Dear You, oh Addicted One:

I see you brother. I see you sister.

Who are you? Where are you? What are you doing, dear one? What makes you flee from the beauty that is you? What binds you, traps you, chains you to the drug? Why lie, steal, rob and cheat yourself of life that was meant to be yours? Why, oh why? Why, oh why?

I see you brother. I see you sister.

You’re handsome, a hunk. You’re beautiful, beaming. I wonder why such beauty doubts its worth. Don’t you see God made you for a better story? He created you, dreamed up your days, every one. But dear, you’re wasting your days away. Don’t waste any longer. He says, you can be free in me. Trust, I’ve made you for a purpose. Trust, I’ve got your back. Your beauty’s longing to break free. Your beauty’s waiting to speak life, hope and truth to a broken, desperate world. Why are you wasting your days away? Why, oh why? Why, oh why?

Look in the mirror, dear one. See who you really are. See the body God’s given you. See what you’re wasting away. See that He’s ready to shine through you. Look and see. He’s waiting. He’s waiting for you to say. I’m done with these drugs. I’m done with this life. I’ve had it. I’m beautiful and I’m breaking free from this pain, breaking free from those days of old. I’m breaking free. For I am redeemed.

I see you brother. I see you sister.

You’re brilliant. Heck, you’re genius as far as God’s concerned. He gave you a brain, man. Why let it waste away? Why, oh why let a day go by without putting it to use? He’s given you an assignment. Your time on earth is limited. So head to work, dear you. Head to work. It’s no accident you’re beautiful and brilliant. It’s no accident you’ve come this far. It’s no accident you’ve made it through. But you’re stuck, dear one. You’re stuck. Climb up. Go. Climb. Climb. Climb. You need to keep moving through, up, onward. So go dear one, keep going. Don’t let your brain trick you. You’re worth more than this. He made you for brilliance, for beauty. Your thoughts are powerful. You’re trapped in a cycle that’s nearly impossible to break, but your brain can be restored, friend. Renew yourself in God’s word. Renew yourself in truth. Find a way out. Drug’s power has a hold on you. But there’s a much better choice. You know it. You know it. Use that brain, friend. Use that brain. Use it for good. Use it for beauty. It’s filled to the brim. It’s worth more than this. It’s waiting, wringing its neurons, desperate to break every bind. The years aren’t on your side, friend, but God. God can do anything. He can transform, He can restore, He can redeem, He can heal those hurts and fears and all the pain that’s ever washed over you.

I see you brother. I see you sister.

You need to know. We are here for you. We see you. We acknowledge your humanity. You need not be perfect. You need not be anyone but yourself. But we need you. Whole you. All of you. The YOU God created. We need that you.

Let the earthly, fleshly, ugly desires of the drug wash away from you, pour out of you, disappear into nothingness, pure oblivion black hole.

We need your story. The world needs your story.

Come on, you.

TURN. IT. AROUND.

Let the drugs control you. Or let God control you. It’s your decision now. Yours and yours alone.

We’re waiting. We’re waiting for you. The world is waiting for you, the real you.

Surrender that old man’s story. Surrender that old woman’s story. It’s tried and true, but it’s old now. It’s ugly. And it’s painful. We’ve tired of that old story. It’s time for new.

So surrender, friend. Wake up.

Surrender this story of addiction. Give it up.

Release the beast. Release the prisoner inside.

Break the chains. Break free.

You must. You must, friend.

Because this is your life. This. is. your life.

Be beautiful. Be brilliant. Be you, real you.

Free the drugs to go, to be, to flee. Forever.

Let us hear your story.

It’s waiting, you know. We see it.

God wants to perform a miracle in you.

He’s waiting on you to decide.

Will it be the drugs? Or will it be me…God…Christ living in you every day?

Come on, you. I see the story all played out. It’s beautiful and brilliant and He wants to work through you to restore thousands. But it requires you to break free first. Once and for all.

So come on you. Come on. Let’s get this show on the road.

We want to see the real you.

 

 

 

Notice to my readers: This post is written in honor of an individual who’s battled YEARS of VERY SIGNIFICANT drug addiction. I originally drafted it on December 11, 2014, after a time of prayer, seeking what to write and publish next. These words were on my heart, but the post felt too dark, so I chose to publish something more reader friendly. The words were timely then, and unfortunately, they’re just as timely today. This post is highly UNEDITED. I ask you to give me grace in regards to grammar, flow and sense. I wrote what flowed from my heart, what flowed from my head, what flowed from God as I typed. Therefore, these words will remain unedited. Thank you for your grace.

We decorate our trees with ornaments old and new. Store bought. Homemade. They remind us of good days, and days that weren’t so good at all. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas streams in the background. Memories swirl in the invisible. We’re joyful, for sure. But below the surface, there’s a longing, a yearning for more. More than this.

Christmas anyway. 

We hang our stockings by the chimney with care, in hopes Saint Nicholas will soon be there. We ponder over stuff used to fill. Maybe it’s too much. Or perhaps, not enough.

Christmas anyway. 

We place presents under the tree, sweatshirts adorned with AWESOME, tractors made from recycled goods, gift cards and chapter books. Our desire’s to show our affection, our devotion. We love because He first loved us. But we’re really not sure when enough’s enough. One? Two? Twenty? How many will it take for us to feel, to know we’ve done enough, said enough, given enough, helped enough? How long will it take for us to know we’re enough? As we are. Goods or no goods.

Christmas anyway. 

We adorn our houses with care. Snowmen, snowflakes and Santa Clauses. Candy canes, wreaths and lights up the wazoo. Our goal? To make it just so. We waffle like bobbling dolls and teeter totters. One day, life’s good. The next? It’s wrong. All wrong. Our hearts long for eternity, our instincts tell us there’s more than this. We decorate to acknowledge beauty’s waiting to be uncovered, even in the mundane, even in the most dreary and disgusting of days. Beauty matters. Even so. Even when.

Christmas anyway.

We debate the goodness of Christmas carols. One loves Emmanuel, the other claims to hate Noel. One friend has seven Christmases because of multiple divorces. And another’s at risk of landing in a shelter because they’ve fallen off the wagon…again. An old friend lost her mama this year, and let’s be real, somebody’s baby is starving tonight. We argue about going to this church or that one. We’re not really sure we have a church home anyway, but we get dressed up and go anyway.

Christmas anyway.

We prepare Pinterest-perfect peppermint mousse cups. They’re pretty. Good in theory. But horrific in reality. We taste one spoonful each and agree. Horrible. Terrible. They’re tossed in the garbage in a big ol’ bag. And two hours before guests set to arrive, we run to the store for dessert number two’s ingredients. A good old fashioned trifle from the recipe box suffices. Fine. Just fine.

Christmas anyway.

We set the table, take great care. Cooking, baking and scrubbing have consumed our days. We long for unity, community and love, unconditional. It’s grace that gathers us. There’s no other way. We pass the bowls, serve the kids, and seat granddad at the head of the table. We pray. There’s no other way. Today, we’re desperate for this gathering, this being together as one. Yes. When we finally sit, we know. We’re one body, many parts, all longing to play our part. This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Christmas anyway.

We wait. For Old Saint Nicholas. Soon he’ll be here. He’s gentle and loving, tenderhearted and giving. He wouldn’t harm a soul, the father figure we’ve all longed for. Whether we believe or don’t believe, we can’t help but love him anyway.

Christmas anyway.

He’s patient. He’s love. He’s divine. He’s come.

Jesus, yes Jesus.

Come. Come. Come, this day, oh Christmas Day.

He’s Wonderful Counselor, Almighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Jesus, yes Jesus.

You’re just what we need.

A Counselor.

A Mighty God.

A Father.

A Prince of Peace.

Come, oh come, Emmanuel. God, be with us. This day.

Christmas anyway.

 

 

 

 

Friends, there’s something I must confess…

Most of my adult life, I’ve had a sneaking suspicion that something’s wrong with me. 

Okay, okay. I know someone’s thinking I’ve gone way too far with this admission. But it’s true. And I’m stating it publicly on purpose – to make a point and help others in the same boat.

Because here’s the truth…

I’ve just recently become more convinced than ever that there’s NOTHING wrong with me.

Why, you ask?

Mid-November I took a personality test that came through my Facebook feed. The resulting INFJ personality type didn’t surprise me a bit.

You see, I’ve taken those Meyers-Briggs personality tests before and I’ve always gotten the same answer, INFJ. But for some reason, I never fully bought into the results. I thought it was possible INFJ was right on, but maybe not. The free online tests I’d taken seemed a little flimsy for my taste, so I wasn’t sure if I could trust the results. Plus, the descriptions and analyses of my personality never included much detail. So that INFJ personality type never fully resonated with me the way I’d hoped.

That is, until mid-November when I took this test. This is a winner. This is a good personality test.

Friends, if you’ve ever looked for a thorough, but user-friendly personality test that also includes a detailed, multi-faceted description of your unique personality, this is it!

No longer do you have to feel like something’s wrong with you.

No longer do you have to feel like something’s not quite right with you.

No longer do you have to compare yourself to others or wonder why your perspective on life seems different than everyone else.

I’m not a psychologist or personality expert, so I have no intention of explaining each one of the 16 personalities in detail. I’ll leave that for the online personality test. But I do want to say this – I’ve come to believe that identification of your unique personality is a CRUCIAL part of discovering and walking boldly in your purpose.

Here’s why…

According to this test and others similar to it, humans fall into ONE of 16 different personality types.

My personality type is INFJ. After taking this personality test, I read the pages of information the site had about my particular personality. There were many take-aways, but this was by far the biggest. My personality, INFJ, is very rare, “making up for less than one percent of the population.” This was monumental news, friends. Less than 1% of the population has my same INFJ personality? Yahoo! Hip hip hooray! Hallelujah! I’m not weird! I’m not crazy! There’s nothing wrong with me! Praise the Lord!

Seriously friends, this test made me feel so good, so at peace with myself.

At this point, you might be thinking…

“Well, good for you. You’re an INFJ (whatever that means), but what about me? What about my personality type?”

Friends, there’s good news for everyone!

Feel free to skim this data, but I’d like to share the site’s 16 personality types and corresponding percentages of the population to make the point that all of our personalities are rare and unique.

Personality Types and Corresponding Percentage of the Population

INTJ: 0.8% of the population

INTP: 3%

ENTJ: 3%

ENTP: 3%

INFJ: <1%

INFP: 4%

ENFJ: 2%

ENFP: 7%

ISTJ: 13%

ISFJ: 13%

ESTJ: 11%

ESFJ: 12%

ISTP: 5%

ESTP: 4%

ISFP: percentage not reported

ESFP: percentage not reported

Friends, rest in peace. This is GREAT NEWS! In case I haven’t been clear, all of those letters, all of those numbers mean you’re perfectly unique, perfectly normal, no matter who you are! Factor in your unique biology and the unique environments in which you’ve lived, and there’s no doubt – there’s nothing wrong with you.

Sure, you might have faults. Sure, you might feel broken. Sure, you might have weaknesses you wish you didn’t have. Sure, you might be going through the most horrible time of your life and you have no clue what to do. But nothing about you is “wrong.” You’re perfectly YOU.

Whether your personality is similar to 12% of the population or 0.8 percent of the population, God created you. He envisioned you just the way you are.

So if you haven’t already, take that personality test! I recommend it without reservation.

Just click here —-> This link will take you to 16 Personalities at www.16personalities.com where you can take the test for yourself! When you’re done, be sure to “Explore Your Type” and read all about your personality. It will put you at ease about who you are and how you were made.

Take time to answer the questions thoughtfully and read through the material thoroughly. Enjoy yourself, and when you’re done? Return to the blog and share your personality type if you’re willing. I’d love to hear and chat all about it.

I think you’re going to love this. Go, have fun.

We saw the smoke billow black from a distance.

It was obvious. Something was on fire. And we were headed straight for the flames.

The girls and I had a simple morning planned. Church. Lunch. Target. Home. But we hit a detour on our way to Target.

With every turn, the smoke got closer. We agreed before we got there, this was going to be the biggest fire any of us had seen.

We were right. It was the only house fire we’d witnessed that close, and it was a big one.

There it was. A mini mansion burning up in flames. Fire trucks, ambulances, police and what seemed like a hundred people stood by watching it go down.

We pulled into the closest neighborhood and made our way through sidewalked streets. Parents and kids on bikes walked towards the flames. Cars were parked at the intersection in lines, and continued to pull up behind us, too. The fire was in plain sight. Some stood. Some sat. We watched in amazement as the mini mansion went down in flames.

The girls and I sat for 15, maybe 20 minutes, just watching.

This was a rare sight. I wondered why nobody was doing anything. Why wasn’t the fire being fought? Why were the fire fighters letting this mini mansion go up in flames in front of their eyes? Why were we all just standing there? Why wasn’t somebody yelling, screaming? Stop the fire! Put out the fire! For God’s sake, stop the fire!

Everyone just stood there.

Nobody seemed worried. Not even a bit.

I decided. Either the fire had gotten so out of control that they’d decided to let it go down in flames, or the fire was intentional. But if it was intentional, the timing was sure weird. Sunday noon. Intentionally start a fire on Sunday, the holiest of days, the supposed day of rest? Intentionally start a fire on Sunday at noon, during family lunch hour? Why?

My nine-year-old snapped pictures upon pictures on the iPhone.

Layer by layer, the mini mansion burned in front of our eyes. The roof tumbled. Then the windows. And finally, after we’d watched a long while and the fire was nearing the ground, water kicked in from behind.

I felt like a tourist of things bad, so I told the girls it was time to go, time to escape this life going up in flames.

A week later, it still bugged me. I wasn’t sure whether that fire was intentional or accidental. So I asked friends who lived near the scene if they knew anything more. The fire was intentional. A couple had built the mini mansion, which all the neighbors agreed was beautiful, but later got divorced. A developer came along and offered top dollar for the property. So it burned baby, it burned, for the sake of cleared land for new development.

I wondered. What about the husband and wife who lived there? Did they have kids? Were they aware that this mini mansion of theirs was going down in flames that day? And if they were there, if they did know…

How did it feel to watch the life they once envisioned go down in flames?

How does it feel to watch your life go down in flames?

How does it feel to watch someone else’s life go down in flames?

We’ve all witnessed our fair share of fires.

We stand. We watch. And wonder.

Why isn’t anybody doing anything about this?

Why are we all just standing here?

Please, won’t someone stop the flames?

Somebody! Come! Make it all better!

This house. is on. FIRE!

Please!

Please.

Fight this fire!

Don’t let it go down.

Don’t let it go.

But it goes, anyway.

And we realize…

Perhaps the fire wasn’t ours to fight.

Perhaps there are times when we need to sit and watch the mess go down in flames.

Perhaps foundations were built on sand instead of soil, or rock.

Perhaps mini mansions were built where humble homes should’ve been.

Perhaps empires were erected where walls should’ve crumbled.

Perhaps egos took a front seat to others.

Perhaps dead things needed to burn to the ground before new life could rise again.

Perhaps our lives were never meant to be built, but to be broken, surrendered, and then lived.

God promises. “In this world you will have trouble.” But He also promises crowns of beauty for ashes.

So let the fires burn. Let the old, ugly, broken-down, used-up, long-ago dead things die.

Burn. Burn. Burn. 

Until there’s nothing.

But ashes.

Ashes.

New life. It rises from the ashes. It grows. It springs forth. It’s crowned with beauty, more radiant than before.

But when and how do we emerge as fellow human beings?

When do we turn from mere bystanders to helpers, firefighters of the most blazing kind?

We’re there in the kindling, before the flames ignite, before smoke’s seen with the naked eye. When something doesn’t seem right, when we get that nudge, when we hear bits and pieces of this and that going wrong? We lend a hand, open our ears and say “this is how I’m going to love you today.” We remind them they’re not alone. We point them in the way of hope. And we offer ourselves as a ray of sunshine. For God makes all things beautiful. In time.

We’re there when flames burn bright. When all’s failed, when all’s gone wrong, when there’s nothing else to do but let the flames engulf. We stand. We wait. We watch. We pray. We let them know we’re there. And we let them know we’re sorry. So sorry this is happening. So sorry your home is on fire. So sorry your life is on fire. So sorry. So sorry.

We’re there when nothing remains but ashes. When life’s hopeless, worthless, and pointless. When dusty black’s all over their feet and hands, and the mess is trailing everywhere they go. We’re there. Yep. We’re there. We’re there in the waiting and wondering if anything’s going to change. We’re there in the doubting and discouragement. We’re there in the believing nothing’s possible. But we know. Everything’s possible. All is possible. So we sit. In the ashes. With them. We get dirty when we don’t want to. Even when it costs us. Because we bear all things, together, even in the ashes.

We’re there when new life springs forth. When hope abounds. When things are looking up. When nothing but better days are bound to happen. We’re there. When dead things come to life. We’re there, rising forth as fire fighters. Trained. Determined. Ready to love and fight again.

And all the while, He’s there. Bestowing beauty for ashes, making all things beautiful. In time.

I’m not sure when it was. Maybe a year ago, maybe two.

She said those words. And I knew they were true.

“You’ve been sprinting through life. You’ve burned yourself out.”

Yep.

It’s true.

I can’t deny.

Life’s a marathon. And I’ve been sprinting.

First it was tennis, tennis and more tennis. I played morning, noon and night, it seemed. I’m pretty sure I burned out long before I was aware. I knew in my heart that winning wasn’t my goal, so I snapped at the coach at an inopportune time, then kept on playing as big as I could. I played once or twice in college. That’s it. My heart was never in it from there on out. I haven’t picked up a tennis racquet for 16, 18 years.

Then it was flute. Now that I’m a mom of a not-always-excited-to-practice band student, I’m convinced I practiced like a good girl should. I never second guessed the proper amount of time I should put in to perfecting my art. I just did it. It worked for me. I must have loved it, or I wouldn’t have done it. I did band. I did lessons. I did private lessons. I did recitals. I did solos and ensembles. I won awards. I was honored for my achievement and my art. I even did wind ensemble through most of college, even when I didn’t have to, even when I was one of the only non-music majors. And when my best friend asked me to play flute at her son’s baptism, I did. I hadn’t played for three years, and it felt good. I was better than I remembered. Yet, after that day, I didn’t pick up a flute for another 12, 13 years.

Things changed a little when I became a full-fledged adult, a full-fledged wife and mom of one, two, and then three. The race venue changed. But I hadn’t.

I went to graduate school. Let’s just say I burned out before I even finished. My mom can attest to that fact. But I pressed on anyway and got that master’s degree.

We did young married couples’ bible study. With good friends, GREAT friends, for five years straight. Nearly every single week we met, traveled across the metro to another young married couple’s house. We bundled our son, and when our daughter came along, we bundled her too. I loved it and we did it for five years, but after a while, this beautiful bible study thing started to feel a little like a burden, a commitment that wasn’t working as well as it once did. The constant bundling up and heading out with two little ones on cold work and school nights was feeling like too much for this family to bear once a week forever. Yet I knew “good Christians” attended weekly bible study, wouldn’t complain or feel burdened, and would never consider a break. Then we moved. The increased travel to and from was too much more than it already was. We knew it was time to say good-bye to that not-so-young-anymore married couples’ bible study. So we called it a day.

I told her I wanted to run for city council. Perhaps I thought I was superwoman. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I wasn’t superwoman at all. Yet, I offered myself for an open seat on the planning commission anyway. The fit for my gifting and personality? It worked. Fine. I did my job and I did my best. I read every note. I studied and understood as best as I could. I sat in that seat for three years, one whole term. But I knew, this city government stuff wasn’t for me. Plus, I had elsewhere to focus. I’d started sprinting in a new direction.

Wife. Mom of two, then three. Private practice owner. Speech-language therapist. And planning commission.

It wasn’t enough.

I added non-profit board member to this sprint through life.

But at this point, I must’ve known in my heart of hearts. I needed to be CALLED to something rather than just DO it for the sake of doing it. Because all my sprinting was beginning to take a toll, and I hadn’t even begun to identify the problem yet.

So I thought and prayed over the opportunity to join the non-profit board for NINE months before I finally agreed to do it. A series of events led me to believe, very clearly, that I was being called to join the board. So I did. For three years I served diligently as board member. I gave 110%. And my God-given gifts were utilized. To this day, I believe God had called. I obeyed. And it was a beautiful thing. But when my three-year term neared the end, I knew it was time to go. I was growing weary. I knew it was time for fresh faces to step in. And since I started my term on the board, I’d also begun this blog. It was time to focus my efforts here, where I was feeling a strong call to be.

This isn’t the end of my sprinting story. There are parts I’ve left out. Intentionally. Because I’m not ready to tell the whole story yet. And I’m sure you get the point, anyway.

What I’ve written is vulnerable enough for today.

I’ll leave the rest of this story for another day.

This is the only thing I really wanted to say.

I’m no longer willing to sprint through this marathon called life.

It’s time I admit this, now.

It’s time I confess this, now.

Because sometimes life feels short, but more often? It feels like a marathon.

I’ve done things by “the book.” I’ve sprinted with all I have towards the finish line. But if God has me running a full life? I’m not quite half through “the race.”

I’d better start pacing myself.

I’d better start focusing on the things God’s called me to do instead of the things that would be good to do.

I’d better start living instead of sprinting.

So today, I slow myself. Intentionally.

I commit to living slowly, thoughtfully, and gracefully in this writing space. I commit to keeping my heart engaged. I commit to feeling connected. Always. I commit to listening to God’s call for every step. And I commit to staying and doing the hard work even when the journey feels bumpy, unsteady, fully unknown. I commit to giving myself grace and freedom to be and write like me, even when the voices tell me I should change, quit, be realistic, more practical, whatever. Burnout isn’t an option in this place. It just isn’t.

I commit to living slowly, thoughtfully, and gracefully in my living spaces. Yes will no longer be my default. No will be an option. And maybe will be just that. Maybe. We’ll see. I need to stop for a break, clean up the rubble, gather unnecessary things I’ve lugged on the sprint, and toss them out once and for all. For more is not better. And faster’s not always effective. So let me stop, please. Then I’ll pick up the pace, this time slower, with more intention.

I commit to living slowly, thoughtfully, gracefully for the loving faces. Because I’ve loved, but not enough. I’ve been vulnerable with a few, but guarded with most. I’ve lost all trust when all I really want to do is gain, and more. I’ve wanted to connect, but I haven’t known how. I haven’t had time to sit, haven’t had time to be, haven’t had time to linger, with you. A part of my heart has grown cold along the sprint. Cold, believing everyone’s sprinting, that nobody has time, that everybody has their own agenda and nobody’s interested in real relationship anymore. What if most of us are sprinting? What if we’re all burning out? What if we just need to slow down and linger longer, and that’s all we really need for our hearts to burn brighter and lighter again? So I commit. Whether I’m bad at it or not, to slowing and lingering. For the sake of connection. With you.

Life’s a marathon.

I’m slowing.

I might even have to stop before I pick the pace back up to a jog.

But you better believe this.

I will sprint no more.