I started a re-entry post, got all the way to 384 words and decided it wasn’t right. So here goes. My second try. My second shot. My best attempt to tell you where I’ve been these past two weeks.

No need to beat around the bush.

I need to write something bold, something brave, something public even though it’s not perfectly composed.

So let’s jump right in.

Let’s start with this bombshell of a reality.

Some of us need to start feeling ALL the feelings.

That’s right.

That’s what I said.

I’m truth telling today.

Have you anesthetized yourself?

Have you anesthetized your life so it’s clean, pretty, tidied up good?

Have you anesthetized your emotions so all you are is a robot, living in the gray middle ground of safe, don’t offend, don’t ruffle any feathers?

Yep, that’s me.

How about you?

Anesthetized.

Blah. Blah. Blah blah blah.

Anesthetized.

It definitely doesn’t describe all of you, but undoubtedly some of you.

Perhaps you’ve gone dead. Perhaps you’ve turned parts of you off. Perhaps you lost your fire, forgot how to cry, or don’t ever get angry anymore. Perhaps you play nice guy, good girl, or I’m down with that ALL the time. Perhaps you say you don’t care when you really care a whole lot. Perhaps you’re fearful and you play brave. Perhaps you’re dying inside and nobody knows. Perhaps you’re crying a river behind closed shades and everyone thinks you’re winning every corner of life. Perhaps you’re insecure hiding behind the security of jobs, money, bigger cars and bigger bank accounts. Perhaps you don’t have a clue as to what the purpose of your life is and you’re pretending you got this, man. Perhaps you’re ticked off and you haven’t let on for one minute that something’s irking you. Perhaps you’re wishing for a friend and you haven’t a clue how to be one so you just keep pretending it’s all good. Perhaps you want to rock the world upside down, but you’ve played meek as a mouse your whole life long. Perhaps you have a whole lot of opinion, but you’ve decided it’s best to just shut up and zip your lips. Perhaps you’re vibrant and lively, but clean and easy doesn’t rock the boat nearly as much. Perhaps you were hurt badly and you’re having a really hard time forgiving, but you let those burdens fester until they dry you up inside. Perhaps you’re jealous, envious of their vacation, their home, their pool, their children, their career, their spring wardrobe, their holiness, their carefree, optimistic lifestyle, but you blunt it and play fake. “Yay, we’re so glad for you!” when inside you’re dying, won’t acknowledge you haven’t tended your soul for a decade, maybe more. Perhaps you love the Lord, but you’re playing secular to be liked. Perhaps you want to be independent, but you let everyone wait on you hand and foot because it’s easier that way. Perhaps you’re addicted and you don’t know how to handle life anymore, so you numb and blind yourself to your dangerous reality because it’s easier that way. Perhaps you haven’t sat down for a minute to ponder what’s going on in your life, so you keep running and doing and working and trying hard to quiet the reality in front of you. Perhaps you’re tired, but nobody’s there to help so you suck it up. Perhaps this world feels all too much and you just can’t do it anymore, but everybody else seems to be running the race, so shut up and shape up and ship out because it works for everyone else, so why not you? Perhaps you need help, but you never ask. Perhaps you’ve blamed and shamed yourself for years, for all the things you did wrong, for all the ways you went wrong, and you push it away, you push it away some more, but it festers and you ignore it and you numb it and that little voice won’t stop talking, but you listen and keep it quiet, to yourself. Perhaps you need to grieve, but you shove it down because there is no time for grief. Perhaps you have opinions, big opinions about politics, but you keep quiet because you don’t want to rock the boat. Perhaps you eat doughnuts, fast food, endless energy drinks and fudge chunk brownies late at night. Perhaps you work out like a mad person. You count every calorie, watch every morsel in some pursuit of better, more, less, I’ll be better if, I’ll be better when mentality. Perhaps you’re playing angry when really you’re just plain hurt. Perhaps you’re hurt and you’re just plain numb. Perhaps you’re numb because you’ve never let anyone see ALL of you.

Yes, we anesthetize ourselves.

It’s true. And it’s no good.

Searing and singing the bottom, top and middle gray-grounds of our emotions is toxic, troubling and terrifying.

It’s better to be reserved, you say.

Better to hold it in.

Better to be kind and nice, patient and understanding.

Better to suck it up.

Better to use good judgement.

Better to be discerning.

Yes, have a discerning spirit.

For the sake of those who need to hear it, let me say this…

Some of us have been far too discerning for far too long.

Stop discerning every detail up, down and sideways.

Here’s why…

At its worst, hyperactive discernment leads to hyper-vigilant awareness of ourselves, our emotions and our surroundings, which leads us overthinkers, overachievers and people pleasers to believe the best solution is to anesthetize ourselves and our lives.

Stop. anesthetizing. everything.

Good.

Good enough.

Fine.

FINE is no longer FINE.

FINE is an anesthetized life.

Let us feel all the feelings.

I cannot and will not live anesthetized any longer.

I must practice authenticity.

I must live with integrity.

I must show how I feel.

I must speak up when I don’t feel right about something.

I must tell you when I don’t understand.

I must tell you when you’ve crossed the line. Gracefully, of course.

I must tell you when you hurt me, when that doesn’t work for me, when you’re trying to shut down part of me and I don’t want to be shut down anymore.

I must work through my emotions instead of letting them simmer down in.

I must not hide.

I must be true to myself.

I must be true to the world.

Anesthetized people. Let’s wake. Let’s rise. Let’s be who we are. Let’s stop hiding and harboring it in. Let’s live. Let’s live on the fringes and everywhere in-between. Let’s live WHOLE lives instead of SAFE lives. Anesthetized is safe. Safe is good, but let’s be honest, it’s not that good. Let’s live boldly. Bravely. Let’s gain a little ground for the sake of authenticity.

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of the anesthetized life.

Whole living.

Authentic living.

The world needs all of us, not just the safe, pretty parts of us.

How about that for something to ponder?

Fire up.

Awaken, precious soul.

Rise up and feel again.

 

Dearest Blog Readers,

My iPhone died late this afternoon. I tried a bunch of things and nothing’s working to fix it. Looks like I’m going to have to bring it into AT&T tomorrow to see what’s wrong.

For some odd reason, the temporary death of my iPhone caused me to have a significant revelation this evening.

Something is off with me.

Something is not sitting well with my soul.

My last day of work as a 14 1/2 year speech-language therapist was December 18, 2014.

That was followed by two months of my husband’s eye cancer.

That was followed by two months of hefty spring cleaning and acclimating to new normal.

That was followed by a crazy busy summer, home full-time with our three children for the first time ever.

That was followed by September through December 2015, four of the crazy-busiest, all-encompassing AND life-giving months I’ve experienced in my life.

That four month, crazy-busy period was followed by January and February 2016, which have been the quietest, LEAST BUSY months in MY. ENTIRE. LIFE.

How odd is that?

Since the first week of January, I’ve been spending every Tuesday and Thursday working on a long-standing dream. Writing books. I’m working on a children’s book series. The first two children’s books are fully drafted and have been edited MANY times. I think they’re good, potentially very good and unique, too, but doubt and disbelief definitely get in the way. The third children’s book is a crappy first draft that needs at least 500 words edited out before it has any sort of viability. The fourth book is adult nonfiction. It’s a slow go. SLOW. VERY SLOW. It will likely be a year or two or five before it’s viable. But I’m going. I’m moving on it.

I’m certain God’s granted me these months of quiet space for a very good reason. He’s given me quiet before the storm, or quiet to work on these books. Perhaps BOTH. Either way, I’m doing my part. I’m taking advantage of the quietest space I’ve had in my adult life.

For months, I felt as if I’d emerged from a wilderness or captivity, but was standing at the bottom of a wall looking straight up. I wasn’t sure how to get over the wall and was feeling stuck.

In December and January, I had revelation not once, but three times, that God was going to take care of moving that wall, NOT me. I’ve felt freedom in that realization. I no longer feel stuck like that.

But since that revelation, I’ve felt more and more that I’m LOST. Or maybe I’m drowning due to my own lack of faith. 14 months ago, I took a major leap of faith, arguably the biggest leap of faith I’ve ever taken. I’m in the water. I’m in the deepest deep. But I’ve lost sight of something. I’m feeling a certain panic about the complete UNknown that comes with a leap of faith. I have no idea what’s next. I have no guarantee of what’s going to happen next week, next month, next year or five years from now when it comes to this leap of faith to focus on writing, photography, and staying home with my children. I can’t promise myself or my husband, my family or anyone else what’s going to happen next. There IS no paved path. It’s just me and God here. If I’m completely honest, this is freaking me out a bit (or a lot). It’s testing my faith. I’m simultaneously bored and all wired up. I’m simultaneously full of faith and lacking faith in what God has planned next.

But there’s something else.

I’ve become aware of a grief that’s in me. It’s come out sideways for a long time now. I wasn’t aware it was grief until a few months ago. Now I know better.

Yesterday, I watched a video of researcher, author and speaker Brene Brown. It was about grief and allowing ourselves to say good bye to some things before we’re fully able to embrace and move into what’s next.

That video resonated with me. Deeply.

I’m believing more and more that I need to grieve some things.

This is private business.

This will not be public.

This is for me and me only.

I need to get with God.

I need to do some journaling.

I need to create some crappy art, to do some crappy writing that nobody will see or judge except me.

I’ve already visited one pastor for some conversation. I’m thinking I need to visit another.

I need to give myself time to explore this grief. What is this? Who and what do I need to grieve before I can move on to what’s next?

What is it about me that needs to move out of the way so I can fully embrace this next season God has for me? Thank you, my friend Monica, for helping me see that I NEED TO MOVE OUT OF THE WAY.

Thirteen months ago, my writer friend, Kris Camealy, told me that my “five point plan [wasn’t] going to work anymore.” I have NO idea how she knew that. But she was spot on. My five-point plan isn’t working anymore. I’ve been trying to work a five-point plan, and let me share a little insight. Five-point plans don’t work in God’s economy. Five-point plans aren’t compatible with leaps of faith. Five-point plans don’t cut it when you need to grieve some things you weren’t even aware you needed to grieve.

It’s time.

I’m nearly 40 years old. I’ve already told you I’m going to ROCK my 40s and beyond. I WILL do just that.

I’m also keenly aware that I have no plan B. I’m already IN plan B. Plan B WILL BE God’s way.

There’s been a struggle, here.

I haven’t cracked the struggle wide open yet.

But I’m willing. And ready.

I didn’t expect this. I didn’t plan this AT. ALL. It’s not a part of the five-point plan. Honestly, this all just occurred to me TONIGHT. But I’m taking a blogging break, effective immediately, for a minimum of two weeks. We’re in the middle of a series titled “Love Letters to Friends.” Four posts remain. God’s up to something with this series. And those last four posts are important to me. I’m not willing to write those posts and move forward unless I’m ready. Tonight, it came to my attention that I’m not ready. Not quite yet, anyway.

I’m not ready to finish this blog series until I do some work.

I’m not ready to move to the next step in writing those books and book proposals until I do some work.

I’m not ready to break free until I do some work.

I’m not ready until I’ve cracked the struggle wide open.

I’m not ready to move into my future until I’ve grieved the things of the past.

And I’m not fully surrendered to God until I COMPLETELY surrender my strong people-pleasing tendencies. This is a problem, people. Taking a leap of faith is not a time to worry about people, what they think, how they respond, or how they don’t respond. I thought I’ve been real, but I’m worrying too much if I’m resonating. And it’s spilling over into my book writing.

I have some work to do, friends.

So long.

Farewell.

I want to be better for you.

I’m called to this. So I have to work through this.

Offline for now. Online again, once I’ve worked through some things.

Thanks. I adore you for reading and understanding and hanging in there with me. Please pray I’ll come back better. It’s time for soul care and deep digging.

 

Mama had significant concerns. Her daughter was barely speaking when we first met. We worked together for a year and a half. Two times a week, we sat on the living room floor, then at the dining room table, for intense speech-language therapy. A year and a half later, after all that therapy, after all that working together, mama’s baby girl was speaking like everyone else. I had the rare opportunity to discharge that sweet girl from speech-language therapy, no qualms, no second guessing about it.

It was beautiful. Incredibly beautiful. To bring a child from barely speaking at all, to testing “within normal limits” and speaking like all the other children her age is a true honor and pleasure.

But there was something else extraordinary about the year and a half I spent working with that mama and daughter.

My relationship with mama was special. Unique.

We clicked.

We got each other.

We totally understood each other.

Can I say it any other way?

I adored mama. Adored her.

She was smart, witty and quirky, full of little faults like everyone else. She was passionate and opinionated, strong-willed, fierce, motivated and determined. She knew what she liked in life, and she knew what she didn’t like. She knew what she needed as a mom and a wife, and wasn’t afraid to gift it to herself if necessary. She wasn’t like most of women I knew, and I loved that. I loved ALL those things about mama. But here’s what I absolutely adored about her. She had a soft side she barely, rarely let out. I saw it peek out here and there and it was so incredibly tender. I wondered if she’d been misunderstood more than once. I wondered if people didn’t always “get” her. I TOTALLY “got” her. And I’m pretty sure she TOTALLY “got” me, too.

It was beautiful.

I loved every bit of that mama.

Still do.

When we stood at the door that last day of therapy, when I’d reviewed the standardized test results that proved her daughter’s speech and language was now “within normal limits,” mama thanked me for all I’d done. She thanked me for how far I’d brought her daughter. She thanked me for all the therapy, for bringing her and her daughter through some really rough and uncertain times.

It was humbling, of course.

But then she said something else I’ll never, ever forget.

It was much, much more personal than speech-language therapy. And it meant the world to me.

“I don’t usually like people, but I like you.”

No doubt about it. That was the greatest compliment I’d ever received. Two years later, it’s STILL the greatest compliment I’ve ever received.

“I don’t usually like people, but I like you.” 

I’ve always perceived myself as a little mysterious, a little hard to read, a little hard to fully understand. I get that about myself. Just 1% of the general population has my personality type, so sometimes I’m not sure if I’m really jiving with everyone else’s more popular personalities.

So when that mama told me she “[doesn’t] usually like people,” but she likes me?!

Oh my goodness.

I totally knew her. I totally know myself. And I totally knew what she meant. So I totally took it as a HUGE compliment.

To be completely honest, I don’t really WANT to be like all the other people. I don’t really FEEL like all the other people. So the fact that she recognized that, the fact that she subconsciously felt that from me, and the fact that she was able to articulate it in a way that really meant something to me, was absolutely an honor.

So I’ve been pondering mama’s compliment – the best compliment I’ve EVER received – and have been wondering if there’s a take-away.

How can we compliment people in ways that mean something to them?

How can we compliment people in ways that build them up?

How can we move FROM “I love your haircut,” and “I love those boots,” TO “It seems like you always know when people need encouragement,” and “Did you that you’re the most generous person I know?”

How can we compliment people in ways that feel sincere and authentic?

How can we compliment people in ways that make them realize we’ve actually paid attention to WHO they are, HOW they operate, and WHAT makes them tick?

How can we compliment people in ways that really stick and stay with them?

How can we compliment people in ways that change they way they do life?

How can we compliment people in ways that bring out the best in them, not just for today, but for long-term always?

So many questions to ponder, but I think you get the point.

“I don’t usually like people, but I like you.”

It’s the best compliment I ever received.

Who can you compliment today? For real?

And if not today, who are you noticing so you can compliment them tomorrow or down the road when your words will mean even more?

Just asking.

Because honestly, I need to do the same.

Those words, those compliments, they’re a true gift if given wisely.

 

As the daughter of two public school teachers and now a grown mom of three, September is just as much a new year for me as New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day.

September 1st marks the dawn of a new school year, a new year, another fresh start on life.

Tonight, the truth came crashing down on me as I stood in the hot shower pondering all that’s been, all that is, all that will be. Often, inspiration for my writing comes in the shower. Blog posts swirl with detail. But tonight, my words weren’t coming to mind nearly as much as the bare-bones truth of the Bible. Passages washed over me with detail. One by one, they pieced together to tell a story, my story, maybe yours, too? A story of truth and peace. A story of living in the hard things of life, pressing on with purpose, trusting that in the end, our lives piece together into PERFECT sense.

That’s when I knew…for such a time as this, I must proclaim TRUTH over my life.

In this season of trusting, believing, risking, going and doing new things, I must proclaim truth and stick to that truth as my guide, my source of life. I must not waver. I must not look left and right. I must believe that truth exists. I must believe there is a WAY. That I’m not just fumbling around the universe haphazardly, but that I’m on this path for a purpose, for a particular reason in this particular season of history.

So tonight, this September 1st, I’m feeling a need to proclaim publicly, this truth over my life. These are the scriptures that came washing over me in the shower, all together, one after another. Perhaps they’re from our Heavenly Father for all of us. Perhaps you’ll see your story in these pieced-together verses as well. Perhaps these verses weren’t just for me, but you, too.

I very rarely “Bible thump” you over the head with verses on this blog. I strongly prefer showing you how faith plays out in my daily life in subtle ways, as feels natural. So bear with me. I’m diverting from my usual ways to proclaim this compilation of Bible verses as truth in my life because if I’m completely honest with myself and y’all, I’ve felt a spiritual attack these past years and months. I’m OVER it. So DONE. Today, I’m proclaiming TRUTH. Replacing those lies and attacks with TRUTH.

So be the truth.

Long live the TRUTH.

If you’d like to join me in claiming these truths, I would love to have you, friends. Call me crazy. Call me kooky. Call me “she’s lost her mind once and for all!” Call me whatever you wish. I need some truth tonight, this September 1st. And the only truth that’s flowing in this brain of mine are these promises, right here, for you and me.

“As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.”  Ephesians 4:1 

“Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”  Matthew 10:39

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”  Philippians 4:6

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”  Ephesians 6:12

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”  Philippians 4:8

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”  Proverbs 3:5

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.”  Colossians 3:23

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us…”  Hebrews 12:1

These words aren’t for everyone. But they are for someone. Whoever has ears to hear? Hear it.

My husband had the afternoon off, so we decided to include him in our Summer Bucket List fun for the first time ever. A family bike ride seemed to be the best option. After all, we desperately needed dad to fill all those tires and make sure everything was in working order.

Our two adult bikes were hanging from the garage rafters. We hadn’t ridden them in two, maybe three years. They were dusty, dirty, and the tires were completely deflated. So Seth broke out the pump and filled everyone’s tires while I managed other prep needs.

Two children put on their helmets without question. One child did NOT, I repeat, did NOT want to wear his helmet. “Dumb.” “Babyish.” “This looks so stupid,” he said. “Nobody my age wears a helmet.” We persisted that we were going on a very long bike ride and that he needed to wear that helmet. Finally, after much persuasion, he agreed and we were on our way.

As we biked out of our driveway, I realized it had been an incredibly LONG time since we’d gone on a family bike ride. I honestly couldn’t remember when the last family ride would have been. As we greeted a neighbor on our way out of the neighborhood, I also realized that it’s incredibly RARE to see families go on bike rides together anymore. Growing up, my family went on bike rides all the time. Back in the 80s, it was fairly routine to see families on casual evening bike rides around town. But today? Not so common at all.

By the time we got all the way out of the neighborhood, I was already a bit winded. Seth reminded me that I should be the most physically prepared for this bike ride since I work out so faithfully. But I haven’t ridden a bike for any long distance in years, so truth is, it wasn’t that easy for me. Why is it that biking as an adult is so much more physically taxing than it was when you were a kid?

We rode those bikes 3.5 miles anyway, all the way to our destination. Up hills. Down hills. Through neighborhoods. Along the highway for a bit. Across the railroad tracks. Then finally through a long bike path.

We drove without stopping, although when we arrived at our destination – a large park – we were exhausted. Thank goodness for the bottles of water I hauled in my backpack.

After a few minutes of rest, we decided we’d go down to the lake where there’s a public swimming area. Suddenly, the kids had a burst of energy. “Let’s go swimming!” Ummm….okay? They, of course, didn’t have swimsuits along, so they agreed to go in their clothes. Not exactly mom’s ideal scenario, but it worked. Two kids in the water with soaking wet clothes. One playing on the sandy, wet shore. No swimsuits for mom or dad. No towels. And no change of clothes for the kids. But again, it worked! Perhaps I need to get out of my box more often.

The fun eventually wore off and the kids came in from the water. We reminded them they’d have to ride all the way back (another 3.5 miles, mind you) with sopping wet clothes, that they might get chafed skin with all the rubbing that was about to happen. But they didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they barely complained about those wet clothes. Wet clothing wasn’t an issue at all. I was shocked.

So we made our way back, all 3.5 miles. Up hills. Down hills. Through the bike path. Across the railroad tracks. And along the highway. Maisie, our youngest, exclaimed “woo hoo” from her baby bike trailer the whole way long. (Yes, that was my favorite part of the adventure.)

The kids wanted to stop for ice cream. Dad thought it would be better to stop for another round of hydration. So I tended the bikes, and Seth and the kids went into a gas station for drinks. We refueled as customers pumped gas. Then we made our way back home.

Elsa LOVED it. Said she’d do this everyday.

Cooper not so much.

Maisie. “Woo hoo!”

Seth and I? A little exhausted.

Family bike ride? An overall success.

Family Bike Ride

Total Cost: $9.00 for beverages at the end of the ride

Mom Lesson: Step out of the box and have a little fun.

Kid Lesson: Don’t underestimate kids’ ability to go with the flow.

 

 

This post is part of a summer-long series titled Summer Bucket List. This is my first summer home full-time with our three children. My hope for this series is that it will challenge me to adventure out of my mothering comfort zone, will provide opportunities to live and write simply, practically, beautifully and meaningfully, and will stimulate some some fun ideas for your summer as well! To check out the entire series, click here and you’ll be directed to the introductory post where all the posts are listed and linked for easy reading. Enjoy, friends! And have a blessed summer.