Finding Hope

I know when Spring arrives because I start to sneeze a lot, it starts to rain off and on, and my students start to gain a new level of energy.

Likewise, I can tell when a current season in life is shifting because I start to feel differently, my emotions fluctuate, and my energy level either rise or fall.

I have been waiting for the signs of a new life season. Looking for shifts in my mind, heart, and spirit that would help connect the dots of where I’ve been to where I’m going.

I think it’s here, and I am ready.

It started with an unexpected 6 hours alone in a car. No one year old to distract me, no ability to work on school things or speech details… Just me – my tired spirit, worn down heart, and overworked mind.

Just me and the God I’ve been distancing myself from in an attempt to numb the hurts of the last two years.

He is so faithful.

From the outside, I’m sure this last season has looked pretty exciting and full of life. It was – literally. The birth of our daughter, Jemma Jane, brought about joy beyond all imagination. What people couldn’t see from the outside, though, was the doubt and fear and sadness that crept in (and stayed) after we learned that the words “church” and “safe” are not synonymous. Two decades of being raised by and literally IN the church. Two decades of giving everything I knew to give to ministry within the walls of church. Two decades of learning, growing, maturing largely as a result of time spent with church people, as a church person.

Leadership in the church is a great responsibility, one that I have always been keen to take on. Leadership, when done correctly, forces you to see things more clearly and wholly. It forces you to be on the lookout so that you can be leading well – with grace, and kindness and love. It propels you to be constantly reflecting and evaluating so that you can be the best version of yourself. For me, this constant reflection and desire to grow brought me into uncomfortable and painful conflicts with other church leaders. It brought me to a turning point, a point where I had to choose God’s clear voice over the church “home” that I was comfortable in.

When my husband and I chose to step down from leadership and away from our church, we knew it would hurt. We didn’t have any idea how much. We knew it would require sacrifice, we didn’t have any idea how much. We knew it would leave us vulnerable, we didn’t have any idea how much.

We initially told ourselves we would take three months to heal (ha!). We were pregnant at the time, and thought that the birth of our baby girl would be a representation of the birth of new things and would naturally and seamlessly allow us time to just be together, healing and processing. In some senses, this was exactly true… but the reality is that now with a 14 month old – we are still in the middle of learning to love the church again. Learning to be loved by the church again, Learning to see Christ and his vision for church again.

So, the last season has been challenging and confusing, to say the least and I have been waiting for signs of change, signs of hope. I have been waiting for hope. Hoping that hope would drop into my lap. I’m sitting in a car listening to a podcast because I am really bored and podcasts are like the new “thing” that the cool people (aka my husband and small group and everyone else I know) are doing… I turned on Christy Nockels “Beauty in the Mundane” podcast just to fill the car with noise. She had a guest named Annie F. Downs. She wrote a book that sounded interesting and she started out with this passage from Romans…

“Not only so, but we rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.” (Romans 5:3-5 NIV).

I bought the book as soon as I got home. I read this passage again, and was challenged by Annie Down’s statement along with it that “hope is an expensive commodity, not easily won, always fought for, and the result of a process that may take some time.”

I cringed.

I read it again.

I cringed.

Hope will not just fall in my lap and take over my mind? I have been waiting. Passive aggressively avoiding conversations about Jesus or with him for that matter, because I was waiting for the moment when hope would overflow and fix my heart.

Cringe. Hope is a result of perseverance. Hope is actively fought for.

 

Dot connected: I need to choose perseverance and then trust that hope will follow in abundance.

It’s been a day since this dot was really connected. So, I mean, I’m still processing it all. It’s like the rain that came in hard last night. The bedroom was lighting up with bolts of lightning, the sky ringing with thunder, and the ground was being drenched in rain. This morning there were puddles, but the flowers have not all bloomed and the grass is still brown in some places. Spring is coming, but it takes time.

I can feel the healing of this rain soaking my innerbeing – filling me with the memory of what hope feels like. Blooms are being prepped as I type this. I know it. I ordered a second book by Rachel Held Evans titled “Searching for Sunday” with the subtitle “loving, leaving, and finding the church”. It fell into my lap and I’m guessing it’s just another piece of the puzzle. He is guiding me into new life. He is bringing me back to Himself, and I know that in doing so He is guiding me back to the church.

I need to keep processing this.

I need accountability and cheerleading because it’s so easy to fall into hopelessness, thereby forgetting to persevere which makes hope impossible.

I will persevere, I will find hope.

Simplifying is Complicated

Okay, so let’s be real: saying I will simplify my life is one thing, doing it is another.

It’s funny, because everything I have read about simplifying is really complicated in nature and requires sacrifice to get there.

My first focus has been my physical health.I started before January 1st. In fact, I’m currently on day 25 of a 31 day workout and eating plan designed for “quick results”. I feel silly writing about it. I never wanted to be that person who wanted the world to know about their healthy workout plan… but truthfully, it deserves to be shared. It has been SO challenging and SO rewarding.

The sacrifice it required was largely time. Time to plan my meals, implement said plan, and to actually get dressed, workout, and shower off the sweat. That’s a lot of time (and energy). Not to mention my 10 month old who gets more mobile everyday and thinks my floor workouts are the ideal time to crawl on me.

It has always felt simpler to just eat what I want and count the number of times I walk up and down the stairs at school as my workout, but the reality for me is I have never truly made physical health a priority. This made my life complicated. I never felt good about myself, I caught every bug I was in a room with (and I’m a teacher so that’s a lot of bugs to catch) and I always made excuses for myself about why being “healthy” didn’t fit my schedule. One friend was honest in her response to me being on day 7 of working out, she literally laughed out loud and said “what!? Hannah working out!?”. Can’t even be mad. I have prided myself in my ability to NOT be healthy.

Dumb. Now clearly I am not out of the woods yet (Taylor Swift song totally stuck in my head now). The pattern is slowly forming in my life. I’m carving out the time and asking people to step up and hold me accountable. I am not claiming to have this figured out – I don’t. Last night I laid on the ground for roughly 11 minutes of my 52 minute workout because I did not feel energized or motivated to do another push up or lunge – but i did complete it – and today I am so glad I did.

My second step was clearing out my closet. I randomly watched that documentary on Netflix about minimalism (I know, I know… I am being SO cliche right now… beachbody programs and minimalism!?) and I was totally inspired. I donated two garbage bags of clothes and boxed up another bag’s worth to see whether I’d miss it after a month. I cleared out 35 pairs of shoes – if you know me you know this is a big deal – and it felt fantastic.

Every time I walk into my closet I feel proud and I feel organized and I feel like picking out an outfit is not a chore because everything in there is something I actually enjoy wearing. It’s simpler, and I love it.

The next step is my house, which is proving to be the most difficult task so far. The thing is that A. I have a baby and babies are small but they collect STUFF like crazy and B. I live with my husband who is definitely less of a hoarder than I am, but the two of us have built up quite the collection of things on things on things and C. time…. how do you find time to de-clutter efficiently while working full time jobs, coaching, being parents, and trying to socialize?

So what have I learned 10 (plus a few) days in to my journey towards simplification?

1. It’s complicated to simplify, but worth it.
2. First steps are key and bigger than you think.
3. Accountability is not an option, it’s a must.
4. Good friends will laugh at your hoarding ways and sweaty selfies and drive to cheer you on on your crazy endeavors and, if you’re lucky let you in on theirs.
5. There’s no right time to start making changes.
6. To create a lifestyle, the changes have to be everyday changes – not just when you feel like it. I don’t “feel like it” 87% of the time.
7. Once you gather stuff to get rid of you still have to get rid of the stuff and then your entryway becomes a warzone and if you procrastinate (like me) it feels more cluttered than ever……
8. Make time to get rid of the stuff.
9. I still love blogging.
10. I’m going to keep blogging.

 

 

The Advent Process

Words are escaping me.

Today is hard, but there is no specific reason for the feeling.

Sometimes I get swept into  tidal wave of overwhelming emotion that I cannot put to words.

I find myself hurting in places I had thought were healed.

Scars from years past seem to itch and tingle as if they are wanting to be reopened.

Thoughts already processed become a tangled mess  of questions that were never answered and statements that were never made clear.

I become weary. Too tired to do much more than barely cope.

Everything I have, I wonder whether it is real. Everything I lack, I yearn for.

Down I spiral.

Down I fall.

Down I tumble.

Where is hope in the day to day trying to cope?

Where, but in the promise of an all and ever loving Savior?

Where, but in that little baby born to Mary?

Advent. Where we remember his coming as a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths.

Advent. Where we imagine that young woman who said “yes” to God, and obediently trusted His will and His plan.

Advent. Where we wonder at the Wise Men who chose to put their faith in a baby, instead of the ruler who sent them out to kill him.

Advent. Where we see Shepherds singing with Angels all in the glorious coming of that babe.

Advent. Where we long for him to come again.

Advent. Where we become aware once more of the brokenness in which we dwell, of the state of our hearts in the face of today.

It’s no wonder that my scars are begging to tell their story today. It’s no wonder that my mind is reproducing memories to be re-processed. It’s no wonder that my heart is beating wildly, yearning for something more.

This is advent.

Joy and hope and light and love… and yearning and longing and preparing for that day He comes again and makes all things right.

 

 

Sowing Seeds of Thanksgiving

Holidays are a time of year that I have always loved. I usually have trouble falling asleep the night before, and wake up early in anticipation of what the day holds.

It’s funny, because more often than not a holiday gathering is a bit of a letdown.

It’s no one’s fault really, but the things in life that are hard tend to overshadow the things that are good.

A tension between family members can easily outweigh the fact that we have a family to sit and eat that big, baked to perfection turkey with.

A political disagreement can put so much stress on two people that they forget how to love each other through it.

A family member grieving can cause isolation, when really it should evoke community and the wrapping of arms around one another.

This Thanksgiving morning was no different than my normal holiday routine, except that for the first time I woke with my baby. My sweet nine month old, teething, beautiful, perfect little girl.

http://haileyannephotography.com/

She always wakes up happy. She begins to babble the moment she pops her eyes open. She is delighted to see me, to hear me say her name and scoop her up for her morning snuggles.

This is her first Thanksgiving. 

How do I sow seeds of thanksgiving into a child? 

How do I foster the goodness of anticipating a holiday, even when you know it will be difficult because gratitude is worth it.

The seed of thanksgiving was sown into my life early on. In the seasons so far the growth of this seed has ebbed and flowed. 

Sometimes I choose intentionally to water it, to find sunlight and dwell there for as long as it takes to grow an inch in gratitude.

Sometimes I neglect it. I let it become parched and keep it in the shadows of anxiety, grief, fear.

Sometimes situations cause it to grow rapidly, at a pace I can hardly keep up with. These seasons I am overcome with emotion and a deep knowing about all He has provided.

Sometimes situations cause it to stop growing all together as I am stuck with questions, bitterness, and a callous heart.

Always I find myself needing to choose, to end each season with thanksgiving. 

Having a daughter has changed so many things in my worndown heart. Having this sweet girl to rise early with on this holiday morning has awakened a hope that for her, I can be a bridge into a life of thanksgiving. 

Ann Voskamp continues to eloquently and concisely write about these things. Her latest blog post comes with this quote:

“No amount of regret changes the past, no amount of anxiety changes the future, but any amount of gratitude changes the present.”

Today, in the wake of a nightmareish election. Today, in the turmoil of families broken, bitter, and fraught with tension. Today, in the grieving of loved ones gone far too soon. 

Gratitude is where we must find ourselves. Gratitude is where I will push myself to stand my ground. Gratitude is where I will show my daughter that He is good, all the time. All the time, He is good. Gratitude is where I will allow God to change my present. 

Gratitude. Thankfulness. The seed of thanksgiving will continue to grow and I will continue to sow it as best that I can.

A Shifted Lens

The list of reasons this Monday should have been particularly awful is long. No sleep due to sick and teething baby, no coffee due to being late, no plans for the day of teaching due to a busy weekend/sick baby, etc… I’m grateful to say, however, that it has not been an awful Monday at all.

In my last post I talked about the revelation God gave me about His character, that He is not affected by “bad mornings” or “rough nights”. No matter what, he brings the sunrise with all its splendor.

Since I blogged that concept out, I have been very aware of both sunrises and sunsets. I have been allowing their beauty to be a daily reminder that if my lens isn’t correctly focused, my days feel a lot worse than they need to feel.

The sunrise right next to my school was amazing this morning.

It caused me to process the necessity of a correctly focused lens when looking at my life. I realized I haven’t blogged much about being a working mom. So, here I go.

Going into this whole working mom gig I was nervous. I had so many thoughts whirling about how impossible it seemed to do both things well.

Here’s a glimpse into my anxiety-ridden brain:

“I am going to miss her every second and not be able to focus on work. I will be a bad teacher.”

“I am not going to miss her and work will become more important to me. I will be a bad mom.”

“I will never see my husband. We will grow apart. I will be a bad wife.”

“Daycare will be daunting and stressful. I will be “that” daycare mom.”

“I will be so tired I won’t be able to focus on school or baby or husband or friends. I will be a bad everything.”

The end result of each thought was that I would be a “bad _________”. My focus was so wrong. My thought process so broken.

It is so easy to get wrapped up in what I am told will be difficult or what I imagine will be hard that I forget to wait and see how it actually goes, and how I actually feel.

The last 8 months of learning and juggling have taught me so much. Perhaps the most important thing I have learned is that I am NOT a bad mom or a bad teacher or a bad wife or a bad friend. I am a woman who works hard to love well and to do a good job at whatever I choose to do.

I am still just me.

Me, who gets tired here and there and sometimes loses energy and just needs a break.

Me, who gets waves of energy that instigate deep cleaning of multiple rooms or the writing of music or blogging or a deep conversation about life (thanks to my friends who are willing to sit these out!) or the production of an awesome lesson for my 5th graders.

Me, far from perfect but always trying to be a good friend, sister, daughter, teacher, etc..

Me, with both good and bad days.

Me, the teacher who adores her students and fights everyday to do right by them.

I am still me, but I am me with a daughter – the greatest and most life-giving gift I have ever received. It hasn’t changed me so much as added a great deal to my life and helped me to find balance rather than lose it.

With the correct lens on I can see both the good and the bad and continue to keep moving forward. I can see myself honestly and understand that I don’t have to be perfect to be a good mom or a good teacher or a good wife or a good friend.. I can have bad days and not be a “bad” anything.

Fix your lens on truth. Fight for good days and a correct view of yourself. Trust that after a bad day, there will be a sunrise followed by a series of choices you get to make to stand on truth.

He is Bigger Than My Wonderings and Wanderings

I had a wow moment this morning.
A moment of pure and simple revelation.
The concept that I received wasn’t  necessarily new, or novel.
But it was good. Good for my soul.
Good for my outlook on my day.
Good for my trying desperately to look into the future.

Sunrises are amazing. They have always been a source of great peace and awe to me. It is the pairing of the colors that shine through clouds over the horizon with the concept that the sun is coming up again, as it always does and always will. Even on rainy, snowy days – the sun rises and it is a beautiful sight.

This morning the sunrise was insane. It was beyond anything I have experienced. I could hardly keep driving because I wanted to stop and stare at it until it was gone. The colors were bright, hues of orange, pink, yellow and blue mixed together forming the most perfect palette. Rays of sunlight shone in a half circle through the clouds which were layered as if they were close enough to reach out and touch.

[Sidenote, cameras cannot do scenes like this justice… Especially iPhone cameras from a moving car… But I had to try.]

A few minutes into my 11 minute commute I thought to ask God why He chooses to make sunrises so beautiful day after day.

I got a response. 

Let me pause here to insert that it is unusual for me to actually feel like I hear God speak directly. I experience Him and I feel him speak through people, the Bible, music… But not often in sentence form. What I heard this morning was important, and real.

Here is what I heard:

I am not like you. I do not tire of rising in the morning. I do not feel the grind of day after day. I do not lose my energy or my glory or my desire for beauty when things seem bad. 

All I could thing was: wow.

Mornings are hard for a lot of people, I am at the top of that list. Some days it feels like beginning the day is pointless because you know what it will be full of, and it won’t be pretty. Some days we look at the people in our lives and we feel like we are just too tired to do it all, or more accurately -to BE it all. Some days we feel angry and sour towards everyone, even the people we love the most.

God does not  respond this way to mornings *or any time of day.

He begins every morning with a masterpiece. Light shines and sweeps away the darkness. He doesn’t give of Himself in pieces. He gives of Himself fully. He doesn’t hold back His beauty, His masterpieces.

He continues to provide backdrops of absolute glory for everyone, even those who turn away from and against Him. For those who choose to deny His very existence. For those who love Him, but are bitter and withholding of affection.

He causes the sun to rise in glorious splendor each and every morning because He is the Creator who does not give up, does not surrender, He rises, He defeats darkness. Always.

This song has been my background music this week. It has filled my head and found it’s way into my thinking.

“You don’t give yourself in pieces. You don’t hide yourself to tease us.” 

 

I am blown away by how he pieces together the thoughts, feelings, and conversations I have. I am humbled by the way he uses people to minister to other people. I am in awe of the intricate design of a sunrise and the way that He can use a daily occurrence to teach, restore, and build me.

He isn’t hiding from us.
He isn’t far from us.
He isn’t a figment of imagination.
He isn’t able to fit in yesterday’s box.

He is able.
He is consistent.
He does not tire.
He does not falter in strength.

The sun will rise and it will be beautiful, colorful, and powerful. Every day that we are on this earth. Every day.

 

Words Water the World

I’m in that weird head space where words are not few, in fact they are many… but I can’t really form a coherent thought.

They are surging up and over the brim of my brain.

They leak into my stream of consciousness while I try to sleep.

They puddle around my day to day tasks.

They seep out onto people at times I don’t expect.

They dry up when it would be ideal not to be speechless.

They churn, and boil, and gurgle.

They ebb and flow.

They crash over me and knock me over.

Words. So strong. So pivotal. So damaging. So restorative. I want to use them wisely. I want to use them well. I want to use them.

Words water the world. Don’t drown it, but don’t let it dry up.

To beat a liar, one must tell the truth

She was a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a coworker, a granddaughter… She is gone.

I’ve been lucky in my life so far to have very few deaths of loved ones. My grandpa died my freshman year of college. That was hard, but it was normal for grandparents to die.

My husband’s uncle died our freshman year of college also. This was difficult on a different level. Difficult to watch people you love, especially my mother in law and her immediate family, lose someone so close to them. It was painful to empathize as they worked through the shock of him being gone.

Two weeks ago one of my friends died. She took her own life, leaving behind two babies and her husband.

I’ve struggled to process her death at all.

It doesn’t feel real most of the time.

It doesn’t seem feasible that a person so young, so full of life and love could be gone from earth just like that. Based on one action. One moment of complete chaos that was based on a lie, a lie that told her she needed to leave and be done with her life.

I wish I could understand it, but I understand that I cannot.

I wish I could scream at the whisperer of the lies and revoke all the things that pulled her into this decision.

I plan on doing just that.

This is the start.

This is me screaming at the accuser and saying NO. 

You cannot take any more mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. 

Your lies will end. 

Your tyrannical reign will be over soon enough. 

Until then, we will fight. 

We will fight for the right to live. The right to live in this painful, fleshly, heartbroken world. 

The right to deal with our sadness in healthy ways that do not involve lies and a morphed version of ourselves.

This is me calling to the anxious, the depressed, the bi polar – there is help, there is hope, there is strength in honesty. 

Rise up.

Speak out.

We can beat the liar, it starts with telling the TRUTH.

It isn’t brave to be alone

I feel like I have reached a pivotal moment in my life, one where some dots in my head are connecting in a powerful way.

I sense words forming and piecing together in my brain, my heart, my soul. I am trying to pull them from deep inside and place them on paper — but it can’t be rushed.

I understand all of the sudden how people’s lives change drastically in a second. How one person’s decisions not only leave a “ripple” in the water but cause a hurricane that rips and tears through homes, cities, states.

I see clearly the folly in choosing to be happy on the outside when inside you are terrified, confused, and longing for something to fix and heal.

I am aching to hold and to help but also to be held and to be helped.

I get it now, the importance of surrendering to the help of the people around us. 
It isn’t brave to be alone.

It isn’t brave to battle quietly without letting the people placed around us help.

It isn’t brave to put on a good face just for the sake of running a race.

It is brave to be together.

It is brave to weep and mourn and battle it out together, like an army.

It is brave to wear emotion and remain vulnerable even at the cost of seeming weaker.

Be brave, dear ones. Be brave.

Assume: to make an ass out of you AND especially me.

I hate how often I assume the worst about someone’s motives or actions.

I hate how often people may assume the worst of me.

It’s a really big issue for me, especially with social media. We all post things so carelessly sometimes. 

Sometimes I’m assuming someone’s life is perfect because they gush so often about the good things – and in the process I’m neglecting to ask how they are.. Because they’re great right?

Sometimes I’m assuming I can’t share with someone because they’ll judge me, when really they would totally get it and be a great advocate for me.

I hope I can change this habit and be better at honest vulnerability for others and myself.

Assuming is exhausting and it’s not fruitful. 

Assumptions lead to imagined interactions which lead to emotions tied to interactions that never actually happened which leads to a massive break in communication which leads to broken relationships and false thoughts of others.

I crave honesty. I hope I can get better at extending grace rather than making assumptions.

I really want to see people in an honest, pure, light filled way.

Working at it. Slowly but surely.