change
Since the very first episode, I’ve been captivated by Grey’s Anatomy. Not so much because of McDreamy, the interactions of the characters, the crazy medical stuff—although that all definitely adds to it.
The reason I’m hooked? Meredith’s opening and closing monologues.
Seriously, some of the most brilliant writing. Brilliant because it’s honest and gut-wrenching. Because it so often resonates with my own heart, down somewhere deep inside. Because she finds a way to find words for things I feel, but cannot say.
So, say what you will about the show, but this—this right here—is undeniably powerful:
“Every cell in the human body regenerates, on average, every seven years. LIke snakes, in our own way, we shed our skin. Biologically, we’re brand new people. We may look the same—we probably do. The change isn’t visible—at least not in most of us—but we’re all changed. Completely. Forever.
When we say things like ‘people don’t change,’ it drives scientists crazy. Because change is literally the only constant in all of science. Energy… Matter… It’s always changing. Morphing. Merging. Growing. Dying.
It’s the way people try not to change that’s unnatural. The way we cling to what things were instead of letting them be what they are. The way we cling to old memories instead of forming new ones. The way we insist on believing, despite every scientific indication, that anything in this lifetime is permanent.
Change is constant. How we experience change… that’s up to us. It can feel like death. Or it can feel like a second chance at life. If we open our fingers… loosen our grips… go with it… it can feel like pure adrenaline. Like at any moment, we can have another chance at life. Like at any moment, we can be born all over again.”
(from season 7, episode 1)
the one where i whine
Most people assume I’m further along in my story than I actually am. I’m still right in the thick of it, in ways no one will fully comprehend. Most don’t realize that I’m not actually divorced yet. The shortest, most tactful reason is that my husband continues to make choices that are hurtful not only to me but also to our ministry. And so it lingers on, hanging over me like a dark cloud, every single day.
So while some people think (and have gone so far as to say) that I should be able to move forward more than I have, I simply can’t. The cloud has created an inescapable darkness that renders me paralyzed. Powerless. Lifeless. The darkness scares away hope. It blurs my vision. It heightens my pain. It makes me realize just how alone I am.
Alone is quite possibly the worst feeling in the world.
It squeezes my chest so tight, I can no longer breathe. When I feel I couldn’t possibly have any tears left, it somehow finds more.
I’m sure my back-and-forthness must be driving everyone crazy. Or at least making them roll their eyes. I’m so over me, I can only imagine everyone else is too.
I know I waver back and forth, at times literally drowning in my lonely ache and other times trying to buck myself up and rally my faith. I know what I should feel, I know what God says, I can hear the non-stop loop in my head of all I should be doing to “get over this” or move forward or whatever. But as hard as I try to cling to those things, that cloud envelops me still.
Today I desperately miss being half of an “us”.
For purely selfish reasons.
No longer a “we” means no longer having a someone to talk with through decisions I need to make. It means not having a someone to help make sense of my crazy thoughts. It means not having a someone who cares about how I spend my days, where I am, what I’m doing, how I’m feeling.
I know I have a myriad of someones in my friends, but that’s not the same as having my someone.
And today I could really use a someone…
reason #83
a new friend of mine, who i’ve spent solid chunks of time with over the past few weeks, remarked tonight that she’d just heard me laugh harder than she’d ever heard me before. “because you’re just usually so quiet…”
my heart sank.
even though my friend didn’t at all mean something negative, or say anything hurtful, my heart still sank.
i consider myself to be fun, somewhat funny, mostly random and quirky. my facial expressions usually give me away, raise other people’s eyebrows, and make others chuckle. i love to laugh. a lot. if i could be on an olympic laughing team, i would.
but maybe that’s how i was and not how i am anymore. because this new friend, in all our recent interactions, hadn’t really heard me laugh. that makes tears fill my eyes even now as i type this out.
who have i become?
and what’s happened to the me i was?
that’s reason #83 why i struggle to embrace my “new normal” (or my “now normal”).
i want my laugh back.
and everything else that disappeared with it.
so if you spot them anywhere, please let them know their mama loves them and wants them to come home… and point them in my direction.
thankyoueversokindly.
four-minute friday: STORY (so far)
Go.
My heart is teetering on the edge right now. Let’s see if four minutes of rambling balances things out a bit, or ever-so-slightly causes me to tilt even further into the abyss…
My time at STORY has been incredible so far. It’s just been so packed that I don’t feel as though I’ve had time to process anything yet. I’ve taken furious notes, and have gotten so many great nuggets out of each speaker… but I’m not sure I know how to answer the “how is STORY?” question. I’m gonna need some breathing room to go back through all my notes and really chew on everything that’s marinating in my heart right now. (I think that analogy is stemming from my growling stomach at the moment. iHunger. Clearly.)
Soaking in God’s presence as Kari Jobe led worship yesterday morning was by far one of the highlights for me. I get lost in music. Yet I feel God uniquely find me in that place. I think I love music even more because of that paradox.
Another highlight has for sure been all the great conversations I’ve had. I’ve been able to spend time (too brief, as always) with so many amazing people. I seriously am overwhelmed to tears by the stellar people God’s put in my life. I feel undeserving to run with such giants. So, so thankful. And so, so humbled.
Okay – it’s your turn. Give me four minutes of … anything. Please?
Done.
sweet victory
My friend Laura summited Mount Kilimanjaro yesterday. I got an email from her not long after she got back down the mountain. It was incredible to get to experience the sweet joy of that victory with her, even from an ocean away.
In her email, she tried to wrap words around the dichotomy of what she was feeling. She described both the painful difficulty of the final push to the summit and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that came with it. She was in serious physical agony (and would be for some time still), but she almost didn’t even care. The taste of victory was just that sweet. She had pushed herself hard, for a very long time (the rigorous training, the grueling hike, the labored breathing in air so thin…) — and the few moments she had on the top of that mountain peak made it all worthwhile. She was on top of the world in every sense.
I’m sure Laura is sore today. I bet she aches in places she didn’t know could ache. But I also bet that she feels amazing! To have set such a challenging goal and to have accomplished it?! Wow. What a matchless feeling!
I’m feeling challenged to push myself harder in at least one thing today. Time to take stock of my commitment to risk this year and be intentional to actually do it. Even when I don’t want to. Especially when I don’t want to.
I’m also feeling challenged to celebrate my victories. I can be so hard on myself, so focused on all I’m not doing as well/much/hard as I should, that I don’t rejoice over what I’ve succeeded in. Even the smallest victories are worth celebrating. Like the fact I’ve blogged 4 times this week. (A “norm” for me just 6 weeks ago, but impossible to do lately…) Or that I’m pushing myself out of my introverted comfort zone at a time when I just want to crawl inside my shell.
I’d love to hear some of your recent successes—big or small. Pause long enough to rejoice over your accomplishments, thank God for the grace to get there, and let others encourage you from the sidelines.
Let’s celebrate our victories together!
going-ons (or is it goings-on? hmmm…)
I’m on my way to Chicago this afternoon to attend STORY. I’m meeting my friend Mandy at the airport there and we’re gonna be hitting up STORY together! (Mandy and I have a habit of meeting up in airports! I’ll try to refrain from tackle-hugging her this time… Wait… No I won’t!) I’m really excited to catch up with her (I haven’t seen her since… what?… February?!), explore Chi-town with her, and experience the amazingness of STORY with her. (Details here…)
Then in a couple weeks I’ll be heading back down to Atlanta for Catalyst. If y’all know me at all, you know I love me some Catalyst! Such an incredible organization that sets the bar high when it comes to excellence. I thrive on leadership development, so I am really excited for this fire-hose learning experience! (Details here…)
My friend Brad is once again organizing the Bloggers MeetUp at Catalyst. And this year he made it a benefit for Thrive Africa! That was such a fun surprise for me to discover… and it completely humbles/overwhelms me at the same time. I’m so grateful for the support for Thrive, and that so many wonderful bloggers will get to learn more about who we are and what God’s doing in Africa! (Details here…)
I’ll be attending the Cultivate Her / Leading and Loving It luncheon at Catalyst, too. (It’s being sponsored by Mercy Ministries.) I have amazing friends at each of these ministries, and I cannot wait to get all of these powerhouse women in one room! (Details here…)
Lemme know if you’re gonna be at any or all of the above! I don’t want to miss a chance to hug you and connect with you!
And now that I’ve given you the rundown of my schedule for the next few weeks,
lemme know what you’ve got coming up on your calendar.
What are you looking forward to?
hope again
I’m sure you’re familiar with this story. But bear with me for a moment…
Mary and Martha’s brother was sick, and they sent word to Jesus to let Him know.
“When He heard this, Jesus said, ‘This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.’ Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. Yet when He heard that Lazarus was sick, He stayed where He was two more days… On His arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb…”
Jesus had told his disciples that “this sickness will not end in death”. And yet… Lazarus died.
We have the benefit of knowing how the story progressed from there—that Lazarus would be raised from the dead—but no one there did.
All they knew was that Lazarus died. And that Jesus could’ve healed him—that He even implied He would—and yet He didn’t…
In those moments, I’m sure it was impossible for them to imagine that “will not end in death” could possibly still be true. Lazarus was dead, for crying out loud.
But even still, Jesus’ words were truth. And everyone eventually saw them come to pass when Lazarus was resurrected.
Smack in the middle of the story though, while they were all grieving the death of their friend, Jesus spoke some words that make me stop breathing for a moment:
“For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe…”
He was talking about the fact that He hadn’t been there to heal Lazarus before he died. “I am glad I was not there…” Wha? He’s glad His friend died? He’s glad his sisters’ hearts broke in grief? He’s glad??!!
“For your sake… so that you may believe… it is for God’s glory…”
Often what God does and allows in my life does not make sense to me. Yet His promise is that it’s for my good and His glory. Even when it doesn’t seem like it.
Even when death has already sunk its teeth in. Hard.
In those moments, He still says “I am glad… for your sake.” And while that pains my heart in so many ways as I think about my life right now, I want to believe there is pure love in that statement.
I’m no longer hoping that I’ll be spared from the agonizing pain of my journey. I’m not asking to be saved from the fiery furnace… because I’m already in it. I’ve been in it for a long time.
I want to believe that it “won’t end in death” even though death is already here.
I want to believe that He loves making beauty from ashes, life out of brokenness, and a new beginning where there is nothing but finality.
I want to somehow find hope again.
Not in rescue, but in resurrection.
add new post
I can’t seem to write blog posts anywhere but the official “Add New Post” page. (Well, I can’t seem to write blog posts at all these days, but that’s a whole other story…)
I can’t open a blank Word document and crank out a post. I can’t handwrite it in my moleskine or scribble it out on a napkin. Nope. I feel like I trip over myself if I attempt writing a post anywhere but here.
“Add New Post”. Maybe it’s the authoritative command that makes me feel like here, in this space, I can actually add a new post.
I don’t know why this page is magical, but it is. Kinda.
I discovered last night in talking with a friend, that she feels the same exact way. Who knew? I thought I was the only one with this strange mental block, and it turns out… I’m not alone.
And as trivial as this is compared to pretty much anything else in my life right now, it reminded me that anything I feel alone in… I’m probably not.
Someone else has walked a similar path. Someone else has struggled with the same thing. Someone else has been here before me.
“There’s nothing new under the sun.”
Solomon said that thousands of years ago, and his words ring true even today.
Even today on a day when I feel like there’s no way anyone could possibly understand what’s going on in my heart… what I’m facing… what I’m battling.
And while no one has had the exact same mix of circumstances as me, there is still truth in the fact that there’s nothing new under the sun.
And that I’m not alone.
No matter how much I feel like I am.
Hopefully the magical “Add New Post” box will always remind me of that.
with thanksgiving
I have the most generous friends. Seriously.
When I stop and think about all the ways God continues to love me through His people, I can’t help but cry tears of thankfulness. It’s overwhelming actually.
I’ve lived with friends since I’ve been Stateside (no small commitment on their end!). I drive a borrowed car. I’ve bought clothes and coffee with gift cards that arrive in the mail. I’ve paid for medical care, counseling, lawyers, and car repairs only because of others’ help. I’ve had free dental work, vacations, cell phone usage, meals. I’m typing on a computer that was paid for by countless friends.
I am blessed. To say the least.
It’s impossible not to see it. Not to humbled by it and grateful for it.
He has faithfully provided. Friends have faithfully loved. And I feel so undeserving of it all.
Undeserving, but appreciative.
The kind of appreciative that makes my voice catch in my throat and brings tears rushing to my eyes.
Thank you, friends, for loving me well. For showing me His incredible grace. For being His hands holding my heart.
I’m grateful for you.
a step
I finished a book today.
I know that doesn’t sound like a big deal to anyone but me, but trust me… It’s a big deal.
I haven’t read a book all the way through in almost two years.
That probably comes as a huge surprise to those who knew me in my “former life”. I’m an avid reader. Or at least… I was.
I love books. I have shelves full of them back home in Africa. More books than shelves to hold them actually. And I’ve always thought that was a good problem to have.
But I haven’t felt much like reading in the past couple years.
I haven’t felt much like doing anything I used to enjoy. Nothing’s mattered like it used to.
So reaching the last page of my novel today felt monumental.
I’m not even convinced yet that it felt good. I’m not sure it was as much a victory as it simply was… a step.
Good. Bad. Indifferent. Forwards. Backwards. Sideways. I don’t know.
But it was a step.
Maybe the significance lies in the mere fact that I got to close the back cover on something. Anything.
Closure. Completeness. It is finished.
There are so many areas of my life that are undone right now. My heart included.
And, if I’m being honest, I think I fear the back cover just as much as I crave it.
My chest tightens, my breathing shallows, and my heart physically hurts just thinking about that. It’s all just too much.
So I grab the hand of my sweet companion, Denial, and choose to revel in the step taken with reaching the last page of a book.
Silly though it may be…
