“At Jami Nato retreat. This is weird. Who does this?!?! Me, I guess. Trying to get out there and get out of my head. I struggled with how to show here, and Jami’s first word was about how we are here this weekend to EXIST. No performing. And it made me feel so seen, not by any one person, but by the ONE who drew me here. For such a time as this. It feels peaceful, right, and timely. This is my next step forward.”
I have to be honest and say every January 1, I find myself staring at my word for the year in my journal with more than a little angst. I typically dread the word the Lord has laid on my heart because it usually (always) requires dying to self. #boo
And then I remember that dying to my flesh is kinda the point and I resign myself to His plans for me in 2023.
I’ve never really struggled with anxiety. Depression was always my mental illness of choice. I prefered the melancholy lows to the manic frenzy of an adrenaline-laced high. That was until a crisis in our marriage a few years ago brought me intimately acquainted with anxiety. Ranging from mildly agitated to full-blown panic, everything felt out of control and everyone felt like a threat. The worst part was that I could not even anticipate what might trigger an anxious episode. It could come seemingly out of nowhere at any time of the day or night. It was all so new and uncomfortable and confusing, but instead of running from it, which was my usual M.O., I decided to get curious about what was causing these attacks of anxiety. What’s was the root of this fruit?
When the Lord laid it on my heart to go to Arizona for work, my first thoughts about the adventure were less than enthusiastic. As we were making progress in business and working on developing our multiple streams of income (see Ecc 11:2), the opportunity for a partnership came across our desk that felt like a fit. When I told Husband that we needed to check it out for ourselves, he agree and booked the trip. And then it hit me…we are going to the desert in the middle of the summer. All of a sudden, this God idea sounded more like a message from hell.
Silence. It is pretty hard to find these day in our ever-changing, always-connected world. Technology provides a constant hum of background chatter, even if we aren’t really paying attention. Silence take work. Silence is intentional. Such has been my silence here in this place: intentional.
Being an adult is expensive. I mean, even if you don’t have kids, the amount of bills required on a monthly basis can feel overwhelming. Take owning a car, for example. Sure, you buy the vehicle, but even if you get a Dave Ramsey beater cash car to drive for a few years, the cost of ownership doesn’t stop. There is not only insurance and gas, but don’t forget oil changes and routine maintenance. And just when you get all that taken care of…BAM! New tires. I swear, it never ends. And living in one of the fastest growing suburbs in America right now where there is construction on every corner, I think I am solely responsible for keeping our local tire shop in business.
The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. Exodus 14:14 (NIV)
This verse is carrying me these days. As I wait on the Lord to do the things I cannot and fight some battles that have been raging for years, I find that “still” means different things on different days. Some days, I walk in peace, knowing fully that He has everything under control. Other days, it means I am face down on the carpet of my prayer closet, snot bubbling from every possible orifice. This morning, my heart is heavy and I long for freedom. So, I went back to Exodus and started searching. I read Exodus 14:14 again…and then I went up a few verses.
I have been thinking a lot these past few weeks about counterfeits. Those things that look real, but don’t stand up to scrutiny when compared to the real thing. I have a friend who was in high level law enforcement for a number of years. I remember him telling me one time that when new agents are assigned to the fraud unit, they are not given counterfeit dollars to study. They spend hours upon hours, year after year studying the real thing. What happens is that all of the signs and nuances of the real become so engrained in their brain that when a fake shows, up, they immediately know. There is something that goes off inside of them that tells them this thing does not hold up to the standard of truth. It’s the same way with people.
On a road trip this summer with my family, we stopped at Panda Express for lunch because, well, the Lord speaks to me thru Chinese food. Ok, so maybe that’s not WHY we stopped but it doesn’t make it any less true. We parked, walked in just in front of the lunch crowd and waited. And waited. And waited. It was close to 10 minutes before a sweet young girl rushed over from the drive-thru line and took our order. Someone had obviously not shown up for work. Now they were short-staffed for a typical lunch rush, and both staff and customers felt the absence. As I stood in line with a cranky toddler and a whiny 6 year old, I heard the Lord whisper “show up” and I was reminded once again that showing up matters.
At bible study this week, we were all discussing the chapter of the week and what we had learned from it. I noticed a short sentence I had underlined the night before that I didn’t actually recall reading. It simply said, “Sometimes God is doing a new thing in a new way.” Basic, right? Right. Except as I reread that line, the Lord whispered to my heart, “but you want Me to do a new thing in the same old ways.” Dangit. I hate it when He’s right.
In the hole. That’s what I call it. That’s what it feels like. A dark hole with just you in it, but you can still see and hear life outside as it passes by. You don’t go to the hole. The hole comes to you. It sneaks up from behind and takes you over before you are quite sure what is happening. It is depression.
I have struggled on and off with depression over the past few decades and while my experience may be similar to yours, it might be totally different and that’s ok. I’m not an expert on the subject. I can only speak from the places my journey has taken me and the things I have learned along the way. And if you are reading this from your own hole, this is me, peeping in over the edge to say “Hi.”
I walked briskly to the car. I was running behind to get my daughter from my mother-in-law after church. It was only the sunlight bouncing off the quarter that caught my attention so I scooped it up from the sidewalk and jumped in my car. At church, I spotted the $1 coffee bar and decided to help myself, but sadly only found $.75 in my wallet. As I was contemplating committing theft in church, I remembered the quarter in my pocket from earlier. Success! I had a fresh hot cup of coffee and my baby in my arms a few minutes later. Later that night as I was getting ready for bed, I emptied my pockets before tossing my pants in the hamper. There it was. A quarter. But I had spent the quarter from earlier…right? I never carried cash and surely didn’t make a habit of keeping change in my pockets. So where did this quarter come from??? In that moment, the Lord spoke to my weary heart and said “This is my reminder to you that I am always with you and you will always have enough.”
On a road trip this summer with my family, we stopped at Panda Express for lunch because, well, the Lord speaks to me thru Chinese food. Ok, so maybe that’s not WHY we stopped but it doesn’t make it any less true. We parked, walked in just in front of the lunch crowd and waited. And waited. And waited. It was close to 10 minutes before a sweet young girl rushed over from the drive thru line and took our order. Someone had obviously not shown up for work. Now they were short-staffed for a typical lunch rush, and both staff and customers felt the absence. As I stood in line with a cranky toddler and a whiny 6 year old, I heard the Lord whisper “show up” and I was reminded once again that showing up matters.
It’s 10:10am on January 1, 2020. I am sitting on the couch wrapped in blankets with my steaming hot cup of bougie coffee in my hand. Since we last spoke, I have become an official coffee snob and silently judge anyone who settles for dirty bean water. I mean, seriously...what are you doing with your life? I digress. I am trying to meditate on my new word for the year, but I keep being drawn back to the chapter that just wrapped. 2019 wasn’t a bad year for us; it was just a year filled with lots of transition. While I typically don’t understand the real scope or meaning behind my word until late in year, this time it was down to the buzzer. The word the Lord gave me to navigate 2019 was joy.
I’m sure none of you fine, upstanding citizens have ever watched a bloody little flick called The Godfather, but I have and I find it fascinating. The family ties, the manipulation, the misplaced loyalty, the role of love and marriage; it's perfect fodder for a sociology doctoral dissertation. In the film, when feuding families go to war, the first thing they do is “go to the mattresses.” It is their code for “get to the safe place and strip down to the bare essentials.”
Did that sexy title get ya? Were you drawn into reading what you hope to be a story of deceit, secrets and undercover detective work? Well, you came to the right place. This is a story of lies, control and getting ahead in this world. But the story is not about a cast of characters you have never met. The subject of the story is you and it’s me.
Aaron, my brother, got Bessie’s green thumb. My great-grandmother was an award-winning gardener as well as painter, baker and domino player among other things. She was good at everything she tried. If the Enneagram would have been popular when she was alive, she would no doubt be the poster child for 3’s. She was legit playing dominos and winning until the week she died at the ripe old age of 101. And don’t you DARE try to talk at the table during a game of 42. She would shush you with all the piss and vinegar her little 5’2” frame could muster. But with all the wisdom passed down from Bessie Mae, I think her knowledge of growing things is what those we loved her still go back to most.
I plopped down in my chair in the sanctuary, bad attitude in check. While I was excited to get my worship on and learn with my friends, the events of the past week had my panties in a wad. I felt hurt, annoyed and angry. Some people and situations had pushed my buttons and I was thoroughly enjoying my pity party. I enjoyed it so much, I was considering sending out invitations. I even added God to the mental invite list in my head. Then worship began.
I love being home. Just putzing around or creating in my kitchen while the kids run around in their jammies. It’s peaceful. It’s relaxing. It is home. I don’t have to wash my hair or shave my legs. I don’t have to put on real pants. Or any pants at all, for that matter so you should probably text before you just drop by. Most days, I am perfectly content here. But sometimes, I notice a stirring in my soul. It starts small but typically grows more noticeable over time. I don’t know how to describe it other than there is an angst in my guts. Unsettled. It’s not my favorite, so I start looking for answers. Is it something I’ve forgotten or someplace I’m supposed to be? No, it’s deeper.
Food. Let’s talk about food. If my relationship with food were Facebook official, our status would say “It’s complicated.” It has been the longest relationship of my life and definitely the most unhealthy (which is really saying something because I’ve been in some pretty jacked up relationships!). Food became my comforter and friend at a very early age. It was a safe place for a little girl with big feelings. And what a good friend! It never let me down, never left me and never failed to bring a few minutes of peace in the midst of the storm. Food never hurt me…unless you count those extra 50lb’s, but who really wants to talk about that?!?!?
