There’s No Such Thing As Annuals

My mom used to own and operate her own greenhouse. If having a green thumb is a thing, my mom is green head-to-toe – that woman can make anything grow anywhere!

Recently, while sitting on my deck looking at the shriveling petunias left over from our 4th of July party, I was saddened by the fact they were almost completely dead. Brown, dry, crisp. With only a hint of their former green life remaining. Not that I hadn’t been caring for them, but Petunias are annuals, which means they only bloom for one season, one year, and then they die. They will not regrow or bloom again next year, their little roots cannot survive the harsh winter in Ohio.

Even though they were practically dead already, I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. I imagined them sitting in the bottom of my dumpster feeling rejected and discarded even though they had done nothing wrong. (I’m a bit irrational when it comes to any living thing….ask my husband about it sometime)

But that got me thinking about why God would create something so beautiful, something that brings me (and others) so much joy, to just then wither up and die.

One voice in my head wants to tell me it’s because God isn’t really good or kind or loving. That He is cruel or indifferent.

But another voice, the One I’ve come to hear more often and more clearly, tells me that’s not true.

So, I start there. With the things I know about God that are true:

God is good and kind and loving, and creative.

He makes beautiful things because He enjoys it and He enjoys bringing joy to His children.

God also does not create any living thing that does not reproduce or regenerate itself.

With those facts I concluded, petunias, and therefore all annuals, must actually be man made, genetically altered, for them to die off on the winter.

I text my mom asking if that was the case.

But before she could respond, I had a follow up thought. “Or, is it that every plant is really a perennial (meaning it never dies and/or does come back every year) in the right climate?”

My mom’s response came as her typical short-hand over text, “yes, to the second”.

So it turns out, there is actually no such thing as annuals. They are just perennials planted in the wrong place.

There have been countless persons make an exhaustive number of spiritual metaphors regarding plants and planting. Jesus himself not excluded. (See Matthew 13)

And I don’t doubt at some point in your life – probably more than once – you’ve seen some motivational poster with a striking image of budding flora and the words “bloom where your planted” overlayed.

But still as I snapped this picture this morning and thought of that conversation with my mom, words and ideas started flowing.

I’ve always interpretted Jesus’s parable of the sower as just throw seed everywhere and see what sticks. And that poster communicated just do your part to flourish as much as you possibly can wherever God has you planted in the moment. And that certainly is true and valid.

But I’d never thought about making sure you are darn-well planting in the right place before you start trying to grow something! Otherwise, after one magnificent season full of vigorous and vibrant color you might just shrivel up and die! (Metaphorically speaking, of course)

And then I realized, I think that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

I think that’s a reality of what any of us are doing anytime we experience burnout in a given endeavor. We are trying to grow something somewhere in which God never created it to grow. We want to plant seeds where we want them to be planted, or just any place we can, without stopping to consider the cost of loss come end of season. So it may work for a season, but anytime we are working outside and against God’s intended design, we will ultimately shrivel back into the ground.

I wonder if it hurts God’s heart at all when we bring plants into climates where they can’t survive and then just dig them up and throw them out each year? (I have no idea if He gets as emotionally attached to inanimate objects as I do sometimes) but I can guarantee it hurts Him to watch us trying to force growth in our lives in the wrong territory.

I recommend before you start trying to grow something yourself, take a good look around and ask God if that’s the best place to try to plant a seed or develop roots.

Transplanting is hard. Landscapers literally use the word “trauma” to describe what happens to a plant that has been uprooted and planted somewhere new. But often, it’s what’s best for the health of the plant in the long run.

If where you are now you feel your petals are falling off and leaves are drying up, you might want to think of consulting the Master Gardener about a relocation to the plot he has picked out for you.

Apple Seeds and Deep Prejudices

In the Spring of 2016, I realized I am prejudice.

prejudice

noun prej·u·dice \ˈpre-jə-dəs\

: an irrational attitude of hostility directed against an individual, a group, a race, or their supposed characteristics

: an unfair feeling of dislike for a person or group because of race, sex, religion, etc.

: a feeling of like or dislike for someone or something especially when it is not reasonable or logical

All of these definitions fit my condition perfectly.

But my prejudices have nothing to do with skin color.

Home Sweet Home

While preparing a message to give at a ladies luncheon at small church in Southern Kentucky, I got stuck.

When I booked the event, I was told I could plan the theme. Immediately the word “refreshing” came to mind.

I wanted to get the audience brainstorming about their dreams and purpose in their life, to refresh their passion.

I decided to take the ladies through an exercise I had done myself a few years ago and wrote about in my book.

After pulling me out of the darkest pit of my life, God was teaching me how to dream again. He prompted me to make two lists: things I was passionate about, and things I was good at – natural talents and abilities I possessed. When I did this I began to see correlations. I began to see purpose. I started to get a clear picture of what God put me here on earth for.

With the two lists side-by-side, I saw how He had planted specific passions in my heart, and gave me the corresponding skill-sets to go after them. Refreshing, right?

But leading up to the event, I wondered if that exercise had only been refreshing to me. What if no one else found it as revelatory? I thought I knew the direction I wanted to take the day, but every time I sat down to type or research, I just felt….. blah.

In discussing ideas with the event coordinator (my mom), I asked her what she thought about it, if she thought a Purpose-Finding exercise would be interesting and applicable to the rest of the audience.

See, this wasn’t an audience of my peers; other thirty-somethings in the midst of a quarter-life crisis, trying to identify which path to take. This was going to be a room full of women who doubled my age; women who, many of them, had already lived full lives. Did they even want or need to be refreshed?!

But my mom’s response was encouraging to me. She said, “I think that’s a great idea. Because where I am now is, ‘Ok God, I’ve lived this whole life, and I’ve raised my children, and had careers, and I’ve had my own businesses, and I’ve already done all these things, but I’m still here.’ – And, I don’t know how much longer I have – it could be one more day or forty more years- but…. ‘Now What? [she giggled at her clever use of my book title] What am I supposed to do next? What am I still here for?’” And then she ended with, “I kind of feel I’ve outlived my usefulness, like I’m all used up.”

…I can’t express what it felt like to hear those heartbreaking words come out of my mom’s mouth. But I was hopeful because I had a solution, I had some insight for what to do in a “Now What?” moment like that.

And here’s what I know: if my mom felt that way, she wasn’t going to be the only woman in that room who did. So it was settled; I would walk through that exercise with them and plan my talk accordingly.

But nothing changed for me internally. I still felt so unmotivated.

Usually, once I get a clear inspiration for a talk, I can’t put it down and I absolutely cannot wait to deliver it! I get excited about the life change that God wants to bring with my words and joyfully overwhelmed at the honor that I get to be a part of it.

This was entirely not the case this time. I was utterly dreading this event.

The closer it got, the less excited I felt.

I made sure to check off every other thing on my daily to-do list and continued to put off finalizing the talk until it was the week of the event.

I sat down and reviewed the outline I had prepared and then contemplated scrapping the whole thing and starting from scratch.

I worried I had missed God’s leading altogether and was only focused on what I wanted to accomplish that day.

I sat my notes aside and picked up my prayer journal. I began to ask God if I had missed Him entirely. I told Him I was happy to throw out my talk and give the one He wanted.

But when I picked up my notes and read through again them I thought, this is really good stuff. So why am I still so drained and debilitated at the thought of giving this talk?

Within an hour of penning those words in my journal, I found myself on the phone with my high school cheerleading coach. It had been about three years since we last spoke.

While we talked I told her, “Hey, by the way, since the last time we were together, I wrote a book and I started speaking publicly.”

“WOW! Look at you!” She said, congratulating me and expressing her pride.

“Yes, it’s exciting…but it’s also a lot,” I replied, “Since I’m still working full time, it’s a lot on my plate and it’s overwhelming at times. BUT, the cool part is, I know it’s exactly what God is calling me to, and I know it is literally what I was created for.”

And I swear to you, her exact response to me was: “Isn’t that refreshing?”

She went on, “I don’t even know if that’s the right word, but I remember that point in my life, when I realized teaching was for me; that teaching is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing in life. Everything just clicked.”

I couldn’t even tell her how ironic her words were, but I was laughing.

Ok, I hear your confirmation, God, this is the talk I’m supposed to give. But YOU are going to have to give me the passion for it.

It’s Not About Me

Many times before a talk I start to feel nervous or uneasy as I prepare. I worry about delivering just the right message in just the right way. I get pretty worked up questioning if I’m qualified enough and if I have enough value to bring to the audience.

And every time, God reminds me that it’s not about me.

He has opened the door and given me this opportunity and as long as I get out of His way and let Him, He will show up and speak through me. It’s not about me, it’s about the audience and what He has in store for them.

As soon as I take my eyes off myself, my own insecurities, and focus on the audience, what they are going through and what they are going to get out of it – and remember that God is doing all the talking anyway – all of that uneasiness goes away.

With that in mind, I sat down with my prayer journal once more. It was the day before the talk.

I asked God to give me His eyes and His heart for these people. To show me what He sees when He looks at them, so I can feel what He feels and know the right words to give them.

I was immediately blindsided by a fierce conviction: I don’t believe in these people at all. (Insert big eyes emoji)

These are small-town church people living in small-town Kentucky, I thought, Even if God did have big dreams for them, would they even go after them?

It occurred to me I have always seen “these people” as a sub-class. Entirely unambitious. “Poor, dumb and happy.” Oblivious to the fact they are throwing their lives away by staying confined to small towns and small sanctuaries. I seethed with judgement against them for not dreaming bigger. Thinking bigger. For not wanting to “get out” and “move on” like I did. I believed they really couldn’t do anything of significance if they stayed where they were.

I was convicted. Oh no! I am prejudice!

Against small-town people.

And, against traditional “church” people.

In my book, Now What? A Story of Broken Dreams and the God Who Restores Them I recount the months after my divorce when I was angry and bitter at God. I ran away from Him and from all things church and religion – I didn’t want anything to do with any of it. I had followed their rulebook and God’s gameplan and my life didn’t turn out like I had been promised.

Additionally, recollections of the shaming and shunning of people who had fallen short during my childhood church experience replayed in my head as I imagined I, too, was being judged and condemned by these people during the lowest point in my life.

A few years after my divorce, I found a safe place in the welcoming arms and atmosphere of a self-admitted “church for people who have given up on church but not on God.” And it was unlike any experience I ever had to that point. But, even after all the healing and restoration God has brought into my life, I was caught off guard by the fact I still assumed and thought the worst of the “traditional church people”.

I was absolutely prejudice against them.

I had an “irrational attitude of hostility directed against an individual, a group, a race, or their supposed characteristics” just like the dictionary described.

And I was wrong.

For both of these prejudices.

God immediately opened my eyes to see these people weren’t any different than anyone else He’s created.

We are all equally flawed. And most of all, equally loved by Him.

Of course He has a plan and a purpose for their lives.

Of course they could be effectively and impactfully used by Him.

Of course they could dream big dreams and do big things, even from their small towns.

Of course He believed in them.

And of course He expected me to believe in them too.

It wasn’t my talk that was off, it was me that was off! Ouch.

My heart was completely wrong toward these people.

And I had some serious repenting to do.

Apple Seeds

After my revelation (and repentance), I was on the phone with my speaking mentor, recounting the experience to him.

He quipped, “It’s good that you figured that out now. If you had gone in there tomorrow with the same attitude you had toward those people today, you would have felt it and they would have felt it and it would have not been effective.”

He went on to tell me a very wise reminder, one he said he has to constantly remind himself of over and over:

“When you walk into a room to speak to a group of 100 people,” he began, “How many people’s lives do you have the opportunity to impact that day? …..100, right? That math works. The answer is 100, right?”

“Right,” I agreed.

“But that’s the wrong answer.”

Jeff is the master of trick questions that make you feel like you’re brilliant in one instant and rubbish the next, but they get your wheels turning and the lessons stick long-after the conversation.

“When you walk into a room of 100 people,” He said, “The number of lives you have the opportunity and ability to impact that day is infinity. It’s limitless.”

Seemingly changing subjects he pondered an ancient riddle, “How many seeds are in an apple? 10, 12, 15? …But how many apples are in a seed? An unlimited number, right?

…Because an apple seed becomes a tree, which produces hundreds of apples each year, which all contain seeds, that all contain more trees.

…So it’s the same when you walk into that room of 100,” He asserted, “Because those people know people who aren’t in that room, and they know other people, and those people know other people and so on. And those people are going to have kids one day,” He paused, if only for a millisecond, “When you and I walk into a room to speak, we literally have the ability to impact generations of people who aren’t even born yet!

So just think about that for a minute…. If even just one of those 60 year-old, grey-haired, small-town Kentucky women grabs hold of a dream and a vision you share with them on Saturday – and does something with it – she could impact the lives of people who aren’t even born.”

After that phone call, I was electric! My belief in these women and their futures was raised exponentially!

And that’s exactly what I told them from stage that next day!

After pouring myself out for them that afternoon, there were several women who came up to me afterward and told me they really were leaving refreshed. So my mission was indeed successful.

But more than that, I planted some apple trees that day. And I am eager to see the bountiful harvest that comes out of small sanctuary in that small town in southern Kentucky.

Promises, Promises

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Just shy of two years ago, while holding a completed manuscript in my hands asking, “OK God, what’s next?” (Because I had no idea how to take the three-ring binder full of word documents I had and turn it into a real book). God made me a promise that He would bring “joyful and influential women” into my life who would help champion my book and my message.

It was only a week or two after that I received this fortune cookie. For whatever reason God speaks to me quite regularly through fortune cookies, and that might be a sign I eat way too much PF Chang’s. But the promise was reaffirmed.

It’s been hanging in front of me in my desk ever since.

I never cease to be amazed at the way God keeps His promises, AND the way He always goes above and beyond what I could think of or imagine. This was no exception.

He has moved, orchestrated and coordinated new friends and old, men and women, Christian and non-Christian…

A person I hadn’t talked to in ten years volunteered to set up a book signing for me, people I just met offered to do design work for me for free, old friends from high school have shown up in huge ways as encouraging cheerleaders and invaluable resources!

I knew on the front end of this endeavor that I couldn’t do this on my own – I was outrageously unqualified and in over my head.

I told God, “This was your idea Dude. It was your project from the beginning. Now you’re in charge of how to get it out into the world. I’m just along for the ride.”

And that’s exactly what has happened.

What’s even more exciting is He’s just getting started….

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 )

Things I Learned in 2015

2015 was a pretty rough year. If you want more details, I get right into the thick of it in my blog called “The Year God Stopped Talking to Me”. The last year I had that was as rough as this was 2009, the year my marriage absolutely fell apart. But what I’ve learned is the hardest years are the years you learn the most. About yourself, about other people, about the world. I wrote another blog on New Year’s Day of 2010 called “Things I learned in 2009”. The things I learned that year were very different, although no less significant, than the things I learned this past year.

These are the things I learned in 2015:

Sometimes God shows up in very real and tangible ways and it makes you ugly cry.

Sometimes God is silent.

For a long time.

And you wonder if you did something wrong. Or if you deserve it.

Other times God is speaking and we aren’t listening correctly.

And then sometimes God is speaking to us and we plug our ears and “lalala” Him away.

Whoops!

Sometimes the things God prompts us to do are easy and second-nature.

Sometimes they are daunting,

Or overwhelming.

Or require bravery.

But they are ALWAYS for our best.

Always.

What He is looking for is our obedience. Above all else. Because He wants to bless us with other things, with more, more than we can even think of or imagine.

Sometimes that’s hard to believe.

Or we just lose sight of that fact.

And how we handle the little things determines what bigger things He brings into our lives.

Sometimes we have to take a walk through the desert. And it sucks.

Sometimes life isn’t fair.

Sometimes some people are allowed to get away with things that we aren’t. And we want to whine about it.

Sometimes, we do whine about it. haha

It’s not our job to play Holy Spirit for people.

Sometimes, God is working on things in people that he’s not working on in you. And vice versa.

Let it go. This is between you and God. And that is between them and God.

There will be other voices.

Listen to God’s voice above all the others.

And when He’s silent?

Well you certainly don’t abandon the gameplan – go back to the last thing He told you and stand firm.

When it feels like you just can’t, keep going.

Sometimes that’s harder than other times.

Sometimes that makes you want to cuss.

And that’s totally ok. He gets it. He can handle it.

God’s not going anywhere.

He is still right beside you – even when you can’t feel Him, or see Him, or hear Him.

Hold on to that. Find peace and comfort in that Truth.

This too shall pass.

Because sometimes, when you least expect it, God shows up in very real and tangible ways and it makes you ugly cry.

And everything will be right again.

Woman Camp

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Recently, my church held a camping weekend woman’s retreat, they called it “Woman Camp”.

Ten years ago, if you had told me I would be signing up for a camping trip for 500 women only – voluntarily – I would have thought you were crazy. Sure I had attended plenty of women-only events… out of sheer obligation, but not excitedly. And I didn’t really feel like I fit in when I was there, I just didn’t relate.

In case you don’t know me, I am exactly equal parts fashionista and tomboy; which means you’re just as likely to catch me barefoot as you are in AWESOME stilettos. My best friends had almost exclusively always been guys and that’s who I spent time with.
If you were a female, you had to be not “chick-like”, but love shoes as much as me, to be invited into my circle. Chicks were crazy, high-maintenance and drama, I said.

And then, after a few years of experiencing hurt and neglect and verbal abuse and rejection, I became one of the crazy chicks. I suddenly understood all their feelings and irrational behaviors for the first time. I found myself acting out, just as irrationally.
I experienced the “why” behind their “what”, the root behind their fruit (as Jennifer Beckham would say), firsthand.

And that’s when it happened: My heart broke for them. All of them. From the most meek and timid and insecure, to the most angry and bitter and malicious, because under the surface they were all dealing with the same root(s), and so was I. I got it.

My heart softened toward them. I started listening to them instead of talking about them. Many of their stories were so similar to mine.

And then, I got mad. I saw how easily the enemy manipulates and abuses this gender – my gender. And in my heart, an agape love for these people was cultivated.

And then a handful of beautiful girls stepped alongside me and showed me what a sisterhood looks like. They loved me relentlessly and graciously accepted all my parts – the good, the bad, the tomboy and the ugly. 😉 And I wanted to do the same for them.

It didn’t take long before all the pieces fit together, and a PASSION for leading women out of bondage and shame, fear and isolation and into freedom, healing, wholeness and restoration was born in my soul.

That’s what this Woman Camp weekend was about for me – getting to be a part of that movement in Cincinnati, inside my church community. I got a glimpse of what that passion looks like coming to fruition. I wanted a front row seat to watch God do incredible, miraculous things in and through women. And I was excited to be a part of or help facilitate lives changing in any way I could.

This weekend was also a time of refreshing and worship away with my Father. It was Him showing me his plans and visions for me, once again. Him reminding me that He is handling everything, from every angle, and I’m just along for the ride – Safe. Protected. Provisioned. Called. Chosen. Anointed. Unqualified, but made qualified for this task through Him.

Let the veils stay lifted away and burned for each of us, and a clear picture of who God says we are and is calling us to be be branded in our mind’s eye. Our God has so much more for us. We are free women. No longer slaves to fear. We are children of God.

The Year God Stopped Talking to Me

New year’s day 2016 I sat on my living room couch, face red-stained and eyes puffy from hours of crying, my voice half-strained from screaming – at God – in particularly colorful language at times.

Why?

Because it was New Year’s Day and as I sat down to reflect on the previous year and craft my plans and goals for the next, I realized 2015…..Well…..sucked.

Sure there were good things in 2015. In fact, on the outside it looked like a GREAT year:
We bought our first house.
Barry left his job where he was miserable and went into business with his Dad.
We took my my mom on an incredible trip to Hawaii for her 60th birthday.
I finished the last chapter of my book
Started a blog and author social media pages
Began my public speaking career…..

But behind the scenes:
The first two months in our new house Barry and I fought more than we had in the first five years of our relationship – combined.
Barry’s new arrangement with his dad happened a little prematurely than they planned and put a lot of pressure on both of them. Which caused Barry to be tense and irritable and led to us fighting more.
The second day of our incredible Hawaii trip, I got a call that my high school best friend overdosed on heroin and died and I spent most the trip bouncing back and forth between laughing and enjoying the present moment and crying after being blindsided by another memory of him.
I was told blogging and creating a social media following was necessary for building a platform for a book release. But once I started, they only added extra work and mental energy to my already overflowing plate. Which caused me to feel exhausted and (you guessed it) led to us fighting more.
My new speaking career was also happening earlier than I anticipated – it felt overwhelming and intimidating to me, like I was in over my head. I constantly questioned if I was ready or qualified for the task at hand, leaving me feeling insecure and vulnerable.

The fact that all of these things happened within a three month timespan caused so much stress, tension, and anxiety in my life – and my body- it literally almost broke my gallbladder.

I experienced excruciating pain that resulted getting 3-4 hours of sleep a night, for months. It was so bad I almost went to the emergency room on more than one occasion. I lived in fear of every meal I ate because I never knew what was going to hurt me and what wasn’t. For about a month, I ate nothing but rotisserie chicken and apples, since I knew those were two things that would not cause pain.

Sure, there were good things that came as a result of the bad things:
My alarming health challenge caused Barry and I to stop fighting. I had never felt his love as tangibly as I did in those months, as he cared for me, sat up with me, rubbed the soreness out of my back from being hunched over for hours, stayed up with me, and prayed for me.
He took over as the spiritual leader in our home, standing in the gap for me as I struggled with doubt, uncertainty and fear.
These things aroused a great respect and admiration in me for him, and caused me to fall more deeply in love with him than I ever had been.

Days leading up to New Year’s, I couldn’t stop reminding myself that the ONE thing I did want to get accomplished in 2015 – publishing my book – didn’t happen.

I literally had a single goal, a single dream, a single resolution for two-thousand-fifteen: to put my book on physical (and digital) bookshelves and into hands of people who so desperately need it.
And it. didn’t. happen.

I felt like a total failure. Like I had wasted an entire year of my life.

And, in the midst of aaaaallllll that, God was completely, and utterly, silent. He had been for months at that point.

For countless nights I sat up in hours of pain, I had been pleading with God to show Himself to me. To show me the purpose in any of this.

I had reasoned if the manifestation of my healing wasn’t happening physically immediately, then there must be something I was supposed to be learning in the meantime. Something God wanted to teach me in this place of waiting.

I began asking Him what that was and let Him know I was fully open and joyfully on-board with learning whatever the lesson. Honestly.

Awaiting a reply, I got: NOTHING.
Not a peep.
Nada.
Zilch.
Not a single word

And then, our basement flooded.

That’s when the crying started.

It was New Year’s Eve. As we sat at home, instead of out ringing in the new year with our friends, dismantling drywall and sucking water out with a carpet shampooer, the weight of everything just hit me. I reached my breaking point. And enough tears to fill our basement a second time came spilling out of me.

I began crying out to God again.

If you’re going to make me go through all of this, at least tell me what I’m supposed to be learning! What I’m supposed to be getting out of it!! I shouted at Him.

Still nothing.

I don’t deserve this! I am being so faithful. Do you not see me? Are you not paying attention? Look at me!! What more do you want from me?!

[I began to feel a little like the bi-polar David in Psalms: “I love you Lord, your eyes are always upon me, you have blessed me abundantly.” Very next verse, “God, why do you hate me? My enemies are about to destroy me, why aren’t you watching?!”]

More silence.

And that’s when I got angry.

By New Year’s day, I was yelling most of the same things – just use your imagination to insert expletives in the middle of every sentence. (I guess I had moved on to a little bit of Job at that point….)

Now, what would make this story really great is if this is the part where I tell you, “and then God’s voice boomed audibly into my living room and said, ‘Rachel, oh ye of little faith, I Am still right here.’”

But that’s not what happened.

In fact, I had to sit on this blog for several months because my prayers for a Word and an understanding remained unanswered.

This was the first time since becoming a Christian – really becoming a Christian, since God had pursued me and I met Him in a real and intimate way five years ago – that I wasn’t hearing from Him, that I couldn’t feel Him close to me.

I had relegated myself to the thought that I was just in spiritual dry/desert season and would have to wait it out. (You can read about the desert season here: http://racheldawnwrites.com/blog/deserts)

But Now…..The Rest of the Story

A couple months prior to my New Year’s Day meltdown, a friend reached out to me asking me if I could recommend any specific scripture to help her through a current rough season. I told her, “That’s not really the way my relationship with God works – I hear from Him in songs, and books about Him, or books about the Bible, or even from Him directly (in my mind).” I recommended some songs that really helped me when I was in the same place, and a couple books she could read. And went on about my day.

See, I had tried reading the Bible all the way through, more than once, without success. And anytime I was dealing with something specific, I tried flipping to the concordance to find verses that applied to my own situation, but I always turned up empty – the verses would feel disconnected from what I was going through, so I gave up on that.

Whenever I needed an answer about something, I picked up a Christian book on the topic or found a preacher teaching a message about it to get my answer.

In those weeks of silence while battling my gallbladder symptoms, I began reading a book a friend had recommended to me. It was a topical study Bible called, “The Complete Personalized Promise Bible for Women”. I planned on using it for reference to find healing scriptures to meditate on, but I started with page 1 of the introduction and I’m glad I did. It hooked me, and I started reading it as a daily devotional of sorts.

For each section/topic, there is a promise, a faith confession for that promise, then scriptures backing up the confession.

While studying there, I came across this verse in 2^nd Thessalonians: “So then, brothers, stand firm and hold on to the teachings passed on to you, whether by word of mouth OR BY LETTER.”

I started laughing as it occurred to me Paul was writing to the early church in Thessalonica; those people were getting their messages from God in written letters, via Paul.

And in that moment Paul’s letter was to me saying: “God has written a letter to you. Stand firm and hold on to the things He wrote down 2,000 years ago.”

The next day as I sat writing in my prayer journal, praising God for using that verse to speak to me, I started laughing again as another revelation came: The Bible is called “God’s Word” – literally God’s Words. The Words He spoke to the people He loved. He had already said plenty to me, and it was all written down and recorded, preserved in time, so I could revisit it anytime I wanted or needed.

I was humbled. How arrogant of me to expect Him to talk to me, when I want, in the manner I want?

All that time I was in the desert, He was talking to me right in those pages, but I wasn’t receiving it. I wasn’t even looking in the right place!

How many tears (and angry words), how much stress and heartache, would I have saved myself if I had only looked there earlier? How different could the year 2015 have been?

God – thanks for never leaving us, and never forsaking us. Thanks for loving us enough to send and leave Your Word for us. And thanks for your everlasting and unconditional grace that we can never ever use up, because we need it – big time.

God is in the Restoration Business

He breathes life into lifeless places.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a relationship, your health, your emotions, your dreams….

He brings dry bones out of the grave and wraps them in flesh once more.

He Restores the years you lost, the love you lost, the friends you lost, the faith you lost, the dreams you lost, the opportunities you lost. Over and above what we can even think of or imagine.

He makes all things new, again.

If you let Him.

If something in your life needs total restoration, read these promises below and be encouraged.

He CAN do it.
He HAS done it for others (including me).
He WANTS to do it for you.
“Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh. Is anything too hard for me?” (Jeremiah 32:27, ESV)

“Be glad, O children of Zion, and rejoice in the Lord your God, for he has given the early rain for your vindication; he has poured down for you abundant rain, the early and the latter rain, as before.The threshing floors shall be full of grain; the vats shall overflow with wine and oil. I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent among you. You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you.” (Joel 2:23-26, ESV)

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:19)

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being, and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart. Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have broken rejoice. Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.” (Psalm 51:1-2, 6-12, ESV)

“Return to your fortress, O prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you.” (Zechariah 9:12, NIV)

GOD IS IN (2)