Nash-iversary No. 2

One week ago I celebrated my two-year Nash-iversary. HAPPIEST DAY. Two years has certainly slipped quickly by, but I also feel like I've been here much longer. Time is funny that way, isn't it? 

I got all nostalgic for a moment last week, like ya do, and thought back over the last two years and what got me here. When people ask why I came to Nashville, I always tell them, "Because I could." Which is true. I did it because, well, why not?

Sometimes, I think God steps back and lets us make choices. What I mean by that is, while I believe He is always orchestrating and watching, I feel like there are watershed moments where He stands right behind us and whispers, What are you going to do? Nashville was one of those moments for me. I had two equally good choices: stay in Kansas, save money, and reroot in my hometown, or up and move to a new city for absolutely no reason, and see what might happen. 

The winter before I moved, I drove down for a visit with my friend Monica. While in town, I spent time with my future roommate, Meagan, and she asked me how I was feeling about the move. At the time, I was uncertain. I didn't feel a strong nudge from Jesus in either direction. In fact, I got pretty wish-washy about it for a bit. I wanted a flashing neon sign. Like, HEY GIRL, DO THIS. But no such thing ever appeared. There was no carrier pigeon from the heavens, with a handwritten letter telling me to go. In fact, I (honestly) had very few conversations with Jesus about Nashville. I remember telling Meagan I was afraid of the move, because I knew moving to Nashville would stretch me and grow me past my current comfort level. The Main Dude knew it too, clearly. Because He knows all the things. But He didn't force anything. He let me decide.

And here I am, two years later. Completely blown away by the beauty, grace, stretching and growth. Ready for whatever year three might have in store. Very thankful.

All that to say, if indecision has ever got you stuck, and you feel like you have to wait for a neon sign from above, maybe you don't. Maybe it's time to take a step. One deep breath, one step. Let the adventure happen. To be frozen by fear, or indecision, or the desire for security is completely normal. But frozen things are stuck. And you, my friend, were not made to be stuck. You were made to explore and create and do. Throw caution to the wind a little bit. Like, be wise about it, but also don't over think. Leap. Maybe you'll soar, maybe you won't quite. But either way, there will be blessing. There will be growth. And there will be wild beauty and grace every step on the way.  

Glass Slippers

Fairytales play a whimsical song on my heartstrings. I love them. Always have. I love the magic and the mystery and the adventure and the romance. I love the transformations. I love seeing the impossible become possible, and broken things be fixed. 

Disney recently remade their own classic, Cinderella. The first time I saw the preview my heart jumped. No really, it did. Because whimsy isn't just child's play, and the stories that quickened my heart as a little girl still do.

I definitely wasn't disappointed. The remake was every bit as magical as my four year old heart and my twenty-four year old heart could have ever wanted. I especially liked the time the writers took to give a little backbone to what had previously been a pretty two dimensional story. Like, how the H did Cinderella end up being a servant in her own house? How did she get that name? Because no one's parents would actually name their kid Cinderella, ya know?

There was a scene where Cinderella gets her name, and it happens in a way things very often happen in real life. Her stepsister makes a joke at her expense, one that hit a little too close to home. Words have power, friends, and often the identity we give ourselves comes from lies spoken over us. Ella begins to see herself for what her stepfamily has named her, not who she really is.

Enter the fairy godmother. The stepfamily has left for the ball, Cinderella is grieving the loss of a dream and what feels like the final stamp of her new identity as unimportant and unwanted. But then. Then Helena Bonham Carter shows up in a bedazzled wig and makes magic happen.

This is the part I started to tear up.

My friend Tim loves to talk about identity and purpose. When people cry in movies, he asks, "Okay, why are you crying? What about this story is getting you?"

So of course as soon as I started crying, my brain clicked on and I thought, "Why am I crying?"

Transformation. I love the picture of transformation. I love that a common girl is remade into a princess. But the transformation doesn't mask her true identity, the transformation reveals who she truly is. Cinderella is beautiful, and so very worth royal treatment she is given. She is not her circumstances, and she is not the lies her stepfamily put on her. She is desired. She is loved. She is, truly, set apart.

My heart longs to know it is special. I want to be the ragged urchin transformed into royalty. I want the prince to find me and say, "Oh, she is worth endless searching with only a shoe as a guide." Don't we all, at least a little bit? 

Friends, the fairytale is real. It is so, so real.

Two thousand years ago, a crucifixion happened on the side of a mountain in Jerusalem so that I could become a princess. I am set apart. You, friend, are set apart. And, the minute you turn around and take the gift, you can be given a new name and be transformed. Jesus loves (LOVES) to help you shed who you think you are and remake you into who you actually are. He died on a cross in order to have that privilege.

The other best part about this new Cinderella was the very end, when Ella goes to meet the prince and try on the glass slipper. As Ella descends the stairs, and you can see nervousness and excitement dancing in her eyes, the narrator asks the question, "She wondered if who she was, who she really was, would be enough."

Oh, how often do I wonder the same! Do you?

In the fairytale, of course she is enough. And Ella and the prince skip off into the sunset and it's a little bit (super) cheesy but also satisfactory. Because, okay, the story is a little bit cheesy. Whatever. But here's why I left the theatre with a full heart:

Even though Ella had to admit she wasn't a princess, the prince still looked right at her and said, "You are worth it." Which is exactly what Jesus says to us when we come before him as our broken, sinful, very real selves. 

Who I am is enough. And not because I'm an angelic, courageous, kind soul with very few flaws to speak of. No. I am enough because Jesus says so. Because he died on a cross to gain the privilege of transforming me from urchin to royalty. He has stepped into false identity, painful circumstances, and darkness and said, You are not these things. You are treasured, you are loved, you are mine.

Today is Easter Sunday. I had no intention of writing a super sappy Easter post, but I guess I kind of did. Because a retold fairytale reminded my heart of some big truth in a very tender way. So, praise to the One who conquered death in order to bring us into new life. 

He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

Waiting Games

So I wrote this book. And I meant to release the book at the beginning of March. And, wouldn't ya know, little road blocks kept coming up. Just when I thought it was ready to go, there was a formatting issue, or a huge typo (guys, I spelled Jehovah wrong and no one caught it), or someone brought up a content question and I started rethinking. 

Nothing huge, and nothing that can't be fixed, but I'm beginning to notice that, once again, the Lord is making sure this happens in His time and not mine. Which is making me think. What's the reason? What puzzle piece is He holding onto that I can't see? I don't know, and I don't think I need to know yet. But I'm getting a little frustrated by the very obvious brake He's putting on this project.

Which brings me back to thoughts on patience and trust. I've been on such a high lately I wasn't too worried about either of those things. It isn't hard to trust when everything is going well, ya know? I've been getting a lot of free reign lately to do my thing. A lot of Jesus being all like, Carry on, ya big cutie! 

But He's asking me to trust Him again. There's been this little nudge (that I have maybe been totally ignoring) to slow down and take meticulous care of this little piece of my heart I'm about to publish for the wide, wide world to read. And I don't really want to. If I'm being honest, what I want to do is hurry it along and get it out there so I can say I published a book and begin to receive accolades and the parade I'm sure is being prepared in my honor (jokes, y'all, please don't plan a parade.) I want to call it done.

But it occurred to me this morning that this project isn't worth completing if it isn't done side by side with Jesus. Just like a relationship wouldn't be worth it, just like the best job ever wouldn't be worth it, just like anything wouldn't be worth it. I want this book to have impact. I want it to serve the Kingdom. I want to tell my story well. And, while it's a perfectly good book now, I starting to realize it's imperative to listen to the gentle push that is saying, Wait.

Here's what I'm thinking: If your goal is to walk in step with the Lord, then you have to trust Him when He asks you to wait. What would be good now could potentially be greater, if you can let go in trust and hand over the keys.

I'm sitting on that truth today. Being real with myself about the fact that I want control of this situation. I want to publish the dang book when I want to publish the dang book. But I'm pretty positive I'm being asked to wait. Maybe He will tell me why at some point. Maybe not. But if there's one thing I know, it's that I will be much better off slowing down and keeping step with Jesus rather than rushing ahead (like I so often want to do.) I know He has it under control. And I know He wants to see this dream come true as much as I do. So I'm chilling. And editing. And waiting.

Jehovah Jireh. God provides.

Be Still, My Heart

Photo by Lindsey Riley

Anxiety is a tricky thing. It's considered certifiable disorder, but whether you're diagnosed with it or not, I think everyone struggles with anxious thoughts and fears at some point. I had it really bad last year. Like, couldn't make it through a six-hour barista shift without having a panic attack bad. There were a lot of factors feeding that anxiety, but there were also moments my mind went into anxious overdrive over absolutely nothing. It's terrifying to feel out of control of your thoughts. That's where I was for about six months. Out of control, and living in constant fear.

Thankfully, my anxiety began to dissipate, slowly but surely, and now I'm a-okay.  But that doesn't mean I don't get anxious and panicky sometimes. My creative, active mind can (creatively) spin all kinds of fears and truths and lies into things I need to worry about. Do you know that feeling? That nagging little whisper that can convince your heart of the worst things?

I've had a couple of weeks recently that have been weeks of deep breaths and silent prayers. There is a spinning hamster wheel in my head that will not stop, no matter how hard I try to make it go away. I've had a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach, and my heart flutters with fear at the littlest thing. There's this little (but powerful) liar hissing in my ear that I need to fight for control in a situation that doesn't even involve me. The liar also tells me I am insignificant, and that I am not good enough. And, even though I know all those things ring very false, they are still very loud bells.

So I have a new routine. Whenever I feel the weight of an anxious thought begin to press into my mind, I find a quiet corner and close my eyes. Take a few deep breaths. And start reciting:

Father, You have promised to daily bear my burdens.

There is something pretty powerful about reminding God about what He's already promised to you. Like, obviously He knows, but I have this feeling He likes us to claim those promises for ourselves, and be bold enough to say them back to Him. And He has definitely promised to carry our burdens.

Psalm 68 says, Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens. Our God is a God who saves; from the Sovereign Lord comes escape from death.

Our burdens can be a death of sorts, you know? It's so easy to be weighed down by anxiety and whatever else, to the point that you are dead in your soul and broken by fear. Our minds are a glorious gift from God, but Satan has figured out a way to weasel his way into that gift and use it against us. Because that's what he does best. He wants us to be trapped. (He's the worst.)

BUT GOOD NEWS. We have the ultimate Pal to take over that burden. All we have to do is hand it to Him. 

Here's a cool thing: David doesn't tentatively ask God to help a brother out in Psalm 68. He walks boldly into the throne room with praises already on his lips, saying THANK YOU, LORD, for this sweet gift. That is the attitude we need. If Christ is in us, and we are in Him, His strength is our strength. Therefore, we can throw off the burdens and the whispers and the lies and say, Hey, Jesus, this is all yours. He has promised to catch and carry the load. He wants to catch and carry the load. He wants you to be light. He wants me to be light. He wants to take the things that are troubling us, the anxiety and the heaviness and the fear, and throw them far away.

So we can run freely and confidently toward Him.

Road Trips and Big Gifts

I drove to and fro across seven of the fifty states this weekend. That's a lot of think time, y'all. For an internal processor such as myself, upwards of seven-hour car trips can be kind of nice. Plenty of head space in which to stretch out and dig down. Life has been wildly, beautifully busy these last few weeks, and I had some settling and sorting to do. Do you ever take time to just sit and let your mind go? Like our bodies, I think our brains need play time. Space to expand and explore and create without any kind of boundary or filter or agenda. 

I spent the first drive, from Nashville to Kansas City, teaching myself Godspell harmonies. Because, wouldn't ya know, one of the ways God is loving on me right now is by letting me be in my favorite musical of all time at a little dinner theatre in North Nashville. Buy tickets. Seriously it's going to be so tight.

When I wasn't warbling through the chorus of "By My Side" fifteen times in a row, though, I sat in silence. My thoughts just kind of wandered. I prayed through some tough spots, and asked for forgiveness for some ding dong things I've done lately, and also said thank you a whole bunch of times. You know, a big thanks to Jesus for all those dreams that have been coming true. Then I sat quietly. And Jesus did that thing He does, where He talks without speaking. A single verse floated from one side of my mind to the other, and with it came the sweetest revelation.

Delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.

Heart dreams and desires seem like the same thing to me, friends. I've been all aflutter with joy over these dreams Jesus is letting me catch. It never occurred to me that He was granting the desires of my heart. But OF COURSE He is.

I imagine Jesus looking me right in the eye, with a warm smile, and saying something like this:

My sweet girl, nothing brings me more joy than giving you what your heart desires. When you are delighted, it brings me delight. I love to watch you laugh and enjoy the  life I have given you! I want to lavish good things on you, can't you tell? And, my girl, if I'm giving you all these things now, can you learn to trust me to give you the rest of your dreams too? Trust me when I say, I'm looking forward to your wedding day as much as you are. But for now, soak up all the fun and growing and joy I've given you in this season. I'm handing the the rest.

Do you love to give gifts? I do. Christmas Day is my favorite day not because of the gifts I am given, but because of the gifts I get to give. I love picking things out, and wrapping them with care, and I always get a little excitedly antsy when it comes time for my family and friends to open them. 

God knows that feeling. He freakin' loves giving gifts, too. Probably more than I do. It actually brings your Savior infinite delight to lavish gifts on you, his precious one. I don't know why it's so hard to buy into that idea but can definitely be. Friend, let yourself believe it. Learn to see His gifts as they come, and receive them and go have a ball! 

Pro tip: Spring is definitely one of those gifts. Sunshine and fresh air and new life, ya know? Get out there and bask in it. 

Touch the Sky

On Wednesday I sat in a laundry basket in the middle of a park on a snowy hill while my friend Amanda made snowballs and threw them at small children.

As I basked in the sparkling winter sunlight (while simultaneously losing feeling in my toes) I had one of those rare moments of epiphany.

I am living the dream.

People say that all the time, especially when they don't mean it. Like when you ask the guy working at Sonic on a 107 degree day how he's doing, he's all like "Oh yeah, livin' the dream."

But it occurred to me, on that sparkly white hillside, that I am actually living. my. dreams.  

I just finished reading a book about how stories work, so I have some new lingo to frame life with. For example, an "inciting incident" in a story is is the event that sparks the fuse of the plot. I like that. Because it's true. There are events in the story of our lives that light a fire under our butts and change the plot. 

About a year ago was one of the biggest inciting incidents of my story. And, as I look back at the narrative of the past twelve months, I am struck by two things. One, I am quick to see all the ways my life has not changed in that time, and two, my life has actually changed completely in that time.   

One spring ago, I had a broken heart and a lot of cloudy dreams. This spring, I have a heart that is being recreated, and dreams running wild and coming true all over the place. And the beauty is, I really didn't do anything.

The American dreams says we have to hustle to make shit happen. That nothing will come unless we do it ourselves. I'm not against a good hustle, but I'm starting to think that mentality is wrong.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned lately is that I am pretty useless without Jesus. I mean I'm great or whatever, but when I try to do things on my own they usually crash and burn. It's only when I admit my weakness and let Jesus in that things start groovin'. Which makes total sense. My Father is the biggest dreamer of all, and He has put His dreams in my heart. It stands to reason that in order for those dreams to become real, He would have to be the one to do it. My finite humanity can't bring infinite dreams to fruition.

When a dream tugs at your heart, maybe your first reaction to shut it down. It's too big, you might say. No way that could happen.

Friend, I am telling you. It's possible. And there is only one thing you have to do. Show up. That's all. The dreams that are stewing away in your heart were given to you by the ultimate Dreamer. He knows exactly what you are capable of in His power, and He just needs you to step up to the plate.

Out of my greatest season of weakness, I have seen my biggest dreams take flight. Because once I had nothing to lose, it was easy to say, "Well sure I'm down. Why the heck not?"

Why the heck not has a been a big thing for me in 2015. 

What I am positive of is this: Our biggest dreams will become reality when we look onward and upward and seek Jesus. All he asks is that we show up and grab His hand. 

Choices

On Monday, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Truly. I was in a foul mood for absolutely no reason. I mean, I got to work at 6:45 in the morning and was already ready to go home. You know those days?

I looked my boss in the face and said, "I apologize in advance, but I woke up on the way wrong side of the bed today and I don't know what's up."

She responded, in her calm, matter-of-fact way, "Well then I guess today will be a day of choices."

I think I took a physical step back to take in her words. The simplest thing, but so utterly profound.

A day of choices.

Sure, I was in the dumps and wanted to sucker punch even the kindest people for most of that morning. But every time something rubbed me the wrong way, I could make a decision. Respond out of my bad mood, or respond out of love. Because love isn't a feeling. Love is an action verb. A choice.

The funny thing is, as I made moment by moment decisions to respond with love, my mood changed. The little details of the day that had been driving me so crazy evaporated as my brain went into to overdrive in an attempt to love big. The act of loving made me feel love toward my customers and coworkers.

I think last Monday was an illustration of a huge principle. The feeling of love comes and goes. If you respond out of your emotions, you will be fickle and temperamental. But if you choose to respond in love, if you consciously think through loving your neighbor well, no matter how you're feeling, those choices will begin to shape your heart. 

Often, I think we give ourselves a free pass to behave badly because we feel a certain way. But all that does is create a cycle of bad vibes and gunk, and everyone you encounter will get dragged into the mess, too. 

It seems to me that the better thing is to escape the cycle by choosing to do so. There are always options, if we choose to see them. One will be self-serving, the other will be full of grace. And the choice is always yours.

Every day is a day of choices. Some days might be easier than others, but to set your mind on choosing love requires active thought.  Try it for a day. Try it on a day you really, really would rather not. See what happens. I think you'll be filled to the brim, and ready for more.

Feet on Dreams

Photo: Emma Wilson

Sometime we have a dream. You know, a heart dream that nestles down into us and flares up every so often like a shooting star.

Sometimes those dreams sit in an armchair in our brains until they become old and gray, unused. And some dreams put their feet on the ground and start running. Those are the kinds of dreams that make the world spin. The kind of dreams that lead to lightbulbs and bestsellers and discovering America. 

My boss Gracie has those kinds of dreams. A ton of them. They have led her to start a small business focused on crafting handmade jewelry and clothes, changing the lives of women in her community, and creating a brand that celebrates womanhood, community and beauty. All in under two years.

I think dreams are a love language, created by Jesus. He delights in planting something in our hearts that will take root and blossom and burn in us until we make it happen. It's how He changes the world. It's how He teaches us to trust. The biggest dreams, the ones most worth going after, are never going to come easily. 

And I really truly believe He puts such dreams in everyone. Maybe you haven't found yours yet, but I bet if you sit on it for a little bit, the dream would come to you.

In November I had an dream grab me by the hand and take off. 

Writing a book was one of those things I always assumed I would do. Eventually. Key word: eventually. Like, at the age of 45, after years of gathering wisdom and once I had become someone worth listening to. It never occurred to me to write a book now.

As last year drew to an end I took a moment to catch my breath and survey the damage. Sounds dramatic, I know, but a lot happened and it took some processing. One way I processed, season to season, was through writing. Obviously. If you followed this blog at all, you probably picked that up. But I also journaled through tears and in moments of fear-shattering joy. I word-vomited all over Moleskin notebooks and in iPhone notes. Without meaning to, I told a story. 

It's kind of impossible to recognize a story as it's happening. There is no rhyme or reason, no plot, no obvious inciting incident or climax, when you'e living it. But in November, I started to gain a little perspective and see the story. I had just lived through a pretty life-changing thing. Life changing not because of the circumstances (the circumstances were pretty ordinary, honestly, in the grand scheme of things), but life changing because of what I saw Jesus accomplish. He chased me and stole my heart and made it new.  And it occurred to me that the thing you do with stories, is tell them. 

I began to gather all my old blog posts, journals and letters and put them in chronological order. I edited and organized and added a little bit more to the end, and by the second week of January I had a book.

And I'll be self-publishing that book in about two weeks.

I don't expect it to blow up, or even to make a medium-sized splash. I'm mostly just doing it to know I can. Why wait until 45, when what I have gained at 24 is worth sharing? And I'm confident this story is worth sharing.

So, I'll keep you posted. I've given myself a deadline that (hopefully) I will stick to, and there is much to do before then. I am so excited. And scared. Blogging is one thing, putting a year's worth of heartbreak and learning and soul battles in print is downright terrifying. But it also feels good.

While I'm finishing this dream up, go find yours. And we'll drink some coffee and chat about it. And give praise to the biggest Dreamer of them all, who loves to see our dreams run wild.

No Day But Today

Photo: Emma Wilson

Contentment is one of those ever-elusive, constantly discussed parts of "good Christianity", I think.

It's very trendy to be single but be all, "it's okay, I'm content in the Lord" or to say things like, "Man, you just need to learn to be content. Like Paul was in jail that one time." We always assume that only the super-Christians are actually content. Because it seems there is constantly something in the way of us being cool with where we are in life.

And, if you're anything like me, not being content feels like a big fat sin. And with that comes a lot of shame. "Why am I not content? What's wrong with me? Why can't I freakin' chill?"
Know what I'm talking about? We get this guilt complex about not being able to "rest in the Lord" (whatever that means), and spend way too much time focusing on how ungrateful we are and it can be very stressful.

In the past six months or so, when people have asked how I'm doing, I've told them very honestly that I'm taking life one day at a time. Usually with a little giggle, and a devil-may-care hair toss, but the root of that phrase goes deep. There was a time when it really did take every grace from God for me to make it from sunrise to sunset. And even though I've got my swag back now, I still focus on taking life just one day at a time. Each day has enough troubles of its own, am I right?

Here are the perks of taking life on a day-to-day basis:

1) Is some looming future event stressing me the H out? Yes. Has that event arrived as of today? No. Can I live with the knowledge of that event today? Totally. So I don't have to worry about three months from now. Great.

2) A bad day is just that-- a bad day. A singular 24-hour period. Then I'll go to bed and wake up and get to start all over on a clean slate.

3) It's a lot easier to spot and appreciate little goodies in a day, when you treat that day like your first and last. Like my favorite customer coming to say hi, or frosted heart cookies at Provence.

Also, this: My very favorite phrase, It is what it is, has secret powers. By that I mean, I've been saying it to myself and out loud a whole lot. Sometimes flippantly, sometimes as a lifeline, but a whole lot regardless. And I think the words have somehow sunk into my soul and are actually starting to shape my responses. I am learning to shake it off, shake it off (to borrow a phrase). Acceptance brings an amazing amount of freedom.

The other day, I was talking to my friend Aaron about our dailys, and he asked how life was. "Great," I said. "It's beautiful. I'm not where I want to be, exactly, but I'm okay with where I'm at."

He nodded his head, "Man, being content is such a huge blessing. What a cool place to be."
And I was like, WAIT. WHAT. I'm content?? This is what being content is? I DID IT?!
Yes. Praise and hallelujah, yes. The best part is, I did exactly nothing. Jesus, in all His grace and kindness, snuck into my fear and discontent and antsy itches and taught my soul to breathe deeply. He gave me lots of dreams, while at the same time training me to be present, one day at a time.

The circumstances that were freaking me out one, three, and six months ago haven't changed. Life is marching forward and I'm still very much trying to figure it all out. But I am, for the first time in a long time, settled. Not settled in a trapped way. I have a ton of plans and a ton of dreams and my feet are bouncing with anticipation. The horizon is glowing with promise. But it's not here yet, and I'm okay to wait. There is much to learn and grow in right in front of me, and buckets of goodness to enjoy. No need to study the future forecast with a furrowed brow, right?
By the grace of God, I have stumbled into true contentment. It won't last forever, because life comes in seasons and lessons have to be relearned always. But I'm soaking it up now, and reveling in the sweetness. And it feels GOOD, you guys.

All You Need Is

Photo: Emma Wilson

Have you ever gotten to the place of asking, "What's the point?"

Like, on a grand, existential scale. What is the actual point of anything, of life. I've gotten there a few times, as I try to sort out one thing or another. As I try to make sense of this life and the patterns of humanity and my own puzzling brain. What is the point?

My roommate, Chelsea, asked the question out loud this week. She asked in great earnest, coming from that place of just wanting to throw in the towel, because there's only so many times you can circle around the same ideas and canned answers before they start to seem worthless.

I didn't have a response. What I ended up saying sounded a little hollow, even as I said it. And after that I spent a lot of time thinking about the point of everything, and how that relates to my purpose and, ultimately, my identity. Because purpose and identity, I think, walk hand in hand. Part of knowing who I am is knowing what I'm meant to do. And here's where the "what is the point" question comes into play:

Say I'm good at making coffee. And I travel to cool places. And I make crafts. And I write a book, and it somehow gets wildly popular and I make some money. Say I'm known all across my city, I'm a person others recognize. Say I cross a bunch of things off a bucket list and people call me successful. Say all of that is true about me. On the other side of heaven, will it matter?

Not particularly.

So what is the point of it being true now, if this earth is temporary?

There is the existential crisis. I don't want my life to be pointless. I want to do big things and dream big dreams and make stuff happen.  But our time on earth is fleeting, and will not last. The things we do, say, create, and dream, will all vanish to nothingness in the grand scheme of eternity. That doesn't mean we shouldn't dream and create and do, but none of that is our ultimate purpose. So if all the doing fades away to nothing at the end of it all, then what is the point of even trying? 

What in the world is my purpose, actually? What will last into eternity?

I've been sitting on this all week, and have come up with only one answer. It's so simple, it doesn't seem right. But, the more I learn about the way God works, the more I'm understanding He is all about simplicity. So maybe this is getting close. 

In John 15, Jesus tells his disciples that in order to remain in his love, they must follow his commands. 

“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete."

As I read, I kept glancing back up the chapter to see what exactly his commands were. Because, yes, obviously, I want to remain in Jesus' love, so, OKAY DUDE, tell me how to do that. But prior to verse nine, there is no mention of the commands that will, apparently, keep one in Christ's good graces. So I sped down the chapter, searching. 

And there it was, in verse 12. So simply put I was floored.

"My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you."

The only command. All Jesus asks of me. My sole purpose. Because there is one thing that will not disappear when this world is done, and that is my soul. Your soul. The soul of every human that has ever existed. The soul is the one part of us that will go on forever, either with God or away from Him. Which, I think, is why Jesus commands us to love each other.

At the end of all my days, it won't matter if I had a great career or saw the Eiffel Tower or made myself known. What will matter is the condition of my soul. What will matter is whether or not I am in Christ's love. And, according to John, the only way to stay in his love is to follow his commands. And his command is to love. 

So in the search for identity, the question of purpose is simple: Love. Love big, and love well. As Jesus loves me. That's the whole point.

I Am Not Dainty

Photo: Emma Wilson

A new movement is taking shape in my life. It keeps cropping up in conversation, and in thought. It is starting to confuse me, intrigue me, and drive me freakin' crazy.

Who am I? More specifically, who did God create me to be, and where did that creation get lost?

Do you ever ask yourself that question? I realize I am introspective to a fault, and probably spend way too much time in my own head, but I also think this question of identity is one every human has or will struggle with, if they are willing to do so. My friend Tim has this theory that the qualities God put within us as our greatest strengths are the things Satan attacks the hardest. Which can mean the things I hate most about myself, the things I most want to change, are the very things that could be my greatest weapon and gift for the Kingdom.

It's pretty mind-blowing to think about.

And here's why I think there is some truth to it: Yesterday morning, I had a brand meeting for the blog (see how I slipped that info in there? More on that soon) with my friend Callie, who instructed me to create two mood boards on Pinterest so she could get an idea of what my brand should be. I ended up putting together two very different boards. One, labeled "dreamy", was monochromatic, delicate, dainty and light. The other I called "boho", and it was blazing with color, very adventurous and earthy and loud. Truth be told, I was leaning toward the first one. When I showed it to Callie, she liked it just fine, and even cooed over some of the pictures I used. But when I showed her the boho board, she said "Oh, Rachel, this one is you."

I felt a little let down when she said it. Because I knew it to be true, but I didn't want it to be. I didn't say anything out loud, but I chewed over my reaction for the rest of the day. It would seem that I am trying to change something about myself. The bold, brassy, bright part of me. I would rather be labeled as the dainty, delicate minimalist. Why?

I"m asking the question very genuinely. I don't know why yet. But I think it's about time to find out. I think it will unlock some big stuff. Tim agreed with me. When I told him about the boards, and about how I don't want to be the loud, bright, emotional, bold version of myself, he asked why. "None of those things seem bad to me, Rachel," he said. "Why do you think they are?"

I don't know. I don't know, but I'm ready to start digging.

Slow Down, You Crazy Child.

Do you rest well? I do not. I am an on-the-go gal, thoroughly. My planner is full of coffee dates, and events, and if there is an inch of blank space, I am quick to call someone to fill it. My weeks are, more often than not, scheduled to the last second by Sunday night.

For a long time, I kept my calendar full because I was on the run from my fears about being alone and missing out. Then it just became habit to always, always have someplace to go. Only recently have I started to feel this little tug to just, like, chill. It's a very new sensation. But there are times when what I really do want is to just be at home.

The habit of always being busy is a hard one to kick. Even as I feel myself getting mentally exhausted, I still schedule one more coffee hang. Something in me feels the need to move, always. What is that? Why can I not rest?

So, yesterday was a Saturday. My morning was stacked high with plans for the farmer's market and monthly flea market, all with dear friends. Which is great. But Friday evening, one after the other, the plans fell through. My brain immediately jumped into hyperdrive. Gotta make new plans, who might be free? Who have I not seen in a bit? My fingers were literally hovering over my contacts list, when I felt the tug again. The tug to just. rest.

Oh. You mean I don't need to be busy tomorrow morning? It's okay to wake up to no plans?

So I did. Saturday morning, I slept in and awoke to bright winter sunshine bouncing off a fluffy dusting of snow. I stayed in my pajamas until noon. I made coffee. I started a new book, and got pretty far into it. I painted. Then I got a little antsy, so I called my mom. Which felt really good, because if I go too long at the start of a day without talking to someone I get stir crazy. Two of my roommates came back mid-morning and we shared big thoughts and also sat in quietness. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't doing. I was just being. And there was this light, airy sense of freedom around that whole beautiful morning that I realized was the spirit of restfulness.

I didn't leave my house until late afternoon. But the day didn't feel wasted, like I kind of thought it would. It had been a full day. A day of good talking, good thinking, and sweet rest. Instead of feeling spent, I felt full. Instead of needing to make plans happen, I felt content to let plans happen.

Starting now, I'm going to be a lot more intentional about taking time to rest. Because what yesterday taught me is that rest is joyful. And very, very necessary. If I can learn to rest, I will be better for it. For so long I relied on my community to fill me up. It got to the point where I literally needed them to survive. And, while community is great, if we treat community as a lifeline we will wear ourselves and everyone else out. If I don't know how to rest, and to be filled up in the stillness of solitude, I will become a taker instead of a giver. Which is not what I want at all. I want to be able to pour out as much as I'm being poured into, and not have to hang on to people for dear life. And I'm starting to think the key to being able to pour out is to know when to rest.

Who Are You?

Photo: Emma Wilson

I read a lot of articles on BuzzFeed. Probably too much. I use it for dumb entertainment, sometimes for valid information, but mostly to take personality quizzes. I love personality quizzes. Please, World Wide Web, tell me which celebrity I should marry, or what my style is, or which Hogwarts house I should be sorted into (Hufflepuff, every time). Which, you know, is totally fine. Maybe.

It's been coming up a lot in my head, lately, the question of why I'm so into letting the internet tell me more about myself. Because, if we're being transparent, here, those quiz results carry way more weight than they should. Something about answering a series of completely absurd questions (What is your favorite meal? Where would you like to live?) and getting a certain description of myself at the end has become a sort of validation about who I am.

Yes, you read that right. I've gotten into this very bad habit of letting BuzzFeed quizzes define something about who I am.

WHAT?!

Now, listen, I'm not saying personality quizzes are bad. Mostly, they're hilarious and sometimes weirdly on point. But I kind of think this carries over into things like Myers-Briggs results, and aptitude tests, and the like. There is a part of me that clings to the results of these tests like a lifeline, because I've gotten in this habit of letting others name me. But at what point did it become okay for an outside source, especially one that knows my heart not at all, to speak into my identity?

Is this resonating with you? Do you know yourself? Are you completely confident in your identity, or is there a part of you that is unsure about who you are? And, if that's the case, do you let outside sources name the parts of you you can't identify? I think we all do, at some point or another. Probably far more often than we think. Here's a conclusion I've come to: our true selves are very hard for us to find, because they are buried under our expectations, our desires, outside opinions, and everything we are trying to make ourselves become. Am I right? Which is why there are times I turn to things like BuzzFeed, and my friends, and people who aren't friends at all, and I latch on to what they say about me because I don't know myself. Some of the things I latch onto are downright false. More often than not, the lies are things spoken innocently, but twisted by the Deceiver to feed my spirit poison. How easily he makes that happen! And how quick am I to believe it.

I think God wires into us the desire to be understood, and to understand ourselves. More than that, I think He very intentionally made it so the only way for us to truly begin to know ourselves is to first know Him. Our true selves, that identity hidden beneath layers of self-doubt, fear, expectation, opinions and culture, will never see the light until we are given the confidence to be freely who we are. And that confidence comes from exactly one place. The heart of God. He knows me, in a way no one else ever will. He understands how I am wired better than I do. The days that I feel like a crazy lunatic, God is not phased. He knows I like boys in plaid, but that boys with strong hands make me melt. He knows Myers-Briggs classifies me as ENFP, but there's a lot more to me than that. He knows. So why is it that it never occurs to me to ask Him about my identity? Why do I let everyone but God name me?

So I think maybe, for a bit, I'm going to take a break from BuzzFeed quizzes. Not because they're evil, but because my heart needs to learn where to seek its identity. Not on the internet, not in friends, not anywhere but in the heart of my Savior, who created me and knows me better than anyone, even Isabel Briggs Myers.

What It Is

Photo: Ashley Campbell

Have you ever not spoken something out loud, in the hopes that not saying it will keep it from being real? I have. Twice, this week. Some silly part of my brain is reassuring me that if the words don't come out my mouth, if sound doesn't hit the air, the thing didn't really happen.

The reality is, no words of mine, spoken or unspoken, will change the actions of other people. A phrase I have come to use almost daily goes: "It is what it is." I don't have to like it, but I do have to acknowledge the facts. Which is a concept my very core pushes back against. I have this ideal, who doesn't?, about the way life should work, and how the dominoes should fall. A leads to B, leads to C, and the people that try hard will be rewarded. And it's not over until everything is rosy and beautiful. Another reality check: when dealing with humanity, there is very rarely a black and white, bow-on-top solution or resolution to anything. No matter how badly I want reconciliation, or an answer, or a rewind button, sometimes it just is what it is. There is no reconciliation, no answer, no rewinding. No grasping the past in an effort to change the future. I fully believe words of prayer hold immeasurable power, and the Lord answers our requests mightily in His time. But sometimes, no matter how hard we beg, He says, "This is how it's going to be. I know you don't like it, but this is what it is."

Some people say knowing God is in control of their circumstances brings them great peace. I find this to be absolutely not true 85% of the time. Because many times, God is not doing what I want, He is very much doing His own thing and, frankly, it drives me crazy. Have you ever been in that place of recognizing God's hand at work, and absolutely hating it? It feels childish. It feels wrong. But I'm pretty sure it's human. I'm pretty sure our inability to let go is something we have to unlearn. Unlearning starts with admitting we don't know everything. I may think I have the perfect solution, or be in the right, but that doesn't mean I'm right. Pride will tell me I am. The Lord will tell me, "you don't know all the pieces of this puzzle. I do." Unlearning is choosing to trust the Lord, literally no matter what. Even through tears and gritted teeth. The thing is, He will prove Himself faithful. He always does. We might not like a stretch of the journey, but His faithfulness is undeniable. If I know anything, it is that the Lord is always and forever faithful to complete whatever He has started.

I've been doing a lot of unlearning the last few months. A lot of leaning into what it looks like to let things be. It is what it is. I don't have to like it, and I can deal with that on my own time, but I do have to accept that, hey, this is it. And you know, there has been so much grace in the learning. For each step I took, the Lord bolstered my soul a little bit more. He strengthened the muscles of trust, peace, and rest. As I learned to let circumstances be, He gave me freedom.

Tonight, there is a familiar knot in my stomach. The very tips of my fingers are tingling with the desire to white-knuckle hang on to what I know is already gone. But as I sit here and breathe, the more dominant feeling is peace. Peace, because it is what it is. There are circumstances I can't change, reality that exists whether or not I say it out loud. With each inhale, I'm asking for rest. With each exhale, I'm letting go of a little more fear. That knot is loosening, slowly but surely. It is what it is. And God is who He is. So I choose peace, and joy, and rest.

"But let us go out with the patient power of knowing that the God of Israel will go before us. Our yesterdays hold broken and irreversible things for us. It is true that we have lost opportunities that will never return, but God can transform this destructive anxiety into a constructive thoughtfulness for the future. Let the past rest, but let it rest in the sweet embrace of Christ. 

Leave the broken, irreversible past in His hands, and step out into the invincible future with Him."

(Oswald Chambers)