My Mistake

I met a certain gal about 15 years ago. We were very different in many ways, but we found ourselves in the same season of life as young mothers and became fast friends. During this time, 2004-me had become wrapped up in pro-life meetings and agendas. I was part of an organization that fueled my passion. I made my stance clear whenever “politics” came up. I felt as though it was my duty to inform, and shock, and change minds.

My dear friend had an opposite opinion than me. While I discounted her opinion as lesser, she had come much closer to the complications of abortion than I ever had. Yet, I never cared to really listen to her. 

In the end, this friend, whom I had counted on in my challenges as a young mother, couldn’t count on me to make her feel safe with what she’d endured before we met. While she may have mourned and found peace with her past moments in life, every time I blared and shared devastating materials on the matter, I tossed her backward into a deep wound—one that was not my job to hash out.

Finally, our friendship melted away. She won't even accept my friend request on social media. Of course not. She's not sure what she'll see. The sad fact is, I would have never changed her mind on the matter of abortion. But, I will always regret losing that relationship. I am not sure the way I shared that opinion was worth the burnt bridge. 

Since then, I have been given the chance to love friends through experiences that I've never had nor hope for. I've been near to unborn life and I've carried dying life within me. Miscarriage was one of my most devastating and humbling experiences. I have heard stories of desecration of life outside the womb, and I have friends who openly share their horror stories of abuse and shame, yet now use their life as bright ministry to help others. Honestly, I probably treasure life--unborn and born--more now than I ever have.

I am shaken by the news on so many different issues these days. I feel the sadness over many decisions that disregard all sorts of life and humanity. I am aware of the darkness around us. 

 Maybe there are those out there who take advantage of the legal procedures in our society, and certainly there are corrupt lawmakers and doctors and practitioners…but confronted with all these stories and posts and memes, I cannot help but grieve along with the many, many women who are wounded by the choices (not just abortion) that come with unborn life, as they scroll through their newsfeeds these days.

2019-me does not want to be the friend that is viewed as the last person to share wounds with. 

I am called to be the first—the first to reach out in compassion, love, acceptance. 

Yep, acceptance. 

I love my friends more than what has happened to them or the choices they make. I want to be a safe place. I want to understand. I want to give hope. That is all. 

No judgement in 2019. Learning from my own mistakes.

My Friendship Anxiety

Lately, I've had some major anxiety. Surprising? Maybe not. Four kids, a husband, a house, two dogs,
two books, a couple WIP's (works-in-progress), and part-time ministry work--throw in baseball practice, ballet, cub scouts, school volunteering...and ...

I have a buffet-style filled plate and it is overflowing.

And I love it.

No matter how much I complain about it...it's LIFE in the fullest sense.

But I have been contemplating lately, and the anxiety I speak about has little to do with all that life. I've noticed that my deepest seeds of insecurity are in my lifelong treasure--Friendship. If you've read my last post, "My Grief List", you know this is something I care for deeply, and I mourn when there's change.

There have been a few recent interactions that have shaken me to the bone, and have caused me to wonder what the root of this insecurity is.

Why do I view my friendships as so...conditional?

I often find myself apologizing to my friends for what I've said or, WHAT I THINK...I don't trust my opinions to not be taken as weapons of destruction. I don't trust my heart to be valued beyond my actions or my mistakes.

Something inside me has shouted for years,

"Friendship is temporal. It will inevitably fail because of ME."

The lies float in my head and they are toxic to my spirit:

"You can't be too different than your friend or they'll reject you."

"Your opinions must line up or you have nothing in common."

"You are too outspoken and your words will kill the friendship."

"You only have a finite number of chances to fail before they will walk away."

Honestly, some of these things have come to fruition over the years. I have the scars of dead friendships because, in my perception, one of these lies has proven true.

And I think that's the ugly root of it all. The lies appear to be true. But, do I really know the depth of what was going on in the other person's heart? What scars were they acting on?

I love the verse in Thessalonians. It proves that the author must have sat with the Thessalonians in their disbelief, in their differing opinion, and grown in love before anything else. There was no judgement there, just growing friendship. "We cared so much for you..." came first. Not, "Because you received the Gospel, we cared for you..."

They cared for them. Like I care for my friends--regardless of what they think or believe. At least, in theory. I have the scars to prove that as a friend, I have been considered, "Too much", "Too different", "Too me."

This is where grief comes into play, I guess. I think my anxiety is just part of the grief cycle of lost friendships, and the changing ones. And just like a grieving soul, I have allowed people to become too much of an indicator of my joy.

There's so much joy to be had. And I have turned my back on it too much lately. I mean, I have some pretty amazing friends...and yet, I am a doomsayer, waiting for them to turn their backs on me because of...me.

I want to take those lies and rip them to shreds, and plant my heart with truth. I want different to be amazingly attractive. I want opinions to be counted as thought-provoking and valued for what they are worth--so very little in the shadow of truth. And I want fallibility and failure to be seen as an open door to love even more.

The cool thing is, I have some wonderful people in my life who already grow this way. They are some pretty amazing grace-bearing women.

I just need to cut a sample from them and plant it in my own heart.  Because they have grown dear to me, and I want to share my life with them even in my imperfection.

My Grief List

I haven't written...here. I've written and rewritten two books in the past 6 months, and have another one on the way. So, I haven't posted much, but I guess I am writing a ton. Besides writing, I've been doing life big time. And one thing that has been part of my life is a class at my church called, "Grieving" (It's the second book of a series. I took the first class, "Grounding", and learned amazing tools on how to grow a healthy self-concept and develop good mental health skills).

I would have never looked on this past year as one of grief, but I am beginning to realize that it has been mostly that. I mean, I've had a BLAST in almost every part of my life. Great times with friends, hubby, and kiddos. I've received TWO book contracts and have more hopefully on the horizon, and I've transitioned pretty smoothly in to part-time work. No, there is no grief in all that. I am overwhelmed with gratitude at the beautiful view over my shoulder at 2016.

But, if I tilt my head just a bit, and see the distant memories that skimmed last year and the year before, I see things that twist my heart and make me yelp in the midst of my joy. I see what I've lost, and what I am grieving without knowing it.

Now, the causes of my heartache might seem petty to you, not as important as that person's grief over there. But one thing that this Grieving class has taught me is that loss, big or small, can affect us deep and long if we don't grieve them in a healthy way.

So, in order for me to move forward in healthy grief, I am going to share some things that have sliced my heart--things that might just be a pin prick or a slight scrape, but none the less, my heart aches and trips up and begs me to heal.

My Grief List (in no particular order):

1. My dear friendships. I am fiercely loyal, and super enthusiastic about long-lasting friendships. It
takes me a good long while to feel safe with a new friend...that might be why I only have a few tight ones. But what I've learned over the course of these many months, is that life seasons usher friendships into view or out of reach like a leaf being tossed about on the wind. 
I'm not saying that my out-of-daily-touch friendships are less important than my newer ones. But my heart aches for those that have fled to the outskirts of my daily routine, and I mourn what they use to be, and pray that my path and theirs cross soon and more often.

It's easy for me to downward spiral into negative thoughts, worries, and over-analysis of WHY--but, in my class, I am learning that WHY is not the question I really seek--it's actually, HOW can I radically accept the grief of memories and life that no longer looks the same as today?


2. Motherhood Season. There is certain loss throughout the stages of motherhood. I think it's because I had so many expectations built up, and I've grieved each one as they came crashing down in the shadow of my fallibility and guilt. My firstborn baby is now a man-child...I've lost my second child's compliant, happy-go-lucky attitude to the sass and snark of a pre-teen...and my two babies have become growing children-- independent, unmoved by mom entering the room, and growing up way faster than I'm comfortable with.

This year, my house emptied during the daytime hours as my last baby went to school. And while this season was anticipated and welcomed (mostly because she's a social bug), my mama grief trips every once in a while-- the ache consumes me so that I hold her tight when she gets home and I secretly want my baby back. This grief also spurs on my first mentioned grief of friendship shifts because there's something about having a child home that makes mama friendships grow. Life is different, friends are different, and my house is not these four walls caving in, but our home base when everyone comes together again. There's good in that, and there's grief in that.


3. My sweet tooth.  Let's lighten the mood for a moment. But really, this is no joke. I am seriously not okay with this. I've been very conscious about making wise choices, cutting the sugar, and eating real food for about a year now, and my identity as Chocolate Lover of the Century is sadly being passed along to....my children. Yes, the apple doesn't fall far from last year's tree. ;) So, in this grief or loss, I am managing my expectations of my children ever feeling the need to say goodbye to sugar. That will become another battle for another day.


4. My Heart's Desire.  Marriage is fine. GREAT. BEST EVER. Except for that teensy weensy well, GINORMOUS mountain of spirtually mis-matched hearts. We've gotten through the valley of this new normal, and honestly, he's my bestest friend...more than ever. But sometimes, it's easy to look back and crave the old, to want to stomp my foot and demand that we just get past the garbage already, and start living life the way we lived it before. Especially when it comes to church. Sundays are hard. They trigger my grief the most.


I don't like sitting alone in church. I don't think I'll ever like it. And it's not because I need to "look" the part of a loving family, or that I even need my husband to complete me. It's just that his absence is a big fat reminder of our loss in like-mindedness, and that giant crack in our family's foundation. I feel the tremors from it when my kids don't want church in their lives, and I grieve the broken dream that we'd do life together best with Christ as our center.

But one thing I know about grief, is that it's not in vain--if I am wise to it, if I know how to respond to it when it triggers...and if I remember that I am His and He is mine, I trust that Joy is inevitable in the end.

So, that's my list...just for now...I can think of more, but transparency can be another trigger to grief, as I know that sometimes I share what needs to be worked out between God and me first. It's good to grieve, to understand the loss and why I feel pain. To remember God in the midst of it all and see His hand, and to let go of the old expectations, the crippling power of nostalgia, and the control of wanting to fix the hurt.

If you want to learn more about the series, "Gardening Your Life" by Heidi Vermeer-Quist, check it out HERE. I am blessed to know Heidi and learn from her every week!

God, the Genie

"Whoever seeks God as a means toward desired ends will not find God. The mighty God, the maker of heaven and earth, will not be one of many treasures, not even the chief of all treasures. He will be all in all or He will be nothing. God will not be used. His mercy and grace are infinite and His patient understanding is beyond measure, but He will not aid men in their selfish striving after personal gain. He will not help men to attain ends which, when attained, usurp the place He by every right should hold in their interest and affection." - A.W. Tozer

How often do I fall into the thinking, "if I ask, He will give", when I haven't even sought His will in the matter in the first place? God is not just a genie who wants his children to be fat and happy. He's a God who wants to give to His children good things that will bring Him glory. And sometimes, it's going to hurt a little in the process. I might throw a tantrum because He's not answering my prayer, or  worse, He's actually saying, "no". Just like my own child who kicks and screams because I say it's not time for the fun stuff yet...or who cries because I said "no" to that toy he really wanted. It's not that the toy is bad, but I have foresight and know how greed can destroy his heart if I gave in all the time. And I am not withholding fun from my child because I am ruthless and mean...but I know that if he just waits for the perfect moment, he'll see I've been preparing a great surprise for that special occasion. 

Just our breath is sign that God loves us enough. Why do we turn against Him when He's not giving into that one thing? 

Lately, I have grown weary in this publishing pursuit. I've entertained everything from I don't have what it takes to God doesn't want me to do this.

WHY???? Why do I always turn against God when things aren't going my way? How dare I, really. Tozer's quote above really resonates with me. 

It's all about Him.

He is the treasure. 

And He has bestowed upon me the ability to grow in relationship with Him. The Creator of the Universe wants me to know Him...intimately. Aaaah! That is so hard to understand. Obviously, so many people don't. But all other things, publishing, dieting, success, are absolutely nothing compared to a divine friendship with God Almighty.

Priscilla Shirer says it best in her study, Discerning the Voice of God, "Often we seek to know God's direction more than we seek to know God. We bypass the relationship because we would rather have answers about us. God wants to speak to you because He wants you to know Him; knowing His direction is just a by-product. God seeks to reveal truth about Himself because this knowledge will lay the firm path you can walk to fulfilling God's purpose for your life."

The thing is, when I have truly sought God's voice, a supernatural peace resides in my heart...and He doesn't fail in speaking. It is when I lean into Him for the sole purpose of listening and learning, that He meets me. It's not with a publishing contract, or a hidden secret to how I should live, it's with His whisper and His Truth.

Be still my heart and just abide. The desires of this world are nothing compared to Who wants you for His friend.