I've recently been diving into the idea of "biblical womanhood" and what it means to be a woman of God right now - in the time and culture and place I live, and also in the season of life I'm in.
One theme that keeps emerging is that of "quietness" - often paired with the idea of gentleness and peace. I've really been struggling with this idea. Does it mean I have to literally be a quiet person? Because let's be honest - I'm just not. Sure, I went through that really shy, awkward stage as a teenager, when having to talk to someone at all was terrifying. And yeah, I am an introvert and I need my alone time. . . but none of this adds up to me being a quiet woman. In fact, around people I love and care for, I can be downright noisy (and sometimes even boisterous and obnoxious). And we have fun, and we talk and laugh and it builds our relationships.
So what is this business about living a quiet life? And how do I strive for that and pray for it to come about in my life? Here are some questions I've started asking myself on a regular basis, to help determine if my liife is marked by quietness, gentleness, and peace:
- Am I being loud, talking a lot, or telling personal stories only to gain attention for myself and be in the spotlight?
- Are my mind and heart "quiet"? Am I anxious, worried, stressed, etc?
- Do I take time to listen, to sit silently and just be present for my friends?
- How are my non-verbals? Is my tone of voice gentle? Is my posture and bearing one of peace, or am I being defensive, worried, withdrawn?
- Do I spend time each day in silence, listening to God? Do I take quiet time in His Word?
This is my starting point - not trying to change my personality, not trying to just be quiet for the sake of obedience, but in understanding what ways God calls me to a quiet life. He tells us that as women, we can "win over" those in our lives without words, but through behavior. Wow - what power there is in the "unfading beauty of a quiet and gentle spirit" (I Peter 3:4).
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
"My" Song: Lessons from Group Therapy (at Work)
At work, we do "group" with the girls - essentially, an hour of group therapy every day to help them come together and learn and grow together. Lately, we've been privileged to work with a music therapist! She does all sorts of neat stuff, from drum circles to composition tutorials to song analysis, and much more. I've gotten to participate with our clients, and the last two weeks, we've worked on song analysis. We were asked to bring a song to group that we felt like described us or our life.
Um, fun fact: there are so many songs. Like, in the world. That makes this a very difficult task! But I started by looking through some of my playlists, and found this one from growing up that I've always liked. When I looked up the lyrics, I knew it would be my choice for group.
Here is a link to listen to it: When I Go Down, Relient K
I'll tell you flat out
It hurts so much to think of this
So from my thoughts I will exclude
The very thing that
I hate more than everything is
The way I'm powerless
To dictate my own moods
I've thrown away
So many things that could've been much more
And I just pray
My problems go away if they're ignored
But that's not the way it works
No that's not the way it works
When I go down
I go down hard
And I take everything I've learned
And teach myself some disregard
When I go down
It hurts to hit the bottom
And of the things that got me there
I think, if only I had fought them
If and when I can
Clear myself of this clouded mind
I'll watch myself settle down
Into a place where
Peace can search me out and find
That I'm so ready to be found
I've thrown away
The hope I had in friendships
I've thrown away
So many things that could have been much more
I've thrown away
The secret to find an end to this
And I just pray
My problems go away if they're ignored
But that's not the way it works
No that's not the way it works
Any control I thought I had just slips right through my hands
While my ever-present conscience shakes its head and reprimands me
Reprimands me
Then and there
I confess
I'll blame all this on my selfishness
Yet you love me
And that consumes me
And I'll stand up again
And do so willingly
You give me hope, and hope it gives me life
You touch my heavy heart, and when you do you make it light
As I exhale I hear your voice
And I answer you, though I hardly make a noise
And from my lips the words I choose to say
Seem pathetic, but it's fallen man's praise
Because I love you
Oh God, I love you
And life is now worth living
If only because of you
And when they say that I'm dead and gone
It won't be further from the truth
When I go down
I lift my eyes to you
I won't look very far
Cause you'll be there
With open arms
To lift me up again
To lift me up again
Um, fun fact: there are so many songs. Like, in the world. That makes this a very difficult task! But I started by looking through some of my playlists, and found this one from growing up that I've always liked. When I looked up the lyrics, I knew it would be my choice for group.
Here is a link to listen to it: When I Go Down, Relient K
I'll tell you flat out
It hurts so much to think of this
So from my thoughts I will exclude
The very thing that
I hate more than everything is
The way I'm powerless
To dictate my own moods
I've thrown away
So many things that could've been much more
And I just pray
My problems go away if they're ignored
But that's not the way it works
No that's not the way it works
When I go down
I go down hard
And I take everything I've learned
And teach myself some disregard
When I go down
It hurts to hit the bottom
And of the things that got me there
I think, if only I had fought them
If and when I can
Clear myself of this clouded mind
I'll watch myself settle down
Into a place where
Peace can search me out and find
That I'm so ready to be found
I've thrown away
The hope I had in friendships
I've thrown away
So many things that could have been much more
I've thrown away
The secret to find an end to this
And I just pray
My problems go away if they're ignored
But that's not the way it works
No that's not the way it works
Any control I thought I had just slips right through my hands
While my ever-present conscience shakes its head and reprimands me
Reprimands me
Then and there
I confess
I'll blame all this on my selfishness
Yet you love me
And that consumes me
And I'll stand up again
And do so willingly
You give me hope, and hope it gives me life
You touch my heavy heart, and when you do you make it light
As I exhale I hear your voice
And I answer you, though I hardly make a noise
And from my lips the words I choose to say
Seem pathetic, but it's fallen man's praise
Because I love you
Oh God, I love you
And life is now worth living
If only because of you
And when they say that I'm dead and gone
It won't be further from the truth
When I go down
I lift my eyes to you
I won't look very far
Cause you'll be there
With open arms
To lift me up again
To lift me up again
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Three and a half
Three and a half.
It's the time I let myself drift in and out of sleep during my "snooze" timer, before I remember I need to shave my legs this morning.
The number of months since I first found the beautiful house I now call home.
If you multiply it by 10, it's the number of bills and accounts and items of mail, and phone calls I've made over the past month, just trying to be an adult.
The number of mismatched socks I have generated after only 3 months of using my washer/dryer (one has a lot of holes in it and one was an extra that didn't belong to me or either of my roommates).
It's how many batches of enchiladas I've made lately, between having dinner with friends, and taking meals to new parents, a colleague recovery from surger , and a single mom who just needs some extra help right now.
The attempts it took me to figure out Google groups so I could video chat with my siblings
The number of times I've been out running in Forest Park here in St. Louis.
And. . . it's the number I used in math the other day, to demonstrate writing out fractions to a 14-year-old client. And when I drew my asymmetric circles and rapidly shaded them in, and cut one in half with a simple line, and then we walked together through the simple task of counting. Three wholes. One half. How to write that in numbers. So basic, but she got it. I could see her face light up as she asked for more so she could practice this new found ability.
It also represents a change in this same client after the morning of school. She "checked-in" that morning at a 6, and then we did reading and vocabulary and math. We smiled at each other, giggled at the funny sentences in the vocabulary program, talked about her family and how much she misses her mom. And then we finished and "checked-out" and she said she was a 9.5.
It's the little things and the little numbers that make a difference. Because maybe tomorrow she will check in and out with only 3.5. But I know that she can be a 9.5, and I will work tirelessly to keep seeing that cheeky grin light up her sweet face.
It's the time I let myself drift in and out of sleep during my "snooze" timer, before I remember I need to shave my legs this morning.
The number of months since I first found the beautiful house I now call home.
If you multiply it by 10, it's the number of bills and accounts and items of mail, and phone calls I've made over the past month, just trying to be an adult.
The number of mismatched socks I have generated after only 3 months of using my washer/dryer (one has a lot of holes in it and one was an extra that didn't belong to me or either of my roommates).
It's how many batches of enchiladas I've made lately, between having dinner with friends, and taking meals to new parents, a colleague recovery from surger , and a single mom who just needs some extra help right now.
The attempts it took me to figure out Google groups so I could video chat with my siblings
The number of times I've been out running in Forest Park here in St. Louis.
And. . . it's the number I used in math the other day, to demonstrate writing out fractions to a 14-year-old client. And when I drew my asymmetric circles and rapidly shaded them in, and cut one in half with a simple line, and then we walked together through the simple task of counting. Three wholes. One half. How to write that in numbers. So basic, but she got it. I could see her face light up as she asked for more so she could practice this new found ability.
It also represents a change in this same client after the morning of school. She "checked-in" that morning at a 6, and then we did reading and vocabulary and math. We smiled at each other, giggled at the funny sentences in the vocabulary program, talked about her family and how much she misses her mom. And then we finished and "checked-out" and she said she was a 9.5.
It's the little things and the little numbers that make a difference. Because maybe tomorrow she will check in and out with only 3.5. But I know that she can be a 9.5, and I will work tirelessly to keep seeing that cheeky grin light up her sweet face.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Buying a House
So I'm buying a house. Sort of - my grandpa and parents are helping me financially to get started, but after that I'm taking care of costs and upkeep.
Looking at houses is SO fun . . . until you are actually trying to decide if you want to drop considerable money into it or not! There are so many different factors to consider. I think the hardest one for me has been the idea of permanence and the perfectionist in me that arises.
See, looking for apartments is easy - if it doesn't work out, or you just don't like it as much as you thought you would, it's only a year. Then you move somewhere better.
But a house - well if you are going to invest in a house, it had better work out a little longer than a year!
It's a little scary. Permanence. Settling down. And it has taken me a while to realize why it intimidates me so much. I love having "roots" and I love the concept of "home". In fact, with each of my temporary housing situations, I tried so hard to make it feel like a true home.
I just always imagined that settling down would look different. I imagined a husband, children, being able to stay at home and putter around the house with the children, "making home" all day. And that is not at all what my life looks like right now.
So my challenge is the same that Paul challenged the early Christians in I Corinthians. He said:
 |
| Note: Not buying this one. :) |
Looking at houses is SO fun . . . until you are actually trying to decide if you want to drop considerable money into it or not! There are so many different factors to consider. I think the hardest one for me has been the idea of permanence and the perfectionist in me that arises.
See, looking for apartments is easy - if it doesn't work out, or you just don't like it as much as you thought you would, it's only a year. Then you move somewhere better.
 |
| Excited to take a look at this one soon! |
But a house - well if you are going to invest in a house, it had better work out a little longer than a year!
And for the past 5 years of my life, I haven't lived in a single place for longer than 10 months.
It's a little scary. Permanence. Settling down. And it has taken me a while to realize why it intimidates me so much. I love having "roots" and I love the concept of "home". In fact, with each of my temporary housing situations, I tried so hard to make it feel like a true home.
 |
| The little deck of my last apartment - green makes me feel at home. |
I just always imagined that settling down would look different. I imagined a husband, children, being able to stay at home and putter around the house with the children, "making home" all day. And that is not at all what my life looks like right now.
So my challenge is the same that Paul challenged the early Christians in I Corinthians. He said:
"Each one should retain the place in life that the Lord assigned to him and to which God has called him. . . What I mean, brothers, is that the time is short. For this world in its present form is passing away." (7:17, 29a, 30b)
I can't let my life pass away in wishing I were somewhere else, something else, or had someone else. THIS is what God has called me to. The world is crumbling and I am such a small part of it - yet the Lord of Creation has offered me a home, where I can seek peace and stillness, entertain those who don't know Him yet, offer a bed to those needing shelter. Who am I to question this calling?
Lord, take away my fear of never realizing dreams. May I always "wake up" from my dreaming to see what it is you have before me right now.
"For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity,
but of power, love, and self-discipline."
II Timothy 1:7
but of power, love, and self-discipline."
II Timothy 1:7
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Writing Love Letters
It used to be so natural and easy to put a pen to paper, let the words flow from my heart and through the ink. I filled pages of my journal, jotted down notes to friends in class, labored over lengthy letters to people I loved. All those words. Really, all those feelings and thoughts. For that was what my words were.
One day. Boxes of love letters were suddenly once again mine. Returned. Read, enjoyed, saved. Then returned. My tortured thoughts and deepest feelings. Handed back to me in a shoe box. My heart, in a box.
I saved that box for years. It wasn't about him, but me. The letters, they had been about me. My outlet, the only way to keep everything inside from bursting outside. I couldn't read them again. I had lived the pain and joys once and it didn't seem right to try and live them again. But throw them away? So my heart sat in a box in my closet.
Eventually, in the process of moving so much, I decided to simplify and downsize all the stuff I had been dragging through Missouri with me. Out went the letters. My heart, in a box, now in a dumpster.
I want to write love letters again. I want an overflow of feelings to come out onto paper. I want to love that much. But I am learning that my writing and my love are not about me.
"For the Lord comforts his people
and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.
One day. Boxes of love letters were suddenly once again mine. Returned. Read, enjoyed, saved. Then returned. My tortured thoughts and deepest feelings. Handed back to me in a shoe box. My heart, in a box.
I saved that box for years. It wasn't about him, but me. The letters, they had been about me. My outlet, the only way to keep everything inside from bursting outside. I couldn't read them again. I had lived the pain and joys once and it didn't seem right to try and live them again. But throw them away? So my heart sat in a box in my closet.
Eventually, in the process of moving so much, I decided to simplify and downsize all the stuff I had been dragging through Missouri with me. Out went the letters. My heart, in a box, now in a dumpster.
I want to write love letters again. I want an overflow of feelings to come out onto paper. I want to love that much. But I am learning that my writing and my love are not about me.
"For the Lord comforts his people
and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.
But Zion said, 'The Lord has forsaken me,
the Lord has forgotten me.'
the Lord has forgotten me.'
. . . I will not forget you!
See, I have written you on the palms of my hands. . . "
I write love.
God writes me.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Heart Transplant
I watched an episode of House, M.D. tonight that involved a patient who needed a heart transplant. Dr. House decided to lie about her psychological problems so that the transplant committee wouldn't exclude her from the transplant list. She got the transplant and promised to get treatment for bulimia.
As the episode wrapped up, I found myself thinking about people who get transplants. My general attitude toward these individuals is that they have a responsibility to take care of their bodies. The idea of someone going back to past bad habits and re-injuring themselves makes me feel sick - especially when I know how many deserving people don't get the transplants they need.
Enter conscience. Don't I claim that I've had a heart transplant of my own? A spiritual one, anyway. So how do I take care of my spiritual self? What does my "diet" look like? Have I kicked the bad habits that lead me to need the transplant?
Well. That gives me a whole lot to think about tonight.
As the episode wrapped up, I found myself thinking about people who get transplants. My general attitude toward these individuals is that they have a responsibility to take care of their bodies. The idea of someone going back to past bad habits and re-injuring themselves makes me feel sick - especially when I know how many deserving people don't get the transplants they need.
Enter conscience. Don't I claim that I've had a heart transplant of my own? A spiritual one, anyway. So how do I take care of my spiritual self? What does my "diet" look like? Have I kicked the bad habits that lead me to need the transplant?
Well. That gives me a whole lot to think about tonight.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Full Circle
Last night, I was looking for something to doodle. So often, I've found inspiration and comfort in the Psalms, so I started thumbing through them.
Life has sure changed.
Underlines. Notes in the margins. Tear streaked ink. These cover the pages of my Bible that hold Psalms of tragedy and pain.
Verses about being forsaken. Alone. Broken-hearted. Empty. Helpless. Sinking. Fear.
Emotions expressed thousands of years ago. Shared by my heart for so long. Years I thought would never end.
Today, for myself, I no longer dwell in those Psalms. I seek out the verses of Promise and Hope in the Old Testament, and words of Encouragement and Conviction in the New Testament.
But those underlines. Tears. Notes. They still tug at me. Not for me, but for my girls. The ones I've been praying for these last months.The ones I'll soon be sharing life with. Right now, they are all in places of darkness I have never been or imagined. Those Psalms, the cries for help, for anyone at all to take notice and see me - those will be the cry of their hearts.
So I've circled back. Through autumns of drought and death. Through seasons of barren winter. Through springs alive with new and beautiful things. Through summers filled with light and warmth.
Back to the death and intense hurt caused by sin in this world. But this time. This time. I know that I am safe and secure. I know that life will spring anew for each of these girls. I know the healing brought by God's abundant grace.
". . . to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor."
Life has sure changed.
Underlines. Notes in the margins. Tear streaked ink. These cover the pages of my Bible that hold Psalms of tragedy and pain.
Verses about being forsaken. Alone. Broken-hearted. Empty. Helpless. Sinking. Fear.
Emotions expressed thousands of years ago. Shared by my heart for so long. Years I thought would never end.
Today, for myself, I no longer dwell in those Psalms. I seek out the verses of Promise and Hope in the Old Testament, and words of Encouragement and Conviction in the New Testament.
But those underlines. Tears. Notes. They still tug at me. Not for me, but for my girls. The ones I've been praying for these last months.The ones I'll soon be sharing life with. Right now, they are all in places of darkness I have never been or imagined. Those Psalms, the cries for help, for anyone at all to take notice and see me - those will be the cry of their hearts.
So I've circled back. Through autumns of drought and death. Through seasons of barren winter. Through springs alive with new and beautiful things. Through summers filled with light and warmth.
Back to the death and intense hurt caused by sin in this world. But this time. This time. I know that I am safe and secure. I know that life will spring anew for each of these girls. I know the healing brought by God's abundant grace.
". . . to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor."
Isaiah 61:1b-3
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| photographer Zion DiGennaro |
The Next Thing
Hi friends and family!
Hope you have all been doing well and enjoying the fresh new year of 2014! I am so excited to see what God has ahead of me this year, and wanted to share with each of you the new adventure I'm about to begin.
Several years ago, my friend Gretchen introduced me to the issue of sex-trafficking. She had heard about it at ICOM (International Conference on Missions) and was deeply moved and determined to reach the victims of this horrific crime. Gretchen gave me books, sent me articles, and showed me movies and documentaries about this issue and I found myself sharing her passion to help girls who lead these lives. However, at the time I was in school to be a nurse and didn't really see a clear way that nursing would connect to this. In the past year and a half, I've been searching for an opportunity to work with this population in a capacity as a missionary overseas, but nothing has been quite right, and most of the organizations I found who were helping these girls didn't need a nurse. So, I found a job in Springfield after graduation and have been working as an RN on a women's health floor at the hospital here. It has been the perfect "first nursing job" for me - great learning experience, great co-workers, great patient population.
Then, about a month ago, Gretchen posted on facebook a job opportunity with the non-profit organization she works for, called The Covering House. Based in St. Louis, TCH is a group dedicated to raising awareness and help for girls in the St. Louis area who are victims of sex-trafficking. While it may seem like a "foreign" problem, there are actually many, many victims in the U.S., especially in larger cities, and St. Louis is no exception. TCH is planning to open a residential home as soon as they are able and one of the positions they posted was for an RN! I prayed about it for a while and then applied - within a week I had interviewed, been offered the job, and decided to accept!
So, in about 1 month I am going to be moving to St. Louis to work full-time with The Covering House! I will be managing the healthcare for the 10 girls who will be living in the residential home and collaborating with the therapists, psychiatrist, physician, education supervisor, and programming director to find the best treatment plan for dealing with the physical and psychological ramifications of the trauma these girls have experienced. The home is brand new and there are very few places like this in the U.S. - less than 100 beds in the whole country for an estimated 300,000 victims - so we will be starting from scratch and my job will be evolving as we go. The director of this organization is incredibly competent, well-informed, intelligent, and has a heart the size of Texas (or at least, St. Louis). Everyone involved is so prepared and ready for this new way of reaching girls and the ability to actually offer them a safe home.
I'm simultaneously excited and terrified about this opportunity! I am so excited to be reaching people who desperately need help, love, support, comfort, and ultimately, Jesus. I'm excited to be moving to St. Louis where I have many friends and will remain pretty close to my family (especially when compared to the option of moving to East Asia, where most organizations reaching these victims are located!). I am excited that God has given me this amazing opportunity to use nursing and my passion for helping these girls, and at the perfect timing in my own life. And I'm terrified because this is going to be an emotionally draining job, dealing daily with really heavy topics - think typical teenage girls stuff magnified times 100. These girls have lived in hell and I'm choosing to daily walk through that with them, trying to show them the hope and light offered by Christ. I'm terrified to have so much responsibility and to not have established policies and procedures of a hospital already in place, like I do now. I'm terrified to live on about half of my current income.
But, while my mind goes crazy with excitement and anticipation, I find my heart oddly at rest. Peace has found a place in my soul, and deep hope for beautiful things has taken root. I know that I am not going to change the world by taking this job. I know that I am nothing, really. I won't be rescuing anyone, saving anyone, fixing anyone. But I will get to partner with God in His incredible plan for the precious, valuable lives of each of these girls I will work with. And that is pretty neat.
So. The next several months will be busy! Thankfully, I have a friend from college who has offered her parents' home as a place to live initially while I look for an apartment that her and I can share. But, I may not call or email or be in touch very often as I wrap up life here in Springfield and start getting settled in St. Louis. I selfishly ask that you pray for me nonetheless. :) For strength and perseverance and continued peace and hope.
Thank you all for your love, support, prayers, etc. You are so special to me and I am blessed to have you!
Becky
http://thecoveringhouse.org/ This is the organization I will be working with! They have a lot of great information about the issue.
http://www.polarisproject.org/human-trafficking/overview The Polaris Project deals with all kinds of human-trafficking, but has great info about sex-trafficking specifically.
http://sharedhope.org/learn/policy-impact-2/ This link has more regarding policy issues in this fight against trafficking.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/02/03/super-bowl-sex-trafficking_n_2607871.html Interesting article, especially with the Super Bowl just around the corner - something to think about!
http://sexandmoneyfilm.com/ Incredible documentary, very well done and looks at trafficking specifically of American youth within the U.S. - which is the population I will be working with.
Hope you have all been doing well and enjoying the fresh new year of 2014! I am so excited to see what God has ahead of me this year, and wanted to share with each of you the new adventure I'm about to begin.
Several years ago, my friend Gretchen introduced me to the issue of sex-trafficking. She had heard about it at ICOM (International Conference on Missions) and was deeply moved and determined to reach the victims of this horrific crime. Gretchen gave me books, sent me articles, and showed me movies and documentaries about this issue and I found myself sharing her passion to help girls who lead these lives. However, at the time I was in school to be a nurse and didn't really see a clear way that nursing would connect to this. In the past year and a half, I've been searching for an opportunity to work with this population in a capacity as a missionary overseas, but nothing has been quite right, and most of the organizations I found who were helping these girls didn't need a nurse. So, I found a job in Springfield after graduation and have been working as an RN on a women's health floor at the hospital here. It has been the perfect "first nursing job" for me - great learning experience, great co-workers, great patient population.
Then, about a month ago, Gretchen posted on facebook a job opportunity with the non-profit organization she works for, called The Covering House. Based in St. Louis, TCH is a group dedicated to raising awareness and help for girls in the St. Louis area who are victims of sex-trafficking. While it may seem like a "foreign" problem, there are actually many, many victims in the U.S., especially in larger cities, and St. Louis is no exception. TCH is planning to open a residential home as soon as they are able and one of the positions they posted was for an RN! I prayed about it for a while and then applied - within a week I had interviewed, been offered the job, and decided to accept!
So, in about 1 month I am going to be moving to St. Louis to work full-time with The Covering House! I will be managing the healthcare for the 10 girls who will be living in the residential home and collaborating with the therapists, psychiatrist, physician, education supervisor, and programming director to find the best treatment plan for dealing with the physical and psychological ramifications of the trauma these girls have experienced. The home is brand new and there are very few places like this in the U.S. - less than 100 beds in the whole country for an estimated 300,000 victims - so we will be starting from scratch and my job will be evolving as we go. The director of this organization is incredibly competent, well-informed, intelligent, and has a heart the size of Texas (or at least, St. Louis). Everyone involved is so prepared and ready for this new way of reaching girls and the ability to actually offer them a safe home.
I'm simultaneously excited and terrified about this opportunity! I am so excited to be reaching people who desperately need help, love, support, comfort, and ultimately, Jesus. I'm excited to be moving to St. Louis where I have many friends and will remain pretty close to my family (especially when compared to the option of moving to East Asia, where most organizations reaching these victims are located!). I am excited that God has given me this amazing opportunity to use nursing and my passion for helping these girls, and at the perfect timing in my own life. And I'm terrified because this is going to be an emotionally draining job, dealing daily with really heavy topics - think typical teenage girls stuff magnified times 100. These girls have lived in hell and I'm choosing to daily walk through that with them, trying to show them the hope and light offered by Christ. I'm terrified to have so much responsibility and to not have established policies and procedures of a hospital already in place, like I do now. I'm terrified to live on about half of my current income.
But, while my mind goes crazy with excitement and anticipation, I find my heart oddly at rest. Peace has found a place in my soul, and deep hope for beautiful things has taken root. I know that I am not going to change the world by taking this job. I know that I am nothing, really. I won't be rescuing anyone, saving anyone, fixing anyone. But I will get to partner with God in His incredible plan for the precious, valuable lives of each of these girls I will work with. And that is pretty neat.
So. The next several months will be busy! Thankfully, I have a friend from college who has offered her parents' home as a place to live initially while I look for an apartment that her and I can share. But, I may not call or email or be in touch very often as I wrap up life here in Springfield and start getting settled in St. Louis. I selfishly ask that you pray for me nonetheless. :) For strength and perseverance and continued peace and hope.
Thank you all for your love, support, prayers, etc. You are so special to me and I am blessed to have you!
Becky
http://thecoveringhouse.org/ This is the organization I will be working with! They have a lot of great information about the issue.
http://www.polarisproject.org/human-trafficking/overview The Polaris Project deals with all kinds of human-trafficking, but has great info about sex-trafficking specifically.
http://sharedhope.org/learn/policy-impact-2/ This link has more regarding policy issues in this fight against trafficking.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/02/03/super-bowl-sex-trafficking_n_2607871.html Interesting article, especially with the Super Bowl just around the corner - something to think about!
http://sexandmoneyfilm.com/ Incredible documentary, very well done and looks at trafficking specifically of American youth within the U.S. - which is the population I will be working with.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Christmas This Year
Christmas is different this year.
I'm in an empty apartment, single and away from my family. What a strange feeling to have this time of year.
My heart aches a little bit. How hard it is to live without a sense of belonging anywhere! The more time I spend with my parents and siblings, the more I long for that in my own life - my own family - to begin.
But not this year. This year, it's just me. And while it's not a feeling I like, it's one I want to remember.
Because if I don't know loneliness, how will I remember the lonely people around me?
And if I don't know hurt, how will I reach the hurt of those I know?
And if I can't feel empty, how will I know what it is to be filled?
So I want to stop feeling these, but I don't want to forget them.
Because one year, it'll be me, plus. And I need to find someone who is alone and show them my heart, the heart that remembers.
I'm in an empty apartment, single and away from my family. What a strange feeling to have this time of year.
My heart aches a little bit. How hard it is to live without a sense of belonging anywhere! The more time I spend with my parents and siblings, the more I long for that in my own life - my own family - to begin.
But not this year. This year, it's just me. And while it's not a feeling I like, it's one I want to remember.
Because if I don't know loneliness, how will I remember the lonely people around me?
And if I don't know hurt, how will I reach the hurt of those I know?
And if I can't feel empty, how will I know what it is to be filled?
So I want to stop feeling these, but I don't want to forget them.
Because one year, it'll be me, plus. And I need to find someone who is alone and show them my heart, the heart that remembers.
Friday, October 4, 2013
Single Life and God
I read this blog post yesterday and have been thinking about it ever since.
Everyone I talk to has something different to say about my life right now - particularly, being single and yet longing for marriage and family.
"Focus less on finding the right person, and more on becoming the right person."
"You have to be fully content in your relationship with God before He is going to bring another relationship into your life."
"You are still so young - only 21 - and there are so many good guys out there! You just haven't met them yet."
"A life of singleness doesn't mean that God is holding out on you, or keeping you away from His best for you."
I am torn. Part of me wants to fully embrace the attitude of the blogger. I long to be freed from the idea of waiting, to live life fully and contentedly now. I definitely do not want my relationship with God to be dependent on Him delivering a Godly husband to me on a silver platter. I do believe in "a God who provides, loves and gives infinite purpose even to our singleness."
But the other part of me looks inside and sees an entire bundle of desires, skills, and talents that line up with being a wife and a mother. Desires that seem to come from this God I serve. And I am lost about what to do with those.
Do I set them away in a tiny corner of my heart, hoping they will still be there when the time comes?
Do I toss them in the trash, pretend they never existed, and put on the brave face of celibacy?
Am I allowed to acknowledge them while I'm still single - or more importantly, in front of other people?
Or do I have to continue guiltily hiding these desires? Feeling like hanging onto them means that I am not Christian enough?
The only conclusion I have come to is that to focus on God is everything. It's like the reading a book or watching a TV show or movie. I have let myself get drawn into the story, follow the characters intently, wait for the plot to unfold. I hate trying to "guess" the end, or even worse - reading the last chapter first!
Basically, I have to trust the Author of the story of my life. I have to live this day, this page, right now. I have to see how the desires and passion He has given me play a part in my life today. If (when) I do dream about the future, I need to remember that there are so many possible endings to this story. That means I dream big.
And yes, I can allow myself to dream of a marriage for the Kingdom, where my husband and I work as a team every day for God. I can also dream of being single and moving to Africa, working to be a mother to many, many orphans. My dreams can still include things like a career change, moving every year to a new city, starting a NGO, adopting or fostering, raising children who love Jesus, learning to love sacrificially.
And when I dream, I have to give it to Jesus - the bundle of overwhelming desire for marriage and a family and the longing that brings me to tears.
What does it mean that I "give it to Jesus"? It means that everyday, I come to Him and say "Jesus, I want a husband. I want children of my own. I know I could do it, and do it well. I know that you have given me a heart for this. But today, that doesn't seem to mean anything. What should I do?"
Some days, this conversation leads to me seeing how my desires are being filled by Him. Other days, it leaves me feeling like He is not enough for everything I want.
But always, it humbles me and brings me to His feet to learn and grow closer to Him. And what more could I ask for?
Everyone I talk to has something different to say about my life right now - particularly, being single and yet longing for marriage and family.
"Focus less on finding the right person, and more on becoming the right person."
"You have to be fully content in your relationship with God before He is going to bring another relationship into your life."
"You are still so young - only 21 - and there are so many good guys out there! You just haven't met them yet."
"A life of singleness doesn't mean that God is holding out on you, or keeping you away from His best for you."
I am torn. Part of me wants to fully embrace the attitude of the blogger. I long to be freed from the idea of waiting, to live life fully and contentedly now. I definitely do not want my relationship with God to be dependent on Him delivering a Godly husband to me on a silver platter. I do believe in "a God who provides, loves and gives infinite purpose even to our singleness."
But the other part of me looks inside and sees an entire bundle of desires, skills, and talents that line up with being a wife and a mother. Desires that seem to come from this God I serve. And I am lost about what to do with those.
Do I set them away in a tiny corner of my heart, hoping they will still be there when the time comes?
Do I toss them in the trash, pretend they never existed, and put on the brave face of celibacy?
Am I allowed to acknowledge them while I'm still single - or more importantly, in front of other people?
Or do I have to continue guiltily hiding these desires? Feeling like hanging onto them means that I am not Christian enough?
The only conclusion I have come to is that to focus on God is everything. It's like the reading a book or watching a TV show or movie. I have let myself get drawn into the story, follow the characters intently, wait for the plot to unfold. I hate trying to "guess" the end, or even worse - reading the last chapter first!
Basically, I have to trust the Author of the story of my life. I have to live this day, this page, right now. I have to see how the desires and passion He has given me play a part in my life today. If (when) I do dream about the future, I need to remember that there are so many possible endings to this story. That means I dream big.
And yes, I can allow myself to dream of a marriage for the Kingdom, where my husband and I work as a team every day for God. I can also dream of being single and moving to Africa, working to be a mother to many, many orphans. My dreams can still include things like a career change, moving every year to a new city, starting a NGO, adopting or fostering, raising children who love Jesus, learning to love sacrificially.
And when I dream, I have to give it to Jesus - the bundle of overwhelming desire for marriage and a family and the longing that brings me to tears.
What does it mean that I "give it to Jesus"? It means that everyday, I come to Him and say "Jesus, I want a husband. I want children of my own. I know I could do it, and do it well. I know that you have given me a heart for this. But today, that doesn't seem to mean anything. What should I do?"
Some days, this conversation leads to me seeing how my desires are being filled by Him. Other days, it leaves me feeling like He is not enough for everything I want.
But always, it humbles me and brings me to His feet to learn and grow closer to Him. And what more could I ask for?
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Here for Now
I'm cozied up in an old easy chair, covered with my favorite blanket and listening to some soothing hymns. Life has changed the past couple months, and I am still trying to sit and soak in all the newness. I found a job on an OB/GYN floor in Springfield, Missouri, and I am working 8-hour shifts, 5 days a week as an RN. It felt like I'd never get here, and every day at work, I find that what nurses told me was true - the first year of nursing makes you feel like you learned nothing in school and you are starting entirely over! But I have wonderful, experienced nurses that I am working alongside and they have been encouraging and helpful every step of the way. I love working with patients of all ages - literally, 1 day old through those at the end of their lives - and have learned as much from them as anyone else.
My life isn't very full aside from work. Andy, my oldest brother, married his beautiful bride last weekend. It was a perfect wedding, full of God and His great plan for their lives together. Family and friends gathered and I truly enjoyed every moment. It made me really look forward to the day I find a man who makes me think, "I could serve God's kingdom better as this man's teammate than I could alone."
But for today, it's just me and the Lord, and I am straining my eager ears each day to listen for where He may want me next. While I like Springfield, the 2 months of working in a hospital have really made me realize that my heart is with the health of communities and families. I want to work in a setting that allows me to be with patients for months, years at a time, rather than just 8 hours, or maybe a couple days if I'm lucky. I've been reading about midwifery and as soon as I'm off the extra hours of work brought on by orientation, I plan to start researching different developing countries and mission organizations. It will be a big step, but part of life being "just me" right now means less responsibility - I don't have to worry about uprooting a family or making my decisions with the life plans of another person to consider. What a blessing - lonely some days, but mostly just refreshing and freeing. I want to cherish these days.
My soul longs to be a mother. Working with new moms and having friends who are just beginning their families makes the ache so strong some days. And yet, that energy and fire in my heart can be used in so many ways - I would appreciate your prayers for humility in my life. I want to be ready for when God brings the next thing and I want to fully live what He has given me now. When my pride gets in the way, I think I have a better plan and I strain and pull for what I want. Pray that I would be able to daily bow before the Lord and ask Him what He wants - for tomorrow, next year, and the next 10 years, but also for today.
My life isn't very full aside from work. Andy, my oldest brother, married his beautiful bride last weekend. It was a perfect wedding, full of God and His great plan for their lives together. Family and friends gathered and I truly enjoyed every moment. It made me really look forward to the day I find a man who makes me think, "I could serve God's kingdom better as this man's teammate than I could alone."
But for today, it's just me and the Lord, and I am straining my eager ears each day to listen for where He may want me next. While I like Springfield, the 2 months of working in a hospital have really made me realize that my heart is with the health of communities and families. I want to work in a setting that allows me to be with patients for months, years at a time, rather than just 8 hours, or maybe a couple days if I'm lucky. I've been reading about midwifery and as soon as I'm off the extra hours of work brought on by orientation, I plan to start researching different developing countries and mission organizations. It will be a big step, but part of life being "just me" right now means less responsibility - I don't have to worry about uprooting a family or making my decisions with the life plans of another person to consider. What a blessing - lonely some days, but mostly just refreshing and freeing. I want to cherish these days.
My soul longs to be a mother. Working with new moms and having friends who are just beginning their families makes the ache so strong some days. And yet, that energy and fire in my heart can be used in so many ways - I would appreciate your prayers for humility in my life. I want to be ready for when God brings the next thing and I want to fully live what He has given me now. When my pride gets in the way, I think I have a better plan and I strain and pull for what I want. Pray that I would be able to daily bow before the Lord and ask Him what He wants - for tomorrow, next year, and the next 10 years, but also for today.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Going.
Where am I going next?
It's a good question for right now, especially while I'm in the process of navigating the mental gynmasitcs of job hunting, interviewing, applying, etc. I find myself using all those classic words from grade school - what, where, when, why, how. . . Today, the where is on my mind. Home is something I hold in high regard - I long to know where that will be so that I can start dreaming and planning and making connections. I want to go - even if the job is mundane and the town/city is a snooze. I'm ready for adventure in life and moving will certainly be that.
And so, without knowing the where, I find myself bemoaning life, feeling lost and directionless. "I don't know where I'm going" - it's a scary phrase. Tonight though, I recall that this world is not my home. Those verses in Scripture have always been a comfort to me, especially as I battle dark days on earth and today I am reminded of that comfort. I am going to Heaven. . . and how I get there has also been determined. That is one journey I don't have to worry about. And if that is the most important trip of all. . . and it's already figured out. . . then I have no worries. A great deal of unknown still lingers. As does my Savior. Linger a while longer.
It's a good question for right now, especially while I'm in the process of navigating the mental gynmasitcs of job hunting, interviewing, applying, etc. I find myself using all those classic words from grade school - what, where, when, why, how. . . Today, the where is on my mind. Home is something I hold in high regard - I long to know where that will be so that I can start dreaming and planning and making connections. I want to go - even if the job is mundane and the town/city is a snooze. I'm ready for adventure in life and moving will certainly be that.
And so, without knowing the where, I find myself bemoaning life, feeling lost and directionless. "I don't know where I'm going" - it's a scary phrase. Tonight though, I recall that this world is not my home. Those verses in Scripture have always been a comfort to me, especially as I battle dark days on earth and today I am reminded of that comfort. I am going to Heaven. . . and how I get there has also been determined. That is one journey I don't have to worry about. And if that is the most important trip of all. . . and it's already figured out. . . then I have no worries. A great deal of unknown still lingers. As does my Savior. Linger a while longer.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Things I Want to Do
When I graduate. I might have more time with my life. I want to do things.
- Learn to play an instrument - piano, guitar?
- Read about Economics so I can better understand issues of health and poverty around the world
- Study for the NCLEX-RN
- Make a t-shirt quilt
- Finish my travel quilt
- Refinish/paint some of my furniture - my dresser, end table, coffee table, bed frame, and kitchen chairs/table
- Gather all my apartment decorations together, get rid of things that don't "go" or I don't need, and determine what my style is
- Sew. Sew, sew, sew.
- Learn about gardening, help with our family garden, and plan ways I can grow herbs in a future apartment
- Find a job.
- Make a list of my favorite books or books I recommend to others. Make a list of books-to-read. Read.
- Look at least one news article each day.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Suicide and Hope
Taking a short break from homework to blog about something I saw on facebook (one of the few times going to facebook actually has resulted in deeper thinking and understanding about a real life issue for me and not simply wasted time!).
Apparently Pastor Rick Warren, author of The Purpose Driven Life and pastor at Saddleback Church in California, had a 27-year-old son who committed suicide on Friday night. After searching out some news stories for more information, I was touched and encouraged by the sensitivity of the reports and the way that Pastor Warren seems to be dealing with this. This son struggled with mental illness his entire life, a deep depression that did not go away even after years of treatment at the hands of the best physicians and psychiatrists in America, medications, counseling, and prayer.
Initially, this terrifies me. In my struggle with depression, I have often been encouraged by the well-meaning friend or family member that "this won't last forever" or "you will feel better and you just need to hold out until then." While this is the case in most situations of depression, it doesn't seem to have been for this young man. When I hear about years and years of trying and finding nothing to help, it makes me wonder if that may be my lot too. Granted, I have already found such healing and relief from the worst of my depression and pray that this will be the case from here on out.
More than scaring me however, it breaks my heart. Because I know so well what it is like to struggle through depression as a Christian. Pastor Warren said that several years back, he remembers his son say, "Dad, I know I'm going to heaven. Why can't I just die and end this pain?" I have spoken those same words to my dad, more than once. Days upon weeks upon months of gut-wrenching, heart-shattering, unbearable pain, walking around like a zombie, numbed and unable to stop the flow of tears. . . it soon becomes clear that anything would be preferable to living life like this - and when death means perfect bliss and intimacy with God in heaven for eternity, of course that sounds more appealing!
The apostle Paul speaks to this in Philippians 1:23-24, when he says, "I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body." The "necessary for you" is the part that seems so impossible when living a life marked by depression - how can I be beneficial to anyone? How does my time on earth bring life or joy or meaning to anyone else? I feel like I'm just taking up space and I cannot see purpose or meaning in my own life, much less live in a way that helps others to find it in theirs. My pain is not worth whatever help I might be to someone else down the road.
And I don't have an answer to these thoughts or questions. When a mind is clouded by depression, there is no reasoning that will help that person to make sense of life or continuing to choose to live. I get that. But today, I speak as one whose mind isn't muddied by these thoughts. And I can say that these past few months, I have had glimpses of meaning. Slivers of light that point out ways my life might make a difference. Areas I may be "necessary" for others. Having to daily make the choice to live is not an easy task. I don't fault those who wake up one day and can no longer make that choice.
But today, I am. I choose to live.
Apparently Pastor Rick Warren, author of The Purpose Driven Life and pastor at Saddleback Church in California, had a 27-year-old son who committed suicide on Friday night. After searching out some news stories for more information, I was touched and encouraged by the sensitivity of the reports and the way that Pastor Warren seems to be dealing with this. This son struggled with mental illness his entire life, a deep depression that did not go away even after years of treatment at the hands of the best physicians and psychiatrists in America, medications, counseling, and prayer.
Initially, this terrifies me. In my struggle with depression, I have often been encouraged by the well-meaning friend or family member that "this won't last forever" or "you will feel better and you just need to hold out until then." While this is the case in most situations of depression, it doesn't seem to have been for this young man. When I hear about years and years of trying and finding nothing to help, it makes me wonder if that may be my lot too. Granted, I have already found such healing and relief from the worst of my depression and pray that this will be the case from here on out.
More than scaring me however, it breaks my heart. Because I know so well what it is like to struggle through depression as a Christian. Pastor Warren said that several years back, he remembers his son say, "Dad, I know I'm going to heaven. Why can't I just die and end this pain?" I have spoken those same words to my dad, more than once. Days upon weeks upon months of gut-wrenching, heart-shattering, unbearable pain, walking around like a zombie, numbed and unable to stop the flow of tears. . . it soon becomes clear that anything would be preferable to living life like this - and when death means perfect bliss and intimacy with God in heaven for eternity, of course that sounds more appealing!
The apostle Paul speaks to this in Philippians 1:23-24, when he says, "I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body." The "necessary for you" is the part that seems so impossible when living a life marked by depression - how can I be beneficial to anyone? How does my time on earth bring life or joy or meaning to anyone else? I feel like I'm just taking up space and I cannot see purpose or meaning in my own life, much less live in a way that helps others to find it in theirs. My pain is not worth whatever help I might be to someone else down the road.
And I don't have an answer to these thoughts or questions. When a mind is clouded by depression, there is no reasoning that will help that person to make sense of life or continuing to choose to live. I get that. But today, I speak as one whose mind isn't muddied by these thoughts. And I can say that these past few months, I have had glimpses of meaning. Slivers of light that point out ways my life might make a difference. Areas I may be "necessary" for others. Having to daily make the choice to live is not an easy task. I don't fault those who wake up one day and can no longer make that choice.
But today, I am. I choose to live.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Death and Easter
Today I was reading from Matthew when Jesus urges his disciples to "deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me." [ch. 16] This happens shortly after Peter confesses that Jesus is the Messiah who they have been waiting for. Oh, and Jesus decides that these 12 closest to him are ready to hear that he will be brutally killed by the leaders of their community. nbd.
They say hindsight is 20/20, and while my vision is more like 20/200, even I can look back at this conversation and think, "Oh, this is in reference to the fact that Jesus will die on a cross. He had to carry it himself, so he's telling the disciples that following him requires them to also experience some level of self-sacrifice, pain, denial, and suffering." But today, I realized that the disciples didn't know that. Sure, Jesus had started talking about his death - but did they already know how it would go down? Not from what we're told of the conversations.
So. This radical, wonderful man they have been following through the countryside. Watching him heal and perform miracles. The occasional zinger to the authority figures in the community. Loving and befriending the common man. Sending the disciples out into villages with power. Suddenly is telling them that he's going to die, and he expects them to follow. "Whoever loses his life for me will find it."
Uh, Jesus? I joined this bandwagon because of the cool miracles and awesome perks of being on the road, barefoot and carefree and loving people. . . . but dying? Really. Doesn't sound like something I'm quite ready for yet. Can I just do the first part, the thing you said about denying myself? That sounds manageable right now. Maybe denying my need for facebook for a couple weeks. I think I can do that. You know what, let me take a couple weeks to pray about this whole "cross" situation. I'll get back to ya.
Carrying a cross. It involves humiliation. Being made fun of by everyone, put on display for all your friends and neighbors to see. Searing pain and physical strain. Embarrassment. Shame. Nakedness. Sweat. Blood. Eventually, death. Because you aren't just carrying a cross - you're carrying your cross. So we've gotta die. I don't see a way out of it.
Death precedes life. It's backwards from how we usually think about it. The newborn child, precious little Easter chick, green grass beginning to poke through the brown Missouri mud. Beginnings of life, and death doesn't happen until way down the road, at least we hope. And yet, Jesus says, DIE FIRST. Then, you'll get to "find" your life. Terrifying. Unknown. Regrets. These are things we experience in death.
But the best is yet to come.
They say hindsight is 20/20, and while my vision is more like 20/200, even I can look back at this conversation and think, "Oh, this is in reference to the fact that Jesus will die on a cross. He had to carry it himself, so he's telling the disciples that following him requires them to also experience some level of self-sacrifice, pain, denial, and suffering." But today, I realized that the disciples didn't know that. Sure, Jesus had started talking about his death - but did they already know how it would go down? Not from what we're told of the conversations.
So. This radical, wonderful man they have been following through the countryside. Watching him heal and perform miracles. The occasional zinger to the authority figures in the community. Loving and befriending the common man. Sending the disciples out into villages with power. Suddenly is telling them that he's going to die, and he expects them to follow. "Whoever loses his life for me will find it."
Uh, Jesus? I joined this bandwagon because of the cool miracles and awesome perks of being on the road, barefoot and carefree and loving people. . . . but dying? Really. Doesn't sound like something I'm quite ready for yet. Can I just do the first part, the thing you said about denying myself? That sounds manageable right now. Maybe denying my need for facebook for a couple weeks. I think I can do that. You know what, let me take a couple weeks to pray about this whole "cross" situation. I'll get back to ya.
Carrying a cross. It involves humiliation. Being made fun of by everyone, put on display for all your friends and neighbors to see. Searing pain and physical strain. Embarrassment. Shame. Nakedness. Sweat. Blood. Eventually, death. Because you aren't just carrying a cross - you're carrying your cross. So we've gotta die. I don't see a way out of it.
Death precedes life. It's backwards from how we usually think about it. The newborn child, precious little Easter chick, green grass beginning to poke through the brown Missouri mud. Beginnings of life, and death doesn't happen until way down the road, at least we hope. And yet, Jesus says, DIE FIRST. Then, you'll get to "find" your life. Terrifying. Unknown. Regrets. These are things we experience in death.
But the best is yet to come.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Life, as it Were
Hello, March.
The birds are beginning to chirp in the mornings, and daylight savings has helped the sun hang in the sky a bit longer each day. Spring is almost here. Spring. New beginnings and life, a fresh start.
And May, specifically May 11th, is right around the corner. That is the day I graduate and head off into the great unknown of the future.
But first, let's look back a little. Three years ago this week was when I first came face-to-face with y diagnosis of Recurrent Major Depressive Disorder. Since December 19th, 2011, this diagnosis has worked a number on my life. Today, it's still something I square off with on at least a weekly basis. I have learned a great deal about it, and like any disease, have discovered what symptoms and signs to be on the lookout for that may indicate a relapse. However, although I have developed a deeper understanding of this, I always face difficulty in explaining it to others.
This afternoon, in the midst of some really difficult feelings and thoughts, I came up with a rough analogy of what life looks like for me right now. Imagine walking along a smooth, sandy beach. To your left is the ocean, vast and unpredictable, with waves towering and crashing on the coast. The water creeps up the sand, tides changing throughout the days and months. As I walk, my toes sink into the sand - the sun shines, breezes blow, and life is lovely.
For those individuals without depression, they are far enough up the beach that the waves don't reach them, and that is for the best, because the water represents the difficulties of life. Occasionally, they may get splashed by a high tide, and scurry up a little further on the shore. Sometimes, a surprise rip tide may pull them in, and they may end up far, far out at sea - but always, they are able to find their footing, stagger up onto the beach, and learn to move away from those waves. I can live this life too, and I have found that I am most effectively able to walk in this way when I am on medication and in counseling, treating the chemicals in my brain that make this life so difficult.
But then, there is life without treatment. And for a variety of reasons, I have experienced this sporadically throughout the past 3 years. Life with depression is like walking in the wet sand and not having the ability to move up to dry sand. Each wave that creeps up the coast represents a trigger or stressor that has the potential to stimulate a depressive response in my brain. The water that used to be simply a beautiful, unpredictable, and powerful force I could see at a distance suddenly becomes a force I grapple with daily. And I can resist some waves, but it's just not the same as when I'm walking on dry sand. I get pulled out to sea and sometimes spend days and weeks there, worn down by the waves and wind. When I make it back to shore, I am exhausted and more easily drawn in by the next one.
My only solace and hope for this unknown future before me, and the only way I can make sense of these years of being beaten down by waves is that there is a lifeguard. Sometimes, it feels like he is just sitting up at the lifeguard tower, watching but doing nothing. Other times though, I know he's walking with me. That he has rescued me from the waves before something worse happened. Each day, he's helping me learn what it looks like to continue walking forward, even when pulled out to sea. And there are days in which we just sit down on the beach. I say, "I can't go on" and he tells me "I know." We bury our toes in the sand. Let the water drip through our fingers. Rest my weary soul.
The birds are beginning to chirp in the mornings, and daylight savings has helped the sun hang in the sky a bit longer each day. Spring is almost here. Spring. New beginnings and life, a fresh start.
And May, specifically May 11th, is right around the corner. That is the day I graduate and head off into the great unknown of the future.
But first, let's look back a little. Three years ago this week was when I first came face-to-face with y diagnosis of Recurrent Major Depressive Disorder. Since December 19th, 2011, this diagnosis has worked a number on my life. Today, it's still something I square off with on at least a weekly basis. I have learned a great deal about it, and like any disease, have discovered what symptoms and signs to be on the lookout for that may indicate a relapse. However, although I have developed a deeper understanding of this, I always face difficulty in explaining it to others.
This afternoon, in the midst of some really difficult feelings and thoughts, I came up with a rough analogy of what life looks like for me right now. Imagine walking along a smooth, sandy beach. To your left is the ocean, vast and unpredictable, with waves towering and crashing on the coast. The water creeps up the sand, tides changing throughout the days and months. As I walk, my toes sink into the sand - the sun shines, breezes blow, and life is lovely.
For those individuals without depression, they are far enough up the beach that the waves don't reach them, and that is for the best, because the water represents the difficulties of life. Occasionally, they may get splashed by a high tide, and scurry up a little further on the shore. Sometimes, a surprise rip tide may pull them in, and they may end up far, far out at sea - but always, they are able to find their footing, stagger up onto the beach, and learn to move away from those waves. I can live this life too, and I have found that I am most effectively able to walk in this way when I am on medication and in counseling, treating the chemicals in my brain that make this life so difficult.
But then, there is life without treatment. And for a variety of reasons, I have experienced this sporadically throughout the past 3 years. Life with depression is like walking in the wet sand and not having the ability to move up to dry sand. Each wave that creeps up the coast represents a trigger or stressor that has the potential to stimulate a depressive response in my brain. The water that used to be simply a beautiful, unpredictable, and powerful force I could see at a distance suddenly becomes a force I grapple with daily. And I can resist some waves, but it's just not the same as when I'm walking on dry sand. I get pulled out to sea and sometimes spend days and weeks there, worn down by the waves and wind. When I make it back to shore, I am exhausted and more easily drawn in by the next one.
My only solace and hope for this unknown future before me, and the only way I can make sense of these years of being beaten down by waves is that there is a lifeguard. Sometimes, it feels like he is just sitting up at the lifeguard tower, watching but doing nothing. Other times though, I know he's walking with me. That he has rescued me from the waves before something worse happened. Each day, he's helping me learn what it looks like to continue walking forward, even when pulled out to sea. And there are days in which we just sit down on the beach. I say, "I can't go on" and he tells me "I know." We bury our toes in the sand. Let the water drip through our fingers. Rest my weary soul.
Now I stand. Move forward again. I don't know if I'm on dry or wet sand, and I can not say when the next wave will hit.
"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deut. 31, 6
Saturday, May 5, 2012
A Minefield of Memories
I wake up slowly in the morning, waiting to open my eyes until I absolutely need to. The morning light should bring hope of a new and exciting adventure, but instead it brings me fear as I dread another day spent in the field. As I roll over and off my bed, I place my feet carefully, cautiously on the floor, remembering that even in the relative safety of my apartment, anything can happen. Looking for my slippers, a sudden roar fills my ears and I know that I have inadvertently set off the first mine of the day. As I hit the floor, memories wash over me. Our first Christmas. He wore those cute pajama pants over so he would keep with the theme of my family all in our pajamas. Opening the gift of slippers. Him bending down, lovingly sliding them on my feet. I shake my head as the noise dies down into a dull ringing in my ears, stand up, and shuffle to the kitchen to make my morning coffee. I'm still not fully awake but I try to keep my eyes fixed on the floor, watching every step as I try to avoid another explosion. I fill the coffee pot with water, then begin to scoop out the grounds. Boom. The lingering smell of coffee was always around him. Laughing together in the coffee shop - the one that we joked never smelled like coffee. His meticulous measuring, grinding, and brewing of the perfect cup of coffee.
I force myself to finish measuring and push the start button, all the while trying to shake the debris of this memory from my mind. I walk down the hallway to the bathroom, turning on the water to let it heat up while I try to decide on taking a bath or a shower. He always laughed at how much I loved baths. He would spend hours in the shower if he could. One time, he said he actually fell asleep standing in the shower. I slowly undress, being careful to fold my clothes as I step out of them. He never folded clothes. When I'm done with my shower, I climb out to get dressed and pause to look at myself in the mirror. He told me I was beautiful. I look through my closet, wondering what I could wear. The green one was his favorite shirt.
When I finally step out the door and head to class, I find myself wondering what waits for me. The sun is so bright, the grass so green, the birds so cheerful - how could hurt be ahead on such a beautiful day? He never walked these paths with me and I let my guard down as I wander my way to my first class. I smile at a girl as I pass her on the sidewalk. I used to talk to him on the phone on my way to class. Then, I spot a couple clearly in love, holding hands and laughing together. His laugh. I always stood to his right when we held hands. His hands were so strong and yet gentle. Gradually, I find that I am less careful with my walking as the pain becomes numbing. It's not even 8 in the morning and already I am wounded and want to curl back up in the warmth of my bed, away from the hurt.
The rest of the day is much the same. Campus is unpredictable, the mines changing every day. I find myself unable to avoid them, and over and over again my mind is filled with the dull roar of a detonation. He loved being outdoors. We wrote so many letters to each other while in class. I remember so many stories about his teachers. I always had his schedule memorized as well as my own. I wonder if he's in class right now. I wish I had him in my apartment to return to after class.
By the time I'm done with class and get back home, I am exhausted. It seems like these mines have been designed just for me, exploiting my weaknesses and finding the best places to hide so they can catch me by surprise. How do I learn to navigate an environment like this? I need so much sleep, so I have the energy to be always on edge, anticipating the next blow. Making dinner - I loved to cook for him. He learned to make the most delicious stir fry. We had such good conversations over our Sunday lunches. Jumping in my car to run errands - We spent so much time in this car and in his truck over the years. Talking, laughing, crying, praying. I would lie my head on his lap while drove and he would stroke my hair as I fell asleep. We went on road trips and "off-roading" even though our vehicles weren't made for that.
At last, I am done with this day and allowed to crawl into my bed. Surely this will be safe. Underneath my covers, face buried in my pillow, there are no memories to sneak up on me, no sights or places that will explode in my mind. And yet, like a soldier who has lost a limb, I feel phantom pains of the heart that once beat strongly in my chest. He said he loved you. He told you that you were the most precious person in the world to him. I cry out, but there is no drug that can take the edge off of my hurt. Eventually I fall asleep, only to wake up in a cold sweat - even sleep is not a sanctuary away from the memories. He called me 'my love'. He told me he looked forward to spending the rest of his life with me. Like a man who has lost all but his life on the battlefield, I do not find comfort in waking from these dreams, because the reality today is almost worse than the original experience. I find that my own mind is working against me, plotting ways to attack and further injure my already broken and weakened body and soul.
Every day, I walk this minefield. I don't want to - so often, I wish God would just take me home rather than let me experience this kind of fear, pain, and death in my life. I only pray that as time goes on, the mines will be less frequent, the explosions less deadly to my heart. Perhaps one day I will be able to walk in safety and freedom, not dreading each step but treasuring the breath in my lungs and the beating of the new heart I have received.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Eve: Shame or Confidence
"God saw all that he had made, and it was very good."
And yet, in all the good He had created, there wasn't anything that fit Adam just right, until God created woman. Adam's reaction on seeing Eve gives us a glimpse of what a beautiful woman she was. He breaks into the first poetry of this new world, a beautiful verse that would be shared for generations to follow as the beginning of the first love story. Together, they were in the garden - with trees "that were pleasing to the eye and good for food," rivers, and verdant valleys. And they were naked, and knew no shame.
This nakedness is one part of life that they lost after their fall into sin. The purity and freedom they experienced in the bodies God had given them was marred by their sin before God. But women of God, I ask you what it would look like to stand in front of the mirror each morning and be naked and unashamed. I am in right relationship with God, thanks to the sacrifice of Jesus - and yet, I look at my body and feel shameful. There is always something to find flaw in - the new acne popping up on my nose, that bulge so kindly called a "love handle," the scars on my hips that don't mark adventurous mishaps but rapid weight gain. I look at myself and try to come up with a new way to hide. Some days, it's baggy clothes and a hat, to hide my figure by blending into the background. Other days, I go the extra mile and pick out a great outfit and makeup, hoping their beauty will mask what is underneath. Eve grabbed some fig leaves and learned how to sew mighty quickly so that she could hide from God. I find it interesting though that nothing changed about her outward appearance that induced this rapid sewing frenzy - rather, a change had taken place in her heart and soul. When sin entered in, so did shame and the need to cover herself; to hide from God, Adam, and her own self the body she was formerly so free in.
Today, we suffer much because of the original fall into sin. The shame we feel about our bodies is nothing new. It is a manifestation of the sinful self we are born into, inherited from the first woman who experienced this shame. But as we come to know Christ and His sacrifice for us, and grow in our relationship with Him, I think God wants us to learn to see even our bodies as a gift from Him. Obviously, I am not advocating a confidence that begets nudity running rampant in the church. But when we think about our own bodies, and look at ourselves in the mirror, I wonder if we can learn to live like Eve did before the fall into sin - naked and unashamed, because we know that our value lies in our Savior, not in our size. She knew that, and experienced freedom and oneness with God.
And yet, in all the good He had created, there wasn't anything that fit Adam just right, until God created woman. Adam's reaction on seeing Eve gives us a glimpse of what a beautiful woman she was. He breaks into the first poetry of this new world, a beautiful verse that would be shared for generations to follow as the beginning of the first love story. Together, they were in the garden - with trees "that were pleasing to the eye and good for food," rivers, and verdant valleys. And they were naked, and knew no shame.
This nakedness is one part of life that they lost after their fall into sin. The purity and freedom they experienced in the bodies God had given them was marred by their sin before God. But women of God, I ask you what it would look like to stand in front of the mirror each morning and be naked and unashamed. I am in right relationship with God, thanks to the sacrifice of Jesus - and yet, I look at my body and feel shameful. There is always something to find flaw in - the new acne popping up on my nose, that bulge so kindly called a "love handle," the scars on my hips that don't mark adventurous mishaps but rapid weight gain. I look at myself and try to come up with a new way to hide. Some days, it's baggy clothes and a hat, to hide my figure by blending into the background. Other days, I go the extra mile and pick out a great outfit and makeup, hoping their beauty will mask what is underneath. Eve grabbed some fig leaves and learned how to sew mighty quickly so that she could hide from God. I find it interesting though that nothing changed about her outward appearance that induced this rapid sewing frenzy - rather, a change had taken place in her heart and soul. When sin entered in, so did shame and the need to cover herself; to hide from God, Adam, and her own self the body she was formerly so free in.Today, we suffer much because of the original fall into sin. The shame we feel about our bodies is nothing new. It is a manifestation of the sinful self we are born into, inherited from the first woman who experienced this shame. But as we come to know Christ and His sacrifice for us, and grow in our relationship with Him, I think God wants us to learn to see even our bodies as a gift from Him. Obviously, I am not advocating a confidence that begets nudity running rampant in the church. But when we think about our own bodies, and look at ourselves in the mirror, I wonder if we can learn to live like Eve did before the fall into sin - naked and unashamed, because we know that our value lies in our Savior, not in our size. She knew that, and experienced freedom and oneness with God.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Best Friends
I miss having a best friend. I remember back in grade school how wonderful it felt when you and another girl mutually decided to be "best friends." At that age, friendships changed rapidly and a best friend didn't always keep that position in your life very long. But when they were present, it was the best feeling - to have someone to share everything in life with. Not only your secrets, but the activities you enjoyed, the silly jokes you made together, clothes and hair things. . . it was great.
Fast-forward 10 years. I've found that people my age still have best friends. However, this has started to take the form of a boyfriend or fiance or husband. The principle is the same - it feels great to have someone with which you can share life. Not only are you romantically drawn to this man, but you are also drawn in friendship. There is a bond of trust formed as you share secrets and walk through life together. He becomes your companion and supports you in the good and bad. We also have girl friends who take on this role in our life. Often they are accountability partners, classmates, or roommates. You find that one girl with whom you are comfortable to be yourself and share of yourself. Even as life becomes busier and busier, time with her is still a priority - not only because it brightens your day but because you love her and long to pour into her life.
Friendship is a vulnerable place to enter into, especially with a "best friend." The closer you become, the more potential there is for hurt. I've experienced that first hand, multiple times. And in the same way that having a companion in life is one of the most beautiful things in this life, being rejected or forgotten or set aside by someone you care for is one of the ugliest and most hurtful parts of life.
Right now, it seems like everyone else around me has a best friend. There is always at least one person who takes priority above me for each of my friends. It is a lonely feeling, to know that you aren't #1 in anyone's life. I remember this feeling from junior high and much of high school. . . longing for someone to share life with. And I have come to realize that this longing is not misplaced. We are made in the image of the Triune God and thus, wired for relationship. After all, God himself is in relationship with himself and the three persons that join together in relationship to form our God. This is something I find is imprinted on my soul and it's a desire I'm never going to be able to just ignore or push aside.
I've felt the most blessed in life when I've had a companion to share it with. But I'm beginning to see that perhaps the opposite is true. Maybe loneliness is a blessing because it allows me to learn to fulfill my desires with God. It's not impossible to do this when you do have earthly friendships and relationships . . . it's just harder. And if you are not in the habit of seeking God to fill the void in your life, those other friendships are never going to feel like enough. But as God takes on the role of Lover, companion, and best friend, I think we will find that our capacity to love and share life with others actually expands. Sharing God as your first love is the strongest bond any relationship can have.
I still miss my best friend terribly. I mourn the parts of my life that I shared, the seasons we went through together that will be lost forever to my happy memories. But Lord, teach me to use this time as a blessing and opportunity to fill my void and desires with your love, your friendship, your companionship. Be my secret-keeper, my counselor, one who desires me as I am.
Fast-forward 10 years. I've found that people my age still have best friends. However, this has started to take the form of a boyfriend or fiance or husband. The principle is the same - it feels great to have someone with which you can share life. Not only are you romantically drawn to this man, but you are also drawn in friendship. There is a bond of trust formed as you share secrets and walk through life together. He becomes your companion and supports you in the good and bad. We also have girl friends who take on this role in our life. Often they are accountability partners, classmates, or roommates. You find that one girl with whom you are comfortable to be yourself and share of yourself. Even as life becomes busier and busier, time with her is still a priority - not only because it brightens your day but because you love her and long to pour into her life.
Friendship is a vulnerable place to enter into, especially with a "best friend." The closer you become, the more potential there is for hurt. I've experienced that first hand, multiple times. And in the same way that having a companion in life is one of the most beautiful things in this life, being rejected or forgotten or set aside by someone you care for is one of the ugliest and most hurtful parts of life.
Right now, it seems like everyone else around me has a best friend. There is always at least one person who takes priority above me for each of my friends. It is a lonely feeling, to know that you aren't #1 in anyone's life. I remember this feeling from junior high and much of high school. . . longing for someone to share life with. And I have come to realize that this longing is not misplaced. We are made in the image of the Triune God and thus, wired for relationship. After all, God himself is in relationship with himself and the three persons that join together in relationship to form our God. This is something I find is imprinted on my soul and it's a desire I'm never going to be able to just ignore or push aside.
I've felt the most blessed in life when I've had a companion to share it with. But I'm beginning to see that perhaps the opposite is true. Maybe loneliness is a blessing because it allows me to learn to fulfill my desires with God. It's not impossible to do this when you do have earthly friendships and relationships . . . it's just harder. And if you are not in the habit of seeking God to fill the void in your life, those other friendships are never going to feel like enough. But as God takes on the role of Lover, companion, and best friend, I think we will find that our capacity to love and share life with others actually expands. Sharing God as your first love is the strongest bond any relationship can have.
I still miss my best friend terribly. I mourn the parts of my life that I shared, the seasons we went through together that will be lost forever to my happy memories. But Lord, teach me to use this time as a blessing and opportunity to fill my void and desires with your love, your friendship, your companionship. Be my secret-keeper, my counselor, one who desires me as I am.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Weakness
Could it be that weakness is my ultimate goal?
I see it as such an embarrassment, so painful, so hard to endure. And yet, II Corinthians 11 and 12 tell us that in our weakness, God's grace and power are seen the best. Isn't that what we want - God's glory?
If I must boast then, I will boast in my weakness.
I will boast in the fact that each night, I have to run to the Savior's arms because otherwise, sobbing overtakes me.
I will boast that I can't find the desire to live beyond today, because my sweet Lord gives me the will to live today for Him.
I will boast that I have disappointed someone who loved me deeply, because I know that God's grace is sufficient for me and His love will never, ever run out or change.
I will boast that I can't get a 4.0, because God has given me the strength to pull through some classes with B's.
I will boast that I tend to depend on loved ones too much, because God has taken that dependence and used it to show me how much I need Him.
I will boast that I don't know at all what my future holds, because that means God can do whatever He wants with it.
So much boasting. And yet, so much that the world (and even the Body of Christ) tells me I should be ashamed of.
Not tonight. Tonight, I boast that I have been wooed and won by the ultimate Lover. I am weak - then He is strong.
I see it as such an embarrassment, so painful, so hard to endure. And yet, II Corinthians 11 and 12 tell us that in our weakness, God's grace and power are seen the best. Isn't that what we want - God's glory?
If I must boast then, I will boast in my weakness.
I will boast in the fact that each night, I have to run to the Savior's arms because otherwise, sobbing overtakes me.
I will boast that I can't find the desire to live beyond today, because my sweet Lord gives me the will to live today for Him.
I will boast that I have disappointed someone who loved me deeply, because I know that God's grace is sufficient for me and His love will never, ever run out or change.
I will boast that I can't get a 4.0, because God has given me the strength to pull through some classes with B's.
I will boast that I tend to depend on loved ones too much, because God has taken that dependence and used it to show me how much I need Him.
I will boast that I don't know at all what my future holds, because that means God can do whatever He wants with it.
So much boasting. And yet, so much that the world (and even the Body of Christ) tells me I should be ashamed of.
Not tonight. Tonight, I boast that I have been wooed and won by the ultimate Lover. I am weak - then He is strong.
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