When I started feeling like God might want me to get married, I knew he had some rough edges to sand off. I knew I was stubborn and stupid and prideful and would need to change some of the ways I lived life. But man, marriage has been a lot more refining than mere sanding. It's like I'm on the pottery wheel, spinning at breakneck speed life, all the while being scraped and molded and formed into something something completely new.
Everything about marriage seems new. I'm forming new habits. I'm giving up old ones. I'm developing new allegiances. I'm dropping old ties. Things that used to matter don't matter so much, and things that used not to matter, matter. I'm tired and stressed and stretched and pressed. I don't always feel like I know myself, and the shape of what I'm turning into is unknown. Quite frankly, I often feel uncomfortable.
This is the process I committed to, however. This is what I promised to endure when I said, "For better or for worse...until death do us part." God knew what I needed. God knows the shape of what I will become.
Marriage is the making of a new family. It's two becoming one. It is also one becoming new, however. It's a reshaping of who I am, a re-becoming of the person God created me to be.
Refining? Yes. Remodeling? Yes. Marriage is all of these things. But ultimately marriage is a remaking, a remaking of everything about me. And that's okay. It's even good. Because the Potter on the wheel is in control, and His vision for my life is far beyond anything I could ever want or ask or imagine. To Him be the glory!
Three years ago. Three years ago today, I took this picture of this important piece of paper lying on the worn dashmat of my 1998 Saturn. After five years of graduate school and months and months of study, I had finally passed the National Counseling Exam. It was something I never thought I could do, or at least doubted I could do without God's strength and guidance and wisdom. And I'd done it. Praise Him!
I thought that passing that counseling exam would lead me to my preferred profession. But in reality, I'd already taken another job, and it wasn't counseling. I worked at that job for a year, and then went back to my core desire to help others and took a job in behavioral health. I thought that job would be something different than it was, or is, because I'm still at that job. And I like my job. I'm thankful for my job. But it definitely isn't the one I expected to have when I walked across the stage with my graduate degree in marriage and family therapy in 2015.
Life isn't what we think it is. Somehow, we think we'll someday arrive, but we don't. We don't ever quite find our perfect job. We don't ever quite reach our financial goals. We don't ever quite figure out who or what or where we want to be when we "grow up." My husband and I were just having that conversation with teens at our church, and we're both in our thirties.
No. We never quite arrive. We're always getting there. But I think that's God's way of reminding us that He's in control, that He's God, that we always need to be humble and willing to grow. Because growth is part of the journey, and in this life, the journey isn't over until we see Jesus. As believers in Christ, we should always be working toward getting there.
Three years. I've made it three years, y'all. Three years of readjustment and learning and growing and more fully discovering who God made me to be. (Read my year two recap here.)
If you'd told me last year that I'd be celebrating July 4th and my Arizona anniversary as a married woman, I would have told you you were crazy. My husband and I had just started talking at this time last year, and I was so uncertain and...scared. And here we are a year later. And I've now got a lot go a lot more learning and growing to do as a wife.
Shortly before I moved to Arizona, my then boss quoted 2 Corinthians 5:7 to me, "For we live by faith, not by sight." I believed that truth then, as I said I was jumping off a cliff moving to Arizona with only my family and my church to fall back on: no real friends, no real community, no house. I moved back and in a year, the house I wanted to buy fell through. I changed jobs. Our church went through a season of struggle. And then last year, I got so desperate for community that I started facing my fears and reaching out. And God brought me my husband, who quite frankly wasn't who I was looking for, but a blessing nonetheless.
Over the past year, I've worked more than ever, hopefully grown in my profession, and learned more about living and stressing less. (But I have a long way to go. Ask my husband!)
God brought me back to Arizona for a reason, for many reasons, I believe, and I probably don't know all of them. But for now, I'll praise him for these that He's allowed me to see:
1) To help those struggling.
2) To reconnect and redeem some family relationships.
3) To help me face my fears and become more myself.
4) To grow.
5) To get married.
God is good. Life can be hard and life is full of change. But God is good.
Someone told me recently that I'm pretty amazing. It was a nice compliment and one I really appreciated. But I had to caveat my reply by saying it's taken me a long time to get here.
I would never wish my struggles or pain or trauma or life experiences on anyone. I should also say that I haven't experienced a lot of the pains of life that others I know have. But my experiences are my experiences and I don't believe in comparing. God allowed me to my trials and took me through them, and I am SO thankful, but they still hurt.
Those who know me well know I've struggled with perfectionism and self hatred and self destruction. Those who have walked with me for a time know how hard it's been for me to focus on pleasing God instead of pleasing others. Those who've been in my life have watched me as I've fought to be honest with myself and others about what's really going on. They've seen me scream and cry and withdraw and fight. They've seen me struggle and stumble and grow.
I am where I am because of a ton of God's marvelous grace that I didn't deserve. I'm here because God saw fit to preserve my life even when I didn't see a purpose for it. I'm here because a lot of people fought for me by going to their knees. I'm here because of a lot of people who loved me when I was very unlovable.
Yes, I've had to put in some work of my own in this life, too. I've had to be accountable and go to therapy and practice self-discipline and confront sin and ask for help. But all I've done and the person I am really aren't what I'd call amazing. God's the amazing one and He gets ALL the glory!
The dust hung heavy as the sunlight streamed in through the living room windows. I could see the dust in the air, on the wood, on my hands. And no matter how much I tried to wipe that dust off, it clung to me, and to the surfaces from which I was trying to remove it. Sure, I removed some of it off, but the sun showed just how much more remained.
Life's like that. We've all got hurts, habits, hang-ups, and areas of just plain not knowing. The more we let the light in, the more we see we need to learn, grow, heal, and let go. Letting light in, whether via accountability, or preaching, or teaching, or plain old learning can be painful. It reveals our inadequacies. It shows us how much we don't know. It shows us how much dust yet remains.
But as we learn and grow, some of the dust clears or disappears. The sun exposes and reflects beautifully off the cleaned areas, even as it still shows the dusty ones. Light reveals life just as it reveals stagnation.
I'm not always all about living the vulnerable life. It's uncomfortable. I feel exposed. But if I have to let in the light to get some clarity, bring on the Son.
I messed up. The error felt epically huge. And I didn't know what to do other than to own my mistake. But I wanted to fix it, to undo it, to not feel SO terrible about the problem I created. Brene Brown writes that, "When perfectionism is driving, shame is always riding shotgun and fear is the annoying back seat driver." I am a perfectionist, a recovering one, I think, yet I keep finding my perfectionism keeps cropping up in new places. And in this situation, it was definitely present because I was definitely afraid, so much that I dreamed about consequences of my mistake for most of the night.
After the night of difficult dreams and haunting reiterations of my mistake, I woke up and read these passages from Sarah Young's Jesus Always:
"I can smooth out all the tangled up places, including those in your mind and heart."
"Be willing to take responsibility for your own mistakes and sin without feeling responsible for the sinful failures of others."
"I am here to help you untangle your complex problems and find the best way to go forward."
"Beware of getting stuck in introspection or obsessing about how to fix things. Instead keep turning to Me, seeking My face and My will."
"Wait with Me, trusting in My timing for unscrambling things and making your way clear."
"Be willing to live with unresolved problems, but don't let them be your focus."
As I read, the Holy Spirit convicted me that my perfectionism was present, even in my shame. I wanted to fix everything...perfectly. I wanted to take all the blame for the problem so that I could find a perfect fix for the issue. I wanted a perfectly pretty resolution. The Spirit clearly showed me that I am not in control. I can only own up to my part of the issue. I cannot take responsibility for the way others respond. The issue at hand might not resolve, or it might not resolve like I want it to resolve. God is in control, not me. He's the only perfect one. I have to let go, admit my imperfection, and let God clean up the rest of the mess. Easier said than done.
Some of you may have seen me post photos of my Christmas cactus on Instagram. As I took this most recent shot and wrote the caption last week, I couldn't help but think of how metaphorical the words are for my life. To be honest, this year has been hard, maybe not physically or financially, but certainly mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It has also been a year of renewal, redemption, and growth.
After ten years of living in Arkansas (three as an undergraduate and seven as a working adult), I moved back into my childhood home with my mom, dad, and little brother last July. I love my family, and renewing relationships with them was great, but this transition was HARD. I have my own room, but not my own kitchen or bathroom or living room. The house is almost never quiet due to my parents running their small business out of it. We've had multiple arguments and conflicts between family members over the course of the past 10 months. I've probably cried more this year than I have in the past several years. I have been forced to confront my selfishness and lack of flexibility, sins not so apparent to me when living with roommates. Ouch.
Then there was the issue of work. God graciously provided a job for me as a college guidance coordinator at a local charter high school almost immediately after I arrived home. I truly believe that I was supposed to take this job. My students did very well and I developed special relationships with many of my coworkers, but this job was hard. It was not counseling, and after five years of graduate education and internship in counseling, I missed the field so much. I wasn't good at teaching or discipline or recess duty, and I had to learn and do them anyway. The process was painful.
I immediately tried to get involved with church when I got home, but to no avail. They basically put me on a probationary period and did not let me volunteer with the children's ministry, which I so wanted to do. I felt rejected and outcast, like I did not belong.
I did not really take any vacation this year (save for Pat's Run weekend), and I have felt sad, depressed, tired, and overall burned out. I have wanted change, but not known how to orchestrate it. I have even, at times, felt like I did not know myself or recognize what really mattered to me.
Slowly, but surely, God is redeeming, reviving, and growing me. I have not found a house of my own yet, but I have been looking. After agonizing over my decision, I decided to resign from my job at the school and look for a counseling position. About a week after I did that, God brought forth a new opportunity, that Lord willing, starts mid-June. Through the process of not being able to serve in children's ministry at church, I had the opportunities to participate in ladies Bible study and sing in Christmas and Easter praise choirs. I developed relationships with some really awesome people and God reignited my love of singing. I even recently applied to become part of the church worship team (but that may be another issue of watching and waiting).
Like my Christmas cactus, I've still got some dead weight. Certain parts of my life are stagnant and not growing. I've really got to get this self-care thing figured out. But still, I'm thankful. Thankful for God's growing and pruning. Thankful for the rediscovering of previously neglected passions and pursuits. Thankful for new opportunities. Thankful for the loving friends and family that surround me. Thankful that, "He who began a good work in [me] will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus" (Philippians 1:6).
