My List of Fears, Risks & Difficulties

If someone asks me to gamble or to take a risk, I will say no. I would be a boring contestant on Jeopardy. I would never risk more than I needed to on a Daily Double. Poker stresses me out.

I have a growing list in my head that I add to subconsciously. It’s all the things I think are too scary, too risky, or too hard. The list includes, but is not limited to:

  1. Making a cheesecake.
  2. Writing a novel.
  3. Being a leader. In just about every situation. (My first thought always, Someone else should definitely do this, not me.)
  4. Drawing.
  5. Running.

Some of these things are small. They won’t matter in a few years maybe. To you, they don’t seem like soul-shifting issues. To me, they do. They’re more than what you think.

I’ve never made a cheesecake with a springform pan. Silly, right? What does it matter, really? It’s just a cheesecake. But I’ve always wanted to make a perfect one. One without cracks, one that tastes perfect, one that I can share with people I love. But I don’t have a springform pan. I can’t justify buying one, because it’s just not in my budget. So I don’t make cheesecake. From the outside, it only seems like I’m scared to make cheesecake. Really, it’s me resenting that money doesn’t grow on trees, and that I can’t make the cheesecake I really want to make.

I went to college to study journalism. I lasted for days, and I didn’t like college. But I remember the day like it was yesterday, when I read a note from my third grade teacher who told me she couldn’t wait to read my book one day. I knew I was a writer, but I never went to school for it. I never got a degree, and I never considered myself a professional writer until I decided I was one. The idea of writing a novel feels like a mountain that will never move. I’m scared to even think of writing a novel. Maybe I never will. Sometimes, I convince myself that my lack of education is a reason to never dream bigger.

I like to be a follower. I can be a great follower. Rules are my jam, and I will always do things the way that has already been established. This one, the fear of being a leader, is actually one that I have overcome in the past year. Often, I would ignore that twinge in my stomach that was all God, saying, You can be the leader. You can step up. I never wanted to. I wanted someone else to do the job that I was called up to do. I didn’t want to follow a way that no one else had travelled. But, I’m quickly realizing that God has a specific way for me, and that might mean doing and living in a way that is different from others.

My son asked me to draw a bat for him last week, and I kid you not, my initial response was, “Absolutely not.” My brother is an artist. I am not an artist. I feel like my hands do not do what they are supposed to do. But, for the sake of love, I drew my son the ugliest bat I’ve ever seen. Drawing makes me feel self-conscious because it feels unnatural to me. I never liked it much in school. But in the middle of drawing the bat for my son, I actually started to like it. It wasn’t good, by any means, but even in my discomfort, I found myself trying. Trying something new makes me squirmy. I would rather do something that feels like something I should be doing, not something that makes me squirm in discomfort.

I used to be a runner. Never a fast runner, but I ran to stay in shape. Now, I feel the need to pee immediately after I start running, I feel like I need to wrap myself in a compression bandage to keep any jiggle to a minimum, and I feel winded immediately. A friend and I tried to be running buddies a year ago, and we gave up quickly. The fellowship was more important. The thing is, I want to be the runner I used to be. I resent my body for birthing three kids instead of being the body it used to be, and I don’t like that. I shouldn’t resent that I did something so incredible. Trying to be a runner, to me, feels like trying to be the woman I was, not the woman I am now.

So, hey guys. This is me. I used to be a play-it-safe kind of girl. But the Lord…you know what He’s doing in me? He’s loudly and deeply reminding me that He is not a play-it-safe kind of God. He wants to me follow a path He has, not a line that I’ve drawn on my own.

I look at my list of risks and fears, and they feel like mountains. Or they feel like walls. I want to believe I was created for purpose, yet I also want to believe that God can do anything. This should do a shifting in me: If God can do anything, then nothing that seems too risky is actually risky. Nothing that seems too mountainous is actually too big. Nothing that feels too difficult, confining, or restricting should be.

You know what God said of me when I was created? Good. You know what He said of me when I woke up this morning? Good. You know what He says of me when I am scared? My girl, you are good.

Really, it’s me resenting that money doesn’t grow on trees, and that I can’t make the cheesecake I really want to make. Sometimes, I convince myself that my lack of education is a reason to never dream bigger. But, I’m quickly realizing that God has a specific way for me, and that might mean doing and living in a way that is different from others. I would rather do something that feels like something I should be doing, not something that makes me squirm in discomfort. Trying to be a runner, to me, feels like trying to be the woman I was, not the woman I am now.

Money is not my Savior.
Education is not my Creator.
God knows a way that will lead me straight to Him.
I will do the impossible because I have a God who makes all things possible.
The woman I am now is the best version of me yet. Why? Because I took a breath this morning. And the woman I am now is changed every moment the Gospel rains down on my soul.

A Famous God

Before I say anything, I want you to know how much I want you to experience God. Our women’s Bible study at church is in the 6th week of the Experiencing God Bible study, and I do not exaggerate that it has changed my life. I am not a whole new person, but my view of experiencing God has flipped upside down in the best way. I can’t recommend it enough.

This morning I hit my snooze button probably four times. I’ve been using my kids as alarms for the past four and a half years, which has been fine. Grace in motherhood looks like that for me. I know that when I try to inflict my plans on my kids, it tends to backfire 95% of the time. So instead, and because I’m given the luxury of being at home with my boys 24/7, I allow them to dictate a lot of my schedule. It has been my season for it.

I’ve been trying to become more disciplined in my quiet time, so I set an alarm each day to wake up before little feet hit the floor running. I’m going out on a limb, but I have to say I don’t wake up with my alarm three out of five days. I’m claiming victory on those two days when I don’t hit the snooze so many times. And still victory on the days when the time of day simply doesn’t matter, as long as I get to spend time with God.

As I sat in the quiet of my house this morning, listening to the slow awakenings of my boys, I closed my eyes to pray for a brief moment. I’m trying to learn to listen more when I go into conversation with God, and even trying to keep my prayers to a real conversation, not just journaling. I want to allow God the room to speak and share with me what my day holds. Not just what my ideas are about it. I heard Him say, How are you going to make me famous today?

It’s difficult. I want you to know of me because of the writing I do about God, but that can easily morph into wanting you to know me because I am a great writer. The challenge the Father gave me was to shift all focus in all of today towards Him.

Today, here are my reasons for praising Him:

  • This month I got to celebrate 26 years of being on this earth. He’s given me 26 years already, and it’s time that I don’t deserve, really. Also amazing: I’ve been in a relationship with Him for fourteen years. Sometimes I still feel like the little girl who was awakened to Him for the first time, in awe of how He wants me. I’m praying my awe for Him never ceases.
  • My sons were all sick this month, for nearly two weeks each. But they weren’t in the hospital. They were fighting a virus that was not deadly, and I am so blessed. An overused phrase to say the least, but “blessed” feels like the only adequate word. A blessing is God’s favor and protection, and is that not what I have experienced in my children since the day they entered the world? The blessing of their lives in my life is unending.
  • My husband has been working for himself for two and half years (nearly), and God has been faithful. I have my moments of doubt and frustration, but when I am weak in maturity, He upholds me. I struggle with wanting more in too many different ways, and in every one of those ways, God has satisfied us with more than we deserve. I’m reminded of a time when I considered what we get to do as fulfilling our dreams. But really, God is allowing us to fulfill His dreams for us. All of these amazing things that are brought to life are because He dreamt them up for us. How incredible is that? He does for us more than we could imagine. I am grateful He speaks to us through the Holy Spirit and that we listened.
  • I am surrounded by people who love God and who love my family. People we serve with, do life with, laugh with, pray with. Our friends are proof of God’s desire for us to be in community with people who love Him. It changes everything. He has given us people that have challenged me and changed me in the best ways. This is something only He can do.
  • Writing about God and for God doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like ministry and love and joy and satisfaction. Writing for Him is a dream that I thought was only a dream to have, not a dream to fulfill. But like I said, He dreams up these things for my life and gives them to me. He can make anything happen. He does a work in me that I don’t fully understand, but I get to allow Him to do a work unto completion. Praise God.

How can we make you famous today, Father? How can we bring you so much glory that when we leave a room, the whole place is only thinking of You? Show us. Let us be courageous enough to make a way for you at every opportunity.

Admissions of a Daughter

If you have seen me recently, or even if we’re friends on Facebook, you’ll know that I have been dealing with a lot of crap recently. (And I mean that literally.) I’m just trying to keep it real here, and real talk is that I was incredibly exhausted and overwhelmed by all of it. A nasty bug had swarmed my children’s bodies for nearly three weeks, and I couldn’t heal them. I wanted to give up. I didn’t. But I wanted to. Far too many of my days ended in tears.

So, in the midst of this moment in time, I was trying to maintain our busy life while keeping diarrhea off my carpet. I spent most of the time in the house, keeping my children away from other children, because I didn’t want to wish this on anyone. I was wiping bottoms every 15 minutes and trying to keep my focus on how good God is, but I was a struggling hot mess. And somewhere in the middle of this chaotic swarm of fevers and poop, I was riddled by a voice that tormented me. Mocked me.

What makes you think you’re actually good enough? Why don’t you just give up? You think you have time for other commitments in your life, but look at this. Look around you at this mess of a house, the mess of your children, and how you’re not sure if you just put poopy underwear back on your two-year-old. What makes you think you belong anywhere else if you can’t even handle this?

…Those lies. Just reading them makes me cringe and my stomach twist uncomfortably. They aren’t from a Father who loves me. They’re from the devil who works hard to assail me. 

It hit me again yesterday after I finished teaching our 7th & 8th grade Sunday school class. I had just finished telling them how deeply and vastly Jesus loved them and how he wept over the death of Lazarus in his final days. He loves us so much. He loves them so much. I wanted to grab them each by the shoulders as I said, “This! This is so important! Your King was so deeply moved by the death of his friend. He has so much compassion for us. This! Don’t you see! He loves us!” And the minute I was finished teaching the lies banged down doors and waltzed right into my thoughts like a mocking parade: So, you think you’re actually qualified for this? Do you even think they respect you?

When you hear things like this in your head, where do you think they come from? Who told you they were true? And what makes you believe them?

God didn’t tell you those things. He didn’t tell me those things about myself. He didn’t question my ability to teach. He never told me I wasn’t good enough. He never once asked me to give up. I’m quickly reminded of Jesus going to heal Lazarus, and how he, as fully God and fully man, knew that the moment he brought Lazarus back to life, he would need to die. Fully and completely taking on the sin of every man, woman, and child to ever walk this earth, he would have to raise someone to life in order to die and give us the chance for eternity. Jesus didn’t give up. He could have. But he decided I was worth dying for.

He isn’t asking us to give up because all of the sudden life gets hard. He’s asking us to stand on water that seems unstable, and to believe that He will keep us walking. We can walk on water when we believe He makes us able.

The lies I hear are carefully crafted to hit me in the tender parts of my soul, the places where I struggle to believe God. I struggle to believe that I belong, that I am qualified, that I have a purpose given by Him, or fear that I will be found out as a fraud. The quickest healing is a balm of scripture. Where I wonder if I belong, I know I am a daughter of the King and an heir (Romans 8:14-17). Where I question if I am qualified, I know that those He calls He also qualifies (1 Corinthians 1:27-30). Where I wonder if I have a purpose, I know that He created me to love Him, to choose Him, and to serve Him (Romans 8:28-30). Where I wonder if I will be found out, I know that He sees me wholly and completely, and He loves me anyway (Psalm 139).

Papa, I’m praying for Your Word to be the balm that heals old wounds and coats our ears when we’re tempted to believe lies. Remind me that I am able solely because You are able, that I belong because You hemmed me in, and that I am treasured because You call me daughter.
May we remember what You have said of us. May we forget what we have chosen to believe of ourselves in the past. May You do a work in us that ends in glory.

Notes on Motherhood

I am super exhausted from this presidential election. Amen? I hop on Facebook for a planned 5 minutes and end up spending 20 reading all the posts, updates, articles, fights. It makes my soul feel like it weighs a thousand pounds. It’s too much for me. Compassion and empathy run deep in my bones, and I long to feel and carry pain and burdens where I shouldn’t. We are an aching country, and I hate that I don’t have a clue on how to fix it.

I barred myself from Facebook until this is over. That’s how drastic I have to be at the moment. (I’ll share these posts on there, but don’t expect me to respond much from there.)

The past two weeks, myself and my boys have been riddled with the worst sickness our house has experienced to date. Rampant with vomit, fevers, diarrhea, I find myself at my wits end almost every day. Last Thursday was easily the hardest day of motherhood for me. I woke up wiping butts and didn’t stop until nap time, and continued until bedtime. I really wanted to just call it quits and call in anyone else in the world to deal with all of it. But motherhood. It’s sanctifying. Where I want to quit and where I want to be selfish, it almost always demands the better of me. Even though I squirm and complain every inch along the way.

While my boys were sleeping on Sunday night, Evan & I watched the second debate. I was keeping up with Twitter while keeping up with all the arguing airing live, and I felt so grateful that my boys were sleeping. That they don’t have to understand this just yet, and I think that’s because I don’t know what I would say to them.

Motherhood. This past month has felt like God teaching me just how little I can control. I enjoy controlling what I can when it comes to my children, their behavior, their lives. I like to believe that I can sustain life for them, which I can, but the buck stops there. Soon enough, and actually four years from now, we’ll probably be discussing the 2020 presidential election with our boys.

When my children are so sick that all I can do is hold them while their bodies work hard to defeat the fever, I feel like I am doing nothing. My uselessness feels mean, and I end the day exhausting from fighting the fears that I’m not as great a mother as I thought I was.

I’m writing this today for me more than anyone else. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that the hard seasons come and leave eventually, but I want to remember how hard and frustrating it feels in the thick of it. The way I feel is not an indicator of my purpose. The lack of control I have is not a result of my lack of ability. I want to remember this insane moment in time, where I’m watching adults behave like children, watching my children be oblivious to it all, and thinking of the time to come where I have to equip them to think for themselves. The Father is reminding me: You cannot control. But I am always in control. Always.

He keeps the world spinning. Isn’t that a comforting thought?

Featured photo taken by Krista Washler Photography

Constant Transformation

But you will not leave in haste or go in flight; for the Lord will go before you, the God of Isreal will be your rear guard.
Isaiah 52:12

Over the summer, God started doing a work in me. For years, I spent time in the Word, but never pushed myself more than I had to. It’s just not easy to do a lot of things for myself as a mom. It’s also no excuse. By August, God was like, You know what? Let’s dive into scripture. Let’s memorize My words for you. Over the course of a month, I was given scripture cards on three different occasions, none connected in any way, prompting me to memorize scripture. I often think of the video of John Piper reciting full chapters of the Bible simply from memory. That recollection has remained in my mind for years.

This week I’m studying how to listen to the Holy Spirit when He prompts me to do. It has never been easy. I’ve always been afraid, and I always question the validity of His requests in my life. I don’t often believe Him. I believe that my ways are safer (and in most cases, are).

There is a difference in the woman I am now, and who I was six months ago. The transformation God has made is that: something He has done.

I gave myself restrictions, as far as the woman I could actually be. I was content with motherhood. I was content with the safety of the obvious call on my life; I was okay with ignoring truth God had spoken over my life in the past. There was a moment in my life that I often go back to. I was 19, with a woman I respected and wanted to be like. It was the first time I voiced the prompting I felt to minister to women. I was 19, which meant I didn’t believe it for a minute. I believed I was called, but I didn’t I believe I was able. I spent six years ignoring it.

I don’t dwell on my inaction; God obviously used me well and purposefully in those six years. It wasn’t until this year that I turned my face back toward Him, towards that 19 year old girl who knew something He had revealed.

I’m not saying motherhood is a menial task, or that God must have something bigger for you if that’s all that you do. Not at all. The task of being a mom is the greatest thing I’ll ever do. I am saying, pay attention. You are not boxed in. You can do anything. God has placed something on your heart, and my sweet friend, pay attention to it.

Today, I’m working on fear. I have become better at shaking it away and letting God fill me with courage. But there are the moments when I hear His prompting, and I ignore Him. Because fear is strong. I am scared. But He will not leave me in haste or go in flight. He goes before me. He is behind me. He is all around, and He is my Keeper.

That’s my God. That’s your God. You are a woman who can do great things, you are doing great things. He is great, and He will not leave you in haste or flee. He is here until the end.

What 26 Looks Like

When I was in my early 20s, I was pretty certain I had myself figured out. Like, I knew I was not a big fan of wearing flats. I also knew great food made my soul happy in so many ways. Writing was my hobby. I was actually pretty good with babies, considering I had three of them. I figured out how to decorate my house. I mastered the art of cooking a good casserole, and sometimes making something up. I also learned how to make a successful roux that didn’t leave clumps of flour. (I’m still proud of that.) I learned how to be a mom, a wife, and an adult.

The day I turned 25, I remember, felt like a turning point. I bought a new pair of booties that still make my feet happy today, I colored my hair (which resulted in me finding a better hairstylist), and I spent an incredible day being pampered, loved, and celebrated over.

What I didn’t know about this past year:

  • I would master a headstand.
  • I would cut off half of my hair, and then shave the side of my head.
  • I would become the writer I dreamed of.
  • I would open my arms to community and gather people in.
  • I would feel free, in more ways that I thought were possible.
  • I would actually floss everyday.

Looking back, I like that girl in her early 20s. She was figuring it all out. She was learning about babies. She was learning to serve her husband. She was learning who God said she was, and she was learning to believe Him.

I didn’t change the world this year. I still can’t find all of my abdominal muscles. I don’t make up recipes because duh, Pinterest exists. I haven’t mastered the wheel pose in yoga. So what?

Twenty-six looks like this:

  • Brushing & flossing everyday, as well as washing my face twice a day. No biggie, you probably don’t care, but if it’s all I get around to each day that is just for me, I’ll be happy.
  • Owning and introducing myself as a writer. Always a stay-at-home mom, but let’s add to the title, yeah?
  • Boldness. Befriending other women.
  • Digging deep in the Bible. Memorizing scripture.
  • Saying yes to more of the things I’m scared of. Not doing too much, but doing with intention and even bravery.

Twenty-five was the best year. Twenty-six, I’m comin’ for ya. I’m excited to do the things I’ve always been scared to do.

Composure or Lack Thereof

A few weeks ago, I had reached a point where I was frankly overwhelmed. If you’re like me, you need plans. Routine. Lists make things easier, consistency is the highlight of my week, scheduled appointments, meetings and get togethers are always met and fulfilled. I realized because we have welcomed a season of a lot of doing, I needed to stay organized. So I have a planner that matches a calendar that hangs in our kitchen. Evan always knows what’s happening each day, because I always keep it up to date, as well as right in line with my schedule.

But a few weeks ago, I ended up yelling at my husband. Not because of him, but because of a lot of stuff happening and feeling the responsibility and leadership weighing heavily on my shoulders. So I let it out. I got teared up. I lost my composure, and I let frustration just exist, yelled out what needed to get out of my head, and I let it be.

My boys were also in the van with us.

Here’s what I notice in us, ladies: an idea that we have to be composed when we feel like crap is flying. Or that we have to be composed when what is happening in our lives straight up sucks. Or the idea that we can’t be a total mess for just a little bit. Because, why should we? God is in us, is He not? So we should be able to compose ourselves.

I’m raising my hand here. You know, God is in us. But I am also not God. I am not Jesus. I do not have the ability to perfectly shrug off the devil while he taunts me with what could be in my life, or the lack of control I seem to have. I am not able to remain composed when it feels like there is too much on my shoulders.

I’m raising my hand. I’ll be the first.

Sometimes, I am a mess. I try really hard, I push really hard, I lead hard, and then it feels like the fruit isn’t there. Or I’m giving it everything I’ve got, and no one else is. Or I have a plan in my head for this life I want to live, and God just isn’t making my ideas happen. I look at my husband, and I freaking cry. Because I am human. I lose my composure. I don’t want to be that woman who is perfectly able to deal with life when it’s hitting me in the face. I want Christ in me to do that. I want Him to be my rock, fortress, foundation, and hiding place. I don’t want to pretend.

Be a mess.
Be upset.
Cry.
You are allowed.

Give yourself the grace that you’re willing to extend to everyone else. God is giving it to you, and He already knows you don’t deserve it. He does it because He loves you. Not because of your composure or lack thereof.

You with me? Can we raise our hands together in this? Not our strength, His strength.

Love you, my women. Here with you.