A Grief Observed

“Losing a beloved is an amputation.” – C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

I once listened to a podcast in which a psychiatrist was talking about why it feels like we lose a part of ourselves when we lose a loved one.

He said that, unwittingly, we store information, memories and experiences in the brains of other people we are close to; like an external hard drive. Our own minds have limited capacity to keep all the data we need, so we share mental and emotional data resources with others.

We see this phenomenon to be particularly true when someone loses a spouse and has no idea what the bank password is, or what type of oil the car takes, or where the Tupperware is located in the cupboard… Those pieces of information were stored in the other person for easy access. Just as we store information for them as well.

We never expect to need to know those things ourselves because we expect the other person to always be there.

There was a specific piece, or version, of me that was reserved just for when my brother and I were together. We had a special bond our whole lives.

In his data bank I stored all our inside jokes, movie quotes, random road trips, family history, all the techie/internet answers I needed, car maintenance advice, and much more. He was a fixer, a finder, ever-resourceful. I knew certain things were only one text away if I needed them.

When I got the call that his body was found at the bottom of the canyon, it felt like a very tangible part was cut out of me. Like there’s an empty/missing place inside now.

Pictures and memories and stories will soften the sting I know, but that void will always be there, this side of Heaven.

And that’s just the way it is when we live in close relationship with others. When we love. It’s hard and it hurts, but it’s the cost of this benefit of the human existence.

***

In the weeks following my brother’s death, I listened to C.S. Lewis’ book, A Grief Observed. It was the first book of Lewis’ I ever read, actually. So different than what I imagined from the famed theologian, the book is a collection of his journals following the death of his beloved wife, Joy, opened wide for the world to see.

His pain is visceral. The deepest, rawest places of his soul on display. There are times he questions his faith and shouts at God. C.S. Lewis! It was the most relatable thing I’ve ever read.

By that point, I already had a running notepad in my phone, to which I added bits and pieces every day about all I was thinking and feeling. My own version of a grief journal. It was the only thing I could do at the time, while being physically attached to a newborn breastfeeding for eight hours a day.

The only thing that kept me from going lit-rally insane in that season was the fact I could get words and sentences out of my own soul and onto “paper”. In his book, Lewis stated, “What we work out in our journals, we don’t take out on our loved ones.” I think I was doing both, but I imagine it could have been a lot worse if I’d kept everything inside!

The excerpt at the beginning of this post is from this journal of mine on March 10th, 2021.

Some things I wrote and shared in real time on social media, but most of it, I kept tucked away. Some of it will only ever be for my own eyes, but some of it, I just wasn’t ready to share yet. I have been waiting for the right time and place – and headspace – to bring these words to light.

Mostly I think I had to wait to tell the story without being angry. Well, only angry. Which I was, for the longest time.

White-hot rage was the prominent emotion I could pinpoint after my brother decided to ride his motorcycle off the Grand Canyon. It took me a solid 12 months – and therapy – before I ever got to sad.

I was:
Angry that he made another selfish decision, in a long list of them.
Enraged by the timing – three weeks after I gave birth to my first son, when I needed my parents the most, when I needed it to be all about me.
Incensed he tainted this time that is supposed to be sweet and pure and full of joy.
Irate he would put my parents through that.
Livid he stole years of cognition with my father from me, from us, from my son. I knew the mental toll it would take on both of my parents – particularly my father, who was already diagnosed with Alzheimers, but whose symptoms were mild.
Furious about the fact that I would never get to be the same again – I would be forever altered by his choice.
Seething over the mess he left behind I had to clean up. That he made me an only child. That he abandoned me to struggle with aging parents and Dad’s diagnosis alone.
And on and on.

Even when I did experience moments or days of sadness, it would be overshadowed by my anger that his choice was the reason I had to feel that way.

The rage became its own entity within me. I finally made space for therapy when I was afraid of that rage, of who I was with it churning inside me.

People thought they knew my brother, thought they knew the story. They did not. The “public” didn’t even know it was suicide. My family and I told people we knew, who we’re close with, in one-on-one conversations, but that was it. And I wanted to tell the whole, stark-naked truth of what he had done to us over a loudspeaker.

But about 18 months after John’s death, God whispered a Truth to my heart. It was after I had told one more person the whole story. The one that I’m beginning to unfold here. Her reaction was exactly what I wanted: shock, solidarity, anger alongside me. But the bitterness and burning rage in me didn’t regress for even a minute. If anything, it was prodded and stoked hotter.

And God gently said to me, “You can tell as many people as you want, but it’s not going to make you feel better. Or more free. Relieved from the pain or frustration. It’s not going to make you feel justified.” It was like a veil was removed in my mind and my emotions.

My therapist once asked me what it would take for me to stop being angry at my brother. I listed: “An apology, reconciliation, changed behavior…” She pointed out that even if my brother was alive, I may never have gotten those things. But, since he’s dead, I sure as shit wasn’t getting them now. So I had to figure something else out.

God reminded me of this prior conversation while He was speaking to me then.

That very same weekend in the Fall of 2022, I was sitting in a conference when the speaker stopped the event to pray over a person/persons in the crowd who needed to “let go of something”. Her prayer was vivid, visual: She said [once you decided to let go], it would feel like fresh Spring air. Like when you open the windows of your house on the first warm, Spring day and let the fresh air blow the stale scent of Winter away.

I had been sitting in my stale house of rage for 18 months, but that day I opened the windows and let God breathe something new inside me. I felt a shift. The anger didn’t magically get better or go away overnight, but I felt lighter. Freer. More hopeful. That I could and would feel different moving forward.

It’s been another 18 months. The anger still comes in waves at times. But the waves are few and far between, they aren’t as high or as violent, and they pass back out to sea quickly. Mostly, I just feel an aching longing when I think of my brother now. I wish he weren’t gone. And at last, I feel a release in being able to tell his story. Our story.

It’s true, I don’t ever get to be the same person I was before he chose to end his life, but the person I am now has a depth of knowledge, experience, compassion, and empathy that I can use for myself and others.

I have found immeasurable comfort in being able to write all of this down over the last three years, but my prayer is that I can share it without triggering any of that old bitterness and rage. And that I can tell it in a way that is helpful to others who are also walking through an earth-shattering encounter with grief, and not just as a continued therapeutic exercise for myself.

I hope you stick with me on this journey. But I understand if this content isn’t for you right now. You are loved, and I will still be here sharing all of the #RealTalk if you need me in the future.

***

This post is part 4 in a series that starts with: http://racheldawnwrites.com/blog/reads-like-fiction/

Sabbatical

About 18 months ago, I was in a meeting with a client in Miami when the woman I was meeting with pulled a second person in the room. She announced she was leaving the company in two weeks, and this was her replacement. This was not entirely uncommon, but what happened next was.

I asked her what she was going to do, “Are you staying in the industry?”

“No,” she said, “I’m going back home (some country in South America) to take a sabbatical. I’m going to spend time with family and take time to figure out what I want to do.”

I started crying. Right there, in the middle of her office.

Her words were like a salve to my soul. That was exactly what I wanted. The only problem was, there’s no such thing as sabbaticals in Corporate America. You can’t just take months off of work to figure out what you want to do with your life. There are bills to pay and adult responsibilities to fulfill.

But this woman’s plan was like a refreshing oasis in the middle of my desert wilderness of exhaustion. I couldn’t stop thinking about her words, or the peaceful calm on her face when she said them.

I cried because I wanted to be that brave. I wanted to give myself that kind of time and space for my soul to breathe and my head to think clearly again. I wanted a sabbatical too. But that wasn’t realistic for me at the time.

There’s a song on the radio right now with the lyrics,

He makes a way where there ain’t no way,

let me tell you ‘bout my Jesus.

Ready?

Monday morning, May 2nd, 2022, I was a nervous wreck. The weekend prior, my husband and I had decided I would ask my company for some time off and a new position when I returned. With a knotted stomach and sweaty hands, I emailed my boss to ask if he had time for a call.

Once we connected, I told him everything that I had been wrestling with the last eight months. All my indecision, doubt, fears, uncertainty about what God was asking me to do. Travel or stay home? Work part time or full-time? Or, should I leave the workforce all together and “just” be a mom? What if I did that and hated it? How would I come back?

My company had already been SO gracious to me after my brother’s death, which happened in the middle of my maternity leave. They had given me additional time off for bereavement, and then more time again once I had been back to work a few months, when I was overwhelmed getting everything in order with my brother’s possessions and estate. And now I was asking for even more.

I couldn’t even verbalize what I needed because my head was so overloaded and scrambled I didn’t even know myself! I just knew SOMETHING had to give.

“Look,” I said, “I know there’s no such thing as sabbaticals in corporate America, but that’s what I’m asking for. I want a significant chunk of time off – like three months – so I can even have the time and space to breathe and think a clear thought about what my next steps should be. Basically, I want to take the Summer off.”

My boss said many empathetic and reassuring things to me that day. He was an absolute gem about the whole thing – a part I attribute to God. But the last words he said to me were, “As far as I know, we don’t have a sabbatical program (how he said that without laughing I’ll never know), what I imagine will happen is you will be separated on good terms and can come back anytime you’re ready, but hey, check with HR, they have more knowledge about what we can and can’t do than I do.”

My next phone call was to HR. I relayed the whole scenario and conversation with my boss. And when I was done, I kid you not, that woman opened her mouth and said, “Actually, we do have an administrative leave program. It’s kind of like a medical leave of absence, except with that you need a doctor’s note, with this, you just need your managers to sign off, which it sounds like they already have. And it lasts up to 12 weeks.”

Twelve weeks. Three months.

I was getting my sabbatical. I was going to get to take the Summer off to spend with my son and hear from God.

What. In. the. Actual. Was. Happening?

Sparing all the side-stories and details, suffice it to say, God’s provision went so far over and above what I could even imagine during this time. It was one blessing after another. More and more and more abundant overflow of His goodness than I would have ever asked for.

It was honestly bananas.

The one story I want to tell you about is this: The week that I called my boss – the VERY week – my husband got a phone call from a prospective client to do his largest project to date. If he won the job, it would net as much as his entire previous year’s income combined. And then, he got another call like that. And another. Three calls, in one week. Each would individually exceed the last year’s income. He ended up winning two of the three projects.

It’s been a year now, and the calls haven’t stopped coming.

What I didn’t know when I worked my last day on Friday, June 3rd, was that I wouldn’t go back to work at all.

My Summer never ended.

4 Things You Need to Know Before You Start Blogging

Have you ever thought about starting a blog?

I toyed with the idea once or twice myself before I finally did. As much as I love to write, I hate blogs. Everything about them. My thoughts are, who has time to read blogs? …much less keep up with writing one? AmIRight?

Plus, there are just so many out there already! As of 2013, there were 152 million blogs on the internet. [1] As of 2:46pm on Feb 17^th, 2017 there had already been 2.9 million blog posts posted THAT DAY alone.[2]

I figured if I did ever start one, I would make it about two months and never remember to post again. Fizzle out. Like so many other bloggers do. In fact, research shows the average blog is dead after a mere 100 days.

So I never started one. Until I did. Sunday was the two year anniversary of my first blog post.

So, why did I start one?

Because in one conversation with my mentor, she told me if I ever wanted to get a book contract with a publisher, I needed this thing called a platform, and blogging was generally a good way to start building one of those.

So, Feb 19^th, 2015, I opened a WordPress account and copy/pasted something I’d already written as a facebook post as my first blog entry. (I know, I totally cheated.)

But since that first post, I’ve learned a few things. Here’s what I want you to know, that I wish I had known then:

Know that blogging is not for the faint of heart. But it’s worth it.

Baring your soul for the whole world to see is not easy – even for us extroverts.

There’s a Special Thanks page in the back of my book and my editor’s name is first on the list. This is part of what I wrote to her: Turning over a first book (or maybe any book? I don’t know yet) for editing is kind of like tearing open your soul and inviting someone to walk inside. It’s exposing the most intimate parts of your inner self and trusting that person not to return pieces of you shattered and bloody.

It’s the same with blogging.

There are some posts I write that are so vulnerable I want to throw up after I hit the “publish” button. I don’t know if my words and my heart will be received appropriately. What if the message I was trying to convey is misinterpreted? Or what if I just sound stupid, or whiny, or self-centered, or entitled….

I vividly remember feeling this way about a post I wrote regarding race relations during some of the tense riots that happened over the last few years. (You can read that post here: www.RachelDawnWrites.com/blog/Color-blinded)

I have been super fortunate to this point that I haven’t gotten any extremely negative, critical or harsh comments about anything I’ve written. But I know as my platform grows, it’s inevitable.

.facebook_1460409929320 I heard a speaker at a writing conference say, “When you’re marketing anything in life – whether it’s chicken sandwiches or books – there is a 1% jerk factor in the world. One percent of people who are just negative and critical for the sake of being negative and critical. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. You could offer the best thing in the world, that 99 other people love, but this 1 person will find something wrong with it and a reason to complain.” Expect it, Accept it, Move on. It’s not you, it’s them.

Your message will resonate with some people and not with others, and that’s ok. You can get really derailed really fast if you try pleasing everyone with every post. That’s just not reality.

Pick you niche, hone your voice, find your audience, and write meaningful stuff for them. Period.

Any self-doubt, second-guessing, fear, uncertainty or criticism is totally worth it when someone responds to something you’ve written with, “me too”, “that’s exactly how I feel”, “I thought I was alone”.

Know that it sucks. No one will read it (at first). You will want to quit.

I understand that’s 3 things in one bullet point, but they are all the same.

Recently a photographer friend of mine posted: “Being a [creative] entrepreneur is just waves of ‘I just want to quit’, ‘this is crap’, ‘I’m deleting social media’, and occasionally, ‘Man, I was really made to do this.’”

When you spend hours working on one post, upload it, and keep refreshing your wordpress stats every 15 mins only to see that only 6 people look at it and no one comments….. you kiiiind of feel like throwing in the towel.

What’s the point of writing, of investing your time and emotional/mental energy, if no one even cares?

I don’t have an answer to this one. Because I found myself asking this very same question this week. After two years of blogging I have 33 “subscribers” to my blog. Even some of my most loyal readers, who tell me they love every post I write, aren’t subscribed and they don’t regularly share my posts with their networks. So I get it, it’s really discouraging.

But I’m learning there are ways you can hone your voice and your craft to increase those numbers, to increase your effectiveness.

I came across some incredible free training just this week that’s helping me with streamlining my posts to get more traction and shares. Ruth Surkamp founder of Elite Blogging Academy, author of “How to Blog for Profit: Without Selling Your Soul”, is offering this free series online right now. Check it out: https://ruthsoukup.leadpages.co/blogging-made-simple-2017-video-1/?inf_contact_key=bd1f84da626e39d8eb703404e962fc6161c1d1a4683a3ab7fb02ce596d2ae12f

I got tons of practical, immediately applicable tips from the very first video. I completely restructured this post I had already started after watching it and learning what I did. Thank you for that Ruth!

Know WHY you are blogging.

The quickest way to get frustrated and stop blogging is if you start a blog before you know why you are starting a blog. There are definitely tips and tricks and skills you can learn to blog more effectively, depending on what your goals are. But if you don’t know what your goals are….. you can’t hit them.

Ask yourself, why are you blogging? Is it just for fun? Are you just blogging for yourself, a literal personal web-log or diary? Are you blogging to tell stories to your close family and friends? Are you trying to use blogging as a source of income? Are you trying to expand your network/platform/reach/tribe/influence – whatever you want to call it – to get your voice and your message out there? Are you trying to make an impact? Change people’s lives? Raise awareness? Be an expert? Start a movement?

Even if it’s just to make people laugh or to feel inspired, you need to ask yourself: What is your purpose in blogging?

I came face to face with this question shortly after I launched my blog and my online platform, when Facebook asked me “What business am I in?” I stared at the blank box with the blinking cursor in it for a solid half hour while I asked myself, why am I doing this anyway? I came up with a pretty solid answer I shared in this post here: www.RachelDawnWrites.com/blog/what-business-am-i-in.

What it boiled down to in 160 characters or less was:

“I am in the business of restoring hope, igniting dreams, inspiring change, and leading people toward freedom.”

And out of that whole exercise came my business tagline, “Restoring Hope, Igniting Dreams”.

That’s why I blog. That’s why I study how and work to increase my platform. Because the more people my blogs can reach, the more people’s lives I can impact and influence for the better. Which is literally the reason I was created in the first place.

Blogging helps me move in the direction of my purpose. That’s a good investment of time and energy.

You need to ask yourself if it is for you.

Know You Have Something Worth Saying.

Who was I to start a blog? What did I have to say that people would be interested in and that hadn’t already been said a thousand times. Who would want to read it? How would I stand out from all the others? Those were some of the questions I wrestled with that February two years ago.

counter (2) Reading all the overwhelming stats about how saturated the world of blogging is and thinking about all the work, potential roadblocks, discouragements and frustrations could easily make you throw up your hands and decide blogging isn’t worth it at all.

Or maybe you’re stuck in that place I was asking, “Who am I to do this?”

This week I taught the high school service at my church. We are in the midst of an all-church journey on identity, wherein we are identifying the lies and labels in our lives – who we think we are or who the world says we are – and replacing those with the Truth of who God says we are.

Part of the lesson this week was the story of Moses and his own identity crisis. Born a Hebrew slave, raised an Egyptian Prince, on the run after committing murder, Moses found himself pondering life as a sheepherder in the country. When seemingly out of nowhere, God called him to be the hero of the story; to lead the people of Isreal out of slavery in Egypt. His response to God was similar to mine when God told me to write a book (and subsequently start a blog), “Who am I, Lord? Who am I to be the hero or lead a people?”

God’s response was simple: It doesn’t matter who you are, Moses, what matters is Who is with you and Who is sending you. He told Moses to go into Egypt and tell people “I Am” (Yahweh) has sent me. That’s all the credibility and power Moses needed.

You were created for a purpose. Just like I was. Just like Moses was. Uniquely. There are 522d171b57ab75f123db71e966e47bfa seeds planted inside of you, talents and abilities, to help you succeed in that purpose. Writing – sharing your thoughts through written words – may very well be a part of that.

Lysa Terkeurst says this in her book “Uninvited”: “Remember that there is an abundant need in this word for your contributions….. your thoughts and words and artistic expressions…. Your exact brand of beautiful.”

Other people might have similar things to say, but there is only one you. You are the only person with your story, your experiences, your worldview, your voice.

Don’t let your doubts, fears, or insecurities stop you from doing what you were created to do.

What if, instead of agreeing to the mission, Moses had told God, “There are so many other Hebrew men more qualified for this than me, I’m out.”

Would the Isrealites still be in slavery today? Would thousands of lives be entirely different? Maybe. Likely not. Likely, God still would have accomplished His mission, but He would have used someone else to get it done. He could have found someone else to stand up to Pharoah and say, “Let my people go.” But the one life that certainly would have been different would have been Moses’. He would have lived out his days as a sheepherder, which was not what he was created to do.

If you decide not to let those words that are burning inside you get out, could God still get that message out through someone else? Of course. But then you won’t be living out what you were created to do either. And what kind of living is that?

So, blogging might be hard and it might suck and maybe you’ll never have more than 30 readers, and most of the time you’ll feel like giving up, but if it’s part of what you were created to do, you must.

And when you feel like quitting, just remember why you are doing it, Who sent you, and that you have something worth saying.

[1] http://www.patrickkphillips.com/blogging/research-the-average-blog-lifespan-isnt-very-long/

[2] www.Worldometers.info/blogs

Chain Breaker

If you’ve got pain, He’s a pain taker
If you feel lost, He’s a way maker
If you need freedom, saving, He’s a prison-shaking Savior
If you’ve got chains, He’s a chain breaker.
-Zach Williams, Chain Breaker

Every Thursday night that I’m not out of town for work, I get the opportunity to volunteer in the senior high ministry at my church. And every week when I walk out of that room I feel overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude, awe and wonder.

Gratitude that I get to be a small part in these young adult’s lives, at such an impressionable and vulnerable age. The things they are learning about themselves and the world right now, are what will shape their self-image and sense of self-worth for life.

I am in awe that God still chooses to use me, despite all that I have been through and all the things I have done wrong in my life.

And I am in wonder at the ways He works miraculously through me, my story, and my experiences.

This past week was particularly astounding. The message was on experiencing Freedom, which is one of my five core passions in life, and one of the things I believe God has specifically created me for.

As the presenter told a story about a time in his life that he lived with the fear and bondage of what other people thought of him, and how he was set free from that, the students were instructed to bind their wrists in zip ties and think about things that are keeping them from freedom in their own lives. Whether that be bitterness, fear, pride, a relationship, a habit, an addiction…. As he wrapped up, he read a list of examples that other high school students had written down about some of the things they felt they were in bondage to:

Worrying about the future
If I’m honest, no one will forgive me or love me.
Eventually God will say enough is enough.
I’ll never be good enough
[the thought that] Forgiving someone means what they did is ok
I’m super scared people won’t approve of me
I’m afraid I’m not smart enough
I’m afraid I’ve done too much
I’m afraid everyone will stop loving me
[I feel like] I have to do everything on my own because if I let people help, they will end up hurting me even more.

As he read, I cried. A couple of them really hit home for me because they were thoughts I had had myself at one point in my life. I was also thinking about how universal those thoughts are; certainly every student in the room could relate to one, or any number of, the things on that list.

The students sat with their hands locked together as he finished and the worship band began to play “Break Every Chain” by Tasha Cobbs. The lyrics go, “There is power in the name of Jesus, to break every chain, break every chain, break every chain.” When they were ready, they could walk to the back of the room where we leaders were standing with scissors to physically free them from their bondage of the zip tie, and pray for them to be released of their spiritual or emotional enslavement, if they wished.

One-by-one wrist-bound students got up and made their way to the back of the room. One girl asked me to pray for her. She told me she keeps asking God to send good people in her life, but then every time He does she pushes the person away and sabotages the relationship. I asked her if she thought that was based on fears from her past, from other people she got close to who hurt, or abandoned or betrayed her. She said yes. So I prayed for her to be free of that past hurt, and to have an open heart and mind to receive these new, good people God was sending her.

As she walked away and I started singing along with the lyrics, I was flooded with the emotion of the moment. What an incredible metaphor happening all around me that I was getting to participate in. It occurred to me that the ONLY reason I could stand at the back of the room and cut the ties of bondage off of these students was because I had already experienced that yoke-destroying freedom for myself! By no means does that mean I’m perfect, or that I have arrived, but I am no longer bound. I am free, forgiven, redeemed, whole, made righteous and holy.

It’s in this state – and ONLY in this state – I am able to help others walk into freedom for themselves.

Streams of thankfulness poured from my eyes as I stood in amazement of a God who chooses me, who loves me, who sees me, and who breaks my every chain.

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I Prayed for You

With all the busyness and to-do’s of launching my book, it occurred to me earlier this week I hadn’t actually prayed for the people who will hold my book in their hands in just a matter of days.

I had prayed laboriously for guidance while writing and creating this project, I have thanked God at every opportunity for allowing me and my story to be used to help other people, I have prayed for God to bring the people and resources into my life to get it off the ground and into as many hands as possible (and He has SO faithfully delivered!), I have praised Him for how much life change I know these words will bring…. But for the change coming to the masses, I hadn’t stopped to pray for each and every individual who would click “order now”

I want YOU to know I prayed for you. You. The person God uniquely and specifically created. Created for a good purpose, You who He loves, and delights in. You who have been beaten up and broken down by the trials of this life and find it hard to see these things. Because YOU are what all of these late nights and re-writes and learning and tears and phone calls and emails and edits have all been for.

Here’s what I wrote in my Prayer Journal:

Lord, I pray that every single individual person who orders a copy of my book tomorrow, and over this next week and month, that their hearts and minds are ready and able to receive all the words You have for them in there. May You speak to them through my writing and each person get exactly what they need specifically.

You had me write these words because You already knew ahead of time each and every individual person who was going to hold a copy in their hands and read them. The Bible says, not a single Word of Yours returns void – and I pray and trust and believe the same is true for Your Words in these pages – even though they came from my fingers.
I ask that you break the yokes of bondage, denial, shame, hopelessness and misery in anyone who opens that cover – physically or electronically. I pray that strongholds would be broken for eternity and that within the pages they find freedom and healing and hope. That they would see Your grace and mercy and faithfulness and come to know You closer – their their hearts desire would be to know You.

Thank You for blessing me with this gift. Thank You for giving me a story of victory and redemption to tell. Thank you for Your son Jesus, who makes all of this possible.

I love You.
Amen

Things to Remember When You’re Feeling Unwanted

Saturday was Clayton’s first football game. Clayton is the 9 year old boy who currently lives at my house with his mom, Jenny. I forgot my pom-poms but dressed in team colors with Nikon in hand, my husband and I walked into the ballpark ready to cheer on our little friend.

Jenny met us at the gate and pointed, “We are under that green tent, I left something in my car, be right back.” We found Clayton’s grandparents and I sat in the chair Jenny brought from our house. Jenny never sits, she’s too excited. The sun was bright but dark storm clouds were gathering, it was about to be a drencher!

The parents in front of us asked which player was ours and we told them it was our friend’s son. The dad admitted he needed someone to root for to make things more exciting; his daughter was one of the cheerleaders in front of us on the sideline.

There were several other parents in the tent. When one woman entered, our new cheer-dad friend said, “Come on in, we’ll make room for you. After all it is your tent!” They scooted their chairs up, and I scooted mine to the far edge of the side, Barry and Jenny stood behind me.

By the middle of the second quarter, the rain started. Just a sprinkle at first, then heavier. More and more people took shelter under the various tents, including the one we were under. There was chatter around me, but I was busy trying to find Clayton on the field with my lens.

Then above all the other voices I heard, “Oh you mean MY tent. Yeah, I couldn’t even tell it was my tent.” And as I looked over my shoulder, the green tent owner was rolling her eyes and shot a look in our direction. In that moment I realized we were the cause of the chatter. We were not actually welcome in this tent at all. I had assumed Jenny knew the green tent mom, and that she knew we were Jenny’s friends. Now it seemed that was not the case.

After another minute or two, and some more chatter, I stood up and folded up my chair and moved to stand behind Barry. Instantly, green tent mom violently planted her chair in the spot mine had been, even though she wasn’t sitting, she was certainly going to claim that space.

I felt the heat rise in my face. I felt embarrassed and ignorant for not knowing proper peewee football game tent protocol. I felt like I had imposed myself into a place and into a group where I was not invited or welcome. I felt like an outsider. I wanted to leave right then and never come back to another game, to never have to see these people again in my life. I felt a sting in the corner of my eyes and I couldn’t believe how much this was upsetting me.

Barry could sense my mood had shifted and asked, “What’s wrong? Are you having headache symptoms?” I shook my head and under my breath, “No, snarky mom symptoms.”

The seconds counting down to halftime could not pass quickly enough. At the buzzer, I turned and hugged Jenny and whispered in her ear, “Do you know the person who owns this tent?”

“No,” She said.

“Well, we are not welcome here. She’s made a couple comments, so we are leaving because I don’t have to be subject to that. Here’s my camera, you’re welcome to use it for the rest of the game.”

With every step I took on my march back to the parking lot the fuller my eyes got, until the giant tears spilled over my bottom lids and down my face.

I felt foolish for letting something so minor and petty make me this upset. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it was so upsetting, really. But I recognized it was obviously a trigger of some larger emotional issue. Something I didn’t even realize was still rooted that strongly in my heart.

Suddenly, I was back in middle school and my older brother, whom I worshipped, was telling me through verbal and non-verbal ques, “you’re annoying, I don’t like you, nobody wants you around.”

I’ve come to coin this feeling “Annoying Little Sister Syndrome”. And I didn’t even realize it was an issue in my life until I was 25 and reeling with the emotional fallout of my divorce.

I went through a small group journey at my church called the “Free Journey” and realized so many of my insecurities and behavior in and from my marriage stemmed back to my childhood rejection from my brother. For example: Any time my husband chose to spend time with anyone other than me – like a guy friend – all I heard and felt was, “you’re annoying, I don’t like you, nobody wants you around.” So I would lash out in anger or with a controlling response.

I started to see how these feelings had manifested themselves in high school and into my adult years. I was possessive and controlling of my friends – and would become hurt or offended if they had friends outside of me.

But these feelings started even before my brother got “too cool” for me during his teenage years. My brother’s behavior only reinforced the whisper of a lie that was already planted in my mind.

For as far back as I can remember, I used to run away and hide from my parents every chance I got. I didn’t even know why I was doing it but what I did know is the longer it took them to find me the less loved I felt.

I remember one time I ran outside after church one Sunday and hid in the tall grass behind the building. I was laying there watching the clouds, I may have even fallen asleep. But I also remember hearing less and less voices and car doors in the parking lot until finally there were none and I was alone. They didn’t find me, they didn’t come for me, they didn’t even notice I was gone! Rather than panic, I started to cry. Because my parents hadn’t come after me, I obviously was unwanted and unloved.

In reality, I went to a small country church a mile from my house with most of my large extended family. So my parents just assumed another relative took me home. As soon as they realized that wasn’t the case they came back for me and found me inconsolable on the stoop of the sanctuary.

My parents were incredible and unconditionally loving, they did absolutely nothing at any point in my childhood to signify that I was either unwanted or unloved by them. So where did this idea come from?

You and I have an enemy. He is crafty and mightily skilled at deception. He is referred to in history as the “great deceiver” and the “father of lies”.

From the day we are born, he begins whispering seeds of doubt, fear, insecurity, and downright un-truth into our tiny ears and hearts. Maybe for you it’s not “unwanted” but, “ugly”, or “ignorant”, or “worthless”. And then he waits for any circumstance in our life that we could interpret as a reinforcement of those lies. He leaps at the opportunity to water and fertilize that seed so that it takes root and sprouts in our life.

In the opposite corner of the ring from our enemy is another Person – our ally, our friend, our creator, our Father. He has also been planting seeds in our hearts from the moment of our conception. These are seeds of Truth and love and acceptance, of purpose.

Just like a garden will be overcome entirely with weeds if not properly tended, so our hearts will become overrun with lies, choking out the Truth, if not guarded and maintained with the same care.

What you fertilize is what flourishes.

Fertilizing lies can happen many different ways. For me, I was seeking my entire sense of approval, acceptance and self-worth in whether or not my brother thought I was cool enough to hang with he and his friends. And before then, it was whether or not my parents noticed I was missing “fast enough”.

And it manifested itself in my behavior – always being the “good one”, the “perfect” one, the “popular” one people wanted to be around. Always concerned with my image and my performance. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect athlete. While simultaneously being the perfect partier, the perfect drinker, the perfect flirt and “cool enough” to fit in with whatever crowd I wanted.

Whatever I needed to do to be positively reinforced and affirmed by people in my life.

And this was just rooting those weeds deeper and grooming them for continual growth.

Conversely, fertilizing Truth only happens one way. By seeking your approval and self-worth from THE Source of Truth.

And it has nothing to do with your clothes, or your grades, your friends, your job, or how well you follow the rules. It has nothing to do with what you can do at all. It has everything to do with sweetly resting in the fact that God loves you – no matter what.

The last thing I want is for this post to sound hokey and churchy. To be glossed over and concluded with, “what a friend we have in Jesus”.

The truth is, I didn’t have this revelation while I as living my perfect life and everything was going great for me. I had this revelation for myself when I was at the bottom of my lowest pit. I was broken, and battered, I was making bad decision after bad decision and hurting a lot of people in the process. I was disappointed in myself and I imagined so was everyone else. I felt like I had ruined my life beyond repair. I had no hope for anything good in my future.

And I was angry at God because I felt like I had played by his rules and lost big time.

It was in this place, when I was running fast and hard and far away from God that He chased after me relentlessly and passionately. I felt him saying, “Honey, all those thing you think you know about me aren’t true. Come get to know me for yourself.”

He wanted me. He liked me. He did want me around.

In 2013, Dara Mcclean released a song called “Wanted” (if you’ve never heard it, go listen now) my favorite lyrics are:

From the day you were born
And took your first breath
You opened your eyes and in came the light
He was watching you
But all of your life you couldn’t shake the lies in your head
Saying you’re a mistake
Oh but you were made
By a God who knows your name
He doesn’t make mistakes

You are wanted

The first time I heard those words I cried, and every time since I can barely sing along through my sobs.

I remember driving through downtown Vancouver a couple years ago with my windows down in my rental car blaring music from my phone. The sidewalks were crowded with swarms of bodies. When that song came on, I remember looking around and really seeing each individual person. At each stoplight I studied them. Tears blurred my vision as I wondered, do they know these words are true? Have they ever heard this before? As they are walking down the road right now are they questioning if they have a purpose or a plan for their life? This may be the only time they hear this message.

I wish so much that I could open up my head and let people who are hurting inside for even just a minute. I want them to see what I see, and feel what I feel, and know what I know about their Father who created them. Who loves them.

Just think about that for a second. The Creator of all the universe looked into it and saw fit to create one of you, that you were needed. He not only loves you, He likes you. He wants you. He knew beforehand every mistake you would ever make and STILL He wanted to bring you to life. And He STILL wants to be with you now.

Once you really grasp that for yourself, other people’s opinions and approval cease to matter. You might still shed a few tears over a peewee football mom‘s snarky comments or unwelcoming attitude but at the end of the day you are reminded that you are wanted and welcomed by the One who really matters.

Keep watering those seeds. And pluck out the weeds of doubt that tell you otherwise.

For the record, I ordered my own tent on the way home, so I will never have to experience that feeling again. At first I told myself and we will not let a single other person use it but us. But then I changed my mind and decided the stipulation for our tent will be that it is open to anyone, and everyone is welcome to use it. I really wanted to order a custom-made banner that read: “Welcome! Come use our tent!” with a line in parenthesis below that said “because we are not ass holes” (haha …this is me still not being perfect.) But, instead I just ordered a simple “Welcome” banner.

And if green tent mom ever gets stuck in a rainstorm at a game, she will have a place to stay dry and feel wanted.

welcome tent

Unqualified

Three Summers ago my stomach was in knots as I hit the send button emailing in my application to work as a camp counselor. I was afraid I wouldn’t be accepted because of what I had been through. I doubted I was worthy or qualified. I wondered if my divorce would make me appear as a negative role model that the staff wouldn’t want around their teenagers or own kids. Thankfully, I was graciously accepted and blessed with the opportunity to serve at Camp Northward’s high school week for the last two years.

This year my church, Crossroads, started their own senior high camp and I had a familiar flutter of insecurity when I applied for a volunteer position. But again I was welcomed with open arms.

On Tuesday, two of the girls in my small group expressed interest in being baptized. After discussing it further and talking with their parents, they decided to move forward with it at camp.

As we were prepping for the logistics of that day, the first of the girls asked if I could be the one to do it, I wholeheartedly and enthusiastically agreed, but then had to walk away as I was overcome with emotion. I could hardly stand as I wanted to fall on my face in absolute awe of my God. When the second girl asked, the impact was no less overwhelming.

I am constantly amazed at how God chooses to use me over and over again – even though I am so unworthy and so unqualified. Even though I have failed Him and missed the mark so many times. Despite the fact I have rebelled and gone my own way in the past. Regardless that I continually have to remind myself to let control go and trust Him… He STILL chooses me. He STILL pursues me. He STILL uses me in the lives of other people. Every time I allow Him to.
And EVERY SINGLE TIME He surpasses what I could even think of or imagine.

He is a good good Father.

it is in your broken places

LANES, PAINS, AND PLAYDOUGH SALONS

Hi, my name is Meagan. I am a songwriter/nanny/blogger in Nashville, Tennessee. I love Jesus and I love Taco Bell gorditas. I believe the invention of Crocs initiated the American decline. I regularly tell waiters I am allergic to cilantro when really I just don’t like the taste. I have watched Gossip Girl to its seasonal entirety 4 times in the past 10 years (#TeamLonelyBoy). I absolutely adore my friendships, think my family might actually change the world, and applaud any sign of grace over judgement.

So now that we’ve become a little more acquainted, allow me to share one of my most daunting personal issues. I mean, we’re there right?

If I had to choose one thing that holds me back from accomplishing my purpose, it is that vicious little vixen we like to call “comparison.” As a woman, I have found upon confession that I am not the only one filling a seat on this struggle bus, so I hope I am not writing this post in vain.

I moved to Nashville over a year ago and, quite honestly, gained the songwriters momentum quickly. I was focused and driven, a picture perfect cliche of the American dream. I developed deep, valuable friendships within the industry, and began what I hoped to be a thriving career. I came to Nashville believing that one could either be inspired or defeated by the amount of creatives in one city. With the best of intentions, I supported my friends and loved our little songwriting world. And then my friends started succeeding. They went on world tours, got record deals, and signed to labels that set their writing schedules. They instagrammed shows and facebooked conference photos. They began to pass me in the race, versus run alongside. At least, that was my personal, emotional perspective. On the outside, I celebrated each friend, went to their shows, promoted their new albums. But on the inside, I sank and sank fast. My faith and focus faltered, slowly stripping my heart of its original intent and filling it with a fear that God skipped over me and had chosen my friends instead. You see, I struggled with staying in my own lane. I realize that phrase can be highly overused in any self-help arena, but just bear with me as we dissect.

Each of us, upon birth, are given the beautiful gift of a one lane road in the form of a “calling” or “purpose.” God gives us an identity and graces us with dreams and goals to fulfill His ultimate purpose on earth. Our simple task is to stay in our lane and run the race presented before us, to do the best we can with what He’s given.

“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” -Philippians 3:14

“Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win.” -1 Corinthians 9:24

I was constantly glancing over at my friends and family, eyeing their race with envy and, ultimately, defeat. If I had simply kept my eyes forward and focused on God’s path versus theirs, who knows what I would’ve accomplished by this time. Comparison is crippling. Learning to stay in your lane and embrace your personal race isn’t easy, trust me, I’m still a work in progress. But there are a few things I’ve picked up along the way that might be worth a read. So how do we stay in our lane? How do we keep that focus? Lucky for you, I have a few car analogies to get things rolling. (Get it? Rolling? Like a tire? Yeah I’m awesome.)

“IF YOU WANT TO SURVIVE, DON’T TEXT AND DRIVE”

Remember 5 years ago when Oprah went bat poop cray over texting and driving, creating awareness and a culture shift in her wake? We all know texting and driving is not only idiotic, it can be deadly. Too many statistics solidify that fact. And yet, how many times do we catch ourselves on an empty highway or bored in a traffic jam typing away? We check our Facebook during lunch hours, we don’t go out unless the plan is Instagram-worthy, and we get all our news updates from Twitter. Our lives revolve around connection, and social media has become the great connector. It can be a beautiful thing, a generational tool to be celebrated! It can also be fatal when viewed at the wrong time. One of the main contributors to my personal life-lane swerve was social media. I was in a habit of waking up and hitting my newsfeed before I hit snooze. Everyday I began with a solid dose of comparison. With every “like,” I developed a big fat failure feeling, all before my first cup of coffee.

I will say, it took a certain amount of self-awareness to realize that this was an unhealthy habit for me. Some seasons I can celebrate every single human on my newsfeed with adorational abandon. (No, adorational is not a word.) But I now know there are other seasons when I feel like life is moving a tad slower, or Jesus has me in a waiting period, when I have to monitor my social media intake. If I’m looking over at anothers filtered view of constant success, it’s easy for me to feel like I can never catch up. If you’re constantly checking on another lane, you will veer off your course entirely, causing a mental collision that’s hard to come back from. Satan loves these little stalls, these tiny hits of negativity. Be honest with yourself and your journey. Evaluate whether it’s a healthy season for you to be virtually present, and if it’s not, unplug. Trust me, your world will not end. People will still contact you. Your lunch will be just as good without the stand-on-chair crema filtered photo.

“CHECK YOUR BLINDSPOT, BABY”

One of the first things they teach you in drivers ed is to never change lanes without checking your blindspot. There could be someone else in the way, or a road obstruction outside of your view. When we swerve and skid into another’s lane, comparing ourself to what seems like their massive success, we rarely get the whole picture. We believe the grass is greener, however we don’t know what kind of weeds are hiding in their backyard. It’s so important to check yourself when you begin to compare because you don’t know that persons complete story. You don’t know what they went through to get to this place in their journey. You don’t know what they are currently battling to stay afloat. You don’t know who they hurt, loved, or lost along the way. You are literally comparing your entirety to their partiality and that makes no sense. Perspective is everything. Everyone has a blindspot they keep hidden or quieted, so when you compare keep in mind that you are most likely not getting the full picture.

“WE GON’ CELEBRATE AND HAVE A GOOD TIME”

Remember that feeling you got as a kid? You’d be at your best friend’s birthday party and they’d be joyfully opening presents while you were forced to stand around and watch. Part of you was just happy to be in the room, genuinely excited to be celebrating your friend. The other was absolutely downright jealous that they just opened the brand new state of the art Playdough salon you’d been secretly saving for with every lemonade stand. Can I get a witness? As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that feeling never really goes away. It just transforms itself into light envy via mountaintop engagement Facebook post, or new homeowners keys. You see your friends moving on and having these amazing adulting wins, and boom, here comes that little comparison virus. I have found that a practical way of mentally battling that moment is to outwardly and sometimes embarrassingly celebrate your tribe.

My friend Stephanie is AMAZING at this, ya’ll. If her boys come home from school with even so much as a worm they found on the playground, she will fall to the floor in shrieks of joy over their accomplishment. She is my #momgoals in so many ways. When someone you love has a moment to celebrate and you find yourself comparing, immediately catch it, acknowledge it, and then defeat it by doing the exact opposite of what your feelings tell you. Take the friend to dinner, freak out on their comment section, lose your mind in their general direction. Celebrate your people, because that’s what we are called to do. We are called to laugh with those who laugh, and mourn with those who mourn. So laugh, even when you feel like less, even when you feel left out or alone. Let those closest to you know that no matter what is happening in your life, you value their dreams and goals and support them completely. This isn’t easy. Trust me, I know. There was a moment in a particularly hard season of singleness when a friend of mine announced her pregnancy. I had a choice. I could celebrate alongside her or cower in my defeat. I chose to celebrate her, shower her, and quite honestly over-honor her. I am so glad I did. God blesses that obedience, and He fills that hurt. He is glorified through your willingness to lay your life down for your friend. So ya’ll, celebrate good times, come on.

“HONEY, YOU CAN DRIVE MY CAR”

The main thing that shocks me back into reality when I find myself comparing is one simple truth: THIS IS NOT MY LANE. Let me explain. This life, this gift of humanity you’ve been given, this lane is not yours. It belongs to God, first and foremost, no argument. When I focus on me, my failures, my insecurities, I forget the fact that this life and lane is meant to glorify Him.

“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.” -Galations 1:10

Yikes. That’s terrifyingly blunt. “I would not be a servant of Christ if I was trying to please man.” We are here to share the gospel and our calling in life is perfectly assigned to reflect that truth. The fact of the matter is, if you stay in your lane and keep your focus above versus beside, you’ll realize this race, this journey is not about you. It’s about Jesus. And if it’s about Jesus, then there’s nothing that compares. He is all that matters, His heart, His opinion, His work is incomparable. This life is not about us. Your lane is not really your lane. It belongs to God. When I remember this, it puts everything into perspective. It doesn’t matter what anyone else is doing or accomplishing. My passion and focus is on Jesus, and that alone is the prize. That alone is all I need to fulfill me. That alone is all I desire.

Trust that Jesus sees you and loves you. He celebrates you and covers you. When you look from right to left, don’t compare your story. Jesus doesn’t. Like I said, I am still a work in progress when it comes to comparison. But oh how the pressure releases when I remember that this life is not my own. I’ve learned that if I keep my focus on Him, He never fails me. Stay in your lane. It might seem small right now, the road may seem windy or difficult, but know that God has gone before you. He sees every lane on that road and has made sure you are in the exact one that will fulfill the desires of your heart and bring others to His kingdom.

Celebrate your tribe, press forward, embrace God’s plan for your life. STAY IN YOUR LANE. And always honk if you love Jesus, ya’ll.

(If you’d like to read more humorously insightful posts by Meagan, you can find her blog here: www.thegracefulattempt.com )

What Business AM I in??!

A few weeks ago, Facebook released a promotional tool for “business pages” housed on their site. It’s a video that starts with, “we are in the business of….” And gives a very brief overview/description of your business. Like a 15 second mini-commercial.

I followed the link to create my own for my writer/speaker page. Facebook did all the work for me, I just had to fill in the blanks and make my selections and it would spit out a professional marketing tool. I picked all my favorite pictures and clicked “next”, then the tagline pops up: “We are in the business of…..” I sat staring at the blinking cursor in the empty text box.

What business AM I in?

Why does this page exist?

What IS the point of all this?

Why am I doing this?
And how do I even begin to put that into 160 characters or less?!!

You want me to summarize my life’s purpose in less than a dozen words?!

I literally closed the window and didn’t look at it again for two weeks.

It ate at me, that I couldn’t articulate why I do what I do, and how to explain it to someone – simply.

I started to meditate on the reasons why I write, why I share vulnerable parts of my life and my story, why building my platform on social media even matters…. I started to really think about all of it.

I thought back to a question I had asked myself about a year ago, “Rachel, what are you passionate about?”. At that time, I made a list and that list helped me to put things into perspective. I was able to prioritize my time/energy/focus on the things that really matter to me, and put aside things that I was mildly interested in, or that were just eating up my time.

A few key words started to float to the surface of my mind: Hope, Inspiration, Dreams, Belief, Freedom.

Finally, I decided on this: “We are in the business of restoring hope, igniting dreams, inspiring change, and leading people toward freedom.”

The video turned out absolutely delightful. (if you want to watch it: My Business Video)

I wished I could have gone into more detail about each of those items on there but I certainly can here:

Restoring hope
for the hopeless.
Because I once was.

Igniting dreams
for those who have forgotten how to dream, or lost the ability to believe in them.

Because I lived in that place, the place where everything I once dreamed about seemed too far out of reach, broken, ruined, and you don’t know how or where to begin again.

Inspiring change
I realize I cannot changing anybody. Ever. Period.
But by sharing my story of how my life has changed, I can help people see that change is possible, and achievable, and desirable and inspire them to seek change in their own lives.

Leading people to freedom.
Freedom? Freedom.
Freedom from shame, freedom from fear, freedom from guilt, freedom from bondage, freedom from entitlement, freedom from their past hurts, failures and bad decisions.
Woah. That’s a big one. A pretty tall order. And it’s the one thing I’m most passionate about. But can I really do that?
No, I cannot make anyone free, I cannot give anyone freedom myself. But, I can lead them to the Source of True Freedom, where I found my own.

If I achieve all or any one of these things, in the life of even one person who visits, likes, or follows my page, then it will have been successful in its purpose.

So what business am I in?
I’m in the business of loving and encouraging people. I’m in the business of (trying my best) to show people the character and person of Jesus in real life, even if it’s over a computer screen. I’m in the business of making myself vulnerable so people feel less alone about their own failures and shortcomings. I’m in the business of extending grace, ’cause God knows I need my fair share! I’m in the business of helping people live in the fullness and wholeness they were created so that they may identify and go after their own purpose. I’m in the business of positioning them to see and believe that it’s possible – no matter what they’ve been through, or from where they are starting. I’m in the messy human being business.

But that’s WAY more than 160 characters ;)What business are you in?

A Pressure-Cooked Reminder

It’s funny, in the last few weeks there have been so many things going on in our life – MAJOR life changes: my husband quit his job and now works from home, I started a professional speaking career outside my current job, my editor got back to me with all the changes I need to approve in my book, we bought a house….. It’s been overwhelming. I’ve been overwhelmed. Stressed to the max- I can feel it in my body (and so can my chiropractor!)

Naturally with all that going on, tension has run high in our home. My husband and I have been bickering and even arguing a lot, which is rare for us. And this only adds to the stress and exhaustion. I started to think, it’s been a while since we’ve really focused on working on our marriage, we’re coming up on 2 years, maybe we need to go to a refresher course or a retreat.

I was aware, in all the stress and busyness, my time reading and praying with the Lord has suffered as well. It’s been almost non-existent. I keep telling myself I’ll get back in my routine once things slow down. And then it hit me: I don’t need a refresher with my husband to ease the tension in my marriage right now (although there certainly is a time and place for that), what I need is a refresher with the Lord! I realized in my stress I let my focus shift to “what’s wrong with us” right now instead of “what’s wrong with me and how do I fix that?” I was looking to my husband to take all that stress and pressure off me, which is too big a task for his human ability.

Every time I sneak away for some time alone with my prayer journal, things seem less overwhelming and I let my husband off the hook.

quieter thinking talking and complaining have you prayed about it - crop