We just finished up spring break, and it was glorious! The weather was absolute perfection, a huge contrast to the preceding winter. I have never seen a Texas winter like this last one. Down here, we do hot and humid. It’s our thing. It’s what we expect, what we know, and what we’re built for. When it comes to cold...not so much! And while it was exciting to get snow on three separate occasions, it was also kind of a mess.

I will never forget the look on my boys’ faces that cold January morning when they saw the ground covered in a thick blanket of snow, a perfectly picturesque winter wonderland. It was pure magic! And they couldn’t wait to get in it. So we bundled up in our best winter getups and headed outdoors. But after a few minutes of digging into the pure white bliss, Jett began to cry and scream out in pain. His hands were frozen and aching from trying to make snowballs, and just like that, the magic was gone. He was over it. We didn’t last very long out there and quickly retreated back into the warmth of the apartment.

The snow  practically shut down the state for a couple of days, leaving us shut in. I ran the heat constantly, layered myself in sweats and socks and blankets, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to shake the intermittent chills that ran up my spine. It was also a little odd to feel so isolated for those few days. We are on-the-go kind of people, so to log so many consecutive hours within the confines of my house ironically felt a little foreign.

I don’t remember exactly when I realized that this physical season of winter was actually mirroring the  internal season of my soul. A couple of months prior, a cold front blew through the corridors of my life, leaving me in the bleak of winter. It was a wintry mix of loss and rejection that seemingly came out of nowhere. One day, I was standing in the warmth of the sun, and the next, I was stuck outside in frigid plummeting temperatures without a coat for warmth.

This drastic change in the seasons of my life immediately sent me into denial, as if not acknowledging it would make it go away. When that didn’t work, I tried a barrage of distractions. When they also failed, then came the numbing. I didn’t want to feel anything, but in contrast, I felt everything.

The hallmark emotion of my winter was loneliness. I couldn’t shake it. Like the cold in Jett’s hands, it felt like the loneliness was in my bones. It didn’t matter how many people or activities or events I tried to layer myself in, the rawness of that cold was inside me still. It was completely polarizing to the previous season, one of kinship, reciprocity, and connection. I felt none of that now. Instead I felt a total disconnect from the world I had grown so comfortable inside, like an outsider observing my previous life.

It’s crazy to me how loneliness works. Physically, nothing had changed. No one had shunned me. I still had the support system of my family, a great circle of friends, and my church. So many people live with this daily feeling of isolation that has nothing to do with their external circumstances. They could be single or contentedly married. They could have many friends or very few. They could have no children or a whole mess of kids. I’ve come to know that loneliness isn’t always the absence of these things, rather the disconnection from them.  

The queen of introspection, I got even more curious about my depressed state and started to do a little research. I came across something interesting. Like myself, you have probably heard of the winter blues, but I was fascinated to read about the scientific evidence to support Seasonal Affective Disorder, aptly acronym-ed SAD. The National Institute of Mental Health describes SAD as: a type of depression that comes and goes with the seasons, typically starting in the late fall and early winter and going away during the spring and summer.

The symptoms of SAD closely mirror those of classic depression. And while the cause isn’t completely known, there are biological clues that point to one, namely increased melatonin production and decreased levels of serotonin and vitamin D due to the external environment or the season. In fact, some treatment ideas include activities and supplements that manipulate the production of these things.

These are the 2 things that stood out to me: 


Seasons come and go.

 When you’re in the throes of depression, it is hard to imagine that you will ever feel otherwise. Emotions can be bullies, overthrowing the logical and realistic parts of your brain. I’m emotional. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my natural response is to feel first, and sort through those feelings later. I’m getting better at making the transition more quickly, but I’m still a work in progress.

One thing I did during this dreary winter of my life was repeated tell myself and others that this was just a season. I will admit that at first, I didn’t believe me. It’s hard to separate yourself from the feelings sometimes; it’s hard to believe “I’m just feeling sad in this moment” when you’ve already committed your entire being to “I am sad”. But the truth is that you will not always be sad or happy, for that matter. Feelings come and go much like seasons. Circumstances change. People come in and out of your life. People grow. People die. The only thing that never changes in life is change.

If things are going well and life is grand, cherish it. Soak up every bit and enjoy it to the fullest. Squeeze your babies. Love your friends well. “Throw kindness around like confetti!” Cultivate a deep gratitude for the seasons of plenty because it is sure that winter is coming. (Where my GoT people at?)

If you are in a dark place, take solace in the fact that this season won’t last forever. It may feel like it now, but it won’t. My advice to you is to simply be. Sometimes you have to sit with the sadness. You have to endure the cold. Take your mind off of your feelings for a while by filling your mind with good things. Conserve your precious energy and quit fighting against a winter you can’t control. Warm yourself by the light of the fire and rest. Save your strength for the upcoming spring when you can be much more productive.

 You can’t control external circumstances, but you can make internal adjustments.

I am a firm advocate of fake-it-til-you-make-it. I’ve read too many psychological studies that support it to believe it’s just fluff. During my winter, what I really wanted to do was live in yoga pants, buy stock in dry shampoo and Blue Bell, hold up in my apartment while watching really bad reality television. But I knew those pleasures were short-lived at best and probably not the healthiest. So, I woke up daily, put on a cute outfit, did my hair, and plastered on a smile that I hoped would convince the rest of me to be happy again. I started posting an outfit of the day (#ootd) in my Instagram stories. The people that know me know how much I love clothes, and this daily post kept me from rolling out of bed and throwing on something that reflected the grungy, disheveled nature of my spirit.

I also joined an accountability group focused around health and fitness. We engaged in a health challenge that gave me something positive to focus on while holding myself accountable to a group of strong and inspiring women. I joined with the superficial goal of looking good in my bathing suit this summer, but it proved to be mutually beneficial to my soul simply by shifting my focus and energy.

The truth is that I couldn’t change the circumstances that ushered this winter into my life. But I could shift my focus and my perspective. It’s only natural to ask why. When we are staring loss, grief, rejection, and sadness in the face, we are driven to seek the meaning behind it. I believe that sometimes we find it, and sometimes we don’t.

But as with the physical seasons that come, I also believe that there are times when something has to die before something better can grow. And while it's not pretty and often desolate, I’ve learned that nothing pushes you quite like pain and nothing grows you quite like suffering.

So, as we stand at the dawn of a new season in Texas, a new one springs up within me as well. I’m finding myself in the midst of the transition where the days are longer and warmer. Hope is budding, and the ice in my heart is beginning to thaw. I’m starting to get the feeling back in my fingers as the sun brings the color back to my face.

It’s amazing how quickly things start to transform when you stop watching and willing them to do so; it’s incredible how fast the green grass grows when you stop giving it all your mental attention.

Once again, Grace has germinated the parts of me that felt dead. I look at my limbs that were so bare and sparse just a few weeks ago, and now they are lush with little blooms. As we approach Easter, this reminds me again that Jesus is the resurrection and the life. I am reminded of what the Bible says in Romans 8: the same power that rose Jesus Christ from the grave lives in you.  I’d like to think of my winter as the 3 days in the tomb: cold, lifeless, hopeless, but God in all of his glory and power and love reveals his nature, which is to breathe life back into dead things at just the right time and make them more beautiful than before.

Some very wise mentors spoke these life-giving words into my heart during my chilly season, and I would like to leave them with you today. God knows right where you are, and He has not left you or forgotten you. Even when we don’t see it or feel it, He is working ALL things for our good when we remain in Him. I pray that His divine peace and infinite love wrap you with warmth as you patiently wait for your spring to break through.  

All my love, 
​A. 

I'm beginning 2018 very humbled.
When I say that, I don't mean it in the way that an actor accepting an Oscar feels "humbled" or how a person who may have just experienced a great personal success would caption their "humility" on social media. (We've probably all been guilty of that.)  Nope, I'm talking about real humility, a lowly view of one's own importance according to Webster. 
​
​I realize this is kind of seems like the antithesis of the perky "New Year - New You" posts that typically clutter our feeds in January, but if you stick it out until the end, like me, you may find some inspiration woven in these words.  

Humility isn't a natural state for most of us. It's not for me, at least. We usually don't arrive there by choice. Rather, life usually drags us kicking and screaming down a road that we never intended to walk, a road paved with disappointment: with situations, status, and people. But I think sometimes the most difficult kind of setback to digest is the disappointment in one's own self. That one can be a bitter pill to swallow. And there is nothing quite like a sin to make you feel like an evil-doing scoundrel. 

If I'm real honest, I've always had a hard time with the word sinner. You can just hear the condemnation seeping from its consonants. It's one that I, even as a church girl with my churchy lingo, don't like to include in my vocabulary, and I think I've always just felt crushed under the weight of that word...SINNER. 

So, in an effort to avoid any association with that label, I sometimes find myself trying to offset it by doing good. Meaning, I will give to my church with my time, money, and talents. I will avoid places and things that probably aren't really good for me. I will help my neighbor out. I will volunteer to those less fortunate than myself. I will read my Bible and invest my mind in good books and say my prayers and all the good things. I'll be the best version of myself that I can be, and it feels good! 

Until it doesn't.  Until I fall on my face in sin or failure or weakness, and this whole good-girl economy that I have built my life around crumbles before me in devastating disappointment, and I find myself humbled and somewhat wrecked at the lack of my own goodness. 

Lately, the conclusion that I have come to is this: there is no such thing as a good person. That kind of stings, huh? I'm really shocked that I am saying it because everything in me wants to believe that I, Andrea, am a good person. I've tried so hard to be a good person. I've spent so much time and energy trying to do good things and build a good life. 


But think about it. We aren't naturally good. Can we do good things? Yes. Should we do good things? Absolutely! We learn to do good things at a very young age: to say please and thank you and share our toys. We have to be taught how to be grateful and polite and kind. Some of us pick up on these things quicker than others. Some of still struggle, proving that we are not innately good, rather have been trained in our goodness. 


As of late, I'm really feeling what Paul was saying in Romans 7 when he says there is nothing good in him, and although he really wants to do good, sin keeps sabotaging his best intentions. I can relate so well to his plight. He basically spends the rest of that chapter admitting what a big fat sinner he is, and I have to say that I find it very inspirational.  If Paul who wrote most of the New Testament (and one of my personal Biblical heroes) can admit how bad he sucks as a person as times, then I surely can too because, really, like he says, it isn't about me. 

Where I once shuttered at the very utterance of the word, I now can find a sort of solace in it. In fact, I can think of nothing more liberating than confessing my sinfulness. If I was good all by myself, I wouldn't even need Jesus. And, oh y'all, I NEED Jesus!

When I come face-to-face with the fact that I am a sinner, it frees me from having "save myself" through an endless parade of good deeds that could never compensate for the darkness inside. The recognition of my shortcomings beautifully contrasts the infinite goodness of Jesus. When I'm open about my inadequacies, I become acutely aware of my need for Him, the only truly good thing from which all good springs forth. 

And this amazes me to think that Jesus doesn't love me because I'm a good girl that makes all the right decisions and does it all perfectly. No. He loves me just as much when I am knee-deep in my fleshy, bad choices and making a mess out of my life. That's so hard for us to fathom in our commodity culture where we cut people out of our lives as soon as they stop giving us what we want. But that's not God. When I turn to him, he lets me off the hook and gives me a grace I could never deserve or earn!

I love this passage in The Message version of Romans 8:3-4. 

"God went for the jugular when he sent his own Son. He didn't deal with the problem as something remote or unimportant. In his Son, Jesus, he personally took on the human condition, entered the distorted mess of struggling humanity in order to set it right once and for all.  The law code, weakened as it always was by fractured human nature, could have never done that"!

​I love where it says He took it personally. He did this for me, Andrea. He said, "Girl, you're a hot mess, but you're mine, and you matter more to me than you could ever understand. And I know you can't handle all the junk that comes with sin, but I can. I got you!" That's how I read it anyway. 

So, I am beginning this year at the beginning, at the foundation with the admission that I'm just a sinner that needs Jesus more today than I ever have before, and I'll need him more tomorrow than today. It's my ground zero, one that should be visited often to reverently remember what happened here and the gravity of the redemption that follows.

And while I'm not outwardly celebrating my sins and still struggle with confession of them even as I type this, it feels like a very human and vulnerable place to be at the moment, a very honest place, one where beautiful things can grow.  And for that I'm hopeful of what this year will bring! 

From one sinner to another, 
​-A. 

Oh, fickle heart
How you fail me!
To you I’m supposed to listen
Follow you, I’m told
I’m beginning to think
You don’t even have a clue
 
You can get me to burn
You’re good at that
Blazing and soaring in an instant
At the direction of your choosing
And when the rest of me catches up
That fire is gone, moving to
The next elusive destination
To be fueled, yet
Never catching the warmth of the light
 
You’re deceptive too
Painting longings like billowing shadows
Never measuring upon the touch
And if I ever get it in my grasp
It looks nothing like you said

And indecisive you are
Redirecting
Redirecting
Redirecting
You're a terrible navigator
Distracting me from my purpose
By leading me down the winding backroads
That never arrive at my destination
 
So, my fickle dear you see
We can’t go on like this any longer
I know I can’t deny you completely
For you are the source of the depths
Of my soul, the well from which love
Springs forth, the reason I feel
Anything.
 
But today I’m putting you back
Where you belong
 
You are no longer my ears
Jumping impulsively to vain words
Causing me to act on your volition 
No, I will be listening to a much softer voice
That whispers the truth in love
One that gently leads down the true path
Which my soul so earnestly seeks
And heeds soft warnings that protect
Me...and you
 
Heart, you can no longer be my feet
Running full speed into whims of fancy
No, I’m planting them like a tree
Beside the water in Holy trust
 
You aren't my hands either
Grasping for love in achieving, performing,
Making, and doing
No, I’m lifting these hands in surrender
To the one who is Love eternally
 
And heart, fickle heart
Get out of my head!
Stop derailing my God-given logic
And the truths I Know to be 
Whenever you happen to “feel” like it
No.
Today, I’m taking every thought captive

 
You’ve overstepped your boundaries
I need you to be still
And not speak unless spoken to
Because like a child screaming
At the top of his lungs in tantrum
You have demanded all my attention
And I just. Can’t. Anymore.
 
You’re deceitful.
impatient.
fickle.
 
But don’t lose heart
There will be times I need you
To show up in all of your glory
Wide open
Tender and vulnerable
To do what you do best
With all the passion and love
In your being
And then it will be beautiful!
It will be right!
 
Until then
Sit still
Be strong
And trust
That this is best for both of us.

aI pull open the double glass doors and carefully maneuver through the dark around a pile of beams near the entrance. Flashlight in hand, I weave around the various stacks of hardware and materials that litter the ground leaving no clear path to the light switch.  As I flip the lights on, dust particles dance through the air, still refusing to settle from the work performed hours ago. My hearts joins in its unsettledness as I survey the mess.

Cords and wires dangle above me and decorate the room like mangled birthday streamers celebrating the chaos of this moment. Beams are stripped bare, cold and exposed. Walls are removed, floors are scraped, and insulation is uncovered. It's been a little over a month now since the storm blew through transforming my church home, a place of warmth and safety, into a cold and sterile construction site.

Oh, how things can change in an instant! Life catches us off guard at the most inopportune times. And that has a way of making the most familiar place seem like the most foreign, uncomfortable place on earth. Seeing our building in this condition has unearthed a plethora of emotions within each of us. We have grieved the loss, worried for the future, and rejoiced in the possibilities, sometimes simultaneously.  We are rebuilding, and that is an emotional process as well. 
 
I look at my church building now, this construction zone,  and outwardly it seems to be a big mess, but I find comfort in the fact that it is a work in progress. The plans are drawn out. The work is getting done little by little, day by day. The process is not easy or glamorous or quick, but progress is being made.  It may not look like much at this point, and  I may not understand all that is being accomplished under the surface, but every step is vital to its future.

And it's a balancing act.  We can't get so focused on the plans and the final product that we rush or skip steps. Likewise, we can't get discouraged by its current state that we stop being productive. We have to keep showing up and doing the work even when it feels like nothing is changing visibly. Each phase has a purpose that is important for completion. 

It's taken me a lifetime to make peace with the "process".  Although there are times that I still want to hurry past the discomfort of waiting or curse the pain of developing, I've learned that there is beauty in the process. Even if I can't see it then, it always emerges. 

Like my church building, my heart is His dwelling that He is constantly renovating. Sometimes He knocks down walls and restructures me from the inside out. Those seasons can seem excruciating and like they will never end. It's hard to see the purpose or progress through the pain, but it's in those times that I have to trust Him the most and keep showing up and doing the work.

Even when I'm tired of the construction zone and the smell of sweat and the manual labor, I can still see the Him working through it all. Believe it or not, this is where the magic happens. This is where strong foundations are built! This is where He is expanding the walls of my heart to hold more than I ever thought they could! This is where growth and renewal happen! This is where provisions are being provided for my future! It's through the messy process that I become whole and complete! 

So, maybe your house or your heart looks like my church, a cluttered, disarrayed area of construction. You're in the uncomfortable space between what was and what could be. Your back is tired, and your mind is weary. I want to urge you to lean into Jesus during this process. Let Him walk it with you. It may not be an enjoyable time, but it can be an effective one. It may not be desired, but it is probably necessary. Trust that He will give you exactly what you need when you need it. Keep working. Keep progressing. Keep believing in the process, that it's working, that it is building you into who you were destined to be. And when that happens, I bet you'll then see the beauty in becoming, the purpose over the pain, and the grace in the progress!  

I love Christmas! And this year, I'm really feeling it. Perhaps, it's because my little boys are at the cutest ages to really enjoy the season; the elf pajamas, the snowflake cookies, the twinkling lights, the decorated trees, and the anticipation of presents just light their little faces with bright smiles and sheer delight. It is completely intoxicating and contagious! So, this season especially, I'm taking special notice of all things Christmas. 

I saw a sign the other day that said, "Wise men still seek him". This sighting spurred a series of thoughts. I thought back to time that where I felt completely and utterly....well, lost. By all appearances, my life seemed to be intact. I had a beautiful home, a loving husband, healthy babies, and a blossoming career. Things had unfolded just the way I had always planned, the good old American dream landing right in my lap.  Then, why did I feel so empty?

Why was there heaviness in my chest when I woke in the mornings? Why did I feel like I didn't recognize the face in the mirror? I use to love to sing, but I didn't sing anymore. I used to make things and dream and plan and create. But I could no longer muster inspiration for any of it. I used to find my energy in the company of others, but now I spent my days isolating my true self from most people. Who was this girl I had become? She was a stranger to even me.

Today, a popular platitude when people are internally floundering is "I need to find myself".  So, they look in all kinds of ways, often destructively seeking to find themselves in places they have no business being like in the bottoms of bottles or another person's bed. And often they end up no more found than when they had begun. And like them, my search was also fruitless. 

I feel like I kind of "found myself" on accident. My search really began as a desperate need for survival, as my world was falling apart and my self-search was put on hold. At the time, all I was seeking was peace, comfort, and love, and because He is a God that keeps his promises, I found all of those things and a little more! 

Here is some advice from a former self-seeker:
 Stop trying to find yourself. It doesn't work. Instead, seek Jesus. Really seek Him. Go on a quest to know Him. Forget about who you are or think you should be for a moment. It's not important until you comprehend Him and His grace. Ransack the Word for new life. Investigate Truth, and let it illuminate your path. Pursue a relationship with Him with the vigor of a teenage boy. Chase Love with all your heart and soul!  I promise you will find more than you can even imagine!  Light! Life! Love! Purpose! 

I once heard a preacher say, "You don't ask the creation why they were created. You ask the Creator!"  Oh, how true I have found these words to be!  We are all like pieces of art, uniquely individual and beautiful. When admiring a painting, photograph, movie, or song, you wouldn't look at the artwork, and say, "Tell me about the inspiration behind you". No. You would ask the artist, interview the director, or seek out the composer for meaning. The same is true with our life. The inspiration and beauty behind our creation lies within the Artist! 


So, looking back I can see that a bonus to seeking Him is finding you. And I take back what I said about it being an accident because it totally isn't. A profound truism that strikes me this morning is the fact that He made us on purpose, giving each of use unique talents, gifts, and purposes. So, it makes sense that when we connect to Him, we connect to those things. 

I feel more like myself these days than I ever have. I wake up with purpose and with hope for the future. Talents and gifts that have lain dormant for years are finding ways to emerge into my daily life. I find inspiration in everything! Sometimes ideas wake me up at night and the excitement of them spills into my days. I'm singing again. I'm creating again. I'm dreaming again! 

And this year, I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, singing lots of Christmas songs, and like the wise men, seeking the Light! 


Here's to getting lost in the search and finding more than we were ever looking for!
-A. 

Brene' Brown, a sociologist whom I have a complete intellectual crush on, said something in her book Daring Greatly that has resonated with me on so many levels. "We move what we’re learning from our heads to our hearts through our hands."  What she means is that we learn things...really learn them...through doing.

​This past weekend at church, we observed communion, a sacred ceremony I have always cherished. As I held the communion wafer in my hand, I kept running my thumb over the cross embossed into it, and I couldn't help being overwhelmed with emotions as I contemplated what the cross has meant in my life. As I held the tiny cup, I pondered the impact that His blood has made, covering me with perfect grace.  These two little sacraments between my fingers felt as if they were directly connecting me to the Creator of the universe and the Savior of the world.  Touching, seeing, partaking of these two very physical objects seemed to be pushing a revelation deep into my spirit.

​Knowing how our minds work (because he made them), Jesus really knew what he was doing when he instructed us to remember him through communion. I love the physical elements present in the last supper: the bread, the wine, a table, friends. 
​I've been thinking a lot about friendship these past few months and what a spiritual necessity true communion is in our lives. I teach middle school, where friendship is of paramount importance to these kids. Although friends can be a revolving door on a weekly (sometimes daily) basis, they are vital to the existence of these hormonal preteens. Lately, I've been contemplating why we seem to focus less on friendship as we get older. I don't have all of the answers, but  I definitely don't think it is because we stop needing people.
 Being a psychology geek, I've read a lot of the human need for connection. Our independent-natured, goal-driven, western culture would like to convince us that we are immune to needing people, but scientifically speaking, that just isn't the case. People with strong social support systems are physically healthier, more emotionally stable, and may even live longer more fulfilling lives. Like it or not, I need you, and you need me. It's just how we were made.

​I think back to a season of my life, not too long ago, where I didn't have many friends. I have always been a social extrovert, getting my energy from being around people, but a disconnection unraveled me during this phase of my life. I don't know if it was because I got so busy with life's daily duties, but friendships slowly slipped away and little action or energy on my part was made to restore them.

​When I did find myself in the company of others, I felt awkward, disconnected, and insecure. Maybe it is because I had lost touch with myself that I felt I didn't have much to contribute. I compensated for the pangs of loneliness by filling my days with busyness and activities. I think I redecorated and repainted my dining room about three times over those few years , but rarely filled my table with the voices and laughter that my soul was truly craving. 

​...

​The past year and a half has been quite a journey that has brought me very far from that lonely place. Once I reestablished true communion with Jesus, he began to heal and stitch me back into a community of closeness and coherence.  My life is now filled with friendships, intimacy, and solidarity.

Some of these relationships are undeniable gifts of God, like my dear friend Aleasha. Our paths crossed on an unassuming Sunday afternoon. We were strangers only for a few minutes before we became fast friends. We quickly learned we were both teachers, and our life stories seemed to mirror each other in an uncanny parallel. Her sensitive, silly, loving nature has blessed me and strengthened me more than she knows.  And she is just one bloom in a garden of friendships that have burst in sweetness this past year.

​What I am learning is that friendship and communion are very similar. They are founded on the principles of participation and engagement. Like communion is the tangible act received for spiritual enlightenment, true fellowship is a physical, touchable deed that simultaneously renews the soul. I'm learning that what may not seem overtly spiritual can actually have a deeper impact on our spirits than we realize.

​Friendship is totally sensory. It's gathering around a table that a friend built with his hands. It's a hug when the last week was just a little much. It's laughing harder than you have laughed in years. It's trying to have an adult conversation when all the kids are screaming like little crazies in the background. It's all about food: eating it, making it, talking about it! It's a sweet box of goodies and healing words on a card when life takes an irreversible turn, assuring you that the best is still ahead. It's thinking-of-you texts and prayers and phone calls. It's being there for the celebrations of life, the new phases, the preparations. It's cups of coffee and nights on the town. It's the touching of hands, the connecting of hearts, and the uniting of souls!

​I think that is why Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. I love the warmth of togetherness and the bringing of people around tables. And I hope that the spirit of the day carries over into my week and month and year!
​  The poet, Edward Young, said, "Friendship is the wine of life".  And if that is the case, I'm going to drink it all in like communion wine, filling my heart to the brim.

xoxo,
​-A.

What are your thoughts on friendship? Why do you think we make less effort at close relationship as we get older?

​I would love to hear your thoughts!

With tattered clothes and salty, sea-drenched hair, I emerge
From the refuge that held me for all of those months.
Eyes still closed, I feel warmth on my face again as gratitude swells in my heart.
I breathe in relief like air, and life fills my lungs once more.
Silence displaces the shrill screams in my head.
Calm. Quiet. Peace. Assurance.
​
 
 


 
Eyes wide open, distress creeps into them;
 An unwanted visitor slowly taking over the home of my mind.
All I can see are the insecurities that now litter
The shores of my heart, remnants of a life once lived.
I slowly sift through the rubble scattered in the sand:
A picture of him and her.
Shooting pains through my soul.
A document, “Final”.
Heart  pricked with loneliness.
In the distance, I hear the faint cries of two little boys
Whose home lies broken before them.
Hurt. Helplessness. Anxiety. Fear.
 
Eyes slam shut!
My heart speaks to my head.
The tiniest whisper transcends to a song.
A faint, yet familiar melody crescendos in my ears.
“I will never leave you!”
I feel the same arms that wrapped me in the storm
Like a warm blanket, now hold me in the aftermath.
 
Good! True! Noble! Gracious! Beautiful! Best!
Now lifting my eyes to the One that makes everything work together,
I no longer see the mess, the wreckage, the chaos.
I just sing.
Loudly, as He works me into His most excellent harmonies!

This month marks a year since I found myself in the most desperate of places, so I have been doing a lot of reflecting. In a way, it seems like that season is so far from where I find myself these days, and in another, it still feels fresh and close. This post is part celebration, part memorial, and part hopeful solace. 

Desperate: reckless or dangerous because of despair, hopelessness, or urgency; having an urgent need or desire; leaving little or no hope; extreme or excessive; making a final ultimate effort; giving all. 

We all know what desperate looks like. Maybe it's a mother that has a child with cancer and is desperate for a cure. Maybe it's a son that is an addict desperately wishing to be free from the drugs that have destroyed him and crushed the ones that love him most. Perhaps it's a desperate woman that just longs to feel the love of a man so that she can finally feel like she has value. Or it's a family that has run out of money again, and things have become so desperate that they find themselves without food or without a home. Desperate is an ugly animal. 

It is even hard for us to look at desperate people sometimes. What do you say? It's as if sometimes there's not much you can do except hurt with them or look away. 

That's not how God feels about desperation though. He looks at our cavern of hopelessness as a huge space to fill with his love and grace. If you have ever found yourself in a desperate place, you know that it removes a lot of the inhibitions that you usually have. You hurl yourself completely into the direction where there is the tiniest speck of hope without reservation. When your situation drives you recklessly into the arms of Jesus, there is nothing more beautiful. The kind of longing that is fueled by desperation is God's love language, when we excessively desire him. I woke up in the middle of the night the other night with this thought: desperation aimed in God's direction is simply an acknowledgement of our purpose. 

 Ephesians 1:11-12 It’s in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, he had his eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose he is working out in everything and everyone.

I'm not saying that God loves to see us struggle or in pain. He is for us! He wants good things for us, but I do believe he allows things to happen that push us to rely on and acknowledge him. Nothing does that quite like a desperate heart.

It was a year ago that I found myself in such a situation, looking divorce in the face with two babies. I was heartbroken, terrified, and completely confused. The experience left a gaping hole in my soul, the kind that nothing or no one could fill.  The truth is that the hole had been there for quite some time, but before this happened, it was a "manageable" void. One that I covered and numbed with plenty of distractions. Then this happened, and this little hole became a giant crater right in the middle of my being, crumbling more every time I tried to fix it myself. When I tried to point this desperation towards others, all I got was pity or the averting of the eyes. That wasn't going to help me. That's when I took this fractured, crumpled desperate heart and handed it to the Creator. He showed me love so much deeper than my pain. He gave peace that my situation couldn't even fathom. The more I needed, the more he gave. The more I looked for him, the more I goodness, mercy, and grace I found!

In this way, I think that desperation can be beautiful. It can be the avenue that leads us to our destiny. If God's presence is relational to our need, and that need is great, then how much more awesome is that presence! My abysmal, desperate times have brought me to some of the profound places I could imagine in God, where it was as if his loving arms were literally wrapped around me calming all of my fears. The things that I have gained have covered my losses many times over. The people I share my life with these days bring such fullness and vitality! There are still struggles, hard days, and mental battles, but I no longer face them alone.  Everyday, God is healing my heart a little more than the day before, covering my anxieties with a little more peace, and filling my life with a whole lot of joy! I wouldn't be here without that desperation! 

So, if you are in a desperate place, I want to tell you a few things: I urge to to point all of your desperation to him, the only one that won't look away. Let him cover your brokenness, your suffering, and your despair with his wholeness, his blessings, and his hope. He does it so effortlessly and skillfully! Know that in a year, with with a little hard work and a whole lot of Jesus, you can completely change the projection of your life. Know that the pain will lessen, even though you don't think so now, and you will laugh again. And though the actual situation may not change, you will, and that it will be a beautiful transformation! 

Always keep your heart desperate, 
-A.