What is Love? Baby, Please Herd Me!

There are scriptures I memorized when I was a Christian toddler that have played on a loop in my mind at various times throughout my life. And though they have served to comfort as intended, I am now discovering that there is so much more beneath the surface. This insatiable desire to get to know my Jesus has me diving deeper and finding so much more than comfort in the red letters. Psalm 23 is one such passage. I’ve read and recited this passage so many times and yet, it’s only now begun to take root. What if I was actually a ewe? Isn’t that basically what this is about? I’ve always envisioned myself following the shepherd who leads me here and there, but never actually pictured myself as a sheep. After all, doesn’t the world we currently live in dictate that it is not a good thing to be a sheep? To be a sheep in this day and age carries with it negative connotations, to say the least. The memes are a plenty! Aren’t we to lead and not follow? Blaze our own trail? Go off the beaten path? Let’s explore, shall we?

What does it mean to be a sheep - to live the life of a follower, part of a whole, one in many? Sheep are quite sensitive. I’ll begin there. The tiniest thing can cause an onset of fear and panic or at the very least, discomfort and unrest. If a sheep is afflicted with pests, she will torment herself until relief comes. If she is hungry, she cannot rest until she is fed. If something spooks her, she will find herself unable to eat or sleep. If there is any sort of conflict within the herd, again, she will not feed or rest. Her physical well-being and livelihood are directly tied to her mental health. And therein the shepherd finds his purpose. He is charged with maintaining the health and wellness of the entire group by meeting every need of the individual members. If one is lost, all will suffer. If one is fearful, sick or hungry, all will feel the disease. The parts are never greater than the whole. If a piece is missing, the whole tower crumbles. Enter the great shepherd…Jesus. He seeks out the hungry and feeds her from His hand. He restores her health, removes her afflictions and soothes her worried soul so that she might rest easy. He makes her to lie down in green pastures and leads her beside the still waters. He resolves the conflict within the group and unites them again so that they might thrive together. His rod and His staff comforts.

A cast sheep is one that has fallen over and cannot right herself. She can lose blood circulation quickly and die as a result. She is susceptible to attack in this position and is helpless and powerless to save herself. The shepherd must find her, right her and restore her to health. Enter the great shepherd. When her legs are simply too short and her mental resolve does not match the physical, swiftly He comes to save the day. Even though she walks through the valley of the shadow of death, she shall fear no evil, for He is with her. He gently lifts her and sets her back on her feet, firmly planted and joined again with her flock.

There is one thing about the shepherd that sings sweetly to my soul. Every good shepherd is relentless and tireless in his pursuit of his sheep, every last one. He will not rest until he is certain all are within his grasp. As a wandering, lost sheep myself, it is not lost on me how determined He is to find me and bring me back to the flock. His watchful eye sees every step I take down paths that lead to destruction and every fleeting glance toward treasures that will one day rust. It is green pastures He desires for me, not withering, dry fields. It is still waters to which He leads me, not rushing rivers that cannot quench my thirst. And how He rejoices when He finds the one and carries her home on His shoulders! Ninety-nine will never be enough for Him and this prodigal’s daughter could not be more grateful.

So I ask myself, “Why then, is it such a bad thing to be a sheep?” In recognizing that I am merely a part of the whole, a member of a family that does not flourish unless we are all on the same page, a united front, a river flowing in one direction, I am acknowledging that I am ineffective and finite on my own. My ability to thrive is tied directly to the unity of my flock. It is considered laughable to be a sheep today. It is thought to be a sign of weakness, an inability to think for oneself, or worse, challenge authority. There might be a bit of truth to that reality, but I guess the question then becomes, “Which authority am I challenging?” If it be my shepherd, that’s a hard pass for me. A sheep I will forever be! Because if being a sheep means I get to follow a shepherd to greener pastures and still waters, want for nothing, and have my soul restored each time I wander, throw me in a field and call me Dolly! It is actually a well-developed skill sheep have mastered to ensure their survival. They have come to an enlightened understanding that they are stronger together and more likely to thrive when they remain united rather than seeking independence. Fancy that! Oh, that we could learn from the herd. Let the record show that though there be hundreds of thousands of wolves intent on devouring sheep daily and nightly, still they greatly outnumber the wolves. The shepherd is so faithful to tend to His flock. Make no mistake, they are His and He will uplift them for all eternity.

**Sidenote: I would argue that the goal of the greater good should be to affirm and appease the souls of all members, which may mean NOT reaching a collective agreement on a course of action, but rather, addressing the need for compassion and taming the anxiety within each of us. We need to be heard, not right. We need to be affirmed, not shamed. We need to be validated in our concerns, not dismissed. And we need to be cared for, not discarded. And when it comes to the course of action, we need only to defer to the shepherd for direction.

Get off the throne, Goldilocks! It wasn't meant for you.

I sat down to write today for the first time in a very long time and I simply could not find the words…no, not one. I felt dejected in the best way possible, because the spirit interjected, a divine revelation quickly settled in and the words began to flow. Who am I to believe that I have anything more valuable to add to the conversation than the stranger sitting next to me at the DMV? Or the nurse at the end of the street? Or even the pastor at my church? Who do I think I am that I am privy to knowledge others are not? Why do I believe my opinion matters more, my insight will change minds and firmly held lifelong beliefs, that the information and data (science, if you will) that I have collected is somehow more accurate than that of the fifth ‘friend’ down my feed? How woefully presumptuous of me!

Insert here a vision of Job issuing a gleeful high five and a note of encouragement. “Girl, welcome to my world. Read my book!” And so I did, but I skipped past all the tough stuff that I struggle to digest to this day (no, I am not omitting context) and landed right smack at the end of story. And the Lord spoke (to us all, like it or not - at least those of you reading).

2“Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
4-5Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth…Who determined its measurements?
8-9Or who shut in the sea with doors when it burst forth and issued from the womb; When I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band?
12Have you commanded the morning since your days began, and caused the dawn to know its place?
17Have the gates of death been revealed to you? Or have you seen the doors of the shadow of death?
39-41Can you hunt the prey for the lion, or satisfy the appetite of the young lions, when they crouch in their dens, or lurk in their lairs to lie in wait? Who provides food for the raven, when its young ones cry to God, and wander about for lack of food?”

Well, shoot! I can’t do any of those things. So maybe I don’t actually have all the answers or even some of them and frankly, not even one on most occasions. So perhaps I should leave well enough alone for the moment and recognize that we aren’t all meant to be teachers. Of course, we are entitled to our opinions, but we would do well to remember that they are just that and are typically shaped by worldview, life experience, occasionally nature and quite often, nurture. And others have opinions shaped by the very same things, but often land at a very different place. We’ve rolled the same dice and both passed go, but I’m paying luxury tax and my friend is sitting pretty on Park Place. And so I am learning these turbulent days that silence sometimes speaks louder than any words I can string together, any diatribe I feel compelled to deliver, and certainly any entitlement I might feel in the presence of others. And I believe this is where my story begins and ends. Entitlement. It seems to mark this current age - this generation - and truth be told, I am entitled to one thing only. I am entitled as the daughter of a King to point others in His direction, to ensure that my words, every last one of them, are His words, the Sword of the Spirit, unpolluted and devoid of spin and commentary. As Robert Murray M’Cheyne implores, “It is God’s Word, not man’s comment upon God’s Word that saves souls.”

Spurgeon adds, “If ever we have a conversion at any time, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the conversion is rather traceable to the text, or to some Scripture quoted in the sermon, than to any trite or original saying by the preacher…therefore let us bring everything to the touchstone.”

The Bible. My touchstone. Thee touchstone. Am I bringing all things to it at every moment? My frustration? Doubts? Lingering questions? My brokenness? My wounds and scars? Successes and failures? Friends, neighbors and even enemies? Am I bringing them all to the touchstone where true healing is found and real progress is made? The sad reality is that no one is changing minds at this point, not those of others and certainly not our own. So why are we still trying? The divide is growing wider. The abyss, deeper. And the anger, increasingly more palpable. And my Jesus cuts through the chaos and gently whispers these words of encouragement.

Am I a peacemaker or a right-fighter? Am I justified in my opinion and beliefs or in Christ alone? If my truth claims lie solely in the Word of God, as they should, am I still a factor in the equation or is He - rightly - the alpha, omega, and everything in between? I fancy it a heart issue, as usual. Do I believe Him enough to remove myself from the equation and confidently assert that His ways are higher or am I holding on to a fraction of pride and seeking validation for my myself?

If you force a child to give his toy to another and he might (begrudgingly) give it, but he might not actually believe the child is deserving of it. He might still believe he is the rightful owner and more entitled to it. A toddler through and through, I might give God the glory for my accomplishments and successes, but do I really believe He is deserving of it? Am I going through the motions or has this Goldilocks truly abandoned her claims to a throne and crown that will never fit quite right because it was never intended for me in the first place? Have I fully surrendered mind, body, heart and soul to His authority?

And so my prayer is that the piece of me that still desires to be acknowledged, proven right and worse, praised and esteemed for my beliefs is cut out and thrown into the refiner’s fire where it rightly belongs. I believe we all want to be the one with the answer - the solution - to all of life’s problems, or at the very least, those on Capitol Hill, the media stage, or our local megachurch (the likes of which are surprisingly comparable). We want to be privy to a secret others are not, but the reality is that we are all privy to the same (not-so-secret) secret. Wait for it! Hold on to your granny panties, here it comes! He loves us all equally and gives us all the same answers before, during and after the test. Hit the books, friends. It’s right there in the Dewey Decimals between 200 and 299 (the Bible).

A side note to consider. I believe our most miserable of failures in navigating this present darkness lies in our willingness to allow the enemy a seat at the table of every conversation. We are asking the wrong questions, arguing moot points and allowing pride to gain a foothold. It looks similar to this:

Is gender reassignment wrong?
Yes
No
It’s a personal decision made by an individual, not society as a whole

While we plead our case over the correct answer and even justify it with biblical references, the devil is distracting us from the real issue. Our identities are found in Christ alone. Make no mistake, the enemy will stop at nothing to fill quiet spaces with dissension and unrest, anger and pride, sin and shame. Will we let him or will we exercise our right to free speech and let that speech be colored with love and truth, beauty and humility, promise and hope, grace and peace - nothing more and nothing less than the Word of God?!

I digress to the Godfather. “The Godfather is the sum of all wisdom. The Godfather is the answer to any question. What should I pack for my summer vacation? Leave the gun, take the cannoli. What day of the week is it? Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday. And the answer to your question is, go to the mattresses. You’re at war. It's not personal, it's business.” I’d like to confidently assert that the Godfather is not the sum of all wisdom. Indeed, it is God, the Father. And a small tweak on this ridiculous comparison that is probably amusing no one but myself, it actually IS personal with God. It is ALWAYS personal, because He has an interest in you that others do not. He is madly and passionately invested in your future and He is unabashedly pursuing your soul for all eternity.

I cannot do any of these things, but I know someone who can, the creator of them all, the author and perfecter of my faith. He has penned a story that simply does not disappoint, intriguing, moving and impassioned, rich in authenticity and bursting with humanity. I strongly urge you to read the book. The ending is so good!

This Land is My Land, This Land is Your Land

Is it possible to confidently assert a belief or opinion these days based solely on merit alone or do we only know how to communicate and promote our position by demoting another’s. All I seem to be witnessing these days is the latter. But I don’t feel the need to unfriend on facebook or unfollow on Instagram. I do not subscribe to the cancel culture narrative and am proud to say so. Frankly, many of you are providing hours of entertainment and fodder for the blog. I am going to boldly make a claim here and open myself up to ridicule and discord. I truly do not care what you believe or where you cast your vote. I have my guy and you have yours and I don’t need validation, but if you need to elevate your position by tearing down mine, I’m pretty sure you don’t have a leg to stand on. Maybe shift your focus and tell me why I SHOULD consider your candidate. If you cannot do that, I’m afraid I have no interest in your politics. My posts are usually quite free of this commentary, but honestly, I do feel that we are all being called to speak our truth and though I find myself raging on the inside sometimes, now is not the time for silence. So the challenge then becomes, how do I share my truth in grace and build my platform on conviction and solid research, rather than poignant attacks and an incessant need to be heard or worse...liked?

So here is my truth, asserted without attacking the other side or the current face of its party. (Insert politics here - feel free to jump to paragraph 4 if need be). I’m not a huge fan of Biden simply because I don’t feel his policies align with my ideals in many ways. I also don’t believe he is strong enough in the broken places. I am also not a huge fan of Trump and I do not at all support his communication skills in the public forum. And no, he is not a good example for my children, and so it is a very good thing that it is not his job to raise my children. That is my job! We elect a President to be a political figure, not a father figure. I don’t look to my political leaders to guide my children. I look to them to make decisions for the greater good and realize that sometimes they get it wrong. I direct my children to look to Jesus as an example and to their parents and can you believe, sometimes we aren’t a great example either, but do you know what we DO model? We model grace as often as possible. We model how to construct an apology and mean it. We model kindness and common sense. We fail, believe me, but we strive to get it right for their sake. We teach our children that our political leaders are finite and human and they fail just like the rest of us. We teach them to be free thinkers, to explore all options with an open mind and heart, to learn from others and stand up for their convictions, to speak up when necessary AFTER they have listened. We teach them there are always two sides to a story, different angles from which to see the same object or idea, and that compassion and understanding are at the heart of every good debate.

I will be the first to acknowledge there is no great option this time around, but I am not choosing a soul mate. I am charged with selecting a candidate who aligns most closely with my ideas, policies and economic beliefs. I would love for my candidate to practice a bit of humility and compassion (publicly anyway - I’m not privy to his private life and so, cannot speak to that), but I’m not holding my breath. I can say that confidently for two reasons. One, I don’t look to my President as a moral compass or best friend. I look to him to further a political agenda, as he was elected to do. Second, I have no problem admitting the failures of my candidate because I realize he is human as are all of us and I, personally do not have to answer for his character. It’s a fascinating concept, isn’t it? So why do we hold political leaders to a higher standard than ourselves? We long for them to speak kindly and graciously, apologizing for weakness and flaws and yet, many of us are unable to do the same. We don’t begin our debates with admissions of our own shortcomings. If we did, we would see that humility has the ability to set the stage for a level playing field. Do I create defensiveness and divisiveness in my communications or am I willing to concede that I don’t know it all? If I allow room for improvement, others will be more inclined to engage in a respectful discussion with me. Let the conversation begin with, change my mind.

I’ve heard the terms, “Joe Biden’s America” and “Donald Trump’s America” thrown around and used as ammunition to defend a particular political viewpoint on more than one occasion. This America does not belong to one man. If you believe it does, you are giving way too much power to one man and I am terrified for you. This America is OUR America...mine and yours. Remember, “This land is my land. This land is your land...” Wait, are we still allowed to sing that in schools? Not sure, but I digress. America is ours. Do with it what you will, but please, for the sake of all of us, stop veiling your fear and insecurity by assigning blame to one person. He is not that powerful and I am not that stupid. Also, if I look at your feed and all I see are re-tweets, memes and shares of someone else’s thoughts, I am even more scared for you. Original thoughts are highly encouraged in my world. I’m simply not sure many of us have those anymore. I implore you, log off and go have an actual conversation. You might actually be enlightened, rather than further frustrated.

Right, left, middle, upside down or right-side up, sadly, I believe the intentions on both sides are good. The actual ideals and intended results of the policies we support are inherently virtuous and defensible. And comically, the underlying values are often the same on both sides. Unfortunately, what actually manifests when these policies are enacted is not at all what we seek. They do little to accomplish the values and results we intend and for which we hope. The result is disillusionment and frustration. And that, my friends, happens in life as much as it does in politics. All the more reason to consider alternate ideas and continue the conversation.

Copied from a friend’s feed: “The reason conservative voters still support Trump is because they ARE him. They have the same morals, prejudices, hatreds, and insecurities that Trump has. Trump has given them permission to come out in the open and be who they really are. And, it’s ugly.” This is what I believe to be the most detrimental problem we are facing as a nation today. Who I am, really am, is ugly. Goodness, I better work on that right away! Here’s a thought. See if you can make a case for your candidate without attacking the other side. If you can’t, you’ve got a big problem. We’ve been charged with being the change we want to see in America, correct? Is the change you want to see to make sure you are ready at the helm to call out every misspoken word and every dip in the numbers. Is the change you want to see to assign blame, find fault, and point fingers every time a candidate stumbles over his or her words? Is that it, because that is exactly what I am seeing modeled on both sides. No candidate is perfect and do you know why? Because they are human, like you and I. Interesting concept, isn’t it? And again I say, if you cannot confidently assert your position without attacking the other side, you might be in a bit of a predicament and I strongly urge you to alter your approach.

I’m sharing this next part because I believe there is much to learn from the “other side” and what a hypocrite I would be if I discounted every idea they espoused. I love this musing from a former President and would be remiss to not share.

“Maybe the critics are right. Maybe there's no escaping our great political divide...Or maybe the trivialization of politics has reached a point of no return, so that most people see it as just one more diversion, a sport, with politicians our paunch-bellied gladiators and those who bother to pay attention just fans on the sidelines: We paint our faces red or blue and cheer our side and boo their side, and if it takes a late hit or cheap shot to beat the other team, so be it, for winning is all that matters.

But I don't think so. They are out there, I think to myself, those ordinary citizens who have grown up in the midst of all the political and cultural battles, but who have found a way-in their own lives, at least- to make peace with their neighbors, and themselves.

...I imagine they are waiting for a politics with the maturity to balance idealism and realism, to distinguish between what can and cannot be compromised, to admit the possibility that the other side might sometimes have a point. They don't always understand the arguments between right and left, conservative and liberal, but they recognize the difference between dogma and common sense, responsibility and irresponsibility, between those things that last and those that are fleeting. They are out there, waiting for Republicans and Democrats to catch up with them.”

― Barack Obama, The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream

Spot on, Mr. Obama. If Republicans and Democrats could just get out of the way, the people might actually get the politics they so desire.

A final thought. Matthew 7:2 reminds us, “For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you.” I sincerely hope you do NOT have someone ready to call you out every time you stumble. I hope you do NOT get cancelled for an error in judgment, a poor choice, or a flawed belief. I hope you find grace and forgiveness for your shortcomings and not judgment and ridicule. I hope you do not find yourself out of a job, unfriended, or irrelevant because you make a mistake. I hope among hope that you are not judged with the same measure you are currently judging others. Amazing, isn’t it? The “other side” actually has the audacity to hope as well.

To the Know-it-All Who Doesn't

It is entirely possible I am a dichotomy of epic proportions. It is also entirely possible I just like the way the word sounds when it is spoken with vigor and conviction and the intriguing, mysterious undercurrent it carries.

My thoughts are fleeting and fragmented, a road map weathered and worn at the creases, always headed in one direction or the next, pausing to recalculate and often changing course. I am likely not the one to lead a weary traveler home, but the journey will be ours together, for I am the constant companion. I am predictable in volatility, erratic in consistency. My words often have the tendency to make others uneasy, as they are raw and shrouded in weakness and doubt, but oddly comforting when an ear is tuned and a soul is poised.

I am an unplanned adventure, accidental, wildly emotional and impulsive. I am danger with intention, an inferno at the water’s edge, a tantrum riddled with grace and fear tangled with determination. I am weary with passion and desperate with hope. I war with peace and triumph in loss. I am a prisoner shackled to the past but beautifully unchained in the present. I am many things that seem to contradict each other, but above all, I am made in HIS image and I am HIS for all eternity.

I wondered as I ran downhill on the cusp of a runner’s high what it was that made the faces in the passing cars hold their gaze for longer than the standard split second. I can say with certainty that it had little to do with outward appearance, as my time in lockdown has not been kind to my once-slender frame. Could they sense the mounting joy within me and were hoping beyond hope that transference would somehow work its magic and ignite a spark of elation in their own discontent existence? Was I radiating outwardly the inward exhilaration I felt? And then it hit me and actually forced a brief LOL. I had forgotten that I was wearing my Led Zeppelin tank top, the one that seems to draw the envy of classic rock fans everywhere. I fancy myself quite lucky to have stumbled across it a year ago. Also, it is the only one that affords even an ounce of forgiveness of the Covid-20 these days. And then I wondered, are these passers-by curious as to what lies beneath this Zeppelin lover and what other familiarities, oddities and convictions make her tick? Are there layers upon layers that deem her fascinating and worthy of a second look? I know, I know, I am not that powerful and they probably could not have cared less about the inner workings of my soul, let alone my favorite pasttime on a typical Saturday afternoon. In fact, it is more likely their gaze was not fixed on me at all, but indulge me further if you would, as these chronicles fall flat without a bit of embellishment. I wondered that if they put all certainty and matter of opinion in the outward appearance and presumed to have figured me out based solely on my choice of music, would it surprise them to know I was actually listening to Nichole Nordeman and modern hymns? Would it shock them to hear that I call myself a Christian, but expound that I’m not a very good one? And what if they discovered that I am fascinated with true crime podcasts and forensic psychology, have Dateline on an endless loop and that interviews with serial killers nurture my incessant need to understand the human psyche? How does that component of my persona coincide with the part of me that longs for joy and not-so-secretly roots for the poor do-gooder who cannot ever seem to catch a break? The part that praises itself for giving in to the princess’s undeserved request for a hamster and now shamelessly adores Vanilla and her late night antics? The part that weeps incessantly when the wind kicks up just so, when the right lyric strikes the right chord at the right time, or when one of the two doves perched on her fence each morning nuzzles its tiny head in the neck of the other? Can the dichotomies in me not live in harmony with each other, my interests not cover a multitude of genres and my thoughts not take their place in different schools? And further, can the multi-faceted parts of my whole not actually be something to celebrate rather than be a source of confusion to those who seek to understand me?

It begs the question, what do we do when someone does not fit into the mold we have cut for them and their ideas and opinions befuddle us to the point of anger and frustration? How do we make sense of the senseless actions (as we deem them) of others? If we have an inherent need to label someone based on their job, beliefs, interests, companions, etc., how then can we comprehend or even simply accept them when they do or say something in stark contrast to who we believe them to be? And furthermore, how can we possibly be expected to gauge how to respond appropriately when faced with an uncomfortable realization about their very being or an idea that does not align with our expectations? Just when we can confidently assert that we have figured each other out, we find our assumptions challenged and our expectations ruined. Should we not be able to count on those we count on and rely on those we rely on? Should they not behave true to fashion at all times so that we might find comfort in the consistency and security in the standard? There seems to be no room for deviation, no allowance for the dichotomies within each of us that I find, frankly, truly fascinating.

Here is the devastating truth. When we attempt to make sense of the inherent contradictions in our ourselves and those around us, we lose something sacred. We lose something vital to our ultimate happiness, the thing for which our very souls thirst and our hearts demand. We lose the wonder, mystery and beauty of the unknown, the pure, innocent, blissful naivety that is all but impossible to reclaim (hear me when I say, “all but impossible” - insert copious amounts of hope here). We lose the childlike exuberance found in simplicity, find it mistakenly in hollow endeavors and pine for it until we breathe our last finite breath. We strive to hold back a roaring, untamed river by professing intellect and maintaining order, but in actuality, should strive to demolish the dam and dance upon the broken timbers with an unapologetic awareness of our limitations. But I am confident in this and cling desperately to this notion, because truth be told, it’s all I’ve got. It is never to late to rediscover what now eludes us and return, pure in spirit and mind, enthusiastically to the lover of our souls and the one true constant...never changing, never ceasing, everlasting alpha and omega. Spoiler alert...He is not a dichotomy. He is that He is. What you see is what you get and That.Is.Enough.

Ready? This might be difficult for some to hear. To recapture the wonder and awe we so desire, we must accept that we simply do not have - AND DO NOT NEED - all the answers. Sometimes clarity veils its face and mocks our arrogance. Some hopes and aspirations never materialize (ugh). We are passed by for the promotion to which we feel rightly entitled. We are ghosted and left to wonder, abandoned and charged with picking up the pieces, afflicted with a disease for which their is no cure. We are wrongfully convicted, unjustly accused, falsely labeled and harshly judged. Or maybe we are simply, misunderstood. And in these moments and many, many more, we might have to acknowledge that there is no blessed assurance to make the pain melt away and the black fade to grey, no answer to complete the equation and no piece that fits tightly into the puzzle, no method to the madness and no immediate shelter from the storm.

Oftentimes I am comforted in a way that surprises me. Sometimes it’s secular in nature (yikes...fear not, my dear Christians, God speaks in many languages). For the record, Jon Bellion is a devout Christian, but he chose a secular label and produces much of his own music, which hit the airwaves primarily on secular stations. This little gem is called Maybe IDK.

I wonder why I get paranoid when I'm high.
I wonder why I say yes to everyone in my life.
I wonder why I feel short when I know my money's tall.
I wonder why I miss everyone and I still don't call.
I wonder why I feel emptiness and I sing these blues.
I wonder why I feel hopelessness when I watch the news.
I wonder why I can't find my voice in my dreams.
I wonder why they say hate your brother and hide your gold.
I wonder why we all fear the things that we might not know.

Although I guess if I knew tomorrow, I guess I wouldn't need faith.
I guess if I never fell, I guess I wouldn't need grace.
I guess if I knew His plans, I guess He wouldn't be God.

So maybe I don't know. But maybe that's okay.

Take a breath. I’ve seen the future and it all works out in the end! If there is a certainty you can rely on and a hope you can cling to, it is this. There is a freedom in not needing all the answers. There is a beauty in the absence of the desire to figure it all out, a release of power and control that frightens many, but I implore you to consider this. Just because we are not in control does not mean life has no order or meaning. It simply means there is another force at work, bigger than the confines of our earthly understanding, higher than the enlightenment we proudly boast to possess, greater than the limitations of our own minds. Their is one who does have all the answers, is privy to a fairytale ending we can only imagine, and lays claim to a road map unweathered and unworn. He knew this day before it arrived. He knew your name before your parents whispered it into being. He knows the poverty of your past and the affluence of your future. And He is unabashedly singing your praises at any given moment. Take heart, all you weary travelers. Hit the next rest stop and take a ten minute power nap. He’s got this! Say it with me people, “I don’t know and it’s okay!”

“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” ~Philippians 1:6

I Once Was Lost (and Google Maps just wasn't cutting it)

We are all being heavily influenced these days, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. Have you not heard, “You should follow this person and this advocate and this athlete and this average Joe on Instagram?” And that’s okay, because we are actually called to be able to defend our beliefs and our positions. Enlightenment is not a bad thing. But might I assert that some of these so called “influencers” change their stance faster than I change my underwear. They are like waves of the sea blown and tossed by the wind, quite literally going where the money trail leads them. So do your research and please know who exactly it is you are following. I, for one, in my despair and exhaustion have decided to return to the road less traveled and follow Jesus above all. 

Sadly, I can follow thousands of like-minded people, but if I don’t first follow Christ, I fear I might already be lost. Where do I garner support for my beliefs? Affirmation on my position? Where does my faith lie? In a social media influencer? in a party leader? A blogger? An activist? Or in one whose influence can truly turn a life around and affect change on the deepest level? Who is my staunchest supporter? Is it the one who supports me despite my actions, words, faults and insecurities and did so from the beginning? He is actually the greatest activist of all times, past, present and future. He is actively pursuing us and make no mistake, He definitely wants to use us...to further His agenda, His cause, promote His message. And that message is one of love. Unity. Equality. We are all equally entitled whether you choose to see it or not. We are all entitled to be called sons and daughters. We are all heirs to the throne. We don't need to change the national anthem or a ride at Disneyland or the name of our band. We need to change our focus - our direction - right back to calvary, to the foot of the cross, where real persecution met its inception. Back to where sacrifice truly changed lives. Back to where love abounded and will forever. I will not claim I don't see color. I do see color. I see words written in red. Words that matter. Words that unite. Words that scream, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” ~Matthew 11:28

The only person with an agenda I can get on board with presently is Jesus, because His is the only agenda with the sole purpose of saving my soul and that matters more to me than white, black, blue, red, green, purple, rainbow, left, right, liberal, conservative, mask, no mask, vax, anti-vax, country, hip hop, taste great or less filling. 

“Follow no man further than he follows Christ.” ~John Collins

Choose wisely, my friends. There is indeed, a war going on and from where I sit, only one suit of armor will protect you. (Ephesians 6:10-18)

My name is Julie Sharp and I approve this message.

The Enemy Within

So I had a thought you may choose to disregard as you see fit, but you’re here, so I assume you will indulge for a minute. Scrolling through my facebook feed to see nothing but politic posts, us-versus-them memes, and Black Lives Matter diatribes (sadly, gone are the days of cute puppies and family photos), it suddenly occurred to me as I clicked on the ‘like’ option of one particular post, not to like the post itself, but to see others who had. How many of us - upon allowing a particular post to fire us up in agreement or dismay - click on said icon simply to see who is ‘with’ or ‘against’ us? Yikes! I will preface this one by confidently asserting that I am guilty! Hence the desire to blog. You see, dear friends in my camp and those who unabashedly take an opposing stance, it is my firm belief that change, REAL change can only occur when we whole-heartedly lay down arms and open our ears and our hearts to the plight and insight of others. And so that is where this post begins, with a desire to look within and affect change, not a desire to find fault in the actions and beliefs of others.

I will begin by saying that your beliefs matter to you and rightly so. And my beliefs matter to me as well. This post is not about either. This post is strictly about our inherent need to validate our position, garner attention, assign blame and identify an enemy when we are faced with conflicting ideals and issues that at this present moment, seem to be causing a rift that might just prove insurmountable. I’ve been struggling on a soul-searching level as of late and I may have scratched the surface. How is it possible that people on both sides of these ongoing debates are reading the same articles, privy to the same interviews, viewing the same videos and yet doubling down on their positions respectively? How can the other side not see what I see? How can the divide be spreading and the hurt be deepening and the hate be growing so exponentially on a minute-by-minute basis?

Cognitive dissonance. My new best friend and ally in understanding. The mental conflict that occurs when a person’s behaviors and beliefs do not align. It may happen when a person holds two beliefs that contradict one another. It causes feelings of unease and tension, and people attempt to relieve this discomfort in different ways. Examples include “explaining things away” or rejecting new information that conflicts with their existing beliefs. It may look like this:

So that explains a bit (in my mind anyway and this post is literally, the musings of MY mind). Now where do we go from here? If indeed, both sides are guilty of cognitive dissonance, how can we ever reach a place of enlightenment? How do we bridge the gap? How do we come to a place of agreement, though I’ll settle for an agreement to disagree and a little peace and quiet at this point? Why, do we as finite human beings, have to name an enemy when we cannot see eye to eye? And in my self-exploration, it hit me like a freight train. There IS an enemy and man, he is doing a superb job and sadly, we are allowing him to do so. You see, my brothers and sisters - those I hold near and dear to my heart AND those I don’t know personally, the enemy is not each other. It is not the conservatives and not the liberals. It is not those who tout “Black Lives Matter” or those who tout “All Lives Matter.” It is definitely not our boys (and girls) in blue. It’s not even the rioters, looters or mainstream media, but that is certainly an argument you can make and I will not challenge you. The enemy is alive and well and he is swiftly and effectively allowing us to destroy ourselves from the inside out. On THIS I will not remain silent. 

While you are name calling and throwing tantrums, he is moving around your neighborhood, whispering lies and dividing your relationships at the very core. How many have you “unfriended” this week? While you are fact checking and preparing to do battle, his army is already at the front lines. How many statistics did you discover today that support your position? While you sit on your soap box reciting the quote of the day (which I’ve done ad nauseam in the last few weeks), he sits silently in the midst of every conversation you have, planting seeds and sowing lies and celebrating small victories. Make no mistake, there is an enemy and he is not idle. Here’s a funny thought. He does not care one iota what your actual beliefs are and does not have an opinion on Covid, the BLM movement or police brutality. These things are merely a means to an end. And make no mistake, his ultimate goal is not to defund the police, end racism or ensure you are wearing your mask. His goal, his ONLY goal is to pry you from the hands of the only one who can truly unite, tear down walls, end suffering and bring ultimate peace. Can you hear me now? I can hear you, but this is my blog. Get your own blog (she says with a light-hearted humor, true to her nature). It takes only the smallest fracture to create the greatest divide. Given the right amount of pressure and circumstance, the chip in the windshield  that once was barely noticeable is now a gaping hole that is completely obstructing our view. Let’s be clear (pun intended), there are absolutes and their are grey areas, but let’s assign blame where blame is due. If you truly seek to start a revolution, I pray that you begin with a simple acknowledgement. You are not the enemy of your neighbor. You are being deceived if you believe this to be true. We may disagree. We may hurt each other - intentionally and unintentionally. We may look, feel and conform to different ideology, but WE are not enemies. There is one true enemy and to allow him a foothold is to the detriment of us all. Lord, help us! No really, sweet baby Jesus, Heavenly Father and lover of our souls - ALL OF OUR SOULS, please help us! We are a nation in need of healing. We are a nation in need of understanding and of patience. We are a nation falling prey to a ruthless enemy who seeks to divide and in so doing, conquer. We are a nation lost and he is winning simply because we are rolling out the red carpet. 

If we suffer in our marriages and our relationships are faltering, what do we do? When we lose the ability to listen and HEAR each other, to allow the perspective of another to matter more than our own, where do we find solace? When we have simply come to the end of ourselves and are ready to throw in the towel, where does our help come from? We may often seek mediation, counseling, an unbiased middle man with an unfiltered eye and no dog in the fight. Why then, should today be any different. From where I sit, it seems we are all at an impasse. If indeed, we feel unheard, misunderstood and frankly, crazy frustrated, isn’t it time for a mediator? And more importantly, what is the message that mediator would bring? Let me start and end here. The message is that of every good mediator, counselor, friend and ally. Open your ears and hear each other. See the good in each other. Be kind. Be humble. Be willing and able to admit your shortcomings. Seek peace. Use.Your.Words. And let your words be few. Let them be as few as this. “I love you.” Because my counselor, my mediator, my ally and my protector is nothing short of love and grace and I will accept and expect no less from myself and those around me. Justice is not JUST US. Justice is all of us. We are all entitled to the same privileges and what a privilege it is to be loved, adored and championed by a God who is able (and willing) to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think. 

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

~Micah 6:8

Use Your Words...Wisely Please

So here we are. We have encouraged our children to speak up and “use their words.” Well kudos my friends, that is exactly what they are doing and unfortunately, they are not pretty. But today, I have no words. Well, actually I do, but putting them down on paper has proven quite a massive undertaking. I’m not sure why, but this week has been nothing short of mentally debilitating and my parental load-bearing beams have been all but  demolished. The train pulled into the rumination station for the nine thousand twenty-seventh day in a row at approximately 2:36am. Enter the deluge of deep thoughts and crippling fear. How in the hell am I supposed to teach my littles how to navigate a world spinning out of control and emerge healthy individuals on the other side? Did students (and parents...ugh) at my local high school really spew hateful racist comments at an opposing team, was the story embellished to garner attention, or were both sides guilty of misconduct? I’ve read hundreds, if not thousands of heated comments from passionate individuals claiming, “The truth will come out.” And the only retort running circles in my mind like a dog chasing it’s tail is this...does it really matter? I would like to believe the issue will be thoroughly investigated and addressed appropriately, but here’s the thing - maybe it will and maybe it won’t. At the end of the day, the only purpose that will serve is to vindicate one side. In my humble opinion, validation of position should never be the end goal. If it’s validation you seek, you will find it one way or another and likely stop at nothing to do so. May I be so bold as to claim the facts of the case are actually somewhat irrelevant, or better stated, less significant than other factors at play? And please do not assume I am mitigating culpability and ramifications for those involved. There must be a fitting punishment and acknowledgement of wrong-doing. But what if, instead of playing the blame game we simply shifted our focus inward? What an amazing opportunity we have...to start a conversation, to practice the art of forgiveness and empathy, to address the value of not just listening, but hearing. What a blessing to be presented with the possibility of truly affecting change - on even the tiniest scale - within this little town we call home. My town has been and will be better than this. It starts at home and we are talking for sure.

I am heart-sick and emotionally burdened by the actions and words of our youth and not simply this week alone. I wish I could say I am surprised by the events that unfolded, but I’m not a fan of duplicity. It is no wonder they are confused and misguided, blind sheep led astray by the slightest enticement. We are raising them in a world of conflicting ideas, blinding contradictions and blatant hypocrisies. How are they to make sense of messages that war amongst themselves? We tell them, “Silence is golden,” but also, “If you see something, say something.” We clutter the airwaves and elevate rappers who use racial slurs and epitaphs as if they were conjunctions but are dismayed when they parrot the very same phrases and terms to each other. We tell them to have hope and try to make the world a better place but with the same breath tell them all is lost and the world is in dire straits because we elected a president we don’t like. We emphasize gun control and that violence is never the answer and then the media sensationalizes the taking of innocent lives and floods them with images of violence in video games during Monday Night Football. As a society, we have done little to solidify in them a firm foundation. We have not fostered a safe and secure environment in which to thrive, but rather, have hurled them out into the great unknown with an empty tool box and a pat on the back.

We live in a society that has decided it is more important to gently redirect our children and give them alternatives to their pursuits rather than overtly tell them “no.” There is, however, on occasion, an absolute right or wrong way to act and behave and yet we fail to recognize it. Unfortunately, as they grow and struggle to become fully functioning adults, they will hear “no” quite often and while I strongly support not giving up on your dreams, the reality is that sometimes the answer truly is no and they must learn to accept it and move forward. We have regrettably bred in them an inability to function in these instances. We have failed to convey to them the value of the bigger picture, that there are moments when even teachers become students and sometimes having the last word will only widen, rather than bridge the gap between compassion and contempt, kindness and cruelty, consciousness and ignorance, humility and pride.

My husband and I have always believed our primary focus should be on building self-esteem in our children. The shoulds and should nots, behavioral and societal issues we address with them are secondary. When they make an unwise decision, we certainly rebuke them, but the focus is on building in them a framework from which to make their own well-informed decisions. We strive to empower them to test the narratives being fed to them, critically think for themselves, and rest on what they know and believe to be true. I think the same general principles apply here. The missing piece is discernment. We have failed to teach them the art of discernment so they can correctly apply the so-called wisdom we impart. Without discernment, wisdom is a violin with no strings. What beautiful music we might make, yet we continually fall one note short of a symphony! It is only in knowing your audience and being able to clearly determine the climate of a situation that you can correctly discern the wisdom to apply.

I've heard it said that when someone else is speaking we spend the first 17 seconds formulating our response rather than actually listening. We see it in Facebook posts. A post is made and within two seconds there are 20 comments being drawn up in response. Where is the listening or more accurately, hearing taking place? We immediately seek to defend, challenge or be heard when perhaps we haven’t actually received the message at all. We don’t give ourselves enough time to “hear” each other and consequently, misunderstanding and ultimately, polarization follows. It is not enough to simply shut your mouth and claim to listen. Real change occurs when we hear and further, validate each other. The sad reality is that we have been conditioned to prove our point. What we lose in so doing is the ability to see beyond the words to the intended meaning or at the very least, the worldview from which it comes - its inception, the filter and experiences that shaped it. The new mantra is, “Hurt people hurt people.” I hear it often. I see it reposted almost daily. We say it, yet we don’t actually believe it, because we continue to talk over each other in an effort to be right, to be justified. We are failing miserably, but I cannot simply sit back and accept defeat. The future of my children hinges on it. In fact, demands it.

Alas, what the world needs now is love. True, but I think what it needs more urgently is understanding. Because in this day and age, it goes something like this, “I love you and you love me, but I disagree with you and let me tell you why you’re wrong.”

Me being the self-loather that I am, when someone takes issue with me, I immediately assume it is my fault. It is definitely a weakness, but I also see it as a strength, because at the end of the day, I would do anything to make it right - not to be right, but to find a resolution and some understanding as to how I hurt the other person so that it does not continue to happen. It forces me to look inward and question the validity of the accusation, to consider my actions and how they affect others. It may or may not hold water but at the very least, it warrants and begins a discussion wherein I have the unique privilege of delving into the mind of another, what makes him/her tick and this is what I love most about life - introspection. It defines who I am, affirms my character, and directs every step I take. I believe so many of us get hung up in the acknowledgement of our shortcomings. Simply engaging in a conversation that addresses your actions and encourages you to reflect upon how they affect others does not mean you are conceding defeat (although I don’t love that word here). It simply means you are open to understanding the position of another in a way that could positively affect change. Although I think our human nature would disagree, if I engage in a healthy debate, I’m not necessarily trying to convince the other person that my way is better, because maybe it’s not. When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong (yep, veiled Dirty Dancing reference). The point is, if both people approach the conversation from the same angle - understanding - everybody wins. Ultimately, you will both address the problem sincerely in an effort to make it better. At the very least, you are privy to a different perspective and will likely be a better person for it. Growth does not come in stagnancy. We are ever-changing, ever-evolving human beings, with boundless potential to do extraordinary things. In my mind, the purpose and meaning of life is relationship - with each other, with ourselves, and with a higher power, whatever name you choose to give it. I like to call mine Jesus, Lover of My Soul and Healer of My Heart. 

I’m not quite sure how to end this post, so I’ll just say this...use your words is not a bad starting point, but how you use them will take you from conception to fruition and somewhere in the middle maturity, growth, understanding, (insert literally any positive word here) will rear its beautiful head. Maybe it’s time we give our littles a break and take a turn on the buddy bench ourselves. Pride comes before the fall. Perhaps it is time to do a safety check, skip the tightrope for a day and instead, make sure our feet are firmly planted. Maybe it is time to steady our resolve, polish our listening skills, practice understanding, and allow for the possibility that perchance we do not know it all.

This is neither here nor there, but it suddenly occurred to me after I commented on a post on a certain page that I had opened myself up to scrutiny. While I was proud that I didn’t get attacked as many on said page do, I realized that should someone choose to “investigate” my beliefs further, it would serve me well to revisit my own page and ensure all my ducks line up. Silly, but self-reflection is in order. Are my posts consistent? Do they all reflect the same ideology? Do they align with my initial comment or are they a myriad of contradictions? Do I change and waiver in my approach to fit a narrative? To gain a friend? To be liked or accepted? Or simply to avoid upsetting others? Just a thought. I digress, just shut up already and let someone else have the floor for a minute!

A Package, A Puppy and A Purse

I believe I experienced my first runner's high today. It had absolutely nothing to do with the wind or the terrain or the distance to which I had traveled. It also had little to do with the fact that my asthma felt quite non-existent and my lungs had somehow taken a trip back to the days of my youth. I ran further and faster than I ever have and as I did, noticed a pattern beginning to emerge.

I fancy myself a writer. Writing has always been my outlet, my therapy and will always hold a very special place in my heart. But these days, I am beginning to fancy myself a runner as well and for entirely different purposes. I am a better person when I run and not merely because it brings me indescribable peace and contentment, although it does indeed. Running has literally made me a better person, if for no other reason than it has afforded me opportunities to be precisely that.

Since I took up running as an outlet for my anxiety and boredom less than a year ago, I have had three opportunities to prove that altruism is indeed alive and well. The first took a great deal of courage on my part, at least from my perspective. Passing through an industrial complex, I spotted a large box in the middle of the street. Considering the times we live in, I jumped straight to fear and apprehension and felt certain it was an explosive device not to be disturbed. Curiosity put my pessimistic self to bed almost immediately and tucked her in tight. I held my breath and gently nudged the box with my foot. Several tense seconds later and much to my astonishment, I found myself still standing, still breathing, all limbs intact. Upon further examination, I discovered that the box was merely a package from Urban Outfitters that had fallen off a delivery truck. I exhaled. Although I fancy myself a runner, I do not at all fancy myself an iron woman and therefore did not think it possible to haul the box the remaining four miles to my house. I promptly entered one of the nearby offices and requested the front desk staff hold it until I returned to retrieve and deliver it to its rightful owner. On I ran.

The second opportunity that arose to prove myself a do-gooder was the discovery of a wallet, or the contents therein alongside the road. It was a gorgeous day and though I am ordinarily lost in the lyrics and rhythm of my favorite songs and laser focused on my own thoughts, for some odd reason - perhaps not by chance - I was scanning the hillside as I passed. Something shiny caught my eye. Scattered amongst the bushes were several forms of identification, a gas card, frequent flyer card and yes, there was even a credit card among the debris. This quandary was much easier to navigate. There would be no shopping spree in my immediate future. Honesty and integrity prevailed and to say that I would be intrigued by my own actions would be the understatement of the year. I tucked the items into my pocket and on I ran. To my surprise, locating the owner online proved quite effortless and she was altogether pleased to be reunited with her belongings. 

The third opportunity I have had the privilege of stumbling upon transpired this morning as I passed a fellow runner. Trudging along behind her was an excited and highly spirited dog. I commented on how darling he was, but a brief conversation revealed that she was not his owner and seemed perplexed as to how to proceed. We both attempted to corral the little ball of energy but he proved quite elusive. She eventually went on her way and I cannot at all fault her, as the situation appeared quite challenging. Witnessing  him dart in and out of passing cars gave me pause and something inside simply would not allow me to abandon him. I waited for him to tire and when he found a shady spot, latched onto his collar and phoned the number on his tag. There was no answer but as luck would have it, a couple passing by recognized my new friend and gave us a proper introduction. They were unable to return Tsuki to his rightful owner, as they had several dogs of their own. I happily carried the pup and followed the couple back to Tsuki’s home where I secured him beyond the front gate. On I ran.

We are all capable of great things. Opportunities present themselves every day. It is how we approach and respond to these opportunities that defines our character. There were no accolades for the “good deeds” I have been blessed to bestow upon others during my runs. No one inquired as to my name and no rewards were offered, but altruism is its own reward if you allow it to be. I was simply given a chance to step outside myself and exercise a bit of kindness if only for a moment. Running has made me a better person. I can see it on the faces of the drivers passing by. There is a certain light that shines within you when you are given a choice to take the path less traveled - the one that is oftentimes, contrary to our human nature - and you heed the call. There is a certain beauty that transforms you from the inside out, a peace that captures your soul and cannot be likened or attributed to a physical act, but rather an inward change that occurs when you choose to do the “right” thing as opposed to the easy thing.

I fancy myself a runner these days, not one of elite stature but rather, one who has simply been changed by the road. These days it seems I cannot run home to the pen fast enough to share the journey, its many blessings and hopefully, restore or plant a new seed of faith in humanity. “A man with integrity walks safely, but those who follow crooked paths will slip and fall.” ~Proverbs 10:9

Therapy Couches and Rose Colored Glasses (If it's broke, don't try to fix it)

I was told recently by a somewhat new acquaintance that I’m too old to have young children. In disbelief, I asked for clarification and said, “Are you seriously calling me old?” Now mind you, he was several drinks in and perhaps in a slightly altered state, but nonetheless aggressively confirmed that was indeed, the intended meaning for which he would make no apologies. I was stunned for a moment, as I had spent a fair amount of time earlier in the evening engaged in what I deemed to be friendly conversation wherein we were getting to know each other a bit better and thus, felt a bit blindsided by what I took to be a blatant insult. Another friend who had been listening in saw my frustration and hurt and tried to reassure me that this “gentleman” would most certainly regret the statement in the morning and quite possibly in an hour or so. Perhaps he would. Perhaps he already did. But most conceivably, there would be no regret to come. I’d like to say I immediately dismissed the flippant comment as ignorant, insignificant and maybe even a misunderstanding of the inebriated kind, but such was not the case. I am a woman after all, and a professed self-loather - the deadliest of combinations and so, I let the comment marinate for a solid day or two and allowed it to pierce my soul on a level much deeper than I care to admit. The truth is that I barely know this man and his words should have carried no weight, yet still I allowed the insecurity to creep in and the pain to gain a foothold, if only for a moment. And then I went for a walk and the truth of our humanity steered me back in the right direction. Maybe he’s a sad, lonely soul like so many of us. Maybe he’s a bitter, angry soul hell bent on making sure others feel his pain. Or maybe he is simply one of those people who have chosen not to invest in me on anything other than surface level. Yep, I’m gonna go with that. Because at the end of the day, most people will not choose you over themselves - over their own insecurities and hurts - but those who do are the ones who deserve your time, affinity, presence and energy. "There comes a time when you have to stop crossing oceans for people who wouldn't even jump puddles for you." ~Author unknown

I decided on that particular walk, with a clearer mind and in the absence of the insecurities and demons that grip me daily to make a promise to myself. I promised from that day forward to surround myself with people who uplift me, people who invest in me and genuinely care for me: not simply people who tolerate me. I promised to choose people who choose me. I believe the true meaning of life is, simply stated, to be in constant relationship - not solely with our inner selves - but with each other and whoever or whatever calls us to a higher power. For me it’s always been a Heavenly Father, thee Heavenly Father to be exact and I’d be doing He and myself a disservice if I did not acknowledge the current state of that relationship. Those who know me well and have read my musings as of late know that I’ve been on a journey, a soul-searching of sorts. I’ve affectionately named it a mid-life crisis, but that is neither here nor there. I believe it is, at its core, an authentic, honest, struggle with my demons and I have no delusions that I have chosen not to include my Heavenly Father in the crusade thus far. Sufficed to say, I am keenly aware that He has been along for the ride every step of the way and has chosen not to leave me - not for one fleeting moment, not for one second. I am His and He will not and has not quit on me. It is perhaps, the messiest, most exasperating, misunderstood relationship in my life (on my end anyway - to Him it makes perfect sense), but also the one I hold closest and dearest to my heart. Therefore, I am confident it will be brought to fruition in due time. I am grateful He has chosen not to forsake me and I am daily drawing closer to Him. So breathe my concerned friends and family. I am still here, in His loving arms and headed home, slowly albeit, but eager and optimistic. I digress. The meaning of life as I understand it...

I have learned considerable lessons on this journey and am confident there is much more to come, but what is permeating deep at the moment is how I interact with those around me and how I engage in relationships with those I care deeply for (and perhaps even those I don't). What I’m only just beginning to understand is that they aren’t actually meant to be perfect relationships and therein lies the virtue. I’ve formerly addressed them on therapy couches, believing myself to be a “fixer," wielding psychological duct tape and interpersonal super glue as if they were the holy grail! I’ve told myself lies such as, “If I can mend this bruised relationship, I’ll find peace and contentment and all will be right with the world once again - or at the very least, with my family and within my friendships.” I’ve approached them from the pulpit with a wild tenacity, believing myself to be righteous and finding no fault on my end. It’s always the other half of the equation who is to blame. The pain they have caused me takes precedence over any wrongs I may have done to them. And I've even viewed them through rose-colored glasses, deeming them fully functional in all facets, otherwise known as denial. Introspection aside, when all is said and done, it really does not matter, because it always seems when one struggle is resolved, another takes root. There will always be one more miscommunication, one more injustice, one more unintentional slight - or God forbid - an intentional one. At the end of the day, there will always be conflict and struggle, because I - and those I choose to engage with - will always be human and finite, flawed and imperfect, broken and bruised. And though it sounds hopeless, it isn’t at all if I can shift my perception a bit to the right - or more fittingly - heavenward. I tend to relish the struggles and to find beauty in the darkness, in the broken. It is, after all, through the cracks that the light shines in.

The truth is that I am not meant to have flawless, elementary relationships with the people I love and care for, although that would seem ideal in this present darkness. The sooner I learn to accept and even thrive within that reality, the more joy will find its rightful place in my soul (insert serenity prayer here). Make no mistake, I am in no way saying that I have chosen to opt out of my relationships and throw in the towel. They do indeed serve a purpose, as challenging as they may seem. I believe I am meant to use my relationships as a gauge of sorts, with the sole intention of bettering myself (and hopefully those around me) until I am one day fully transformed (or self-actualized, as some would say). The fractured, dysfunctional, cracked relationships I struggle with every day point me directly to the one perfect example of relationship, which is the one I share with my creator. I believe that is the only perfect, pure and authentic relationship I have the privilege of engaging in. And not because I am perfect; because He is perfect and all He desires is all I have to offer. These days it’s not much, but for Him, it’s more than enough. Oh that I could approach each of my relationships with the same love, grace, intimacy and enthusiasm he brings to ours! 

Back to the promise I made to myself, back to the clarity I am blessed to receive during my daily walk (with thee). I am confident I will still feel slighted at times, still struggle with my insecurities and still fail to effectively communicate my love for my friends and family on more than one occasion. I am confident I will mince my words and proper articulation will elude me on more than a thousand occasions. I am confident damage control will always claim a bullet on my resume. But I am also confident of this. I will never stop trying. I will never stop investing in those who invest in me. I will recognize the failures and shortcomings of others and myself as opportunities to grow and learn. I will choose people who choose me and try my best to not concern myself with those who do not. And I will not run from the deficiencies and discord in my relationships, but will do my best to delight in them. And if I pass you on one of my walks, not only will I NOT do my best to avoid eye contact with you as most people I encounter do, but I will cross to your side of the street to look you square in the face as I say, “Good morning” to you. 

Light A New Fire and Give Me Desire

I’m a terrible mother. No really, I am. I’m also a terrible wife. And a terrible friend for that matter. I try not to discriminate.  I’m pretty much failing miserably across the board. All I can really hope for these days is that I don’t ruin my children for all eternity, that somehow they will survive my shortcomings and failures and manage to become well-rounded, kind, and fully functional adults...or at the very least, decent human beings. And maybe, if I’m just lucky enough, my marriage will not only survive this phase I find myself stuck in but will actually emerge stronger and more fruitful at its cessation. Perhaps I’ll even get lucky enough to have a few of you still standing by my side when I finally grow up and get my head screwed on straight and my life back on track (God willing). I’m going to pause now to wait for all of you who are silly enough to call me your friend to reassure me that I am not at all any of the afore-mentioned things, that I am indeed, a good mother, wife and friend. Go ahead, chime right in. No? I thought not. Then I will indulge my sorrows a bit further and invite a few more guests to my pity party. Here comes the brutal honesty. Fasten your seatbelts. This one might not sit well with some of you.

I am the chief of sinners. As Timothy so eloquently penned, “Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners - of whom I am the worst.” And I do so often feel that I am and must indeed be, the worst of all sinners (insert a multitude of sins here, beginning with pride, ending with selfishness and basically everything in between). But I have decided it is futile to ask God to help me stop sinning or even to forgive me for my sins, although I do know I need copious amounts of forgiveness on a minute-to-minute basis. Make no mistake, I am aware that He desires us to seek forgiveness and I have many, many times in the past and will do so many, many times in the future, but what I genuinely crave and need above all else presently is simply, desire. I need a desire to turn away from my sinful desires, to choose the path less traveled, and to fulfill the roles God has called me to play in my life. I need a yearning to be a better version of myself - a better wife, mother and friend.  I need a longing to choose virtue over sin. You see, the desire to walk the straight and narrow has been replaced as of late with an insatiable impulse to run, to escape, to be anywhere other than where I am at this moment. Call it a mid-life crisis (that’s what I’ve been calling it). Call it restlessness, this uneasiness that consumes me, this feeling I can only describe as crawling out of my skin. Call it boredom. Call it whatever you’d like, but to deny its existence would be catastrophic at best, because these things do not just fade away. These feelings do not resolve themselves. I look at most of my friends and neighbors, the moms at the school, on the baseball field and at the Girl Scout meetings and think, why do they not feel the need to flee? Why are they perfectly content to volunteer, engage, encourage, cuddle and step up where it matters most? Why are they so firmly planted and engaged in their children's lives and in their marriages, to their friendships and families? Why do I always feel so distant and disconnected? Why does wanderlust consume me? Why am I constantly listening for the sound of a passing freight train to carry me far, far away? Why have I not settled into motherhood after all these years? Why, oh why, do I always seem to be the only one fighting vehemently to contain my tears on the sidelines of the soccer field, unable to fulfill my halftime duties of sliced oranges and water distribution?

I have many things at my disposal on a daily basis. I have plenty of guilt, shame and regret. I have exhaustion to boot. I have uncertainty at every turn, medication to stabilize my mood swings and counter the depression, and enough personalities to fill a large stadium. I have loads of heartache and suffering and an impressive accumulation of self-loathing that has been years in the making. I have disappointment and insurmountable feelings of inadequacy that tear through me like a hurricane. I have bitterness, insecurity and frustration. I have abandonment issues from childhood right up until today in my faith, or lack thereof.  And I have so much accumulated rage and bitterness that it frightens me to the core. My life is abundant with all things stifling and oppressive. What I don’t have enough of is the desire to shake the stagnancy and move beyond the pain. I need desire.

And so I am making myself a promise. I am vowing from this day forward, with the tiniest seeds of strength and hope that remain within me, to ask daily now for desire alone. And though I don’t fancy myself anything remotely close to a prayer warrior these days (in fact it takes everything within me to even acknowledge the existence of my faith sometimes), my soul will cry out for nothing more and nothing less than a shred of longing to start anew. I will seek a hunger to feel warmth and affection toward my children when my very core wars against it and I find myself kicking against the goads with every breath. Pause for effect here. Inhale, exhale, don’t freak out. I love my children with every fiber of my being. I would take the same bullet for them that any mother would. They have my heart and soul forever. And I know how painful it sounds to say that being their mom is not always enough and the feelings of affection don't always come naturally, but if I am nothing else, I am a truth teller who values authenticity above all else and I will be the first to admit that the struggle is real. I need the desire to put their needs above my own, the desire to sacrifice on their behalf. I need the desire to work as hard as it takes to survive this phase of life and come out clean on the other side. I need the desire to make my marriage work despite the fact that the flame might have waned a bit and we are indeed two ships passing in the night. It’s not personal. The love is there. We have a good marriage and a solid foundation. We are good friends, committed to forever. We are, simply put, over-committed, weary and missing the mark on far too many occasions. I need the desire to start fresh and move forward, to cling to the thread I am hanging by and stay the course, however obscure it may seem. I need my thirst for adventure to be replaced by a thirst for contentment. I need my instinct to run to be overshadowed by a love of the present and an appreciation of the power of mindfulness and intentionality. I need so many things, but I can gather them all under the blanket of desire. And so it begins.

I am confident of one thing alone. This storm will pass, as they always do. This hurricane will undoubtedly leave a wake, but will no doubt, flame out in due time. And when that time comes, I will welcome the next phase with open arms. When the apology tour has concluded, the tears have been bottled, and the seas have been calmed, I will lift my eyes heavenward and behold the beauty of a God who refuses to forsake me, a God who, in all things, works for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28). I will say a silent prayer of gratitude to my savior for allowing me to feel what I need to feel when I need to feel it despite the grumblings and fear of those around me (I love you all dearly, but I do not need to be saved. That work was finished long ago as far as I know). I will weep tears of joy and relief that my God never allows me to fall too far from His grasp, too far from His loving arms, too far out of reach. Because just when I am certain I am beyond redemption and grace - at the very moment I am confident He cannot possibly continue to love me -  it is then that He carries me and calls me home. It is then that He rescues me and reveals Himself to me. It is then that He reclaims my heart and breathes grace back into my life. And it is then that my soul sings, "How great thou art."

Not for the Faint of Heart

Some people are afraid to be alone with their thoughts, afraid of what they might find in the dark places.  They’re afraid to face the pain and demons of their past, to hold the mirror and confront what lies behind and what lies ahead.  I’ve always celebrated the quiet times.  I thrive.  It’s been close to a year since I’ve put the pen to the paper (metaphorically) and alas, the time has come.

Fear not, dear friends, this is not a cry for help, just the honest musings of a girl unhinged. It’s time to tear down the walls and practice a bit of authenticity.  Some people are simply drawn to the beauty in the dark places and I have always fancied myself one of them.  I don’t long to dwell there, but appreciate the opportunity for growth that lies within.  I’m not the girl with a thousand Facebook friends, but the few friends I do have are there because we share a desire to scratch more than the surface, an understanding that we all fall short.  We have the intrinsic ability to extend a level of grace to each other not commonly found in this day and age.

Three people in the last week alluded to the fact that I have chosen to no longer walk the career path.  I took that as a sign.  Perhaps it’s time to explore what feeds my soul, the trappings that have greased the wheels thus far and where the path now finds me.  I’ve been fortunate and blessed enough to be home with the littles for 10 years now.  Oh that I could joyfully admit that I am a wife and mother fulfilled to the core!  Call it a midlife crisis or mere restlessness.  It almost pains me to admit that there is still a yearning, still a seed unplanted and in need of watering.  Please don’t judge me.  Being a mom is my greatest accomplishment to date and I would gladly trade all my wants, needs and desires for the sake of their happiness (insert literally any scene from Bad Moms here).  Yet it somehow seems not enough to still this wandering heart.  My greatest accomplishment falls painfully short and it literally destroys me to say that out loud.  My soul aches.  My spirit cries out for more.  

Let’s get the elephant out of the room straight away.  To say that I am distant in my faith would be the overstatement of the century.  Truth be told, forsaken is the only word that comes to mind.  No need to panic all my sweet Christian friends and family members - and definitely no need to try to fix me.  If you believe it as you say you do, God will make a way and will go after the one.  The Prodigal’s daughter will return in His timing.  But the journey finds me here and I’ve never been one to feign contentment.  Anyone who knows me well knows that I value honesty above all when it comes to my Abba Father.  Pure exhaustion has set in and this girl has finally reached her breaking point.  No longer do I have the desire to “cling to the truth,” to “walk the road less traveled,” or “store up my rewards in heaven.”  Truth be told, I’m spent and threw in the towel quite some time ago.  Again I say, don’t judge me.  I’m fairly certain my God can handle yet another rebellious tantrum with the grace and patience that I wish I could extend to myself.  Maybe I should start there.  

Why is it so difficult for some of us to love ourselves?  I am certain on levels beyond comprehension that it is my picture that appears beside the definition of self-loathing in the dictionary.  Why do I continue to tread water until I’m literally gasping for breath when I’m standing in the shallows and need only to touch the bottom?  How can others see the beauty in me when I can only see the deficiencies, limitations, shame and regret?  Why is it so easy to forgive the ones who paved the road I attempt to navigate and yet I cannot forgive myself or deem myself worthy of such grace?  Self-loathing can be a funny thing - a scary thing - and also a highly destructive thing.  I assigned myself an identity when I was a very young child in the throws of an alcoholic family.  I decided who I was to become and the storyline I would write for myself.  And I penned every moment as it unfolded - from looking for love in all the wrong places to repeating patterns I swore I would not.  I chose my truth and made the conscious decision to fit every event, moment, interaction and thought into that truth.  My truth?  That I am utterly and irrevocably unlovable, unworthy and beyond redemption.  

Sometimes I feel as if I’m watching myself flail around trying to surmount insurmountable obstacles.  I’m angry that I’m not one of those people who can use my adversity, rise above and emerge with a great story of redemption and glory - at least not yet.  I’m angry that I have been so “blessed” with the ability to see the imperfections, destructive cycles and dysfunction in my life, but cannot seem to break free.  I’m angry that the desire to be better, stronger and healthier is there, but the carrot is always dangling just out of reach.  I have become comfortably numb.

So I spent the day binge watching my top three faves.  Not much to be said about Reservoir Dogs other than it’s beyond amazing!!!  But there is no better flick to tap into the part of your soul that cries out for understanding than Almost Famous.  Maybe it’s just me, but music speaks louder in my time of need than any friend, lover or family member can.  Give me Zeppelin.  Give me Floyd.  Give me Free Bird when I’m running full speed ahead downhill trying to escape.  So I replaced half the songs on my iPod and went back to my roots. Call it a rebirth. There is something profoundly cathartic about rediscovering a song that carried you through a difficult time in your life, something that has the power to awaken a sleeping soul and brings with it the promise of better days ahead.  Almost Famous is pure gold.

But the movie that spoke loudest in the silence of this night was Into the Wild.  If you have not seen it, I highly recommend it.  Based on a true story, it chronicles the life of Christopher McCandless, son of a wealthy couple who trades all the niceties of his well-constructed life to follow the longing for something more, something truthful, something real, something born into the very core of his being and never fully satisfied by the successes and accolades accumulated in his short life.  He runs, escapes.  He leaves the comforts of home and takes to the open road to find his truth.  He meets people with stories, people with pasts and demons, people in need of truth.  He sheds the knowledge instilled in him, the traditions bestowed, the ideals handed down as indisputable gospel.  He trades it all to follow the yearning within.  And in his many encounters he meets a hippie wanderer, a mother separated from her son for one reason or another and offers his insights into her agony.  “Some people feel like they don’t deserve love.  They walk away quietly into empty spaces trying to close the gaps of the past.” I fancy myself a loner.  I am always walking away quietly into empty spaces.  Oddly, I can be the life of the party in any given moment and in the next feel a burning desire to run like hell and escape everyone and everything in my life.  In fact, the desire to get in my car and drive thousands of miles away on a minute-by-minute basis is so strong sometimes it’s all I can do to continue to inhale. I am the introverted extrovert, the dichotomy.  I am wild and tame all at once, brave and fearful, truthful to a fault yet unknown.  To say that I struggle with my demons would be a gross understatement.  I can name them, recognize them, see them coming long before they catch up with me and yet somehow cannot flee from them, defeat them, or overcome them.  Hence the current frustration and not-so-tame ambivalence.  

Time to stop circling and bring this baby in a for a landing!  How does one reconcile the wandering spirit within and the demands of family, faith and friendship?  Oh that I could hit the road and follow the voice inside that cries out for freedom and space, the voice that whispers, “Just go.  Leave it all behind and go.”  But we all know you cannot escape your own demons.  Wherever you go, there you are...right?  And so the adventure begins, right here at home, right here in the quiet of this dark night.  I’ve been asked why I don’t write every day and truth be told, I can only write when inspiration comes and so there’s that.  Tonight I have no burning words of wisdom, no hopeful diatribe and frankly no humor to lavish on all you night owls.  Tonight I write for me and hope you will indulge my selfishness.  We’re all on a journey, right?  Tonight mine begins.  In the words of Henry David Thoreau, “Rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness...give me truth.”