Careless in the care of God...

 

I dreamed all night. Crazy dreams. Dreams that worried. Not real worries. Fake crazy worries. I know when I begin to do this that there are several components going on in my life story:

1. I am not rested. If I am dreaming and waking continuously all night it signals to me I'm not at peace and I'm subconsciously worried.
2. I'm not in Shalom. Shalom envelopes and encourages. Worry denigrates and denounces joy. Vastly different.
3. I'm crazy. There I said it. I'm just plain cray as the day is long.

All the above are true and no matter how I lie in bed ruminating and trying to evaluate the outliers...I will never figure it all out nor write the story. I'm not God. But I really, REALLY want to be.

Funny thing is...I don't worry and get anxious always over what we term "the big stuff"...I worry about totally inconsequential ridiculosity...Examples:

1. My butt is dropping. OMG MY BUTT IS DROPPING. I'm in class 8 hours a day and I'm losing my awesome butt. How is it I'm not running 5 miles a day. I don't care that I have 40 hours of school a week and 40 hours of work a week and a husband (who I want to like my butt) and kids and spiritual life...I have to be perfect. I have to keep up my body else I will be less than...(as she jumps out of bed to start squats)
2. I don't know my children. OMG I DON'T KNOW MY CHILDREN...THEY WILL TURN INTO DRUG ADDICTS OR WORSE...MOTHER HATERS!!! I am teaching them perseverance and dream chasing but what they really need is for me to sit down and watch frozen with them completely unplugged with homemade cookies and hormone free milk. In fresh smelling of Gain fabric softner washed pajamas.
3. I am failing at everything spiritual. I cussed. I thought really bad thoughts towards people I wanted to punch in the throat. I wanted to run. Far far away. OMG I WANTED TO WATCH MOVIES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY AND EAT COTTON CANDY!!! I have hit rock bottom!!!
4. I am the worst friend ever. OMG WHEN DID I LAST TALK TO MY FRIEND? What day is this? Do I have clean scrubs for tomorrow? I will have no friends by the time this year is over because I will have only talked to nursing students and patients!!!
5. I am a TERRIBLE TERRIBLE LAUNDRY KEEPER UPPER AND I HAVE NO ORGANIZATIONAL HOME SKILLS. OMG!!! MY SILVERWARE ARE NOT ORGANIZED IN ONE OF THOSE ORGANIZERS MADE FOR THE SILVERWARE DRAWER!!! The sky is definitely falling!!!!!

See...I'm crazy. The list goes on and on but I cannot continuing sharing else you call Adult and child protective services for the sake of me and my family. Yet...in all the crazy...I'm finding something...

I'm turning inward. Not outward anymore.

A few years ago when these moments of self doubt and angst would begin, I would call my best...depend on them to reassure me that I was not failing...that I was not going over the edge. Now...I find I can sit with it all. I can say to myself..."You are having a crazy moment and none of this is legit. Nor is it real." Then the wonderful, meant to be thing happens...

I start talking to God.

I literally say to Him "Ok...this is SO dumb. But I'm worried about my butt dropping. I'm worried I don't have a silverware organizer. I'm worried of how I'm going to make this schedule work. I'm worried that my children don't know me this year. And God I know people are starving and poor and naked...but in my idolatrous self absorption...I'm feasting on these thoughts."

And I find...I no longer need to lean on someone else for reprieve from the nastiness that is my rumination crazy side. I find I'm leaning into the one who gives "attention to the appearance of wildflowers" and it's exactly what the purpose of all this is. HIM. ME. DEPENDENCE.

I must admit as I lean...the thoughts don't always go away. But, I also am realizing that's the process. The trite "journey". If I ever get to wear I'm no longer human and crazyfied...I fear I would plan, assess, conduct, organize, and unthink Jesus right on out of my life. Because I'm selfish. I'm self absorbed. I'm idolatrous. I would leave Him in my dust and keep on truckin'.

But with these thorns...no matter how scattered and ridiculous they may seem...I remain in need of a Savior. I need to be saved from my crazy. I need to be saved from myself. I need to be saved from societal expectations. I need daily deliverance.

And He brings it...right up to my breakfast, lunch, and dinner table. He sits with me and says again and again "Give your entire attention to me right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. I will help you deal with whatever hard things come up WHEN THE TIME COMES." (Paraphrased Mt. 6:34)

The word "worry" comes from an old English term wyrgan which means "to choke or strangle". (Anxious for Nothing by John MacArthrur Jr.) How appropriate. When I'm ruminating and studying all the outliers of my life, as redundant as this is, I strangle the absolute crap out of my "here and now" life. I realize I've spent the last four hours solving issues that have not and probably will not ever happen when I could have been fully present with my beautiful family. Enough Said.

Dependent. I am dependent upon a Savior. Today. Hopefully tomorrow. Dependent. Anti climatic I know. It would be so much more exciting and fun to say I'd found the perfect pill that makes it all shiny not whiney and hypnotism really does work...but alas...it's the age old truth I go back to...surrendering my independence for total dependence. Therein lies Shalom.

Grace n Peace,

A ~

Conscious thought sharing and other musings during lecture...WHOOPS!

I've been doing my devotionals in class. During lecture. Which means: I'm not listening during lecture but I am trying to listen to God and my spirit. So...I guess that works.

In my readings and listening, I've been hearing a whisper...not a shout...just a gentle tapping on my soul's door to come back...to come back to a place of delight and delicious encounter...

I read about uttering thoughts throughout the day and whispering feelings as they come...I read about men and women I have been raised to behold in the scriptures as stoic, heroic perfect imitators of the faith and realize that they were utter failures at times in their lives as well...running from the author of their stories and foundations just like I do at times...and it comforts me...

I find I fail in being conscious...miserably...I over engage in getting it all done and under engage in submitting my heart to the story writer...or...I don't engage... and in fact merely survive...and survive only miserably...

Today I stepped back (in lecture) and started to reel in my heart (or at least try)...when I had a thought that felt big...or delicious...grand...or small...I tried really really hard to stop and share it with my story writer...it felt really really good.

Because here's the deal...God is going to write my story. With. Or without my involvement. So...I'd really like to be involved. It's so much more fun that way. I mean...who wants to hang out with their partner who never speaks to them? Who never reaches out to touch them? Who never even looks their way? NOT ME said the redhead. When that Cajun holds me and tells me what I mean to him...my whole world lights up like a frickin' July 4th in the south. How much more does God light up when we're lovin' on Him and sharing our days? Which...ultimately sharing our days are sharing our hearts. Epic.

So...tomorrow I'm gonna get after it and get too busy and screw up some more and really really focus again on sharing my story with the author...He's got such good hook lines...I don't wanna miss a thing...

Grace n Peace Yawl...

A ~

I got nothin' yawl.

As I type this my daughter is dancing around my room in just her underwear with a monkey doll dressed in full garb including glasses, singing at the top of her lungs...I'm pretty sure I haven't peed all night alone and I might be losing my mind...
Such is life right?
I've been itching to write lately...it starts out as an itch then turns into a full blown rash that should I not scratch it I go insane...
But I ain't got nothin'.
I'm not loving life today. My husband is 500 miles away. My children....God love them...require raising...
Sleep? Doesn't that sound lovely with 5 am clinical risings...
My job is so stupid I want to scream...
I'm pretty sure I've had no real nutrition in weeks...and by God I want one day of unadulterated nothingness..

I want to feel deeply sorry for myself...It just feels SO right...Heck...I'm earning it during this season...

So I run and get taco bell for the children...run inside slam the bathroom door...run the water...climb in...ignore all calls...and cry...that ugly cry where you lay your head on the side of the tub and feel so sorry for yourself because you're life is so hard and you're so tired and NO ONE..not even those starving children in Africa are as crazed and spent as you...

Then I remember the line in my reading today..."Self-pity is a form of Self Righteousness..." Ugh. Blah. Shut. Up. Jesus. Yeah I said it. He knows I thought it...LET ME WALLOW.

I sit up straighter in the tub and try to cry some more but realize that I can't...because should I...I'm not giving my life away...I'm not surrendering fully to Him...I just can't do that...I can't NOT claw my way back to Him...

Bethel begins to sing..."...cause you are just a breath away" and I realize all over again...He really is.

I admit. Right now it's only a realization. I don't "FEEL" it...but I "KNOW" it...that's enough tonight...

I re-commit to be cool. To be grateful. And to stop and listen to LaLa through the wall talking and singing in a British accent at the top of her lungs...

Then I hug Syd and call my husband...

It ain't all bad yawl ;-)

Chill the crap out!

I take myself too seriously sometimes...
And by take myself too seriously I mean overanalyze things until they are beat to a bloody pulp in my head begging to be set free...to anywhere...other than my head...
When I get too busy or over run with duty, I forget to laugh at myself.
I forget to not be so serious about life.
I forget that it's all going to be ok. Because it is.

I sat on the stoop last night in the dark...just listening to the sounds...and He whispered..."It's going to be ok. I have you." I smiled.

I stepped inside and took nothing else seriously for the rest of the evening. It felt good.

I got up this am. Rushed. Attended to duty. Took an exam. Scored 10 points higher on this one than the last. Coincidence? I think not.

I am a free spirit. I thrive on open spaces, trees, family, Jesus, and loads of books. I don't thrive on stress, anxiety, or rule keeping. Which is why this year is throwing me off kilter. I've hated who it's made me this year. All drudgery and no laughs. All work and no play. God didn't create us for that. He didn't create for life.

He created for ABUNDANT life. Which is how I've always chosen to live mine. I chose again last night.

Stepping back into myself. Into His plan of action for me...it includes drudgery and work...but it also includes laughter...pickles...green grass...love...grace...fingernail polish...new things...cherished old things...family...music...joy...and Him...

It's a good life. A beautiful irony. And I wouldn't trade a second for anything...

Because I know this...whatever comes...I'll be ok.

Gotta run...a belly laugh is callin' my name...

Grace n Peace,

A ~

Musings of a Mediocre Mother, Student, Friend, Partner, Follower, Daughter, Sister...

Have I really not written since October? Seems about right. I find myself drifting and running about day after day stuck in the twilight zone of life. It's been quite unnerving, a bit freeing, and alot hard. I said to my guy the other day "I'm doing 17 things and none of them well."
I won't go into the boring details of my overscheduled, hurried life. But trust me when I say it's too much. Way too much. But it's neccessary. Dreams require too much sometimes. Goals require work boots...with mud on them...to your knee caps...while you're freezing cold...and hungry...and looking for a way out to go play at the park with your friends...I digress...
Since beginning my RN program in January while working full time...I have...forgotten to pay bills...dropped kids off with a cookie for breakfast...overslept and had to wear my hair wet day after day...renigged on my vegan fare more than once...not taken a single vitamin...missed appts for my children...forgotten things...remembered them later...don't much worse in school than I thought I would...I could go on for days...
It's been really, really hard.
I've wanted to quit.
I haven't.
But I've come close.
I feel like a almost failure many days. I feel like I should be more intelligent. I feel like I should make better grades. I feel like I should have it more together. But it's always "almost" failure...
Because here's what I'm learning in this season...there never really is failure. There's the realm of "I'm almost failing..." but never really failure because this is all a comprehensive journey. Every part...every road...every upset and triumph is building the story. Which means there is no failure. Which brings me to the "almost failure" part...
For me, "almost failure" is losing myself in the process. Which in this year is a little bit neccessary, but I choose how to react to it. If I "almost fail" it will be because I live out every hard day this year focused on what I'm giving up and the tasks that overwhelm rather than the gorgeous family I have...rather than the majesty created all around me...rather than the laughter...that's "almost failure". I'm making peace with the fact that I am indeed mediocre in all I am involved in right now. It is what it is. I just don't have any extra hours or hands to be anything more. This is ok. Because this is part of my story. My narrative that one day will bring me to another place where I'll have to be even stronger. Where I'll have to make peace that I con't have to be "more". Where I'm ok being a frail human being. (This is extremely hard for me) Fraility is not my most desirous place to abide. But I find as I abide here...I become more human. First in really awful ways that show me not to judge others for the same flaws...and second in really good ways that press me to accept my fraility and lean into a God and a family that love me just the same. This is good.
"Almost failing" is pushing me. I hate it. I love it. But most of all...I'm accepting it.
Frail on friends...Frail on...

Grace n Peace,

A

PS I realize there are spelling errors in here but my dumb program isn't letting me correct...#acceptance #almostfailingwithspelling

Packin' Courage, Beatin' Giants, and High Fivin'

"Giants are not as strong as they seem and sometimes the shepherd boy has a sling in his pocket." Malcolm Gladwell

Confession: I sit in my car, in my driveway, and listen to sermons and Ted Talks. It's a way of isolation from my ADD self.

This morning I dropped the beloveds off at school and cued up Malcolm Gladwell's Ted Talk on his new book "David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants." (How can you NOT want to read this book with a title like that?)

I was captivated.

Malcolm beautifully expounds on research into the age old Biblical story of David and Goliath with facts and theories that I never pictured nor imagined. He presents us with this thought: Perhaps we've interpreted this story incorrectly. By viewing David as an underdog and Goliath as a victor, maybe, just maybe we've had it all wrong. What if Goliath was impaired and David had the advantage? What if Goliath just LOOKED looming and horrifying? What if David truly had the upper hand with one single stone and sling?

You guys know I love it.

I am forever in favor of the underdog. The yearling. The kid in the corner of the playground. Just last night I lay into the wee hours considering my career path, "Do I really want to go into Oncology? Is there a clinic that I can specialize in AIDS work? I really want to touch people no one wants to touch." Thus I loved the presentation that Giants are not really as strong as we believe them to be and furthermore us little peons fighting with a stick and a sling have more going for us than a dream and a suicidal courageousness.

Obviously, God had David. He ordained the steps of this shepherd boy to fight and win. He walked him straight into a war zone, equipped him with hardly anything, then showed He was still God by allowing him to kill the bully. But what else was God imparting? What did he really want all of us underdogs to learn?

I believe it was this nugget:

We are NOT AS WEAK AS WE BELIEVE OURSELVES TO BE.

Through the preacher Malcolm Gladwell this morning :-), I realized God was showing that we are far more equipped than we give ourselves and Him credit for.

Fighting the giants in our lives can seem daunting (shout out to Christine Caine's book "Undaunted") like an uphill trek against Machu Picchu with no acclimation and no beef jerky. But in reality this is not so. As I delve deeper and deeper into aging (what choice do I have) and vulnerability practice, I find that daring greatly and being a wholehearted person are difficult, embarrassing to my pride, and downright terrifying but not something that I stand totally unequipped for.

Here's the deal: All of us have a slingshot in our pocket. We just don't take it out against the giants. Due to fear, embarrassment about going against cultural norm, or just plain apathy, we sit on the sidelines playing with our harps (shout out to David) and refuse to fight for our own lives. Shame on us.

Don't get me wrong, Giant fighting is about as fun as a root canal sans the gas. Some days it seems like running a marathon with not one day of training. Battling for what you want and victory is fierce, lonely at times, exhausting, and requires oodles and oodles of fortitude and staying power. But when the day comes that you leave the corner of the playground, walk up that hill, and pull out what you've got (aka your slingshot), take aim and fire at your giant...you realize you aren't as big of an underdog as you thought you were.

Because you just knocked that bully to the ground. With hardly any weaponry except that big ol' pack of courage and trust on your back.

Once you've fought and won...you want to do it again. You want to dwell in the arena of courageous living. The corner of the playground no longer holds a spot for you. You've outgrown that space.

Here's what I propose: Today we all gear up together and begin to walk out of the corner. Put on our courage packs, talk to our battle trainer while he sticks our slingshot in our pocket, and begin walking. It might take us a little while to acclimate to the higher altitudes that living wholeheartedly requires, but we'll be moving. Together. Once we get to the top, we'll all yell, hoot and holler for one another as we pull out our slingshots and knock our giants to the ground. Then collectively, we'll run over and take a look at what we've been afraid of for so long and realize: He was so much less intelligent, capable, and menacing that we dreamed him to be.

Then we'll all high five, pick up our stones, and start the next trek. Together. As a group of misfit underdogs determined to win.

Grace and Peace Fighters,

A ~

What I've learned after not really dating for 3 years...

Yesterday I found myself drifting off mentally in Microbiology and the thought struck me "October will mark 3 years since your second divorce. You have officially not dated in 3 years." I'm not sure why that struck me so monumental at the time but it really did. I sat with it on the 30 minute ride home and thought over the last three years. Where I am. What I've learned. Where I'm headed.

I met my first husband at my 15th birthday party and have no shame in saying He was the love of my life. I fell madly for him and we dated off and on till I married him at 22. I adored him. We got each other. Unfortunately, He carries deep wounds and brokenness that he could not overcome during our union and I decided it best that I raise the girls solo in 2006. We were married 8 years and together 15. I love him still in a platonic, compassionate way. Healing is a beautiful thing.

Stayed solo till 2008.

I met my second husband through our mutual best friends and thought he would be my prince charming. Little did I know, that no one can be prince charming. We all have brokenness, body odor, and flaws. I quickly realized during our 18 month union that we weren't invested on the same levels and sought counsel from multiple sources. Turning point came and again I was solo.

We divorced October 2010.

I'm giving you the clean adult rated versions. Two sides. No one wins.

I decided when the second divorce occurred that it was a wake up call to be alone for a while, chill out and find other avenues of fun, fulfillment, and joy. I also decided to uproot my whole life, move from Dallas and a life I loved, to Arkansas to start over pursuing a new career. When I left Dallas, I was casually dating 3 men and couldn't care less about it. Revelation: I was no more fulfilled with 3 attachments than with none.

January came and I moved to Arkansas. With the exception of a few minor dalliance' here and there, I've not dated. I've not pursued invites. I've warded off friend hook ups.

3 years.

What have I learned and where am I at in a culture that stresses relationships, sex, and codependency?

1. I'm OK. I was mortified when the second divorce took place. All my bets were on that one and when it imploded no one was more shocked and disoriented than myself. I was filled with a huge sense of shame. I was raised and truly believe in one man one woman for a lifetime. One divorce was a blow, two was death. But what I realized throughout the last three years is that everything I ever feared on a grand scale happened to me. And I'm alive. I'm great. I'm solid. My faith is stronger than ever. I'm a fighter. I'm a survivor. I'm loved. Sometimes looking our greatest fears square in the eye and being required to live through them sets us free. When you have nothing left, there is no anxiety over what might destroy you. I'm OK.

2. God really is enough. I don't hesitate to say I lost myself in both marriages. I sacrificed my health, my sanity, and my own opinions to codependency and a desire to have a "family". It didn't work. In the effort to be the perfect wife, I became a wreck. I lost touch with my goals and became a stepford wife the second time. It was awful and lonely. I've learned that the only way to be truly non-codependent is to be completely God-dependent. I wake up in the morning and my first thought is "Get to the couch and dive in." (It's my devotion spot) When things go haywire, I don't think anymore who can I call for support. I call God. In this process, I've learned that I can live in the woods raising two little women alone and be completely fulfilled and not lonely. Family is not defined by one woman, one man, and 2.5 kids. It's defined by love, peace, and contentment. It's completely weird and people don't get it but it's true. Not to say I don't have moments, but in general terms, He fills me. I have no needs.

3. You really can live without sex and not crumble up and die. I love sex as much as the next person. Believe me. However, I made a commitment to myself that sex would not impede my judgement to stay out of bad relationships. I really believe not having sex before marriage is the way to go. I think it honors God and myself. It really is quite horrible though. All these people around you asking "HOW DO YOU GO WITHOUT SEX?" Every movie, TV show, book throwing you curve balls about the joys of sex every other second. It's rough. But you know what is more rough? Lying in bed next to someone that you've just given your body (and in my opinion soul) over to and feeling like the loneliest person in the world. Not cool. Devastating. Remembering how that felt strengthens my resolve. I'd rather be sexless than feel worthless and used.

4. Life is not "less than" because you do not have a romantic partner. Dude...the world is so awesome. There are some incredibly amazing people out there just dying to hang out with you. Dying to share their stories and their time with you. YOU DON'T HAVE TO HAVE A PARTNER TO ENJOY YOUR LIFE TO THE FULLEST.  I am so fulfilled and loved by my friendships and non-romantic relationships. Love does not have to be romantic. Love comes in many forms. It is truly possible to live feeling completely accepted and loved while LIVING alone. It's also truly possible to live with a partner, sitting on the couch with them at night, and FEEL completely alone. I know. I've done both.

5. It is entirely possible to live life on your own terms. When I began this journey, I had much work to do in regards to relegating my "coolness factor" to my situation. I struggled with feeling "less cool" "less hip" because I didn't hang out with single hot men and I hung out in my house reading like a fean and studying. But guess what happened? I became a nurse. My vocabulary and knowledge increased. My worth felt secured. My children blossomed from routine and home life. I finally have come around to the fact that what culture dictates as necessary for "coolness" doesn't apply to me. I call my own shots and listen to the voice of God for the next step. That's pretty dang cool in my opinion. I don't need anyone else to validate me anymore. My decisions and what they have led me into speak for themselves.

6. This season doesn't mean I'll never fall in love again. I'm not a man hater by any means. I know a lot of really incredible ones. They love their wives and children in ways that astound me and make me love them even more. I just haven't partnered with one of these types yet. ;-) Emerson said this "We must be our own before we can be another's." I'm not sure until now that I ever truly belonged to myself. This legality most assuredly hindered my choices. I was looking for completion. Acceptance. Validation. What I didn't realize is no one can fill those areas but God and me. Now that I'm recovering from those areas and belong to myself, I'm not going to shut the door that I won't ever date again. I'm also not going to shut the door that I indeed might be alone for quite a while. You just never know. But here's what I do know: Either way, I'll be great.

Grace n Peace,

A ~