Who I am instead of who I want to be

I called up a friend the other day, one whom I haven't spoken to in awhile and we were casually chatting.  As with any conversation it was basic and going through the routines.

How is life?  The kids?  School?  The job hunt?  On and on and on.

It was fine.

It was comfortable.

It was socially normal and expected.

Then she asked about the book.

So a couple things went through my mind.  The first thing I said was, 

"It's fine.  It's going good.  Hard to write and find the time."  

And with all those things being truthful, I still wasn't revealing the true matter on my heart.

I was scared and spending far too much time caring about what other people thought.  I was worried that people won't like it, or they won't support it.  I hadn't prayed over it in awhile and had taken total control of the matter back in my own hands.

I know my friend would understand this truth.  I know she would pray with me and encourage me.  That wasn't the issue.

The truth is, I didn't want the be the girl who was struggling.  I didn't want to be the girl who had slipped in her faith and started to do it all on her own.  I didn't want to be the girl who had to learn a lesson, who after years of overcoming her insecurity, was feeling more insecure than ever before.

I wanted to be the girl who was doing it right.  Who didn't fall into temptation of making this book about me.  I wanted to be the girl who surrendered her will to God every morning, prayed without ceasing over her work, created good habits to make it happen and could do it all.  Doesn't that sound great?  It sounds like a wonderful story of great faith and spiritual leading.  I wanted that story.  I wanted to for once in my life do it the right way.  

But that wasn't what was happening.

And so, in a moment of feeling brave and wanting to be honest, I said what was true.  I decided not to be who I wanted to be, but who I really was instead.

"The book is going well, but I have noticed lately that I am far too scared about what others think.  My mind seems overrun with thoughts of feeling less than I am.  I am scared that someone else could do it better.  I worry that it will fail.  I get nervous thinking about how others will value the quality."

There. 

I had said it out loud.  The dark things that were crowding my brain.  The hard things that were taking away my faith.  After I say them out loud, I have to own that they are true.

To this, my friend encouraged me in my dream.  She filled my heart with kind and encouraging words. And then she said, "You need to read the book of Joshua.  Joshua is filled with courage and trusting God, and that is what you are doing.  You are doing something courageous and your ability to trust in God is the only thing that will carry you through.  Read Joshua and find comfort and truth in what you are doing."

All my tension and worry went away.  

This, right here, is why we are writing a book.

This is what the book is about.

In the midst of even our struggle and weak faith, and total control issues, God is still present and working.  When we are capable of taking off our expectations and ideals, and can be real with the people around us, God's truth becomes clear.  Friends, mentors, blogs, pastors, scripture, podcast, whatever and whenever you find it, truth can be revealed.

I was reminded that day to be honest.  It does no one any good to pretend to be something they are not. My honesty encouraged my friend, and she was able to encourage me as well.  She spoke encouragement and pointed me toward truth to heal my wound, my insecurity, and my weakness.

If I haven't told you yet here, I am telling you now.

My friend Henry and I are writing a book about stories.  Stories we live every day that hold deep spiritual truths.  These stories are used in communicating about our faith with others.  These stores enrich and encourage others.  These stories point towards heaven.  These stories bring heaven to earth.  They nurture love and forgiveness and God's ultimate power and goodness.  There is power in the stories we live here on earth.

We would love to share this project with you.  Henry and I are interested in making this a community project.  If you are interested in pre ordering this book and supporting the writing process, please donate to our campaign at  http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/more-than-a-story/x/2561912.

If you are interested in knowing more about the project after the funds are raised, during the writing project, please visit our website www.pearabull.com or like us on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mightier-Press/301285753332675?ref=hl 

I am excited about this book.  I am also really excited about all the ways is shaping my heart and creating a deeper trust in him in regards to all the stories of my life.  Thank you for being apart of this journey.  Thank you for showing up and walking through life with us. 

Be blessed friends. 

The thing we don't talk about

Why don't we talk about sex?

I mean married people, why don't we talk about sex?

Especially sex after children.

I am convinced that we could fill books with horror stories about the times we accidentally walked in on our parents doing it and now we are just waiting for the day it happens to us.  Or all the ways we have to maneuver "quality time" with our spouse while our children watch TV, sleep, play outside, or even while having dinner.  I mean when five minutes presents itself, you just have to take it.

I had a friend tell me one time that her children wanted to know what her and her husband were doing in there for so long.

She told them they were jumping on the bed.

I remember how I felt right after we had each of our three children.  I had someone in my personal space every minute of every day.  I was holding someone, someone was pulling on my leg, someone was breastfeeding, and the worst was following me into the bathroom.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE MY CHILDREN.  I don't wish them away from me, I desire for them to draw close to me.  But I would be lying if I said 5 minutes to myself didn't sound like heaven.  (OK...10 min, maybe more.)  But someone was ALWAYS touching me.  Did I make that clear?

ALWAYS. TOUCHING. ME.  And it would drive me insane.

Then my husband would give me that look, and please forgive me, but really, when he wanted to snuggle close and get "reconnected" it just felt like one more person in my personal space.  And the really sad part is, I really like getting "reconnected".  My husband is the sexiest man I know, and even more, he is immensely generous and good to me.  I love him.

But right after children, it felt like his greatest gift to me was leaving me alone and letting me sleep.

One time in the midst of being busy and having lots of things to do, and lots of lists to keep track of all that I had to do, my husband gently looked at me and said, "How do I get on the To Do list?"

After having children, finding the time to have sex is like a big strategic game of "Chess".  Every move you make effects the next 12 moves of the game.  If I wash the dishes for her and sweep the floor then she will be in a better mood.  If I read to the kids now, they will play nice after, which means I can get dinner done on time, which will put us on schedule for bedtime if I can keep one kid from terrorizing their brother.  If my spouse puts the kids to bed, then I can get supper cleaned up which will help put her in the mood, and then maybe, if there is any shred of energy left after wrestling the kids to sleep, we can have "Marriage counseling".   (That's our code word here.  We figure if an apple a day keeps the doctor away, then time in the bedroom, or closet or bathroom or wherever the kids won't find you, keeps the therapist away.  So far our form of Marriage Counseling is working.)

If you are the parent of small children, you would be lying if this has never happened to you.  Maybe it doesn't happen all the time, but it has happened.  Just own it.

With children around, your youthful body and energy is used on the little people running wild in your home.  You become a machine that cleans and cooks and drives to doctor appointments and school plays and activities.  You are the farmer, financial planner, cook,  counselor, doctor, lawyer, and community activity director.  Even in the midst of simplifying life, children have needs.  Your home has needs.  People need to eat and they need clothes to wear, and they need somewhere to sleep.   They need time to talk with you about issues they are having with friends and school work.  Devotions need prepped, and quality time is a priority for the family.  You give more than 100% each day, and still it's not enough.

But what about the two of you?  The parents who are in charge of it all and struggle to keep their eyes open past 9pm.  I don't know about you, but most of the time I collapse into bed still in my clothes.  I feel guilty and promise to be better about it tomorrow.

How can we find time to reconnect when everything at life is pulling at you and winning.  We give and give and give and after you are covered in food, wearing the same clothes three days in a row, how in the world are you supposed to feel sexy and want to "reconnect"?  Seriously, why can't sweats be a turn on?  Then I am trying to remember that I am a woman first instead of a mom, let alone a wife.

It feels like a cruel joke.

Paul and I have been through many different phases in our marriage where this special time comes easy, and when it's difficult to make it happen.  There are times when the stars align and we find we have energy to invest in this part of our marriage.  Then there are the times when we barricade our door, pretend we don't hear the kids yelling at each other, convinced they will figure it out, and hope against hope we can stay in the mood.

Marriage with young kids is hard.  The demands and questions and decisions you have to make fly at you faster than you can even register what's happening.  You live in a place of being reactive instead of proactive, let alone intentional about "quality reconnect time".

Everything about this subject is tricky.  Even writing about it is tricky.  You have desire meets reality, love vs. responsibility, expectations creating miscommunication.

Paul and I have found that the only way to navigate through these risky waters is to keep talking about it.  We have to keep talking through our mis guided signals.  Our miscommunication.  Our exhaustion. Our need.  Our hurt.  Our desire.

This very specific part of our marriage is a key to its success.  It keeps us connected.  It keeps us attracted and interested in one another.  It keeps our desire and love for one another strong.  But it has also hurt each other.  We have unintentionally wounded each other with our tired rejection, or our words that weren't meant to hurt, but they did.

But to create a thriving marriage, we have to keep talking about it.  Every time our life changes, the rules change, and we have to take the time to talk with one another about how to make time for sex in the new stage of life.

So carry on dear warriors, fighting for your relationship.  Making your marriage a priority.  Connecting and communicating with your partner.  It's more than hard work, it's constant, every changing, reevaluating work.

But it is so worth it.

Even if the only five minutes you can find, finds you in the closet with the door locked.

Feeling exposed and scared out of my mind

It's easy to build self confidence and contentment in the privacy of your own home.  I have done that for years now.  No one to really see the cracks in your defense system.  You can almost pretend they don't exist.

It's terrifying to put yourself out there and wonder.

Will people like me?

How harsh will the judgements be?

I put myself out there when I speak, when I write, when I invite you in to share this life with me.

I have built my career on being authentic and real and transparent, but recently, those limits are getting tested in changing waters.

I never realized how vulnerable it would feel to ask people to support you.  To walk alongside you and say, "I want your dream to come true!"

Because...well...what if they don't?  What if they were just being nice?

The reality is, I only have a voice because of you.  I could write blog after blog, but if no one reads it, then it isn't serving its purpose.

I could write a brilliant faith evoking message, but if no one shows up, then it can't bear fruit.

And I could write a wonderful book full of stories that point toward kingdom living, but if no one buys it, then my ministry lays dormant.  My ministry only exists because there is an audience.

The deep secret fear that seems to be coming up in full force lately is, "What if nobody cares?  What if no one is listening?  What if people will think its stupid?"  And the big one for me is, "What if nobody likes me?"

What does that say about me and my ministry if people don't want to stand behind it?

For the last few years all of my speaking gigs have been lived out where I have felt most comfortable.  My families high need diet being my excuse to not stretch too far outside my comfort zone when it comes to my career.

But here I am now, writing new material.  Searching and preparing for gigs I have never done.

And now I am writing a book.  Yup, I am going to do it and write a book.

This is all new territory.

It's scary as hell.  Can I say that?

I feel exposed.  I feel terrified.  I feel insecure which I haven't felt in years and I don't know what to do with all those feelings.

What if you don't want my book?

What if it's all just a bad idea and I should go back to simply living.  (Not living simple, that is something all together very different.)

To say "it's hard to put yourself out there" is a statement that doesn't quite convey the risk you take in taking a chance.

You put your dreams and hard work out there for others to experience, and the goal is to share Christ through it all.  But its risky to invite you in.  There was a beautiful TED talk that explored the gift of asking.  You can watch it here.

But what if no one is listening?

(If you want to know more about the book, I'm waiting for the promo video to come out and then will invite you all into the project.  I would love the company!)

Hope and Despair

I have to laugh that for all the grief I give my husband about a painting that hangs over our couch in our home, I am actually including it in a blog.  

A few years ago, my husbands best friend had a desire to add "artist/painter" to his list of many talents.  He had decided long ago that if he were to ever become a painter, it would start with a large black canvas that had one small white dot on it.  To mock modern art, he would call it "Hope and Despair".  It communicates that no matter how small the evidence of hope may seem, it does change the landscape.  The despair is not untouched.

When our friend turned 40, Paul commissioned him to start his dream, and paint on the largest canvas we could afford.  For days he came to paint.  Lots of pepsi and wine got drank, and the dream became a reality.  I was in full support of my husband trying to help make dreams come true, till I was told that in order to be a true work of art, it is commissioned by someone and hung in their home.  So here it sits, in our home, a big black wall of canvas, reminding us that dreams do come true.

Hope and Despair

When I was driving down our street the other day, I saw this...

It is a large Chalkboard with the painted letters, "Before I die..."  I got really distracted by it and wanted to check it out, so I pulled over and walked right up to it so I could read what people were writing.  This is what I saw.

Amongst the desires for fame you also find hope to know God, hope to end the pain, hope to find love, hope to truly find oneself.  It was simply beautiful.

Here, in my hood where we are frequently on the news for destruction, anger, stealing, killing, rape and fires, I found this.  A long list of hopes and dreams that people have for their future, even in the midst of the despair, hope can be found no matter how small.

I saw a big black canvas written all over with white paint.

Hope is not lost.  Even in the midst of all of the despair, hope can be found.  We can't survive without it.  People here have big dreams of finding love and God and repairing what is broken.  Amazing things happen when we work together towards that dream.

Today I felt like it is well with my soul.

Hope has not been lost.

When faced with death

My thoughts are jumbled and my emotions are tied in knots.  Fear, sadness, anxiety, hurt, justice, peace and anger all rage war to be the emotion that claims victory over my heart.

I have been in one other waiting room in my life where the patient faced possible death.  I sat with an 18 year old girl in the summer between High School and College when she was supposed to be believe that all things were possible.  I sat there with her and thought, "Her mom is going to come out of this.  They always say there is a chance of death, but it never really happens."

Then the doctor came out, took this young girls hand, and had to tell her that her mother passed.  They couldn't save her.  She was now alone.  Her father died three years earlier, and now, there, on that day, she lost her mother and was alone.  Completely alone.  I understood at that moment the phrase, "the world stopped.  It stops for just a moment."  It's true.  In that moment, the world around you ceases to exists and its like someone hit a pause button.  You pray, you cry deeply with EVERY fiber of your being that you heard them wrong.  Please God, tell them to take it back.  You wonder if you heard wrong, because you know that in that moment the earth stood still for you.  That moment happened eight years ago, but I remember it, I can close my eyes and feel like it was yesterday.

Last week I joined my entire family down in Houston because my cousin Ryan was having life threatening, high risk surgery.  They were removing his lung and tumor, and only one doctor in the country would even attempt this procedure.  If you would like to know more about his condition and story, he is an avid blogger and beautiful writer.  You can read about here www.nobodyfightsalone.com.

Here is a picture of Ryan at his Cycle for a Cure.

I won't recount his story for you here, but I will tell you my perspective.  I had been home eight hours after speaking at a conference all weekend and Little and I were headed to the airport to fly down to Houston to join all of my family in support of Ryan, his wife Andrea and their two small boys.  My focus had been on work, prepping sitters for the kids, food and the new book launch.  I came home, spent a few precious hours with my family and then Lu and I left.  When you have a 2 year old, flying is a big adventure, and so you play games, sing songs and generally live moment to moment.  Paul had told me before I left, "I am concerned that you haven't processed exactly what you are walking into down in Houston."  I ignored him, knowing he was right, but not wanting to dwell too much on it.

See part of the reason we were down in Houston was to say good bye.  Ryan had less than a 5% chance of surviving this surgery, and so according to statistics, this would be the last time we saw him.  But of course you are hoping, praying, and hoping again that you are really there to help with his recovery.  To be there with his wife and parents and kids.  To give your support.  But in the back of your head, in the dark place you don't want to say out loud because if you say it out loud, God forbid it might come true.  We were there to say good bye.

When Little and I got there we were hugging our family, saying our hello's, thankful for the opportunity to see them, and yet, knowing why we were there.  The joy of seeing them was followed by an immediate heavy feeling of the possibility of death.  Emotions were raw.  We were all holding tightly onto our thoughts and feelings not wanting to reveal what we were thinking or feeling.  The goal was to stay positive and create one last night of wonderful memories with all of us together.

The night before the surgery we all gathered for dinner and celebrated Ryan's wife birthday.  It really was great to see everyone, we don't all live close to one another so this was a rare occurrence.  After the meal was over, the emotions shifted.  The energy in the room changed.  I turned in my chair and saw Ryan sitting quietly in his chair, tears threatening to fall.  My first reaction was hard a blow because I have never once seen him falter in his positive attitude towards fighting this cancer.  Now I understand that I don't live with him and there is no way that he could be positive every moment of every day, but as a dedicated reader of his blog, I know that he chooses to be positive as much as he possibly can.  Seeing the reality of what he was choosing to do, seeing his humanity in that moment brought all the emotions I was trying to avoid come flooding into my heart.

Ryan was choosing this surgery to give him the best chance of living cancer free.  But the risks were incredibly great.  The risk of death was high, and in that case, he would be leaving a wife, a three year old and a 9 month old son.  Two children who, if he died, eventually would have no memories of their father.  He had to choose a surgery that meant, he was in truth, saying I can die at this moment and I will accept that.

I watched him in that chair trying not to loose his emotions.  He was surrounded by his family and I would assume was feeling the weight of his choice and potentially his last night with everyone.

How does one even comprehend those emotions and choices?  I found I was hugging my daughter harder that night.  I kept thinking how incredibly brave and courageous he was that night to willing make that choice so that he could against the odds, live a longer life with his family.  He was so brave, and full of courage, and I would assume, so alone in that moment.  Completely and utterly alone in his thoughts and emotions.  Even surrounded by the people who know and love him the most, no one could imagine what he was going through.  He was alone in thoughts.  He was alone in feelings.

And my heart broke for him.  My heart broke for his family.  I hated sin in that moment.  I really hated it.  Call me ignorant, or simple minded, and maybe my faith is simplistic, but I don't get angry at God in those moments.  In the moments of complete and utter fear of the circumstances around me.  I get angry at the fact that sin is apart of our world.  That we invited in.  That we have to live with our consequences on this earth until we are made perfect in eternity.

Please hear me, I am not saying that because of Ryan's sin, God gave him cancer.  I am NOT saying that.  What I am saying, is that we live in a sinful world full of brokenness, disease, death, and tragedy.  No one is untouched by it, and just because you are a child of God, doesn't give you a get out of jail free card to pain.  We are all touched by and live in a sinful place.

And maybe the reason you could call my faith simplistic is because I have personally been untouched by tragedy.  Those closest to me have been inflicted with much pain and disease and tragedy, so I am not a stranger to it.  I don't ever view God as a bystander, just watching horrible events take place.  I never wonder where he is, or question why he doesn't stop tragedy from our lives.  I guess I have always understood that he can't stop it for everyone.  If he stopped death, disease, and tragedy from everyone, than we would be in heaven.  I also understand and have experienced the peace and healing and life giving relationship with God that comes out of such pain and hurt.  I have seen redemption be born out total darkness.  I have witnessed the body of God raise up to their calling and help and be responsible for those who have been broken.  It is the most beautiful thing to behold, watching God's children living as God intended by loving others in their pain.  Experiencing them sacrificing themselves for others.  We don't get those beautiful moments of joy and depth without the pain.

Would I rather see Ryan completely healed and healthy and free of pain.  Of course I would.  I would choose that.  But God is doing something with this story.  He is working in Ryan's life.  He is bringing healing and he is raising up the body of God around him.  There is redemption happening there.

So in my moment of feeling his loneliness, with a lifetime of memories of my cousin, and complete awareness of his choice, all my tears threaten to fall.  I didn't just want to cry, I wanted to sob and cry out and let the emotions take over so I could feel the depth of them, and then let them go.  I went to him, kissed him on the cheek and told him I loved him.  I had no words of wisdom and nothing profound to say.  What I wanted him to know is that his life mattered and changed me.

Then I walked out with my daughter and my dad and sobbed.  The unflattering cry where tears mix with snot and your whole face is wet and red.  I just allowed myself to feel for him, for the hurt of so many others who have been touched by uncontrollable pain.  That night all our hearts were heavy.

How do you live in a reality of something dark and scary, but try to hold onto a little bit of hope?  Those emotions are so conflicting with one another, its hard to let either one win out.  You don't want to hope so much that the reality will be hard to accept.  And you can't let go of any glimpse of hope, because living becomes impossible.

So it brings me back to the waiting room the next day.  I had nice conversations with uncles and aunts and cousins.  I played games with Little.  And the whole time, even though there might be faint smiles on our faces, we were all just waiting.  Waiting for the bad news, hoping for the good news.

We were told to go back to the hotel because his surgery started later than expected and they didn't need us all there.  That's where we were when we got the news that the surgery went very well and Ryan was in recovery.  My grandmother is the only one who cried out in joy and wept.  We sat there.  Completely shocked.  At least I was.  I couldn't believe how much I was prepared for the bad news.  My own history had prepared me for the worst, but the worst didn't come that day.  We immediately came together and prayed our thanksgiving to God and then I wept.  It was a miracle.  There really is no other option.  It was a miracle.

We are all guaranteed death.  We will all in some way experience pain and hardship and tragedy.  The hard days will come, and maybe they are even already here.  I am a believer that God is still good even in these moments.  I have to believe that.  And I was prepared for that.

But we got life that day.  Ryan got life that day.  His boys got their dad that day.  His wife got her husband that day.  His mom kept her son that day.

And postponing the tragedy just a little bit felt good.

It felt good to celebrate life, even just for a little bit longer till the next hard thing.

Thank you Lord.