prayers
Now they're bouncing off the ceiling
But took your world away
When you trusted Him for healing

He's no stranger to your heartbreak
He knows how it feels to lose
From the garden to the cross
He's been chasing after you
He's chasing after you

His love is inescapable
His presence is unshakable
Right now you don't believe it's true
A better day is coming

And you don't need another place to hide
He'll find you in your darkest night
His love is holding on to you
Even when you're running
Even when you're running

Your fear isn't dark enough
Your pit isn't deep enough
Your lie isn't loud enough
To keep Him away from you

The Father made the way for you
The Son killed the grave for you
Let the spirit come alive in you
Are you tired of the running?

His love is inescapable
His presence is unshakable
Right now you don't believe it's true
A better day is coming

And you don't need another place to hide
He'll find you in your darkest night
His love is holding on to you
Even when you're running
Even when you're running

It's time to stop running now
You don't have to have it figured out
All you need to do is turn around
And the Father will come running

When I heard this song for the first time last month, I distinctly remember thinking to myself:

I am a runner. It’s what I’ve always done. Why do I do this?

I immediately started thinking about all the ways I’ve runaway in my life. Like the time I literally ran away when I was a teenager. Or when I dropped out of high school twice because I didn’t know how to cope with how overwhelmed I was with life. As an adult, it’s a little harder to run away or drop out but I can see how I’ve used isolation and mentally checking out as a coping mechanism.

When life is hard, it’s easier to just shut down and shut everyone out. Including my family and friends but also God.

This is something that He has been showing me about myself recently and as I listened to the words of this song, I felt God saying to me:

You’re worth being pursued.

But you don’t have to run.

You don’t have to shut Me out.

Stay.

Let’s work it out together.

I’ve been rolling these words over and over in my head lately. Over the past couple of weeks we’ve been dealing with the flooded basement that I mentioned in my last post and I’ve found myself telling God, “I want to trust You. I want to stay. Help me stay. I don’t want to keep running. Help me to trust You.”

It feels so basic but it’s helping.

This week I’ve been feeling the weight of my health journey settling heavily onto my shoulders and into my heart. I keep hearing this thought in my mind:

It’s time you accept that you have a chronic illness that is going to be with you for now and maybe forever.

As I’m trying to process this, I can see how I’ve cycled through the 5 stages of grief over the last 10 months:

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

I keep going back to this song “Even When You’re Running” because when I think about how much I’ve struggled with this dizziness. How debilitating it’s been. How much it’s changed what my every day life looks like. How it’s exhausted me and worn me down…. I still don’t want to accept it.

I want to run away and shut down so badly but I keep hearing God say:

Stay. Let’s work it out together.

This feels unfair. I don’t want this to be what my life looks like right now. I didn’t ask for this.

Maybe you can relate? Maybe it’s not your health. It could be your marriage, an addiction (yours or someone else’s), the loss of a parent, the loss of a child. It could be anything. I know I’m not the only one struggling with something this big.

I’m trying to figure out how to stop being resentful and angry. To move onto learning how to accept this. To willingly allow God to use this thing in my life for whatever reason it’s been put here.

If I stay stuck in the unfairness of it, I think I’m going to miss whatever blessings and lessons might be found in this.

If I’m being honest, I don’t want to look for anything positive but the alternative is sucking the literal life out of me.

And maybe there’s someone out there struggling like I am that I could help just by not giving up and not giving in to all of the negative stuff that keeps overwhelming me.

The only way I know to move forward in this is Jesus. Only Jesus.

Only Jesus – even when I’m running.

Only Jesus – when I’m trying to stay.

Only Jesus – when I’m trying to trust, surrender, accept.

Only Jesus – when I feel invisible and forgotten.

Only Jesus – when I’m trying to find hope.

Only Jesus – when I feel like giving up.

Only Jesus.

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If you found this post encouraging, please feel free to share and please leave a comment below! I would love to hear what you think!

Click here to check out what else I’ve been writing!

Slightly Soggy Thoughts

This week I’ve been wrestling with asking for and accepting help. Why is it so hard?

Last week, I briefly mentioned the flooding we’ve experienced in our home. We were in crisis mode and if we needed something, there was a plethora of people willing to step up. I had no problems asking for help last week.

This week we’re in whatever comes after crisis mode. Everyone has gone back to their regularly scheduled programming but we’re still in the thick of it. We’ve dried out, cleaned up and started working on repairs but there are still slightly soggy things to deal with.

We’re coordinating with all of the workers to finish the mitigation, work on the repairs and replace damaged equipment. We’re working with insurance adjusters to get our claims settled and trying not to worry about how much exactly they’re going to cover. We’re taking cold showers because we have no hot water. We’re navigating big feelings within ourselves and our kids. We’re struggling with how to move forward in a house that keeps sucking the life out of us. My dizziness has also flared up A LOT from all of the work we had to do last week along with the stress and not being able to sleep. So, not only emotionally and mentally exhausted but physically struggling as well.

We’re doing our best but we can’t do it alone. This is what my rational mind is telling me. The irrational part of my mind is saying not only can you do it alone but you SHOULD do it alone. You should be able to handle all of these things by yourself. You’re a weak-minded loser if you can’t. And if you do accept help, you better feel guilty about it.

I don’t want to be a burden on anyone or give anyone a reason to be upset with me. I don’t want to create problems for other people. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.

In my head, I’m hearing: stay small. Stay as small as possible. Take up as little space as you can.

I don’t want to need help. I don’t want to ask for help. I don’t want to appear helpless or weak. I don’t want anyone to see me struggling but I’m also upset when I think no one sees me struggling.

How would I expect anyone to know I’m struggling if I don’t let them see me struggling?

How do I get over wanting to be invisible and seen at the same time? Why does it matter so much that I appear to have everything figured out? Why do I think I’m less than if I need help?

And now we circle back to one of my big God struggles. Being self-reliant vs. God-reliant. This isn’t exactly the same but the same underlying issues are at play when I’d rather be self-reliant than ask for help just to keep from being vulnerable or transparent.

From what I’ve learned in therapy, I know this is a coping mechanism to protect myself and this has become part of my identity.

If I take on all the things, I’m valuable. If I’m reliable and strong, I’m important. If I’m super helpful to other people, I’m useful and necessary.

Needing to be needed.

But also needing to not need anyone else.

The house may be dried out but these slightly soggy thoughts just keep drip…drip…dripping.

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Slightly Stronger Roots

I was listening to one of TobyMac’s newest songs “The Goodness” the other day and the first verse has stuck with me:

You made the rain, so when it falls on me
Should I complain, or feel You calling me?
It’s all on me to stay
And really catch what You’re showing
It’s my roots that You’re growing
‘Cause life is more than this moment

“It’s my roots that you’re growing” reminded me of this little visual (pictured below) that I drew in my journal last March.

I wanted to write a blog at the time about when you feel like you’re not making forward progress or you’re not growing at the pace you think you should be that it could be because God is working on strengthening your roots beneath the surface.

I’ve thought about that visual several times over the last year or so but was never able to come up with a blog.

But hearing that line in the TobyMac song brought it back around again. My recent struggle with depression that I shared here is an example of needing slightly stronger roots.

Would I have been able to survive that season and continue surviving without God strengthening and growing my roots in previous seasons of struggle?

Slightly stronger roots allow us to withstand wind storms.

Only God knows the storms that are coming and only He knows what we need today to prepare us for what’s waiting around the bend.

Looking back…

While I was focused on being in ANOTHER season of dizziness, God was growing a root of empathy for people with chronic illness.

While I was focused on being in ANOTHER season of depression, God was strengthening the roots of patience, love and gentleness towards myself.

While I was focused on ALL the things I was missing out on because of my physical limitations, God was growing a root of gratitude for ALL the good things in my life.

While I was focused on ALL the ways my life wasn’t going how I wanted it to, God was strengthening the root of surrender.

If I’m being honest, there has been an ongoing internal struggle surrounding the dizziness that I’m trying to resolve. At the heart of the struggle is my frustration and resentment towards God because He could fix this. He could take it away but He hasn’t.

I want to know why and what purpose this is serving. Does He just want me to be miserable? And for what?

While I’m grateful that the dizziness has decreased, I want it 100% gone and I don’t want it to keep coming back. As I’m writing this, I’m being reminded of God’s response to the 3 requests to remove the thorn in Paul’s side:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9

Whether or not I’m ever able to fully know why God has allowed me to walk through this, I’m grateful for this reminder.

His grace is sufficient when I’m weak.

When I’m dizzy.

When I’m depressed.

When nothing makes sense.

When I’m frustrated that God’s not doing what I want Him to do.

Even then. Especially then.

His grace is still sufficient.

Slightly stronger roots…

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If you found this post encouraging, please feel free to share and please leave a comment below! I would love to hear what you think!

Click here to check out what else I’ve been writing!

A Slightly Gentler Approach

I randomly came across a TobyMac video recently that was posted last year. He was at a concert sharing how he has the hope of seeing his firstborn son again because God gave His firstborn Son for our salvation. Then he sang the song “21 years” that he wrote after his son died. I watched the video through twice and found myself crying SO many tears.

I’d previously seen the “21 Years” music video 2 years ago and cried so hard every time because what if that was me? What if I lost one of my kids? Would I be able to stand up on a stage and share the hope of God’s gift of salvation? I know he can only do that because of God’s unimaginable strength and mercy.

But immediately, the voice of shame started talking in my ear:

“You haven’t gone through anything as tragic as that and you can’t even pray or go to church. What’s your excuse? What reason do you have for freezing God out and always going numb? Why don’t you get up and get on with your life? Get off the couch and start doing something!”

Here’s what I love about the things I’ve learned in my recent journey to a healthier me. Instead of embracing the shame lecture going through my head…

I pictured God sitting down beside me on the couch.

A reminder that He always meets us where we’re at. He doesn’t push us to be more than we are until He knows we’re ready. He sits besides us and gives us the strength to get up when the time is right.

This 4 year journey I’ve been on of learning, unlearning and letting go has taught me there will ALWAYS be opportunities to choose between shame and a slightly gentler approach.

Especially when things don’t go as planned.

When life falls apart. When the picture in our head doesn’t match the reality we’re facing. When we feel like giving up.

When depression seems to cling and joy feels unattainable.

A slightly gentler approach can be hard to find.

But when I picture God sitting beside me on the couch, I feel loved.

I feel seen and understood.

I feel reassured that He’s not just a God who loves us while we were a long way off but He’s also a God who runs to us. Just to be with us.

I feel overwhelmed at the overflowing and unending amount of patience He has for me.

I feel the hope of a brighter tomorrow bubbling up inside of me. Drowning out the voice of shame.

I feel inclined to be more loving to myself. To be more understanding and patient with myself.

A slightly gentler approach…

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A Slightly Wild Faith

I was reading a post on Facebook a couple weeks ago from an author that I follow. She was making an announcement about a new set of books she is starting to write for “those of us who wander in the wilderness of faith more than not” — this caught my attention.

The wilderness of faith? Isn’t faith supposed to get you out of the wilderness? How can faith be the wilderness?

I feel like my journey of faith has been me spending more time in the wilderness than out of it. So maybe that’s why this made me stop and think.

“The wilderness of faith” — just saying this gives me a mental image of a forest. Thousands of trees towering above. Light barely coming through. Wind rustling through the branches. Fallen twigs and leaves crunching under foot with each step.

These words come to mind… Dark. Alone. Isolated. Lost.

This idea of “the wilderness of faith” makes me think that maybe the wilderness could be so much more than I’ve been giving it credit for. The longer I pondered this idea, these questions popped into my head:

What if the wilderness was more than just a scary place to stumble through blindly?

What if it was a wilderness that taught me how to surrender? Or to trust God just a little bit more?

What if walking through the depths of the wilderness gave me the courage to finally accept that I’m not willing to settle for a mediocre faith?

What if I decided to let go of the tame expectations I have of God that make it easy for me to hold onto the comforting disillusionment of control?

What if the wilderness led me to a slightly wild faith?

A faith that doesn’t have to have all the answers.

A faith that lives outside the box.

A faith that dreams big dreams.

A faith that frees me from all of the preconceived notions I’ve carried with me for too long.

A faith that can breathe and hope and grow.

The wilderness of faith…

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A Slightly Open Door

Here I am again… Starting over again… The journey continues… Another new chapter…

I’m trying to figure out how to start this blog and those are all of the cliche things running through my mind. The reality is… this is just part of the bigger picture. Part of the story of who I was, who I am and who I am becoming.

It’s been quite awhile since I’ve felt 100% centered and whole. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. In 2018-2019 I lost the most weight I’ve ever lost before (90 pounds) and felt the healthiest that I ever have been. I had started therapy for the first time since college and I joined Overeaters Anonymous. Both of those things led to huge breakthroughs in all areas of my life. I was literally living my best life until things started to unravel.

I’d like to blame COVID & the pandemic but I was already starting to derail mid 2019. The pandemic definitely didn’t help and maybe I would’ve been able to get everything back on track if the pandemic hadn’t happened but it did happen and I didn’t get back on track.

I spent the first half of 2020 trying to figure out life in a pandemic and the 2nd half of 2020 dealing with extremely debilitating dizziness caused by a vestibular disorder. And then we got COVID in December 2020. I went from dizzy and discouraged to being the sickest I’ve ever felt in my life. At that point getting back on track didn’t seem possible because the track was nowhere to be found in the middle of what felt like one of the most frustrating seasons of my life.

I was deeply depressed and decided to return to weekly therapy in March 2021 to see if I could find some way out of the darkness. The therapy helped me realize I wasn’t as far gone as I thought I was and also opened my eyes to some deep rooted issues in my relationship with God. I faced some hard truths about my need to be self-reliant vs God-reliant and was able to gain some momentum in getting back some of my emotional, mental and spiritual health.

At the same time that I was doing therapy sessions, I also discovered float therapy which completely relieved my dizziness caused by the vestibular disorder. That was a HUGE win for me physically.

2021 was a big milestone year for me. I turned 40 in September and celebrated my 20 year anniversary with my husband in Charleston, SC. I felt good about turning 40 and our anniversary trip was an AMAZING experience. Except that I found myself dealing with a new type of dizziness called disembarkment syndrome or MdDS (Mal de Debarquement Syndrome) which was triggered by our flights to and from Charleston as well as a boat ride we took while in Charleston.

The worst part was that the solution I’d found for the vestibular dizziness (float therapy) was making the MdDS dizziness worse. I came back from one of the best trips of my life and started making my way into another dark season. Probably the absolute worst depression I’ve experienced in a very long time.

In November 2021, I found a doctor that helped me eventually get relief from the worst of the dizziness but I’m still dealing with symptoms getting triggered on a daily basis. I’m at a loss to describe what the last 7 months have been like. Frustrated, discouraged and hopeless are the first words that come to mind but those don’t even feel like they really describe the depth of the struggle I’ve been in.

Last week I reached my breaking point.

I hated everything about anything and everything that I could think of but mostly I hated me. How depressed I was. How far I’d drifted from God again. How miserable I was feeling. How I’d let myself gain so much weight and how I didn’t have one ounce of motivation to do anything about any of it.

After having a complete meltdown, I went for a drive and was trying to find some clarity on where to go with all of these feelings. As I was driving, I started listening to a song called Jireh that my daughter had shared with me. These lyrics grabbed my attention immediately:

I’ll never be more loved than I am right now
Wasn’t holding You up
So there’s nothing I can do to let You down
It doesn’t take a trophy to make You proud
I’ll never be more loved than I am right now

Going through a storm but I won’t go down
I hear Your voice
Carried in the rhythm of the wind to call me out
You would cross an ocean so I wouldn’t drown
You’ve never been closer than You are right now

You are Jireh, You are enough
Jireh, You are enough
And I will be content in every circumstance
You are Jireh, You are enough

Jireh (Elevation Worship and Maverick City Music)

I felt the smallest bit of light start to break through the darkness. In my mind I pictured myself standing in front of a closed door. I could see light shining from underneath the door, around the sides and along the top. I knew if I walked towards the door and opened it, I’d see God standing on the other side. But I was frozen in place.

I felt guilty and ashamed that I’d chosen darkness and silence over the last 7 months. There was no part of me that had been content in every circumstance. I wasn’t trusting God. I wasn’t leaning on Him. I wasn’t waiting on Him. I didn’t see anything in my situation that was worth trying to feel content about.

In fact, what I had been feeling was angry and resentful at God. Yes, I know He’s faithful and He’s a good God. I know… I know… I know… but I was still pissed that He would allow me to face another season of debilitating dizziness. And yes, I know that God can handle our honest feelings but I didn’t want to talk to Him.

So I chose to be silent and distant. I chose to close the door.

It doesn’t surprise me at all that despite months of my silence and in the midst of my pity party, God was still at work.

“You would cross an ocean so I wouldn’t drown.” Even though I didn’t ask Him to. Even though I wasn’t even speaking to Him. Even though I was the angriest I’d ever been and had no plans to stop. Despite all of that, He was still at work.

I hadn’t voluntarily listened to a worship song in months and yet this random song (Jireh) that I’d literally only heard one time came to mind, at a moment that I needed it so desperately.

I know that wasn’t by accident. That was God crossing an ocean so I wouldn’t drown.

As I continued driving and listening to this song on repeat, the picture of me standing in front of the closed door changed to me walking towards the door and opening it just slightly. I was expecting to see God on the other side of the door with His arms crossed and a look of disappointment on His face. I was wrong.

His face radiated joy. His arms were open wide. He was smiling at me. He wasn’t disappointed. He was happy to see me.

I wish this was enough to make everything better. Like waving a magic wand to make me a completely different person. Wouldn’t that be nice?

But now, in my mind, I see myself standing in front of a slightly open door with just enough light to push back the shadows surrounding me.

I’m still struggling but I feel hope again. I feel the promise of God’s faithfulness. I feel a little less angry and a little more content. For now, that is enough.

“You are Jireh, You are enough. Jireh, You are enough.”

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