Real Life Marriage: Home

I have had a lot of homes. Having moved many times as a child, I gave the title "home" to numerous structures and dwelling places spread out over multiple states. I called the duplex where my husband I lived when we first got married, "home." Our condo became the first home we purchased together, and after nearly a decade in Arizona, this state feels like home. But home has other definitions, too.

When my parents moved to Texas, part of my heart's home moved with them. Home to me means comfort and security and safety. I know that I need to ultimately find those in the Lord, but there is something about the familiar of home that brings that early sense of knowing and being known: our couch, our shower, our sheets and towels, our comfortable, well worn bed. Every home has its quirks, but when it is your home, you know them, and sometimes the quirks become almost endearing.

There is something about marriage, about a spouse, that becomes a home, too. That has happened for me over the past seven years as my husband has become not only my friend, partner, and lover; but also my confidant, adventure partner, and general holder-upper.

My husband is my person. He has quirks, sure, but I probably have more. I am far from truly knowing him, but there is a comfort, a familiarity, a trustworthiness, a security that I have with him and not with anyone else. I think it's supposed to be this way. We're in life together. Through marriage, God made us need each other. He made us better together. He enabled us to build a home together.

I'm not alone in coming to see home as with my husband. Shauna Niequist (2020) writes of her husband Aaron, “Wherever we are in the world, when I’m with you, I’m home.” I couldn't say it better. For now, Arizona is our home, but someday, it might not be, and that's okay. Sure, parts of my heart are in other places, as long as my people are in other places, but the biggest piece of my heart is always with my husband. He is home.

Reference:

Niequist, S. (2020, August 25). 19 years. In our vows, 19 years ago, I said to Aaron, “Wherever we are in the world, when I’m. [Image attached] [Status update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/sniequist/posts/3830985810251906/

Real Life Marriage: The Remodel

It all started with a leaky shower, a problem my husband thought he could fix (and probably could have had our house not been so old and that faucet probably been original). The attempt at fixing made the problem worse, and before long, each time we turned the faucet on and off, we feared the pipes might explode. We cordoned off the bathroom, and after Thanksgiving, my husband started to tear apart the bathroom, piece, by piece, by piece: the mirror, the vanity, the towel rack, the toilet, the walls, the floor, and lately, that blasted shower.

My husband anticipated a finish date of Christmas, and then New Year's, and then Valentine's Day. And then I said my birthday (in May). He kept running into snags, and he was attempting to do all the work after his "real work" (as in, his paying job). It would save us a lot of money this way, but did take all the more longer.

The floor required weeks of work just to level it. We needed to borrow our brother-in-law's truck to haul out the old debris. My husband needed to wait for a friend's help to load sheetrock (because I was working and also not strong enough to help). His uncle had to come help with some other things.

Our living room went from a comfortable sitting space, to a storage space, to an absolute disaster. My husband left his nightly routine of relaxing after work and going for evening runs to using most of his leisure time (and even taking time off work whenever he could) to toil away at the project. To help, I tried to do a little extra around the house and hold together my sanity. Mess is not my preference, and when my home is dirty and cluttered, it is hard for me to cope.

Date days turned into Home Depot runs. Evening conversations turned into budget meetings and design reviews. (My husband has an eye for design and space, so I really did little more than give my approval for his choices.) We were together on this project, but also not together.

When the end of the project seemed indefinite, and I had the post-marathon crazies (ahem crappies), I started decluttering. I am not sure if it is was my season of life or the utter mess, but it seemed like something I could do to control the situation.

In the end, the project miraculously finished faster than I expected. (Isn't at the end of things that the finish line feels so impossibly far away?) The bathroom is beautiful. The living room, laundry space, and our overall home are getting cleaner, and we are working on the clutter.

We survived the remodel, and though our interactions with each other did look different in this season, praise the Lord that our foundation held fast: "The Lord is [our] rock and [our] fortress and [our] deliverer, [our] God, [our] rock, in whom [we] take refuge, [our] shield, and the horn of [our] salvation, [our] stronghold" (English Standard Version, 2019, Psalm 18:2).

(Before and after photos by my husband)

Reference:

English Standard Version. (2019). Bible Gateway. https://www.biblegateway.com/versions/English-Standard-Version-ESV-Bible/#copy

Home

I had it pulled up for weeks, the Zillow page for this house I have never seen, never visited. This home that once belonged to other people, but now sat empty, waiting. It was not my home, but now it is home, not for me, but for my people.

My parents made it known some years ago that they did not, could not, plan to stay in my teenage home forever. (Even that was not home for all of my childhood, but it was the only home we lived in long enough for me to consider it home, the only home my parents ever bought, the only home my parents ever paid off, the only home my parents owned.) They considered selling for a while, and tried, but to no avail. Then suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. They got a buyer for their house. They moved their stuff east. They went searching, and before I knew it, this house was on my phone screen, this new home for my people.

After over 25 years of my parents being in one place, it is strange to think of this new house as belonging to my parents. Their things were not in it yet. Technically, they had yet to take possession, but it was theirs, or would be theirs. Keeping the house photo up on my phone helped my brains start accepting that. 

Change is hard. I still do not see this new state as my parents' home. I see it as my brother's home. I still have not quite grasped the fact that my parents will now be two days away from me. I am used to driving north for two hours and being at their doorstep. This new house on my screen looked empty, foreign, but change happens in stages, so I left the house up, each time I saw it, reminding myself that this is now a home, not for me, but where my people will be.

Ultimately, home is not a place. It is not the old house, or this new one. It is where my heart is, and my heart is with my people, wherever they may be. Near or far, a piece of my heart goes where they are, and maybe that's part of the reason I kept looking at this house on my screen, because a part of me was moving here, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. My family is my home, and my heart moves with them,  to this house, and perhaps to another and another, until one day we all make our forever home with Jesus.

One Box

One box. That's all I took away from my childhood home. One box full of memories. One box full of things, to be honest, that just went right back on shelves or in boxes at my home with my husband. I went through more boxes than just this one. Threw away bags of "trash." Donated items that will probably not find new homes, but more likely, their own place in another dumpster. Stuff. The stuff of childhood. The stuff of memories. Stuff that I once thought mattered.

I saved many things growing up. I culled away as I grew older. I parted ways with my stuffed animals. Donated my collection of McDonald Happy Meal toy Barbies. Gave away my plastic horses. All that mattered, but I managed to part with it. But there was still other stuff. Trinkets. Matchbox cars. Books I thought I might give to a child of my own, if I had one some day. 

I got rid of most of that stuff as I packed my final box. I did save books my grandparents gave me so I can give them to my niece. I scanned the 16th birthday card those same grandparents made for me. I kept high school newspaper clippings, but those too, will probably soon find the recycle bin.

I did manage to reconnect with some high school friends by scanning and sharing the newspaper clippings. That was worth something. Maybe someday, I'll look through the yearbooks I brought home. Those really mattered to me when I forked over my cold, hard-earned cash for them, but they matter less now.

Alistair Begg (2021) writes about what matters in his Truth for Life devotional. “What do you most care about? Asks God. Your home? Your possessions? Your tech gadgets? Or the people in your streets who do not know Jesus?” (p. 238). I will be honest. Stuff still matters to me. That's why I brought that one box home. But considering how much stuff I have let go of over the years, I need to focus on what really matters, not that I don't give thanks for my stuff, but that I focus most on true salvation in Jesus, and sharing and living that out.

One day, my body will go in the ground. That one box will hold my DNA, until all of it decomposes and mixes with the earth from which God formed mankind. My spirit, however, will live on. It will live on with Jesus. I want that message to be the one that lingers on after me and all my stuff is gone. There is a Savior. His name is Jesus. His Father God created this world and all the stuff that is in it, but the only thing that really matters is eternal life, and once received, living out its message of eternal hope through the indwelling Holy Spirit.

Reference:

Begg, A. (2021). Truth for life: 365 daily devotions. Good Book Company.

Things That Steal My Joy

We bought a new refrigerator last week. It was not really a choice. Rather, it was a necessity because our old one quit working, like completely quit working. Our food was either frozen in our newly acquired chest freezer, or in coolers with ice packs on the cold outdoor porch. Not really a way to live, at least not in the 21st century.

My husband did a lot of research on fridges. He found budget, and not so budget options. Alone, I probably would have bought the cheapest, ugliest thing and lived with it. That's really not the best option, but that's probably what I would have done. My husband, however, knows value and quality. He encourages us, where we can, to buy things with functionality. I always benefit when we do.

So back to the refrigerator, we decided to spend a little more than bottom dollar and get a nicer fridge with more features. Granted, we could not afford the fridge we really wanted, but we could afford one from the scratched and dented store that would take a little work. It took a lot of work just to acquire the fridge, and then to haul it upstairs into our condo. I felt an immediate wave of relief when we did. But then the foreboding joy started. 

After all this work, we would not want to ever move this fridge out of our condo. We had put a lot of money into it, and would put more. We would spend more time and money programming it to meet our needs. And then someday leave it? Instead of celebrating, I started prematurely grieving. Alternately, I questioned. I questioned if we really needed this fridge. I questioned if we should have gotten a cheaper one. I had a mild case of buyer's remorse, all of which stole my joy.

What I needed was to be thankful. What I needed was to be grateful. What I needed was to live in the moment, to savor the relief, to savor having a way to refrigerate food again. To celebrate modern conveniences. To rejoice over the wonderful ways God provided. To congratulate my husband on his frugal find. To dream about possibilities. It was a struggle.

Maybe it's my personality. Maybe it's life. I don't know. What I do know is that I want joy, and that I allow a lot of things to take it from me. Feelings are feelings, but I choose what to do with them. As I notice and name my joy stealers, I hope I get better at stealing the joy back. There is enough of it in this life. God has given us that. We just have to take it.

Underneath the Couch

We had to move our couches this weekend. Pushing them to the side exposed big, nasty piles of dust and debris, along with a few "lost" items. Quite frankly, I felt embarrassed. I pride myself on keeping a clean house (which might be part of the problem), and this made me feel like a failure. Indeed, yes, if a perfectly clean house is the goal, I had failed. Failure left me feeling icky.

As I reasoned with myself, though, I reasoned that it is unwise to move the couches every week to clean under them. It is unwise for physical reasons, and for time reasons. I am not really strong enough to move couches, so I could get injured, and it doesn't make sense to spend the time it would take every week. Not moving the couches, though, leaves me needing to reckon with the mess.

I reckon that the mess reminds me that I am not perfect. The mess reminds me that something good enough has to be good enough. The mess reminds me that everyone has stuff they cover up. Sometimes it's good to look under the couch. Sometimes it's not.

Looking under the couch might look like getting real and vulnerable with friends or family about struggles. That happened in conjunction with the couch moving. I was at a near breaking point and had to talk to my mom about it. When she and my dad came down to help, she also saw the mess under the couches. Life is like that sometimes. It exposes our stuff. 

There are times are not good to look under a couch, too. Times I need to run out the door. Times when moments are limited. Times I need to invest in friends and family rather than navel-gazing. Times when my ego-strength is not strong enough to endure more introspection. Times that just aren't "right."

In my home and in my life, there were always be stuff "under the couch." It takes wisdom to know when to look and when not to look. It takes trust in God's sovereignty to deal with the stuff that emerges when I am not looking. May God grant both, as I am sure I will have many more opportunities in this life to see what's "underneath the couch."

Lessons Learned in Three Years of Home Ownership

Three years of home ownership! Let's just say I've learned a few things:

1. Have an emergency fund.

2. Catching a hot water heater leak early is good. Paying for repairs for the neighbor's is bad.

3. Have an emergency fund. 

4. It's often cheaper to buy new than renew. (And tearing apart a stackable washing machine is a mess!)

5. Have an emergency fund.

6. Replacing an air conditioner is expensive.

7. Have an emergency fund.

--

In all seriousness, I am so thankful for our home and still glad to be here, but man, owning a home and paying for its repairs and upkeep is expensive. Have an emergency fund. That's my advice. And make it bigger than you think you need. That's my advice after three years of home ownership. Hopefully I will have some better advice to offer after the next three years. We will see....

Blessings: Not Just For Me

The older I get, the more blessed I realize I am. While I was not raised in a wealthy family, and do not consider myself wealthy now, I am rich in many other ways. I had and have many resources that others do not. As a believer in Christ, I have an obligation to share.

First of all, I am privileged to be known as a child of God. As Paul writes in Titus, "he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy" (Titus 3:5). I do not deserve salvation. I can in no way earn it, yet God in His grace, provided Jesus' sacrifice for my sins. Resources indeed, resources meant to be shared!

I grew up in a two-parent family with a mom and dad committed to my siblings and I, and to each other. There have been times, many times, when I felt a little envious of ways that my parents poured into others. I wanted them to be mine, all mine. Then I realized what a blessing I had in them! It is only right that I should share the wonderful people and gifts that my parents are with others.

I was single for a very long time. I gave up imagining getting married and could never have imagined marrying a man as wonderful as my husband. Sometimes I do not want to share him with others. I want all his attention and affection. I need to share him, though, realizing that he is not mine, but God's. Given that he is my husband, I have his love forever, so I can afford to share him with others. It is safe for me to do so.

I have a home. Though small, we are blessed to live in it, and this too, I should share with others. It does not matter as much how clean or pretty or decorated it is, but that I use it for God's purposes: to love and serve my husband, and to love and serve others as the Spirit directs.

I have a job. I got the chance to go to college and graduate school. I have food in the pantry. I have relative health. I have my five senses. I could go on and on. While there are many things I do not have, I have more. 

I am blessed, and the blessings I have are not just for me. As I heard on a recent podcast, "our blessings aren't just meant for us. They are meant to be shared" (Frederick & Frederick, 2021). As the Psalmist writes, when we have a God who fills our cups, they should overflow to others (Psalm 23:5; Trapp, n.d., as cited in Guzik, 2011). This is a high calling, a holy calling.

I am not perfect. I am selfish. I hoard my blessings, for fear that they expire or extinguish. That is not God's way. God's way is to give to overflowing, for He has enough not just for me, but for the world He made and loves.

Happy Thanksgiving to All!

References:

Frederick, R., & Frederick, S. (Hosts). (2021, November 16). Bringing others in (The home, 3 of 4) (No. 244). [Audio podcast episode]. In Fierce Marriage. https://fiercemarriage.com/bringings-others-in-the-home-3-of-4

Guzik. D. (2011). Study guide on Psalm 23. Blue Letter Bible. https://www.blueletterbible.org/Comm/guzik_david/StudyGuide2017-Psa/Psa-23.cfm

Endurance: My Word for 2021

Whew! Twenty-twenty was a year, wasn't it? And although we have turned the page on the calendar, it isn't over yet? What do I mean by that? Well, COVID-19 defined much of what was 2020: social distancing, quarantine, isolation, illness, death, new rhythms of life and work, etc. And COVID-19 isn't gone. It won't ever be gone, but perhaps in the future, less prominent? I sure hope so! So with that sentiment, I begin 2021 with the word endurance.

My word for 2020 was faithful. I wanted to be faithful to my work, my husband, and my faith (not necessarily in that order). Boy, did the year give me a run for my money! I'm not sure I succeeded in being faithful, but I sure tried. And trying it what I want to do in 2021, but maybe with a little more stamina.

I haven't always been a word person. I stole the idea from a dear cousin years ago. My word for that first year was joy, and I kept a journal noting every time I saw the word or experienced it. I don't journal so religiously these days, and sometimes I even forget my word for the year, but usually, it's helpful.

The word endurance came to me on a morning walk one day. Lamenting the struggles of 2020, I wasn't planning to choose a new word, but then the Holy Spirit impressed this one on me. I don't want to ignore it.

Verses help me found my conception of my word for the year, so a few for the word endurance are:

"Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses" (1 Timothy 6:12, New International Version).

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us" (Hebrews 12:1).

How do I want to practice endurance?

In my work: By finding new ways to be faithful to my tasks and make my job sustainable.

In my home life: By seeking out ways to not just survive, but thrive amidst all the to-dos.

In my running: To both build endurance and find practices that help me make running sustainable for the long run.

In my marriage: By continuing old practices and by instituting new ones to help our commitment stand the test of time.

In my faith: To not grow weary in doing good, but to keep up spiritual disciplines and to trust God when it's hard, especially when it's hard.

Endurance. That's my word. That's my prayer for 2021. May God grant it to me should it be His will.

Your Mat is a Reflection: Reflections on Yoga with Adriene's Home

Yes, I did it again. I took another journey of 30 straight days of yoga (by God's grace, and thanks to the plethora of free video series online). This is my third 30 days of yoga, having completed two in 2017, and one in 2018. You might remember that I did a Yoga with Adriene series in 2017, and didn't like it. But guess what? I did another one. And I liked it. I'm in a different place. Maybe she's in a different place. This year it worked.

What made this yoga challenge work?

1) The calendar. Knowing what time to expect to spend on my mat each day was exceedingly helpful, for scheduling and for life.

2) The daily e-mails. Signing up early meant I got an e-mail each day telling me more about the day's practice and how to embrace it. This helped keep me motivated and accountable.

3) Not using the challenge as my primary source of exercise. Last time I did the Yoga with Adriene challenge, I did it as my main workout. Since switching to running more, I have used yoga as a cool-down and stretching component. It is more satisfying this way.

What did the challenge teach me?

1) That my life is more harried and hurried than I think it is. Adriene said one day, "Your mat is a reflection." (Some teachers say, "Your mat is a mirror.") I noticed that I almost always multi-tasked while practicing. I'd be scrambling to read or reply to an e-mail as I loaded the day's video. I'd be on my phone reading my devotional or looking something up during the seated start to the practice. I'd be checking the slider bar to see how much time I had left as I went through the moves. I struggled to be still.

2) I get out what I put in. I admittedly didn't get the most out of the practice because of the habits above. I wanted to rest and relax, but I didn't. I got the stretch and cool-down out of the practice, but less of the meditation and stress relief (which I also needed).

3) I know more than I think I do (but don't trust myself). I always hate the last practice of Adriene's challenges, because she likes to turn off the microphone and have viewers practice themselves. In the past, I didn't know what to do. This time, I felt I could do my own practice, but I nevertheless found myself glued to the screen, straining my neck to make sure I could copy Adriene. Why? I didn't trust myself. Though I'd done most of the challenge by the sound of Adriene's voice and not the video, I didn't think I could do it right by myself. I didn't trust my body to tell me what it needed. I also feared missing out. I feared I'd miss the workout if I didn't follow her. Sigh. I have a lot of growing to do.

So would I do a Yoga with Adriene challenge again? 

Yes. Actually I would. And I even found myself wanting to practice yoga after the (self) obligatory days of the challenge. Maybe I didn't get the full benefits of this practice, but I got something, and I am both thankful for that, and eager to learn more.

The Condo that Could

We'd talked about moving, but weren't sure about a date. "Let's just look at condos," my husband said. So just like that, after we flew in from our trip to Arkansas, we looked at condos. We looked at several. The ones we'd had our eyes on were...terrible. But there was a new one that was nice. It already had offers on it, though.

"Let me just call to see what the offers are," our realtor said. "You could always make a backup."

My husband and I sat down with the information we had over lunch, I mean, linner, or lupper. All I'd had to eat that day was a Clif bar and an apple, and it was way past lunch time. My husband figured the new condo was the best one and wanted to offer on it. It admittedly wasn't my favorite, but why not? It could work. And it had the most to offer besides the actual dwelling space: a good location, access to the light rail, newer appliances, etc. And it had three offers already. It was doubtful they'd take ours.

So, in a hunger-crazed haze, I signed paperwork to bid. I didn't even look at the closing date. I just signed. And on Monday of that week, I came home to the news, "They accepted our offer."

"What?" I replied. 

"Yes, they accepted our offer. We're moving." He said.

I panicked. I tried to digest the news. I had signed the paperwork to try to buy this condo. I had agreed that it might be good for us to move. But I didn't realize it would be so soon.

And then came the fear. Fear the inspection would fail. Fear the loan wouldn't get approved. Fear the cost would be too great. Fear. Fear. Fear. My husband had faith; I struggled, to say the least. But the condo went through. We closed, despite having to go back to the table to adjust our offer after the appraisal, despite needs for extra income verification, despite two rounds of hours-long paperwork signing. We moved November 23rd.

The longer I live in the condo, the more I realize what a blessing it is, and how like it is to the house that wasn't. The light from the windows, the nice gray walls, the (faux) wood floors, the two bathrooms I wanted. The white kitchen, the porches. The house isn't perfect, but it's ours. The condo that could is becoming our home. We are so grateful to God.

The House That Wasn't

I'd offered on several houses, a lot of houses. Some owners didn't accept my offers. Some houses went to bidding wars. And some houses were sold by time time my realtor and I submitted our paperwork. I'd offered on this house and been declined, too. But then the owners came back. 

"Do you want the house?" They asked through my realtor.

"Well, yes." I replied.

"The other buys were nickel- and dime-ing us," I heard. "So you can have it."

So I started the process. I sent my $1,000 escrow money. I ordered the home inspection. I investigated home warranties and chose one. I went over what the house needed (because it did need some work) and lined up repairmen. We ordered the appraisal. It came back. I made Pinterest boards of what I planned to do with each house and each room. My best friend diagrammed the house and made plans to fly out and help me decorate. I got a roommate. Everything was going swimmingly...until it wasn't. 

On final walk through, mere days before the purchase, my dad crawled under the house one more time "just to make sure" and found water, like lots of water. Monsoon season (aka heavy rains) had just started, and apparently the rain was running under the house instead of around it. I didn't panic just yet, though. I started investigating. But as I investigated, my heart sank. I found out that not only was the runoff an issue, but the whole slope of the land. A repair would mean removing the landscaping in the front and back yards, removing the front and back porches, readjusting the lay of the land, re-landscaping, putting the porches back on, and then fixing the house foundation issues. Oh man!

A real estate investor friend of ours looked at the house and he said he wouldn't buy it if he was me. And he had experience with flipping houses. I was a first time homebuyer, with barely enough money to put for a down payment, and very little time to fix up a house. So I let the house go. I told my roommate, "No."

I was discouraged, distraught, even. I wanted this so bad. And it seemed God had opened all the doors only to slam them in my face. I didn't understand, and perhaps I never fully will.

As the years past that failed home purchase have passed, though, God has in His grace revealed some reasons why that sale didn't go through:

• I needed more time with my family to repair and heal some relationships.
• My job turned out to be way harder and way more time consuming than I expected, and I honestly needed my mom to feed me a lot of nights. Living at home allowed her to do that.
• My mom prayed that I wouldn't move out until I got married. (Thankfully she kept that prayer to herself until I got engaged.)
• My prospective roommate decided to follow the Lord to a different country, and without her help, mortgage payments would have been difficult.
• Living at home allowed me to save more money for a potential future home purchase.
• Not owning a home made it easier to marry and move in with my husband (in that order!) and consider what God had for us versus for me.

God knows what He's doing, friends. Following the Lord is hard, and it often doesn't make sense. But God is good, and His plans work out for our good, even if it does not feel good in the moment, or maybe on this earth. My dream house wasn't. That was hard. But it allowed God to bring to fruition some other dreams, dreams I'd buried or even let go unrecognized. To Him be the glory.

Metamorphosis

"You look really good." I've heard that from two friends lately. While I don't want to put too much stock in external validation, their words meant a lot, because for many years, I've gotten criticism about the way I looked. And with good reason. Sometimes I was sick. Sometimes I was stressed. Sometimes I was sick because I was stressed. Sometimes I was stressed because I was sick. And sometimes I was stressed and sick. And it showed.

Life is not a bed of roses, but I do feel that I'm in a better place now. Maybe it's marriage. Maybe it's coming home to myself. Maybe it's age and maturation. All I know is that I'm in a process of becoming that isn't over yet.

I liken life to a serious of metamorphoses. There are times when we're in the darkness of the cocoon, safe and warm and well fed. And there are times when we're struggling against the darkness, trying to get out and be free. And there are times when we are happy, not perfectly so, but joyful. And we celebrate those times.

Tomorrow is World Mental Health Day, and in honor of it, I'd like to challenge all of us to take a minute to consider where we've been, where we are, and where we're going. May we remember that we are never stuck in the darkness. May we remember that freedom comes when we fight the good fight. May we remember that life is beautiful even if painful at many points along the way. Life is worth living, at any and every stage. May we live today and each day to its fullest. To God be the glory.

Good Enough

Coming home has been healing in a lot of ways. And the Spirit, by His grace, has revealed a lot of areas that I didn't even recognize needed healing. My mom the other day pointed out that it seems like the "real me" is coming out again, and I would have to agree.

It's been a long road for me to get here, one that I haven't ever shared all at once, and one I don't even know if I ever could. But I'll share that part of that road has been an obsessive focus on pleasing others. I never felt like I was good enough, and therefore I was always striving to perform, to achieve, to perfect. And it was exhausting. I didn't always even want to be better than others, I just wanted to be better. And specifically, I wanted to please my parents and prove to them that I was worthy of their love. Because I thought I wasn't.

I didn't realize the cost of my perfection until I graduated with my bachelor's degree, in three years, Summa Cum Laude (a GPA related honor). And my Dad said, "You sacrificed all that for this?" I thought my parents knew my GPA. I guess I assumed they'd been tracking it. I thought they cared. And guess what? My dad didn't know or care. My dad was more concerned with my physical and mental health, which was tenuous at best.

That moment was a wake up call. I'd thought all my life that I needed to impress my parents. And now that I had, I found out that what I'd done didn't really matter. And the longer I've been back at home, the more I've realized that the stringent expectations I had for myself growing up weren't my parent's expectations. They were mine. I was the one always trying to prove things. I was the one believing I wasn't good enough, that I wasn't loved. Guess what? I was loved all along.

So I'm starting to relax the expectations I have for myself. I'm starting to accept and acknowledge the love my parents have for me. I've stopped trying to be good enough and just started trying, by the Spirit's power, to do good, to see that life is good. It's been freeing.

Friends, do you believe that you are good enough? That God loves you just the way you are? Because He does. And Jesus gave His life to set you free. May you run towards that freedom today.

A Good Place

I encounter a lot of people who think I'm behind on life. They think that by 30, I should have a house, a husband, a settled job, and kids. And let's be honest, sometimes I think I should have those things, too. That makes me feel discontent. But when I really stop to consider all the factors of my life, I'm thankful for where I am.

I'm thankful that I don't have a house because I'm more free to move about and continue to consider where God wants me to be.

I'm thankful I'm not married yet because I've had time to figure out who I am in Christ and what kind of person God might use to further form me more into Christ's image.

I'm thankful for the job I have because it is stretching and growing me in ways the "perfect" job wouldn't.

I'm thankful I don't have kids because my childlessness gives me time and energy to love on other people's kids.

And I don't think it's too late for some of the things that I want to still come to fruition if they are God's will. I'm not giving up on my dreams of one day having a house, a husband, my full counseling license, and maybe some kids of my own. Rather I'm seeking the Lord and working towards those goals in my own ways. I'm trying not to give into societal expectations that I "should" be at a different place at the same time. As Jennifer Rollin so aptly puts it, "Life is not a race....Wherever you are in your journey is perfectly okay." 

There are lots of hard parts of life, but I want learn to be present and content. Because wherever I am is a good place for me if it's God's place for me.

Who Is My Neighbor?

We had a compelling sermon this past week at church. I came away with the question, "Who is my neighbor?" It's a question that's been rattling around in my head for quite some time. I read Bob Goff's book, Everybody Always this summer. And I recently finished Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist. Neither book was entirely about neighbors, but they both referenced love and loving the people around us.

My job is to serve people, and I love it and am thankful for it. It is a privilege to walk with and encourage people in their journeys of life, particularly in the hard times. But I've been realizing that my service during the day can come at a cost to my family and friends during the rest of my life. The work I do always comes at a cost to those around me, because it is emotionally taxing and draining. But sometimes work comes at too much of a cost, where I'm putting work before family and friends.

The question, "Who is my neighbor?" for me, therefore, has become less about the general "who" and more about the specific "who." Shauna Niequist writes about the "home team," and encourages readers to really hone in on who that is. Bob Goff writes times and times again about not trying to be Jesus. Jesus is the Savior and Healer and Redeemer, and I'm not it! I'm realizing that part of my issue with work is that I'm trying to do too much, playing medic for the away team while my home team suffers. I need to do the work I'm called to do, but I also need to make time and space for the direct people in my life, the people who are behind and before me in the work I do. Because if I lose my home team, I've got nothing.

So who is my neighbor? Every human being that God has created is my neighbor! But there are some specific neighbors, my family and my close friends, that God calls me to serve in specific ways, and I need to find time and space to do it. By God's grace, may I never step over the bleeding neighbor at my doorstep to be a "savior" to the neighbor far away.

Singleness is a Lonely Place.

I've been single for my entire life. It wasn't such a big deal when I was in high school, or college, or even a little bit post college. I had my family, my friends, and my people. But now, as I pass 30 and head into the wide unknown of the future, my singleness hurts.

As a teen, I always thought I would get married and have my own family post-college. I had life planned out up until that point. When college ended and I found myself unmarried, I wasn't quite sure what to do. But God provided a place for me to live with college girls and they became my family. In some ways, it was weird being the only working adult in a house full of college students, but I became a surrogate mom of sorts. In that role, I harped on the girls to keep the house clean, tried to model a "normal" sleep schedule, and even signed the discharge papers for a roommate who had an unexpected emergency room trip. I found my place, for a few years.

My college friends got married and some of them moved on. I started graduate school for counseling and though I felt called to talk that step, I still had the idea in the back of my mind that I might get married afterward. "Counseling would be a good side job if I had a family," I thought. But grad school came and went and even my very best friends married and moved on. I decided to move myself.

I had no expectation that I'd get married when I moved home to Arizona. But I also had no idea that I'd end up actually living at home with my parents for over two years (and I'm going on year three!) This has been a redeeming time, but I am also realizing how very lonely I feel. I'm trying to figure out where I fit and how to find my own community outside my family of origin, and it's HARD.

There isn't a great place for singles in the world, and especially in the church. I hid out for awhile after I got home, trying to find a community of people like myself. But I mostly found older singles recovering from divorce, married moms my own age, and much younger high schoolers. I didn't do a whole lot with any of them because I felt out of place and different. But then I got desperate for community and convicted that I needed to try it, and I and started to humble myself and reach out more. I started going to the Bible study of mostly older, married women, hanging out with 18 year-olds on worship team, and basically doing whatever I could to find and associate with people. As a result my singleness has begun to be acknowledged and I have made some friends, which is refreshing in some ways. But now it's like I'm the poster child for singleness and the receipt of extra advice and feedback in that department. It's kind of a catch-22.

My mom says I'm sensitive about my singleness, and I think she's right. Singleness is a my reality right now, but it's not the sum total of my existence. I'm a counselor, a daughter, a friend, and a child of God. I have a lot of relationships that need love and attention, and in some ways, my singleness allows me to give more attention to those than I could if I was married. Singleness has some benefits, too. As a single, I can travel at will (as long as I schedule time off work). I have expendable income. I can make decisions and take risks that, to some extent, don't adversely affect others. I am able to hang out with a wide variety of people that I otherwise might not be able to. Do I still want to be married? Yes, but I'm not sure if that's God's will for me, and I know I can be lonely even in a marriage, because only God can completely meet my needs.

Singleness is a lonely place, but I think it can also be a lovely place, if I let it. I just need to stop focusing so much on my loneliness and live life. Because if I just live life, I think I'll find myself more thankful, more grateful, more content, and more satisfied. Singleness isn't my life. Christ is my life, and He is the only One who will never leave nor forsake me (Deut 31:8).

Coming Home

“He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: 'Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.'”

~Matthew 18:2-3

I made the decision to move back Arizona a little over two years ago. On faith, I decided to pack up and leave, without a job, relationship, or a place of my own to go to. It has been a rough several years, but despite all the twists and turns of life, I feel like I'm finally coming home.

Coming home in a lot of ways looks like becoming a child again. I live with my mom and dad. Little brother was home for awhile. Though Mom and Dad treat me as an adult and respect me, we are once again making family memories over kid things like meals and grocery shopping and hiking.

I am regularly engaging in kid activities in my daily life. I ride bikes with a kid every other week for work. I went kayaking for the first time in 20 years a few Sundays ago. This year, I hung out with horses for the first time since I moved home. I do a lot more art. The things that mattered to me as a kid (and even some that didn't) are suddenly coming back into my life.

My relationship with my body has had its fits and starts, but I feel like I am becoming more comfortable in my own skin. I've become un-vegetarian since moving home and eat a lot more “fun food” because it's available. I now enjoy pizza most weekends, a favorite “kid food.” I wear yoga pants more than jeans, and that's okay, both with me and with work. Yoga pants/leggings were my favorite attire growing up, and they are becoming so again. Why not wear comfy when I can?

When as a child, I first told Mom what I wanted to do with my life, she told me that she couldn't see me sitting behind a desk. I got a little upset, but she was right. My job has been hard, but I feel like I'm finally starting to own it. I play with kids A LOT, and it's fun. My employer embraces atypical services and that's a good thing for me. Hard as this job may be, I feel like I'm doing what I was designed to do since I was a child: helping people.

Brene Brown writes, “We can't selectively numb emotion. Numb the dark and you numb the light.” Children generally don't know how to numb. They learn that “skill” as they experience trauma and hardship and disappointment. They start to tune out life as a means of survival. God doesn't want us to live like that. He wants us to live out of faith and trust and a belief that He is good and that there is good in the world created. He wants us to celebrate the good amidst the bad.

I've been “home” for almost two years, but I feel like I'm finally coming home, home to myself and to the person God created me to be. The highs are high and the lows are low, but I am finally feeling them and integrating them into my existence. God is bringing me to a place of more authentic living, to increased reliance and dependence on Him, and that is where I need to dwell. Praise be to Him!

Settling

My brother gave me a beautiful wood-wick candle for Christmas. I was saving it for my own home, so I put it away in a cabinet. But since buying and inhabiting my own home seems like a far off dream at this point, I decided to open it and light it. As the candle set there on the corner crackling and burning, I thought, “I've decided to live here. I'm settling."

I'm settling on quite a few things in life right now because I refuse to settle on other things for the long term. I'm settling on living at home with my parents because I refuse to settle on buying a sub-par house, or buying a home that exceeds my budget. I'm settling on being single because I refuse to settle on less than God's best in marriage. I'm settling on suboptimal hand performance because I refuse to settle for more botox. I'm settling on staying in Arizona because I refuse to settle and believe that I've done all I can here.

Life is about decisions, and I've got to settle one way or another. So I'm settling on living out my life right here and right now, rather than reaching for things that aren't good for me.