Sweetly Broken, Wholly Surrendered

I know, I know. That Jeremy Riddle song is like a million years old. But, I have truly been a bit moved by the lyrics lately. And when I say lately, I mean for about two months. I have been meditating on them. Taking them to heart. Loving their meaning and their implications. Begging for them to crash into my world and show me the truth in their tune.

What would it mean for me to be SWEETLY broken, and WHOLLY surrendered? I think I have definitely experienced broken. And I am pretty sure I am a surrendered follower. But rarely do I think  of those other two words, sweetly and wholly, and leave that thought not wanting more. I want more of the brokenness...the kind of brokenness that brings about true healing, restoration and victory. I want to be more surrendered...wholly. I used to think that once you surrendered, it was a once and for all kind of action. Kind of like waving the white flag and the war being over. But I have come to realize that the act of surrendering is more like a journey. And the journey changes with the seasons of my life. The JOURNEY of surrendering causes me to want to lean in to the state of being wholly surrendered like never before. To lean in and press forward. I am not sure what being wholly surrendered looks like, but I think it resembles being able to die to self in a profound way. A way that takes captive each thought of self and replaces it with a deep, churning desire to see God's will done before mine.

I haven't always wanted to be broken and surrendered. Let alone sweetly and wholly. I used to see these kinds of terms as paving stones that would eventually make me into a person easily walked over. Why would I want to put the Kingdom over myself anyway? What's in it for me? Well, nothing. And everything. There's nothing in it for me when I truly choose to put someone else's needs over my own. But I should chose to do it because I have been given everything by a God who gave freely. That's the story of grace. And slowly, in this season of constant demands on myself, I am realizing my call to bend out horizontally that story of grace. A bending that resembles the selfless act of the cross. That pursuit calls me to grow in my brokenness and surrender.

Being broken is something I'm still learning to find joy in. But God is faithful to meet me in my brokenness. And that's where I find sweetness that words could never explain. 

On the topic of holiday giving...

My daughter is completely enthralled with the Salvation Army bell ringers that are standing outside of the stores this time of year. Every time we walk past one of them, she begins singing "Jingle Bells" and is thoroughly entertained. This always makes me feel guilty that we never put any money in the collection bucket. So I tend to walk a little faster and keep my eyes down.

The fact of the matter is that we, like many other folks right now, have very little "spare change". Or is that all in our heads? I have been stressed to the max lately about finances. It's always worse around the holidays too. Not only do you have higher utility bills due to the increase of Christmas lights and decrease of the temperatures, you also have gift giving obligations and year end expenses such as car registration and such. It seems to rain bills in the months of October, November and December. But, something I was thinking today, am I really as broke as I sometimes lead myself to believe? Or am I just more selfish than I'd like to admit?

Today, as we were leaving Walmart, we had one of those "Jingle Bells" experiences. I did have some change in my wallet, but I was in a grumpy mood because we had just spent money on more Christmas gifts, which, like it or not, is not always Merry...especially when you feel like you have very little to give. Not only are you grumpy about having to spend, but, in my case at least, I get grumpy wishing I had more to do more. So I passed up the merry bell ringer and headed with my kidos and bags to the car. None of this story is yet very profound...but I'm getting there. 

As I was headed home, I realized how tired I was. So I, without too much thought, pulled into McDonalds to grab a yummy peppermint mocha. As I pulled away from the drive through, I realized that, even though the treat was indeed yummy, I could have spent $1.50 less and gotten a regular coffee. That $1.50 could have gone in the bell ringer's bucket. Man did I feel guilty. Some would argue that even a regular coffee was an unnecessary expense, and they'd probably be right. But my point is this...even when we think we have little, most times, we have enough. There are probably ways we could all cut back and "do without" or "do with less" and we would still live pretty comfortably. As I was thinking about this on the drive home, I realized that I am not as "broke" as I think. I am just more selfish than I'd like to admit. 

The truth is, we are all selfish. I believe doing for #1 is a primal motive that allows us to survive. So what does it look like to take small steps to really living out the now popular slogan of "I am second."? What does it look like to model that for my kids? 

We did give this holiday season. We did put ourselves second in many ways. And perhaps that is why I felt justified in my moment of deciding to splurge on the tasty mocha. But was it what would truly be termed "sacrificial?" I want to be sacrificial. I want to be better at always putting others first. I don't believe that makes us doormats. I believe that teaches us humility and develops our character. There is no gift not worth giving. 

What would it look like for me to put $2 into savings every time I thought about buying a coffee out of the house? How big would I be able to bless someone this time next year? What would I be able to give my Ugandan friends? How much would I save just by denying myself a few times for something non-essential and what would I be able to do with that amount? 

I'm not by any means saying that we should give beyond our means. I'm just challenging myself to look at what my "means" really are. 

To end, a picture of my babies. :) They are what keeps me pushing to better our world. For in time, our world will shape them in profound ways. For better or worse. 

Empty Places vs. Open Spaces

When I experience loss, I tend to naturally experience it at the heart level. Rarely is there a loss for me that is surface level. Whether it's something as ordinary as the loss of my favorite baby blanket, or something as deeply painful as the loss of my Grandmother this past August. 

Loss, by definition, is experienced when there is lack. Below is the definition as given by Webster's Dictionary...

1 destruction, ruin

2 a : the act of losing possession : deprivation <loss of sight>
   b : the harm or privation resulting from loss or separation
   c : an instance of losing

When my journey leads me down a road labeled loss, I naturally, and I think understandably, categorize that experience as having left an empty place, either physically of emotionally, or both. Because when there is loss, the has to be lack...right? Well, what I am learning is that lack is often times a matter of perspective. 

I am learning to think more of my life as having many open spaces versus many empty places. I, like most people, have experienced many things in my life that I could label as loss. I have lost my relationship with my parents; I have lost loved ones; I have lost special items; I have lost bids for jobs; I have lost opportunities such as getting into my first choice of schools; I have been dumped; I have been denied; I have  been there, done that; I've even lost money a time or two. I have experienced theft, religious exclusion, and infidelity. BUT...I am the only person who determines what it is that I am to do with these experiences. I am the one who chooses to either let them loom over my existence as empty, dark places in my heart or turn them into inviting, warm open spaces.

Who doesn't love a nice, bight "OPEN" sign on their favorite coffee shop or little boutique? Who doesn't also love walking out of the unpredictable woods and into an open field? Who doesn't love an empty room that boasts of potential as a space for filling with character, memories and inclusiveness? I know I treasure all of these images. And I know that my heart has holes. So my perspective is what dictates how I will experience the impact of my journey...empty or open.

I actually kind of like it that my heart has open places. It means I have room. I have room for more people. I have room for more love. I have room to learn. Room to grow. I am not ruined. I have character.

I once heard someone say that I could never experience success unless I first experienced failure. Without failure, I would have no idea what success looked like. I feel like this is true with loss too. If I hadn't lost, I would have no room to know I had gained. For example, if I hadn't experienced a troubled relationship with my parents, would I know what a blessing my in-laws really are? If I hadn't experienced infidelity, would I know what a treasure a healed marriage really is? If no one I knew ever died, would I value the living as much as I do? If I had never experienced crushing legalism at the hands of religion, would I value the freedom that I now know as truth?

You see, loss is really about how you view "loss". Because to lose is gain. To lose yourself to a greater purpose is to gain perspective. And an empty place holds so much more potential as an open space, begging to be filled by what is good, just and true. 

Annnd...I'm back! - Profound realizations about myself that I've actually always known...

Who knew I'd drop off the writing circuit so quickly?!?!? Well...actually...I did. But, more importantly, who knew I'd jump back on even after a consistent failure to write when I meant to over the past couple months??? Not me! I've decided that I'm far from perfect. Well, I've actually always known this, but the past couple months, I have just gone to great lengths to prove it. :) So here's to another shot! Don't you just love second chances? and third chances? and fourth chances? and so on...

With the Christmas quickly approaching and Thanksgiving now behind, I've been learning some things amidst the craziness. Here are a few tidbits that I hope inspire a thought or two. 

1. I dislike Grace far more than I thought...especially when it comes to myself. I have always thought of myself as a gracious person. However I have realized that what I actually possess can far better be described as necessary mercy. I'm not the person who seeks confrontation for the sake of proving myself big, but I have realized that I am the person who quietly files away wrongs while only allowing the offenders a certain measure of liberty with my heart dependent on their current score of likability. Let me explain. When a friend wrongs me, and I know they feel remorse or would if they knew, I am generally quick to forgive and let go of the offense. But when a person hurts my feelings, even if they are completely oblivious, and doesn't make amends, I tend to store away a "mental note" while deeming them unworthy of my open, true heart. I don't think this is grace. I think this is me being merciful when reconciliation is sought. I believe grace is afforded even when there is no repentance. And this is especially true with myself. For example... On Thanksgiving morning, I overreacted to a probably normal marriage quarrel. In the process of secluding myself in the bathroom, I closed the door, a little to strongly, with my shod foot. As imaginable, my foot left a rather large hole in our bathroom door. I immediately came to my senses and, while sobbing, calmed down and apologized to my laughing and forgiving husband. Now, this would be the end of the story if I was able to allow myself a measure of grace that would let me off the hook. However, every time I see that hole, my heart yearns for a grace I consistently withhold from myself because, in reality, I have made some "mental notes" on myself which deem me unworthy of such grace. I am merciful with myself in that no punishment was awarded, but not gracious because I can't seem to find it in me. 

2. My heart is heavy for my parents. While I can admit messy things about myself, such as a continuous journey to find true ability to show grace,  I am still a joyous person with a loving spirit that lives in peace. I am far from what could even be construed as a perfect mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend, or person, but I know that I am on a journey. I know that ultimately I am loved, chosen, accepted, not condemned. I believe that what troubles my spirit most about the wide chasm of hostility between my parents and I is that I know that I am, deep in my innermost soul, ok. I don't believe that they are. In fact, I am deeply aware that they live in a world where no journey is recognized. Only right an wrong, black and white, us and them. That leaves no room for grace, mercy, true love, coexistence or any sort of mutual understanding. I don't really know why things are as they are for them, but my heart continues to be heavy for them. While I don't necessarily yearn for restoration of our relationship as parent and child, I do wish that they could find true freedom for the sake of their own deep inner joy. I don't know if I am to play any part in their freedom discoveries, and I live in constant fear that we'll never speak again. But I do know that I have made peace with my role as quiet observer and prayer warrior. I am to love them from afar. Let go of grudges. And learn to show true grace.

3. I love, love, love being a mom. I grew up in a household where children were thought of as an inconvenience and were liked best when they made themselves invisible. We didn't share family meals, and I remember constantly being referred to in negative terms such as "a two year old" or a "teenage girl"...as if I could help it. I don't remember ever being bragged on or feeling like I was the apple of my daddy's eye. I don't think my parents ever went through an empty nest syndrome, and I wasn't taught the value of being a daughter. Welp...I've realized that this has dramatically spilled over into my role as a mom to my two beautiful, miraculous, sweet babies. And I refuse to let my past shape who I am as a mom. I am choosing to delight in them. To love them unconditionally. To uplift them at every moment. To turn their hearts toward heaven as our awe-inspiring children. I know I'll be far from perfect, and I pray daily that God takes my miniscule efforts and turns them into stones to build his Kingdom. And I choose to believe that my children are a blessing. A gift. Will I ever be inconvenienced? Daily. But I chose my reaction. And I feel power in my life knowing I am in control of my reactions even when my circumstances are far from controllable. 

Until next time...

For Grandma

Grandma Memories

She always smiled. Rarely said an unkind word. She loved Jesus. She made the most of her time. She laughed out loud and was smart as a whip. She never ran late. She was always prepared. She gave unlimited second chances. She always helped out the best that she could.

I’ll never forget her unwavering commitment to family, even when we drove her crazy. With a wagging finger, she’d simply say, “Not funny girls. Not Funny.” And all would be forgiven as we went on our way.

She was always present, especially when we needed her most. We’ll never forget what she taught us…from a love for the game of dominoes to the need for an unending supply of fudge.

She was a spiritual mother and grandmother to so many. Her house was the place for celebrations of all kinds. There was never a person not welcomed with open arms. She was warm and her embrace was cozy.

She could laugh at herself with the best of them…from the time when she got a traffic ticket as a 70-something-year-old woman to the time when I asked her why she had that extra skin under her arms…she said that was where she kept her extra love…in her handles.

She loved her church. She sang with joy for many years in the choir surrounded by friends. When a need arose, she was one of the first to volunteer. She was committed to her calling to the 3-year-old Sunday school class. She was a first glimpse of God’s love to so many of them, including me.

She was a true friend…the kind on which you could always rely.  She accepted each person for who they were, even when not seeing eye-to-eye.

She taught me to forgive and to always speak the truth. She taught me to give freely on earth, because real treasure is only found above. She was never proud, yet was quick to brag on the family and friends she loved so much. She was slow to wrath and quick to compassion. She was everything God called her to be.

You will be missed by so, so many. Your family will never be the same. Your friends will never have another friend as good as you. Your impact has been huge. BUT…even though we mourn OUR loss, we know that you were warmly greeted by our Father above. We know he embraced you, cancer free, pain free, and probably with a head full of freshly set hair, as he whispered in your ear, “Well done thou good and faithful servant. Welcome home my dear.”

Rest in peace, Grandma. Thank you for leaving a Godly legacy, one worth living up to.

Fear and Arbonne

I have a terrible inner conflict... I am both a huge socialite and people pleaser. These may seem like compatible character traits, but, for me, they tend to cause me anxiety. Here's what I mean...

The socialite side of me wants to be involved in EVERYTHING...or at least invited to be a part of everything. I am serious. I would pack out my calendar with people anytime. I love being around people. I love hosting. I love going to others homes. I love going out with friends. I love being around (most of) my family.  I seriously just love socialization. Although this has taken on different outlets over the years, especially with life transitions such as marriage and having children, I have always love just being present and involved. 


The people pleaser side of me wants everyone to like me and invite the socialite side of me to every get together. The conundrum comes when I don't get invited to things...


When this happens, the socialite side of me is saddened and the people pleaser side of me goes into panic mode. I automatically and simultaneously get nervous, hurt, a little mad, and a whole lot anxious. I get nervous that someone is mad at me and that's why I didn't get invited and I get anxious in terms of trying to justify the situation and compensate for the void I automatically feel. 

And the biggest culprit for bringing these emotions up...Facebook.


This sounds crazy, but bare with me...I promise I'm getting to a point. 


Just recently have I realized all of this about myself. I, like you, thought I was nuts and needed immediate counseling. And then a total God thing happened. I was in the car with my sister, someone whom I have been eagerly trying to have a deeper relationship with, and we randomly got on the subject of unjustified feelings of "being left out". We both admitted that we have the feelings, as described above, of jealousy and tension anytime we're not included, for whatever reason. After discussing this briefly, we both conceded that, most of the time, these feeling are unjustified and the lies we tell ourselves about peoples' motives are usually untrue. What a crazy conversation! And just what I needed. :)


What I've learned from all of this is this... We are not alone in the realms of our crazy mixed-up minds. We are often actually quite "normal". That is a HUGE comfort to me. Just when I thought I was for sure nuts, I realized that I am broken, yes, but I am also a child of God with a true heart. The truth is, we all have issues. Most of us are far from figuring it out. But isn't it great that I can be broken alongside others? 


Now...you may be asking yourself...what does this have to do with Arbonne? Well, I recently started selling Arbonne as a business. This brought with it a lot of fear. Fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of being "that person" that people avoid because they think of you as a sales person. 


Although I am still a bit fearful of these things, realizing that much of this is stemming from my people-pleasing/socialite conflict helps me remain collected. I know that people will remain friends, not clients. And I know that when I'm not invited to something, my feelings are normal, but that the truth is that I am loved, even when not included. 


I have also realized that, just as I sometimes get overwhelmed with planning an event and not being able to invite everyone, others in my life can't invite everyone either. I have realized that I am often unfair in holding others to a higher expectation than I hold myself to.


I know that I am better than these failing though. And that is why I push on. I know I am loved. I know I will be good at Arbonne. I will battle the self-doubt that plagues us all. And, most days, I will win. :)

Mixed feelings...

This morning I learned about the shooting last night in CO. Some guy went into a movie theater and detonated a bomb while shooting a ton of people. So far, reports have confirmed 12 dead and 59 injured.

When I logged onto Facebook today, I noticed that there was a myriad of mixed sentiments amongst my friends on the issue. Most people expressed feelings of sadness and disbelief. However, there is a surprising number of my friends who have said that the news networks are over analyzing and making too big a deal of it. One friend said that we, as Americans, thrive on violence incited by fear and that the extensive coverage would only lead to more fear and thus, more violence.

Although I fully understand the feeling of being overwhelmed with information in this tech savvy era, I disagree with the urge to suppress the need of the public to understand such a tragedy. I think that these kinds of tragedies are unexplainable and incomprehensible. However, I think people have a sincere need to search for meaning. I believe that the ultimate root of this tragedy lies in human sin. But I don't think that belief makes it any more bearable. If God is real, why does he allow free will? That guy had free will and he exercised it by killing innocent people. How does that make sense? It doesn't. But I think as humans we have a need to explore these questions. And I think that when we stop asking and seeking we become numb. I don't want to become numb.


I also believe the media coverage is necessary for the families. This tragedy was senseless, but that doesn't make their pain any less severe. How awful would it be to be a parent to one of those kids and be told, "Yeah, that sucks. Your child died. But we can't tell the world about it because some people feel too burdened by having to see the reports. Even if it honors your loved one." I think that would outrage people, but I believe it would also create an alienated group of people. I don't think that weeping side by side, even if spread across the country, with those families gives the killer glory, I think it draws us closer together as humanity.


My heart goes out to the families who lost loved ones last night. It breaks for our world as a whole where this kind of thing happens. My prayer is that those in pain would run to our great Savior for comfort and not be blinded by anger.