Life as I Know It

For Dakota Which Turned into Being For Me

2018-03-27T14:54:00.000-04:00

Today we're celebrating our youngest son's 19th birthday.

My baby boy is 19 and I am a little mad about it. The years just go by so dang fast while the days get pokey and sometimes long and seem to drag by and so we miss more than we'd hoped.

How did this kid, who decided when I was 8 months pregnant it'd be super cool to show up a month early and break my water at 2am so his Dad would ask me if I'm absolutely certain I didn't just pee in the bed, suddenly, but also painfully slowly and beautifully minute by minute, become an almost not teenager?!

But, here we are.

Here I am and there are so many memories.

I remember being pregnant with him and David's complete fascination with all that moving going on in his wife's belly.

I remember the minute he took his first breath. Literally, the second he took his first breath.

I remember he had SO MUCH HAIR. That hasn't changed.

I remember his Daddy's very first words as he laid eyes on his son for the 1st time: "Oh my God. He looks exactly like me!" This was said as I am literally laid out on the operating table having the C-section and Dakota was still blue and cheesy hanging upside down in Dr. Davis' hands. And yes, he looks exactly like his Daddy, minus the blue and cheese.

I remember his first car ride. I remember his first outfit because I totally saved it. I remember his first favorite food and how he ate those PB & J's every single lunch for almost 5 straight years.

I remember his first words and his first steps and every single first of Dakota's life.

I also meticulously wrote them down in his baby book because he was only baby number 2 and those things were just so precious to do! I also had time to do them, which disappears after baby number 3 and I think we have like 9 pictures of baby number 4's first 3 years. Maybe. Anyway...

And so today, I'm reflecting on this spectacular kid who is now not really a kid, but a young man. I'm reflecting on how precious I'd intended to be as a Mom and ALL. THE. PLANS.

Plans that mostly didn't pan out but we had SO many art supplies in case I did morph into crafty Mom.

Turns out, this kid didn't need me to be crafty (Jesus is good, yall!). He could just draw everything!!! He could sketch actual things and I could tell what they were by the time he was 2 years old. He loved colors and shapes and pretty much anything that was artsy, just like his Dad. I enjoyed the final results, though, and that totally counts whether I participated or not.

My refrigerator was a plethora of pictures and shapes and abstracts and any kind of art that could be created.

We were going to eat all organic and maybe even never have meat but this kid really loves chicken nuggets, so what was pretend organic Mom to do with all those organic PLANS? I fed that kid chicken nuggets and chocolate milk like I'd never heard of organic and didn't look back.

We even ate cheese out of a can and loved it. Judge away. That crap is good.

So many plans. Whatever.

I was also never, ever going to scream like crazy Mom and only watch documentaries. Again, whatever.

It turns out that the plan was all bogus nonsense. I will begrudgingly admit that the canned cheese is probably a less good choice than say...straight up spoonfuls of sugar, but it was still good.

It turns out that this kid was great, even with my screw ups. This boy of mine who loves art and comedy and drama and will discuss the National Enquirer like it is an actual publication of facts and have me in laughter tears turned out so great and so yummy I can't help but wonder if he didn't teach me as much I've ever taught him.

This man boy of mine who scared the fun right out of me sometimes because I so desperately wanted to do it all "right", is able to see past that and hear my heart to stand against injustices in the world and love people more than we love ideas.

This young man who doesn't mince words, but has a kindness in him that shines so brightly he often takes my breath away.

He rarely leaves the house without first hugging me and telling me he loves me.

This young man of mine who sets his very own alarm for work on Saturdays without a single nudge from me! This cannot be underrated people.

This boy man who saves his money and discusses finances with his parents because he has his own plans. This financially savvy young man of mine who diligently oversees his checking and savings accounts because he knows it matters.

I know God has a different plan than any we could imagine for our kids. I know God will take our current plans and move them like gnats to get us where we need to be and yet...looking at this man child of mine who has surpassed every single plan I didn't even know I wanted fills me with both peace and, maybe, a bit of longing.

Longing for a time when he was safely tucked into my arms.

And still...that isn't God's plan. God intends my boy to stand on his own one day. He means for my boy to grow into a man. The kind of man who hears His voice and heeds the call.

I know the call for you is something precious, Dakota. You know it's now in your hands and I want you to know that I trust you. You are so trustworthy and your heart is so good and even with the teeny bit of longing I have for when you were little, I am so at peace watching you run your own life. Man, you are good at it!

And I could not be prouder. You are so dang good at adulting already that I can't even stand it.

One reminder, son: We're here. We're never more than a phone call or a word away. Your Dad and I have your back and you are one of our greatest treasures. You're so deeply loved and cherished and we are in awe of just how cool you actually are. :)

We love you, son.

We admire you and we are over here on the sidelines cheering you on, believing a life of adventure and courage and integrity for you.

I'll be the loudest one on the sidelines in the "Dakota's Mom" t-shirt and I will happily make you chicken and dumplings or homemade chili for the rest of your life. I'm just saying...

Forever and Always and Beyond,
Mom

On Camping...A Travel Tuesday Post

2017-10-24T16:31:00.000-04:00

We went camping this past weekend.

My husband calls what we do "glamping" but that is clearly a discernment issue on his part that needs to be worked through. We have a camper. CAMP-er. That we also take a little flat grill, waffle iron and air conditioning is irrelevant.

We had fun. So much fun.

Lake Hartwell. Our camper sat less than 15 yards from this sight and I started the day here and ended it in the exact same way. Just look at it. Seriously, look at that.

On the recommendation of a Facebook pal, we chose Twin Lakes Campground on Lake Hartwell. (SC) It was only about an hour and half from our house, so that added to it's appeal for a short weekend trip.

Side note: If you are a Clemson fan (and Lord knows half the state falls into this category because they are wise and discerning), then you'd like this campground even more. You can see the stadium from the lake. Supposedly, on game days, the campground is completely full of camping Clemson fans who just want to see their team and not have far to drive for their after game parties. Again, clearly wise people. They had a bye week on our weekend, which is probably why we were able to get a site during football season.

Anyway, if you are looking for peace and harmony, Twin Lakes could be for you. Our site was directly on the lake and, ya'll, there is just nothing like waking up to a crisp fall morning, sipping coffee and walking 25 steps to lakeside. The sites are super large, so unless the neighbors are fighting (more on this later), you sort of feel like you're in your own world. The sites are also wooded and laid out beautifully, which is typical of a Corp of Engineers campground.

We were at site 17 and I'd totally choose that site again. We were about 50 yards from the bathhouse and maybe that far from the playground, as well; not that our kids use the playground anymore (Praise Jesus!!), but still.

The only people I overheard, no matter how hard I tried, were the neighbors who were yelling one morning because she brought instant grits for the kids and no regular ones for him. I mean, is this girl Southern or nah? Nah. But, she did bring bacon, so he was totally chill about instant grits once bacon happened. I refrained from hollering over the super helpful advice that he could always pack his own crap next time because I am learning about being more thoughtful with my words.

Here's another big plus for me about Twin Lakes: Their roads are paved perfectly and the camper did not bounce around like it was on trampoline wheels. Barely a bump to be found in these bad boys. If you have a camper or an RV, you know this actually matters.

Next, bath houses. Even though we do have a shower in the camper, we don't use it. It's like Will Farrell in Elf in that thing. So, no. We use the sink for face washing and tooth brushing and that's it for us, therefore the bath houses matter to me. Not all of Twin Lakes bath houses are heated, so check out which ones are if you're there in the winter. It wasn't cold enough to matter when we went in October.

The shower stall, though. This was an issue. Only ONE of the stalls had handles for hot and cold water. We couldn't figure out how they worked or if they worked at all. The one with handles also had one of those little push buttons to keep the water going. I get the conservation thing, but it still irritated me. Not enough to never go back, but I didn't love it. This was my only gripe about this campground, though. That is, literally, it.

There's also Frank:


Frank, the Squirrel.

Frank came and sat with me every morning while my family slept in like they were on vacation or something. There were also other squirrels and critters but I didn't bond with them like I did Frank. I loved that they were used to human contact enough to visit, but not so used to it that they encroached. Frank understood camping etiquette. I understood I was on his turf, and he understood I had no intention of harming him. (I hope others do the same! Frank's a cool guy)

Twin Lakes is also pet friendly. Look at these guys faces when we took a walk without them. Sadness and Despair:


Fonzi and Loki being appalled they couldn't go on every single walk. Ever.

Last thing, Twin Lakes isn't one of those campground that's packed with constant activity. It's a haven of peace, which is exactly what I want when I camp. It's less than 8 miles from a Super Wal-Mart, but you'd never know it. It's quiet and peaceful and a beacon that says, "Sit down. Slow down. Take all the time you need." We played cards and ate S'mores and took walks and read books and watched movies together. (Yes, we take a TV. Stop being all judgy)

It was beautiful. There were a 1000 moments that looked like this one:

Sitting in a chair, reading a book and looked up. And there this was...

If you don't have a camper, who even cares? Grab a tent and an air mattress and go. Twin Lakes has fire pits and grills right there at each site! Most Corp of Engineer campgrounds have these, so you really just need a cooler and some ice. Get out and do it. You will not regret a moment of time spent under the stars, on a lake, with people that you dearly love.

Feeling peaceful, even on a Tuesday,
K

Meeting Harvey Weinstein

2017-10-15T18:17:00.000-04:00

At 16 I started my first job at a local fast food place, Hardee's. It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school. I was fresh, excited, naive. The general manager was in his late 20's, attractive and intimidating. He invited me to his apartment to "pick up something" after work. I was what he wanted to pick up.

To this day, there is a part of me that asks how could I have thought he had something in his apartment for me about work? I was just a cashier. Why didn't I even question? I felt stupid and ignorant.

I wasn't raped and I left before things could progress very far. However, he tried to coerce me to drink with him and tried to grope me, all the while telling me if I'd just loosen up a bit I'd enjoy it. He wanted me to believe my discomfort was MY fault and that my lack of interest in him was a reflection of my wrongness. And for a while, I believed him.

That is how the victim of harassment thinks but only AFTER the fact. You feel frozen DURING the act. That is the psychological trauma of sexual harassment and abuse and why it's so hard to speak up. You feel stupid for believing him, but you also tell yourself others will believe him, too. Sadly, this is often the case with victim shamers who defend men willing to sexually abuse, harass and rape women.

At 17, a girlfriend called and asked if I wanted to catch a movie. She picked me up along with another friend from high school and we ended up at an apartment complex. Turns out she was "dating" one of our high school football coaches, who was also her remedial math teacher, and he'd had two other high school coaches show up for her two friends. I demanded to be taken home. I was completely grossed out.

My friend was upset and was never really my friend again. She fully believed that it was a compliment that a teacher wanted her. He didn't want her. He wanted sex. She couldn't see that at the time. At some point, she'd been taught that if a man "like him" wanted you, it must be complimentary. I often wonder if she still views him in the same light or if she now sees him for the predator that he was.

Later, the high school coaches wouldn't make eye contact when I happened to see them and still, any time I had to leave class for some reason it would vaguely cross my mind that I hoped I didn't run into any of them when no one was around. That feeling never fully left me when I was on school grounds and I was scared to tell anyone. Two of those coaches still work in public education.

At 20, while I was still in college, I took a local job at an athletic printing shop two days a week when I didn't have classes. I waited tables on the weekends, but this seemed like a good way to make extra cash. The owner, who later went to prison, told me on day 2 that the previous girl had given him blow jobs under the table while his wife worked in the printing shop. I didn't make it to day 3. I cried all the way home and at the time I couldn't have told you why I was sobbing. It's called trauma.

At 23, I had my first management job. The general manager of the store backed me into the office, placed his arms on either side of me and told me he'd stop if I cried. I refused to break eye contact and he finally laughed and let me leave. I told the regional manager what happened and they moved the general manager to a different store but didn't fire him. They spoke with me beforehand to ask if I was absolutely certain I hadn't misunderstood the situation. I had to see him at every company meeting we had. He almost always made a point to speak to me, and not once did he ever act as though anything had happened. But it DID happen.

I've stood in a CVS line waiting for medicine while a man stood behind me making suggestive noises. Even turning and looking him in the eye, being completely disgusted, made no difference. He laughed. Walking to my car made me feel fearful.

I've walked down the street and heard cat calls and dog barking noises, as though these things should be appreciated. When I didn't look at them, acknowledge them, the name calling started. I was now a bitch and a cunt because I didn't want men to make those sounds at me.

I've been patted inappropriately. I've been squeezed suggestively.

I've had men in positions of authority make inappropriate jokes about women right in front of me.

I've had those same men compliment my eyes or my choice of clothing, while never mentioning I out sold them in real estate that year by a huge margin. Just my eyes or my skirt or my legs.That was who I was to them, regardless of my job performance, my education or my lack of interest in them.

There is no woman on this planet who has not had these things happen to her in some way. This is not a "Hollywood" issue.

In my own personal circle I have 2 friends AND 2 family members who have been sexually assaulted. I know of at least 3 more women in my broader circle, though I don't know their precise details.

So here is my call to men: STOP. Just stop and demand that your colleagues and friends stop.

We are not meat. We are your counterparts. We are intelligent and hard working and witty and wise. We are women. We are NOT your playthings or here for your pleasure. We are NOT here to make your life better or easier. We do not want your unsolicited advances.

My call to women is to speak up and teach your daughters to speak up. Stop telling little girls that boys like them if they push them or hit them or pull their hair. Teach your boys that women are whole human beings. Support women who are brave enough to come forward.

Stop shaming the victims for waiting to speak up. Shame the men who made them afraid or held power over them because they could. Stop implying that a woman is to blame because a man raped her. Stop pretending that men are not responsible for themselves.

And to all the women reading this who have had their dignity, their safety and their innocence stripped from them: I'm sorry. I see you. I hear you. I believe you.

I BELIEVE YOU!

Please feel free to leave your stories in the comments. It's important that we speak up. We are saving the future generations of women who come behind us from these same behaviors and thought patterns. Speak!

How many of you have also met a Harvey Weinstein?

When Jesus Came to Hang Out for Two Days

2017-05-09T14:48:00.000-04:00

Here's a story for you:

Back in Jesus' day, the Pharisees, Sadducee and religious leaders walked to Jerusalem because, you know, they didn't have cars. The shortest route to Jerusalem from a lot of places the leaders lived or met was straight through Samaria.

Samaritans were ostracized by church leaders and Jews back then kind of like certain groups are ostracized by church goers today (nothing new under the sun, people).

So, these church leaders would walk AROUND Samaria to get to Jerusalem. The first time I read that in a concordance and did the research I almost laughed. Ya'll, it added almost a week to their travel.

A WEEK!!!!!!!

If something is gonna add 15 minutes to my travel time I get antsy. I would ride through pitch black forests with signs declaring Deliverance type antics with banjos playing in the background before adding A WEEK to my travel time.

But, these religiously pious leaders would walk around this city to avoid the Samaritans. What?!

Now listen, these two groups have a long history that we aren't going to cover here. A lot of it was that it's sometimes toughest to love your neighbor who is just next door, especially if their political, economic, social, religious rituals and customs don't match yours. With today's social media culture, fear is more common than love and hype is more common than grass growing outside. We're not good neighbors anymore, ya'll. We aren't. It's a little like the Samaritans and Jews out there.

So they avoided the people they didn't like and claimed God didn't like them, either.

Not Jesus. He walked right up in the middle of it. Smack dab through Samaria.

You may remember the woman at the well Jesus met and changed her life so much that she ran back into the town to tell everyone about this guy she'd met. He met her in Samaria.

This lady had been married 5 times and was currently living with number 6. She was at the well alone because she had to come at a time when the other women weren't getting water because she was such a "bad sinner" that she wasn't allowed to go with the other ladies. I guess they thought her promiscuity would rub off or something. I don't know.

Not Jesus. He cozied up and had a nice long conversation with her right there in public.

And you know what? He didn't use her sinful life as a starting point in the conversation, nor did he point out how awesome He was for coming around and talking to her. He didn't act better than her or more enlightened than her or fearful of her. AND HE IS GOD. He just talked to her and swapped thoughts and conversed with her like she mattered. Know why? Because we all matter to God. Every single one of us.

In fact, it was her who said, "Hey. You're a Jew. In case you forgot, you guys don't talk to us"

Jesus just says, "Yeah, that's how they do it here, but if you knew who I was you'd ask me for a drink and I'd give you some Living Water." Basically, he's telling her he couldn't care less where she comes from or what the "rules" were, He'd still bless her if she'd let Him. Jesus is awesome like that.

She ends up telling Him all about herself and he said, "Yeah. That's true, you've done those things." He talks to her about a time that is coming when no one will have to come through Samaria to get to Jerusalem. He tells her that a time is coming when we can worship in our Spirit and in Truth. She's the first person he confirms fully that HE IS THE CHRIST.

His disciples show up with some food about this time and they're like, "Ummm, Jesus? What in the world are you doing talking to this woman?" They actually don't say that out loud; the Bible tells us they were just thinking it. Same thing, ya'll. Same thing.

After the woman leaves Jesus to go back into town and tell everyone she meets about this guy she met down at the well, the disciples try to get Jesus to eat. He says, I've got what I need. I'm eating bread from my Father. He tells them that his food, the thing that is sustaining Him, is to do the will of His father.

He tells them to open their eyes because the people needing Him, the Bread of Life and the Living Water, are all around them!! He tells them that God is showing them the harvest of souls! They are right in front of your face, He tells his closest pals.

Boiling it down, Jesus tells them you are missing it because your eyes are closed with your preconceived notions and you need to get over yourselves. Samaritans NEED me, too, and you are letting your fear and your racism and your feelings and your ideas of what's right and wrong determine who YOU think is worthy!

Jesus pretty much made up the saying, "GET WOKE", ya'll.

Look at all these people who need me so desperately and you are WALKING AROUND THEIR CITY TO AVOID HAVING TO SEE THEM.

About that time, lots of people from the town showed up at the well. Lots of Samaritans.They were coming because of all the woman had told them. You know people love to rubberneck.

And you know what? He stayed in Samaria for TWO MORE DAYS because they asked Him to stay. He visited and hung out. He ate with them and loved on them. He taught them about God because He IS God so He kind of couldn't do anything else but be who He was and is and IS TO COME. (Jesus doesn't change. He'd still be hanging with the people others avoid.)

This Jew hung out in Samaria with people reviled by his people for two more days. And many were saved.

And MANY were saved.

Because Jesus showed up where religious people pretending to have it all figured out wouldn't go. Because Jesus just loved them. Because Jesus listened to them and loved them and ate with them and changed them.

They weren't saved because all those religious leaders of that day avoided them so they'd learn their lesson! Or because a Jew explained how wrong they were and the Samaritans suddenly understood how far off the track they were from being right.

They weren't saved because they started being something other than a Samaritan. They weren't saved by anything other than the love Jesus poured on them and their willingness to accept it.

So, I've been thinking. If Jesus showed up today - just came back for a visit to hang out for two days - where would he show up?

California, maybe? (laugh...that was funny)

Maybe a gay bar? This will smack with Evangelicals because homosexuality has become the mantra for sin and that mantra is becoming more important than the PEOPLE who are gay. This has nothing to do with Christ and he would NOT walk around a gay bar. He'd walk up in it and love those people made in HIS image. Period. And you know what? MANY WOULD BE SAVED.

And then the restoration would start and it wouldn't look a thing like what we pretend it looks like today.

Maybe he'd show up in a Muslim mosque or smack dab in the middle of Mecca? Maybe close to that middle school with that kid who gets bullied, but they're weird and don't fit in so no one really pays it much attention?

Maybe he'd show up in the middle of the ocean on a raft filled with Syrians refugees desperately trying to find safe harbor?

Maybe he'd show up with the young woman who just had an abortion? Maybe he'd show up at a riot in the middle of someone busting up someone's livelihood?

AND MANY WOULD BE SAVED.

Here's what I know about Jesus, based on Scripture:

He wouldn't spend much time at the places where people who claim to have Him all figured out were showing up, because the last time He showed up He didn't hang out with them much, either.

He wouldn't show up anywhere that claimed to be sin free but Jesus filled because they'd stone Him...or hang Him. Those people loathe the real Jesus. He's radical and fearless and loving and doesn't much care what your rules are because HE makes the rules and He said to LOVE THY NEIGHBOR, even if your neighbor has opposing political beliefs and comes from a different country and is gay and drinks too much and smokes a lot or wears immodest clothes or marches in rallies that you don't agree with or busts out windows in a riot.

He said love them if they were snotty and judgemental and racist and self-righteous and self-absorbed and rude, too.

We don't get to make the rules. (Thank God!)

He wouldn't show up anywhere the lost didn't hang out. He wouldn't show up at a place that tried to keep the hurting and lost away with rules and regulations and judgements.

He wouldn't show up at a place where money was more important than people without saying, "Give up your possessions (that thing you love more then ME) and then we'll talk".

He wouldn't show up where pious, religiousness forced people outside.

He'd show up in the very places that most people, especially religion loving people, wouldn't expect Him to go.

His ways are not our ways. His ways rarely align with ways that make us comfortable in our flesh.

The narrow gate is shaped just like Jesus. It is a Jesus shaped gate. The only way through it is to accept that He's the ONLY way to it. You have to.

But, Jesus didn't shove that down people's throat or yell at them standing on the street corner.

He came where they were. He walked THROUGH Samaria. Not around it. He didn't avoid the lost and the hurting or the vile and oppressed or those with sin filled lives (that's all of us, in case you're confused on that point) or people different from Him . HE LOVED THEM AND WENT WHERE THEY LIVED.

I'm so thankful for that truth. I can't live up to all those other rules. I can't even get the head covering part in Corinthians right!

I can try the best I can with all the strength that I have and God will graciously give me the grace and love for what I can't handle, but I can't reach the bar of perfection. (pisses me off, too)

And then, Grace shows up and says, "You don't have to be perfect right now. You are perfect in Me but only because I am perfect. I'm here and I'm working on you and you're going to be OK. I'm not going anywhere. I love you. Now go and Love others. I'll do the rest."

And I can breath again. Grace says the same thing to everyone. This is what He says because He SO LOVES THE WORLD.

I'm called to submit MYSELF fully to God and to love OTHERS. That's my job.

Because that's what Jesus did. When his sandals met the dusty road on this planet, Jesus hung out with sinners. He hung out with those "Most Likely To NOT Get In Synagogue". Shoot, He loved a guy He knew would betray Him so well the other 11 disciples didn't even know which one it would be! Jesus didn't play around with loving others exactly as they were, right where they happened to be.

Either we're going to be like Jesus, or we're going to make a ton of excuses about why we're right and we just can't do that. There is no gray area.

Love is the narrow gate and we miss it every single day. It's so much harder than the wide gate. Hating and judging and conforming are what the world already does. Being fearful and refusing to bend, that's what the world does every day, all day. Doing those things confirms in our flesh that we are right and we humans LOVE to be right. We tend to lean unto our own understanding so often God has to warn us against it in the book of Psalms.

Pretending like our way is the law and we have it figured out is a worldly trait. That is the wide gate.

Your flesh will always tend toward doing what feels good, what makes you feel (falsely) safe and what makes life easier for you. That's probably not going to be the road through Samaria.

But, you're also going to miss Jesus because He mostly shows up in the least likely places with the people no one else wants to sit with at lunch. He is found in the Samarias of the world, sitting by a well, talking to a woman most people called a whore and a loser and avoided because it was against the "rules" to just love her.

Think long and hard about where Jesus went in the Bible. Those are the places He's still going. He doesn't change; He's the same now as He was then.

As for me and my house, we're going to try our best to walk straight through and I think we'll find Jesus sitting right there, still at that well, offering Living Water that He then expects me to pour back out, still filled with the love it had when I received that endless supply, free of charge.

He expects me to love them and when they ask why I'm loving them when others avoid them I'm supposed to say, "I met this guy at a well once when I was thirsty, lonely and alone. Wanna here about Him?"

The end.

K

I Used to Be A Porcupine (And the 5 Stages of Grief)

2017-04-25T14:25:00.000-04:00

Grief, and the process of healing, deserves attention because it's holy. Getting well is a holy thing, ya'll. Grief and Pain change us in the deepest, truest, ways.

I think we come here pretty broken and get even more broken as our lives move forward. We adopt our parent's brokenness and our friends and family's brokenness. We adopt the world's idea of who we should be and how we should do things and this breaks us even more. It's up to us to determine what needs to remain broken and what must be repaired with holy glue.

God made us the stewards of ourselves. He chose to make us the boss of us. He expects us to handle his creation with care.

In my head, I'm writing this post to 2 particular people that wrote to me who've never been to therapy and had no support in their efforts to try to get help. I don't know them personally, but I know their Spirits and their hearts. I know their hurt and their truth.

I get a LOT of questions about therapy and how it helped me and what I learned. These 2 women had a lot of questions but admitted they had a negative view of therapy. Therapy is still a taboo subject in a lot of ways. People flinch a little when the word therapy comes up, I think.

Wellness, like beauty, warms people and brokenness, like intellect, will cool them.

Brokenness will cause some people to cool to you because your brokenness reflects a part of themselves they aren't ready or willing to face (because we are ALL broken in some way) or because brokenness can often manifest in ways that are just flat out unpleasant.

I've talked openly about my therapy. It was extensive, it was long and I'm not done yet. I may never be done with therapy because I am never going to be done with myself and, for me, therapy helps me see myself clearly.

First, I need to touch on this: Almost every email I've received asked me how I got better in some form or another, directly or indirectly. The truth is that I don't much like the word "better". It implies that I was less than, at some point. I wasn't. I just wasn't well equipped to deal with where I was at the time.

So, I went and bought myself some equipment. The equipment was knowledge and understanding that began with therapy. I didn't get "better". I became more aware and more equipped. I learned a new skill. Same person, new skills.

I will continue to increase that skill for the rest of my life.

We are all either getting more equipped or we're staying in the same place. I am not a fan of stagnation. Funky junk grows in stagnant places.

Through the emails I receive, I learned that too many people think grieving is a structured process with a time limit. Almost every person that wrote me have people in their lives who are judging their grief. PS...if you are one of those people who think grief and/or pain has a time limit and you get to determine what that limit should be, please stop. Today.

So, here's the thing: I'm not a therapist. I'm not an expert. I'm just a woman who's on a journey and I like to write.

But, I hear you.

So, here's some more of my journey up to this point.

The first thing we all have to do is recognize where you are on the spectrum and call the Pain what it is: GRIEF. MOURNING. HURT. LOSS. There is zero shame in those words. You do not have to feel shame for being in pain.

You don't even have to pretend. I've cried sitting in a restaurant while people stared. I'd gotten to the place that their imagined truth about me simply didn't matter as much as my actual truth. And in that moment, the truth was I was sitting in a restaurant when the pain became overwhelming. But I was also hungry. So, I ate and cried and ate some more.

Pain is a much bigger and truer teacher than Joy. Pain will teach you truth that no other emotion or feeling has the power to teach. Pain teaches us compassion in ways no lighter emotion has the capacity to teach.

Maybe that's why God allows us to go through it? I don't know, I just know it's true.

One of the first things I learned in therapy is that grief (pain, mourning, hurting) usually has stages or steps. By learning what they were, I could recognize them and then think instead of reacting. Reacting is rarely a good thing.

The 5 stages of grief are pretty universal but not necessarily linear (this is important). They were originally applied to people grieving the loss of a loved one (Kubler-Ross model), but have since been applied to all kinds of grief: divorce, sexual abuse, terminal illness, etc... Really any kind of loss or grief.

Everyone will experience each stage differently. Some people may circle around to one stage or another until they learn what they need to learn and some people may only visit each stage once and soak up the lessons quickly. There are NO RULES TO GRIEF AND PAIN except these: Do no harm and don't allow others to harm you.

Say it again: THERE ARE NO RULES TO GRIEF and PAIN. Don't allow anyone to tell you otherwise.

You get to feel however you feel. Period.

You can't normalize a deeply abnormal time, or times, in your life.

Grieving in this way is not "normal" but it is universal. We all must walk in the dark at some point. The only real choice we have is what equipment we choose to take with us when the darkness comes.

I once flailed around, smiling like a loon, pretending to be fine, even though I was drowning. It worked for a long time until it didn't. Here's the basics of how I stopped flailing and pretending.

The 5 stages of grief (sadness, heartache, whatever word you like more) are : Denial/Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

You may or may not experience these all at once. You may or may not experience these more than once. You may or may not experience these in this order, but most likely you will to some degree. Your walk will not look like any other's path, but I'll give you a run down of how mine looked.

I denied I had a problem(s) and almost every single person does this with some aspect of their life. Healthy people and unhealthy people.

I was strong, successful and smart. I am fine. I'm fine. I may have a temper like the 7th layer of hell and be more controlling than Kim Jong-Un, but I am fine.

I AM FINE. Porcupine quills engage!

I held on to fine for as long as I could and that may have saved my life. I may have broken into a million pieces if I'd tried to move past "fine" and denial any sooner than I did. There's no proof of that except that I'm still here. I'll take it.

Denial was my longest step, but also the one I am least likely to revisit at this point in my journey. I've become a pro at recognizing denial and kicking it's ass. If you aren't there yet, then you're not. It's not a race.

Anger has been my companion throughout my life. I've learned that those in close proximity to addicts almost always carry anger with them, whether acknowledged or not.

I was short tempered, and impatient. I still struggle with patience.

I went through life as a porcupine. Don't get too close or I will hurt you back. I expected hurt from others. It's what I knew. I expected others to overlook me, so I made sure they didn't (You may do the opposite. You may become a little mouse and then resent it when people overlook you. No one handles this in the exact same way). I expected others to be fake, so I was extra harsh to force them into what I considered "real" emotions. Controlling and anger are cousins. Piss off a control freak and you will see the relationship.

Anger isn't always screaming and shouting, either. I am not much of a screamer when I'm angry. Anger is how we survive the pain and our core survives through the Pain and Grief.

There are still days that I struggle with anger to an unhealthy degree. We are works in progress and I am learning how to feel the anger, determine if I have a legitimate reason to be angry and then either release it or take care of myself by expressing it in a healthy way. Mostly. (This is extra tricky for women. We're told being angry or mad and expressing it is wrong and/or makes us bitches. It's OK to be angry. That's not the kind we're talking about.We are talking about anger that can't be resolved with conversation and lingers over situations you can't change. Anger that sits on simmer, even when you're happy.)

Anger can feed denial because if we're angry enough then "We're fine!!" Anger can mask that we aren't fine, at all. This is anger and denial in one big suck cake. I've been there. I feel you.

Bargaining (negotiating) is the "if only" part of healing. It's where we say, "If I'd only done....". "If I'd only been more..." "If only...." It's the place where guilt lives and guilt will convince you that if you bargain long enough and well enough, you'll be fine. Everything will be fine. Just ask the woman/man who lives with an alcoholic.

Bargaining is the place we make up scenarios that change the outcome. We negotiate to pretend that we are in control or that if we'd had more control and been more controlling, things would have worked out differently. It's a fairy tale. It's a lie. But, it is also necessary so that we can heal. We have to feel what we're feeling!!

Bargaining was hard for me because I am a recovering control freak. Bargaining almost always returns me to anger, so I have to be careful with "if only". I'm also realist, so the "if only" part of grief pissed me off. I knew I couldn't change the past but... "if only" tries to creep in and old patterns try to take up residence. It's a trap I hate but one every grieving, hurting person must face.

Bargaining can become heavier than lead. The fantasy of all we "could have" done differently can weigh us down with such force it gets hard to breath. This sets us up for Depression and Sadness.

See how all this works in a big, ugly circle? You have to see it first and then FEEL it. Feeling it will help you release it, but try to cut off the "what if's..." when they come. The past is unchangeable, but the future is right now and in your grasp. Cheesy and still true.

Depression is a common word these days. No depression feels common. It feels like crap. This stage can range from a sad feeling to a black hole inside to someone being unable to function.

You need to be self-aware here. Depression comes in many, many forms and can be a place to heal or a place so dark you must seek help immediately. It also tends to circle back around in times of deep grief and mourning and, for me, just after times of intense happiness (this truth is a completely different post and one of the things that once made me a porcupine).

Depression is a sneaky bastard. One day you're fine and then...BAM. One tiny thing happens and depression will take up residence.

Depression is also the thing that can numb you to the feelings you need to feel to get healthy. Numbness is necessary sometimes, but be wary if it lingers.

Feelings aren't your enemy. Feelings are important flags on the journey that let us know what we need if we're brave enough to ask but some feelings like "what if..." are liars. Constant feelings of inadequency are also liars. It takes practice and deliberate focus to learn the difference.

It's important to take inventory, even on the really bad days. If you're too numb for too long, you walk right off the path and down a slippery slope.

Here's a hint about the slope and it's a little sassy: Depression is BORING. My God, it's boring. If you think watching someone not be able to get out of bed is as awful as watching grass grow, you should try being that person! (don't actually do that)

Depression will not only incapacitate you, it will bore you right into misery that makes the slippery slope look better. Recognize, ya'll. See the truth and then speak it. Depression is a liar. Remember that.

And finally, there's Acceptance (or Peace). I think this one is a step by step process all on it's own and I am not there in lots of ways, yet. I don't feel really capable of speaking about acceptance, so I'm going to give you what I've learned and leave it there.

I think you can accept certain pieces on the spectrum of grief, pain and loss, without being fully accepting of what caused those things. For me, acceptance has been a slow process and, some days, I'm just not there. I can live with that right now.

Here's where I am with it:

I accept that I am a child of God. I am a beloved child of God. So is everyone else.

I accept that life is a journey. A true, real journey. Pain and Grief are as much a part of that journey as Love and Joy. They are teachers, not enemies.

I accept that everything I've ever lost has claw marks on it. Detaching and letting go is HARD for me. I feel and think very deeply and I accept that I probably always will. These are traits I accept and love about myself.

I accept that I am learning and growing. Learning has always mattered to me. Growing is beginning to matter to me. These are good things. Light in a sometimes dark world. There is more light than darkness.

I accept that I may never understand many things I'd hoped to understand. I don't love this truth, but I do fully accept it. Some things will be mysteries forever. I think that may be a blessing.

I accept that I am the boss of me and only I can take the steps to grow and heal myself. I am not necessarily in control of what happens around and to me, but I am where I am because of my choices. Childhood is over. I can't blame that for my decisions today. I am an adult and I am capable of walking away, detaching, letting go, healing, seeking help and making better choices. Me, and only me, gets to decide what I am willing to accept into my life.

If I am surrounded by emotional succubus, that's because I let them in. If I am surrounded by kind, healthy, fun people, that's because I let them in. That's hard truth, but it is absolute truth.

I accept that I am not the boss of anyone else, including my children and my husband. Controlling behavior is a sign that you are dealing with something deeper, as well as a maturity issue. You aren't the boss of anyone else. The end. If your kids are 18 or older, you aren't the boss of them and even if they are under 18 you are only a little bit the boss of them. You are controlled by everything you try to control outside of yourself.

I accept that I am imperfect and flawed and forgiving myself is as important as forgiving others.

That's about all I've got, so far.

But, I'm still on the path. Even if, some days, the path is strewn with litter and curse words. Even if, some days, the path is dark and scary.

Even if, some days, I simply breathe.

Today, that's enough.

My quills are slowly disappearing and my heart is opening. Mostly.

Amen.
K

I'm Not Always The Nice Girl and I Don't Particularly Care

2017-04-11T15:41:00.000-04:00

Someone told me the other day that what I said wasn't "nice". My immediate response was, "Sorry you feel that way." I wasn't being flippant. I was sorry they felt that way, but I wasn't sorry for what I'd said. It was said calmly, gently and truthfully (and they did freakin' ask!!).

I can live with that.

They were super offended by that comment. I mean like red-faced offended that I wasn't overly concerned that they thought I'd lost my "nice" badge.

I didn't get it. I still don't.

Here's my take away from the experience:

1. "Nice" is something women in particular are expected to strive for. It is the gold standard of adjectives if you are female!

2. "Nice" is an adjective that will be used as a weapon if you dare to be anything other than "Nice" 100% of the time. For me, it's begun to mean that I'm doing what I'm told, no questions asked. Sorry, I'm not gonna be your girl there. I ask questions and I often question authority. Period.

3. "Nice" is JUST an adjective. There are other ones.

So, in typical Kristi style, I thought about the interaction for almost 4 days because I'm neurotic like that. This is how I assimilate and order the information in my head. I think about the interaction, rip it apart and then feel my feelings to see what feelings I'm actually feeling.

THEN, I think about what I'm actually feeling and why I feel that way and what I want to do about it or if I want to do anything at all.

Initially, I was hurt that someone thought I wasn't "Nice", which bugged me. Not that I wasn't nice, but that I was hurt. Why would that hurt me?!

And finally, I looked up the origin of the word "nice" because I love word origins. This TOTALLY reminded me why I love it, too!

I laughed and laughed and laughed. Know what nice's original meaning is?

It's derived from Latin "nescius" meaning....wait for it....IGNORANT. From there it took the 14th century by storm as a term for "foolish" or "silly". In the Middle Ages it took on "wantonness" and even "sloth" and then slid into "shyness" or "reserve". I suppose this is where we get our definition. I mean what is a woman if she isn't "shy and reserved", right?! I am neither of those things, by the way. YAY!! Not kidding. Those are not qualities that I usually admire in anyone. And if you think those are Proverbs 31 qualities, you should re-read the text.

We're taught from birth that we should be nice. I mean if you didn't want to hug Uncle G, who was a dirty, old, little girl ass grabber, then you weren't a nice little girl, right? If you didn't speak to the lady who spoke to you like dirt when your Mom wasn't around, then you weren't being nice. If you didn't totally want to date the guy who was SUPER nice to you for two entire whole days, then you were NOT a nice girl. You must be into "bad" boys. Again, not nice.

After rolling that mess around for a while, I've decided that I'm going to strive for other adjectives that actually mean something to me. Ones like intelligent, funny, witty, interesting, driven, passionate, compassionate, generous and honest. (Honesty will quickly knock you out of the "Nice" tribe, so be prepared for that one)

After thinking about all the beautiful adjectives I prefer over "Nice", I couldn't stop thinking about all the nice people I'd known in my life. The ones who really, really embody the adjective. Like they will go to any lengths to maintain that adjective, Nice.

Every single one of them were full of crap. Almost all of them even spoke in that weird voice of high octave, breathy chirpiness that reeks of fake, but we still respond to it, or at least I often do. It wouldn't be "nice" if I didn't, right?

Now, this is MY experience, so yours may not line up and I'm not knocking the people who strive diligently so that "Nice" will cling to their name for all time. I'm not. I'm just telling you that most of the hard core "nicers" that I've known were most often liars, gossips, fakers and about as deep as a 20 minute summer rain mud hole.

They'd tell you those skinny jeans TOTALLY held that cellulite in and there wasn't a lump in sight, even if you looked like cottage cheese had sprouted legs.

Most of the "Nice" people I know were also massive gossips. They were bubbly and chirpy until someone got about 10 steps away and then all bets were off. But, they'd end their gossip with, "But she's a nice girl and I'm not being mean, though." And everyone around "Nice" girl would bob their heads because she'd ended her mean gossip by saying she wasn't being mean. Must be true then! And then THEY walked 10 paces away and she'd start in on them. They were all so "nice", though.

And "nice" is also a super general term, isn't it? It doesn't really say anything. Most often it means someone told you what you wanted to hear in a chirpy voice that made you feel all fuzzy. And then we're all like, "AWWWWW! You are so nice." "What a nice thing to say!" "She's so nice." Bob head up and down in unison.

People will go to great lengths to be labeled nice and to resist taking that label from someone. We loathe taking away an adjective that we've been convinced has value. We loathe it even more if someone tries to strip if from us, even if we don't place that much value in it. Nice is what makes us say "Yes" when what we really want to do is scream "NO!!!!" from the top of our lungs. SO WEIRD!!

In all my thinking, I couldn't figure out why this was truth, because it absolutely is.

I'm giving up on nice. There are flat out better things to be that feel more like truth to me so don't feel too bad if you don't think I'm all that nice. I don't, either.

I'm doing just fine being funny and driven and intelligent and passionate and generous and compassionate and kind and stubborn and brave.

Kristi

Girls and Tribes and Quarters

2016-11-05T19:37:00.002-04:00

I have a confession: Girls scare me.

When they travel in tribes, I can actually feel my breath back up in my chest and bad words want to slip out before I run frantically in the other direction.

I'm a girl coward.

I'd like to say I don't know where this started but I totally know.
Two words: High School.

Two things happened in quick succession this week that reminded me of my girl fear. One, I shared a post on Facebook that had beautiful women emailing and messaging me their stories that were a lot like mine. So, my perception got knocked around a little bit, which is a really good thing for me.

The second thing that happened was we had a CL100 done on our house because we're moving. A CL100 is a fancy way to say termite letter. Since I'm a real estate broker in real life, I know those guys pretty well, which means we talk about stuff besides bugs and vapor barriers and moisture levels. For some reason, Keith, my termite guy, said something about wanting to be 17 again and I laughed and laughed. Until I realized he didn't get the joke.

I mean, would ANYONE do high school again?! Evidently, the answer is yes for some people. I even asked my Facebook buddies and some of them said YES! I am not one of those people.

For me, high school felt a little like an LSD trip must feel. (I've never done LSD, so I'm guessing here.)

I floated through high school marveling at all the colorful, shiny people and how they seemed to be doing life SO much better than I was doing it. Some of them were even having fun. I could totally tell!

I was (am) awkward. I was (am) loud. My brother was an addict who soaked up all the air in the room and it was an unspoken rule that we did not discuss this in my home, which added to my awkwardness, I think. I was in college prep and Honors classes but had no ambition to be a doctor or lawyer or nurse or teacher. I wanted to write. Not a super cool thing for most 16 year old girls.

I was also more interested in becoming a Solid Gold dancer than partying and boys (that is a true story).

I feel compelled to add that I often hid the things I was interested in because I believed no one else was interested in those things. Retrospectively, which is unfortunately the only way I see things clearly, I can say I think there were other people interested in those things, I just didn't know how to find those people. I made good grades and read books and went to exactly 3 parties my entire high school career. I also feel compelled to add that I was invited to more than 3, but that was my limit, evidently, and I would lie and say I had other plans when people asked me where I'd been Saturday night when "so and so" had their AWESOME party at the Peach Blossom Motel.

I clearly remember standing kind of over in the corner at one of the 3 parties I attended and, literally, eye balling every single person while thinking, "Are you REALLY having fun? Because you look like you're having fun over there playing quarters. Or maybe you're just drunk.Why aren't I having any fun here?" I hated the noise and the crush of people and the drinking and the sort of weird boy/girl dance that was very, very confusing for me. Side note: My husband, who wasn't yet my husband, was at that party playing quarters. He said he was, in fact, having a lot of fun, but doesn't remember most of it.

I wanted to go to the movies and talk about the new book I was reading and maybe grab a pizza without having my ass grabbed. Also, I wanted to remember doing those things.

So, anyway, high school wasn't my gig. College was more my thing, but even there I felt odd and out of place and like maybe I'd missed some secret meeting where the rules were explained in great detail on how this whole socializing thing worked because I didn't really get it and socializing still sometimes (all the time) makes me super nervous which makes me more awkward which makes me more nervous and so it goes. A GREAT cycle to be caught in, by the way. Good times.

Girls often travel in packs and I never found my pack. I was always just sort of floating along, happy to be involved in this group or that one, but never so far in that I got the inside jokes. I was cool with that because some of them were mean. Mean like a rabid dog is mean. But, I also kind of wanted to belong but I didn't know how. Then, I would feel "wrong" and anytime something feels wrong for me I become super offended because that's one of my struggles. Again, an awesome cycle to be caught up in.

But, here's the other thing: Girls are usually awesome when we're one on one, at least in my experience.

So, when I got those emails and had that high school discussion, a thought occurred to me that had truly never really occurred to me, which might be sad or might be totally common.

I was like, "OH MY GOSH! Maybe we aren't in separate tribes. Maybe we're all one big tribe that's bought into the lie that women are gossipy and mean and cliquish. And we're helping to perpetuate the myth by being a little afraid of each other and cursing under our breath and then running away before we can know each other."

Or maybe that's just me. I don't know.

What I know is that for the first time in my life I paused and asked myself, "Why do women suffer alone when there are so many other women out there who share their story and their truth and their path? This isn't high school! Why aren't we lifting one another up and bearing one another's burdens with pride and strength and dignity and cheering like fanatical fans for one another when one of us finds her way and succeeds?"

So, I'm making this blog that place. I'm going to tell the truth here, even when it's hard. Everyone is included here. There are NO exclusions. That's the only rule. Everyone gets to come to this party just like they are and they are included.

This can be a place for the girl tribe of women who want to love one another well and include everyone and encourage each other to be who we are, find our way and tell our truth. I would LOVE to have some guest bloggers write some awesome articles about their experiences and how they need a tribe or want a tribe or would like to stick a toe in just to see if they can be less scared, too.

This is going to be the place for me that I trust other women to care for me and trust me to care for them, exactly where they are. We can do that. We can totally freakin' do that. We can even do it while we're still in our pajamas! WIN!!!!

If you have a tribe, invite them here. If you don't have a tribe, I'm inviting you here. Everyone is welcome and safe and awesome.

Even if you like to party and play quarters. I'll just be the one in the corner cheering you on and you can wave at me in the corner and ask me about my book when you're finished.

Amen,
Kristi

Audacious

2016-11-04T10:53:00.000-04:00

I shared this post on Facebook yesterday. I was blown away by how many people read it and then sent me either private emails or direct messages. I cried because so, so many of us are hurting and we don't feel safe to share that we're hurting.

We don't feel assured that we will be loved in spite of our pain.

We are ashamed that we're in pain. When did that become truth for us? When did we become a people who regards false strength as something to worship and achieve instead of loving people where they actually are even if where they are is a deep, dark pit?

So many people are hiding who they are because they are afraid. Their fear and shame has defined them. That makes my heart weigh about 1000lbs.

So many people are hiding because there are always those people like the "1" email I received that told me they'd be praying for me because, obviously, my faith wasn't strong enough to "get over it". Seriously, thanks for the prayers. You won't ever waste one on me.

Then, I started reading between the lines of these emails and messages I was getting. There's this undercurrent in every one of them that says maybe God doesn't love me if I'm this way.What is "wrong" with me? Why can't I "just be joyful"? Why can't we all "just get over it"? Even the one from the person who thinks someone can pray off everything wrong on this plane of existence and we can all run through the tulips together.

And that pissed me off. Not at the sweet people writing me letters, but at the lies they'd believed.

How do we counter lies? With truth. That stuff will set you free!

So here's what I believe:

We're God's children. He LOVES us. All of us. NO ONE is excluded. He loves us just like we are, right where we are today. Period. You can't be badder than God's goodness and love. You can't be bigger than God's heart. I KNOW this.

I have four kids and I love them. Do I always love what they do? No. Absolutely no, but I love them with a wholeness that can not be reduced. Nothing can reduce the love I have for my children and I KNOW that God loves me and the entire world even more than I love my kids.

He is bigger and cooler and truer and better and more everything than I will ever even glimpse in anyone on this plane, so if I can love my kids this way, I know that God loves His kids in a way I will never understand in its fullness.

So, I wonder...

I wonder if these sweet women who sent me those heart wrenching emails and posts believe, like I believed for a LONG time, that God is just waiting to bring the hammer down because they "aren't doing it right". I mean, when I struggle, my first thought is that I am not doing this right and something is horribly wrong with me. I know now that that is a lie, and yet I still struggle with that truth.

Sometimes, I imagined God just waiting on me to get to heaven so he could judge me and tell about all the blessings I missed because I wasn't perfect down here. I've heard that preached from a pulpit.

Perfectionism is something I struggle with every single day of my life and have for as long as I can remember so I tend to project that thought onto pretty much everyone I meet. I had to be perfect and do life perfect, whatever the hell that even looks like.

Life is hard. It isn't hard because I am doing something wrong or awful and God isn't waiting to beat me over the head with divine judgement.

He already did that to Jesus in my place.

God is waiting on me to accept His grace and do the very best I can right now and He will walk with me and not leave me in the dark because He knows the dark scares the Holy right out of me.

We are not going to get to heaven and God point to the divine calendar and show us all the dumb things we've ever done and all the blessings that we've missed. I do not believe that because God is good. God is FOR ME. God gave His Son for me. He LOVES ME RIGHT NOW JUST LIKE I AM.

When my kids get hung up on their mistakes, you know what I do? I listen, let them know I heard them and, yes, they made a mistake and then I remind them of that time they gave up their seat for an elderly person. I remind them of the time they spent 30 minutes picking me the PERFECT bouquet of flowers (weeds!) and made my entire day. I remind them of how courageous they are and how gentle they are and how joyful they are and how much I love them. I tell them truth. They are not defined by every mistake they make!

How can I not believe that God will do even better than that when I go to Him and say, "DID YOU SEE THAT GOD? How can this ever be made right. I am so awful"?!

How can I not believe that God won't say, "Yes, honey. I saw that. It was a tough day. Do you remember that day that was even harder and you were still kind and gentle and prayerful?"

And He'll smile at me and hold me close, because He is a good Father. He isn't waiting to punish us. He's waiting to love us.

He reminded me just yesterday that I didn't give up. Not on my husband or my friends or my babies or myself and, most importantly, I didn't give up on Him.

And He never ever gives up on me or you or anyone else. Like every parent, He remembers every tear and every kindness. He isn't waiting to punish us. He's waiting on us to come get a hug.

If that hug precedes a Lexapro and a good hard cry on the bathroom floor or something else we're told repeatedly to feel horrible about, God isn't loving you based on you.

He is loving you based on Jesus.

You get to be imperfect and broken and still be loved. So does everyone else.

For God so loved THE WORLD. The entire, whole world just like it is was right then even when they hung His only kid on the cross. Actually, especially when they hung Jesus on the cross.

We aren't bigger than that. Our pain and our hurt and our joy and our heartache and our laughter and our lives and our good deeds and our mistakes aren't bigger than that. Thank God!

Love, K

ps...even if you don't believe this today because the lies are big and loud right this minute, it's OK. You're OK. Maybe even audacious because you're still fighting and I believe God loves audacious people and scared people and sad people and all the people. All the time. He is to be revered for that reason more than all the other reasons. Amen.

Freedom, Football and Duck Dynasty

2016-09-15T13:39:00.000-04:00

I love my country. I am proud of my country and the men and women who serve her.

I love that we stand for something that is revolutionary. I sometimes wonder if Americans have forgotten that we are revolutionary.

Less than 250 years ago, there was no country in the entire world where any kind of real freedom could be found in the way we have freedom. There had rarely been any country in written history that has the kind of freedom found in the United States of America, for that matter.

I mean, we didn't just TALK about it. We wrote a DECLARATION declaring our freedom and inalienable rights, people. We put it in freakin' writing and made it the law! We said, "Hell no, we're not gonna take it anymore" and we meant it and that gives me goosebumps.

And you know what? Other countries followed suit. Obviously, not all of them, but lots and lots of them saw that it was good to let people be free and forge their own destiny without interference from...well, really anyone with the exception of laws that protect people and their stuff. How awesome are we?!?!

And yet...in the last few years there's been this really disturbing trend. There's been this trend that if people say something you don't like or agree with that doesn't harm you physically or damage your stuff we want a different kind of revolution. We want to string them up or force them out of their job or scream at them to, "GET OUT!".

All because they don't view things a certain way or share a certain ideology or view life in the way other people think it should be lived or agree about what true freedom actually means.

There's nothing American about that.

So, let's talk about two instances that I can think of right off hand that pissed a LOT of people off.

First, we'll start with Phil Robertson. That Duck Dynasty guy. I'm pretty sure he's the head guy, but I don't watch the show, so that's an assumption and if it's wrong I'd still like to stay, mmmkay?

He was asked point blank how he felt about homosexuality. He wasn't pulling a Westboro (we all crazy up in here) Baptist Gathering Place. (I refuse to call them a church.) He wasn't standing on the street harassing good people or standing at a soldier's funeral chanting things I will not repeat here or anywhere else in this lifetime. He was ASKED. He answered.

But, here's the thing: People almost immediately began the now popular chant of "Yes, you may have freedom of speech but you don't have freedom from the consequences of that speech."

Do you know how Orwellian that is? Do you understand that by threatening someone with loss of job and livelihood if they say things you don't like or agree with, you ARE damaging their freedom to speak their truth. That is a threat to damage them if they're speech doesn't agree with your truth or ideology. The very foundation of freedom of speech is understanding that others may disagree with everything you hold fundamentally true and, as long as it does not harm your life, your liberty or pursuit of happiness, they are FREE to say it and expect no repercussions like loss of job, threat of bodily harm and harassment.

We're talking about someone who was asked a direct question about their private beliefs. He answered. That's it.

Did I agree with him? Doesn't matter because that's not the point.

Now, we have Colin Kaepernick. If you've been under a rock and don't know who he is, he's a back-up quarterback for the San Franscisco 49'ers and he has refused to stand for the National Anthem as it's played before each NFL game begins.

As a black man, he is making a statement about the abuses and lack of equality toward African Americans in our country. He is making a statement that African American citizens in our country are not afforded the same equality as white Americans in our country.

We are not talking about a man who threatened other people or harmed anyone or mocked anyone. We're talking about a guy who chose not to stand or place his hand over his heart during the National Anthem because he feels like his Nation isn't fulfilling its truest destiny of freedom and life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for ALL.

Do I agree with him? Doesn't matter because that's not the point.

Here's the REAL point: We are losing ourselves and what makes us so revolutionary!!! We are defiling the very thing that so many actually died to protect!

We are the country who says you can have your religious beliefs, no matter what those beliefs happen to be or stand for, so long as you are not harming another human being physically or harming their personal belongings and private property.

It means that even if someone stands on the flag or refuses to stand for the Anthem, they have that RIGHT. They have that right without someone screaming for them to be fired or harmed.

Not just "whether you like it or not", but ESPECIALLY if you like it or not. The kind of freedom we have in this country is revolutionary BECAUSE of that, not in spite of it.

My fellow Americans, we so often mourn the loss of life that our freedom has cost so many. We understand so deeply what freedom has cost. It is part of who we are! It is part of our very definition as Americans. FREEDOM IS NOT FREE!

It not only costs our beloved soldiers their lives. It costs us our pride and our right to be right and our anger. It costs the citizens of a free country the belief that their opinions are the ONLY opinions.

So, who are we if we, the very country who revolutionized freedom, begin to pick and choose how someone exercises their freedom?! Who do we become if freedom is only true if we all agree on the same things in the same way?

Again, I am NOT talking about people who rape and pillage and murder and harm other people...we are talking about words and actions that express someones privately held beliefs and truths. Not bullying. Not standing on the streets screaming at people to cause damage, but privately held beliefs and feelings and hurts and truths, even if those feelings are publicly known.

For me, I see other countries - countries who curb speech to the point that you can go to jail for speaking out against the reigning powers - and I KNOW that I do not want to begin the walk down that slope. It is slippery with self-righteousness and hate and harm and cruelty. It is lacking in compassion and kindness and hope and renewal and FREEDOM.

I do not want to walk a path that shoves someones truth back down their throat because they do not believe or feel as I feel or believe. I do not want to walk that path because one day someone is going to disagree with me. Some of you are disagreeing with me RIGHT NOW.

We are peeking over the edge of that slope. Can't you feel it? Can't you feel the churning, vile cauldron of hate and descension in our beautiful land of the free because we will NOT allow someone else to be free to express themselves because they have the audacity to NOT agree with us or they express themselves in a way that YOU wouldn't express yourself?

I feel it. The media feeds on it like sharks in a bloody pond. Social media's cup is overflowing with it.

But, it's one on one, face to face, where we must make our stand. We must stand together and hear one another.

You want to make America great again? Really? You want unity? Really?

Then UNITE. Allow others to speak their truth without being offended. The very people who mock others offense are very often the ones who become so viciously vocal when they are offended, by the way. Surely you see it.

You are not harmed if the Duck Dynasty man holds a religious belief that you do not hold. You aren't. Keep living. Keep loving. Keep being kind. Be angry if he is NOT allowed to hold a religious belief so long as he doesn't harm others with that belief.

You are not harmed if a black man doesn't stand when the National Anthem is played. You aren't. Keep standing. Keep placing your hand over your heart. Keep loving. Keep being kind. Be angry if he is NOT allowed to sit, so long as he doesn't demand others do the same.

THAT IS UNITY.

That is who we say we are when we go to other countries and fight for people who can't fight for themselves. That is who we say we are when we go to other countries that are killing people to oppress their privately held beliefs and feelings.

I want to BE what revolutionizes Americans and makes us unique among all the countries on Earth. I want to LOVE those who don't agree with me. I want to HEAR them. I want freedom.

I want those things BECAUSE I love my country and everything it stands for.

I believe in America and every word on the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States of America. I believe that freedom is worth dying for, even if it means I have to listen to and support someone who practices their freedom and rights differently than I practice mine.

I can only believe in freedom if I believe it for everyone.

Maybe I can only truly believe in freedom if it means I must support someone's freedom when everything they stand for is diametrically opposed to everything that I stand for.

Over here still believing in inalienable rights,
Kristi

Because It's Suicide Prevention Week

2016-09-14T14:14:00.002-04:00

On August 5th, 2015, I learned something that brought me to my knees. Then, it curled me into the fetal position and left me on the floor. Then, it kicked me in the back and knocked life down around me and sat on me until I couldn't breathe.

In September, 2015, at the age of 44, I sat in my home contemplating suicide.

Oh, it wasn't some instant moment of, "Hey. Why don't I check out?". It was more a slow realization that I could not deal with this kind of Pain.

I was not equipped to deal with the kind of Pain that embodies you and refuses to leave for even one minute,one second, of the day. And for a long moment, checking out seemed like a really beautiful option. A relief. A respite. It looked like hope.

I am what Suicide Prevention looks like.

Here's the thing: My entire life, in some form, people around me have consistently spoken to me, and about me, as someone who is strong. Maybe I am, I don't know. Maybe not. I don't think I care anymore.

What I am is broken and human. But, I'm learning that the truest, brightest light only gets in through the cracks, though, so I'm embracing my broken. Usually.

What I also know is that we don't talk about depression and anxiety and brokenness in a way that people who aren't struggling can understand that the people who ARE struggling look completely normal and, usually, OK. I mean, truly OK.

We don't look like our lives have crumbled. We look like everyone else on the outside, but we aren't like everyone else on the inside at that moment.Maybe for lots and lots of moments and we need to talk about it without shame or fear of judgement.

There is no judgement here in this place with me. None.

Usually, even the people around us don't know. No one advertises their pain on a big pain banner because - let's be real - our world idolizes, "I'm fine. How about you?." "I'm fine, thanks for asking." We actually like to think we're "finer" than most people and will go to great lengths to prove we're fine. We're awesome. Everything is awesome. Even if we're light years away from awesome, the motto is, "We're still fine!"

Most people don't want to be real because it hurts. It's a little embarrassing. I mean, God forbid you not be fine! God forbid you not be happy and OK and doing pretty well. It's not acceptable. (Acceptable is my new least favorite word, by the way.)

Here's the other thing: Pain and shame and hurt are the things we humans run from like our butts are on fire and it's burning the skin from our body in bite size pieces. It catches up with us through drugs or sex or food or shopping or lying or perfectionism or isolation or all sorts of other ways but sometimes, it catches up to us as we view the EXIT door like it's the last real thing in a world filled with lies and hurt and pain.

Too often, we're taught to fear, or avoid, the pain and the shame and the brokenness. So, if you find yourself in a place that you can't run from it and you can't deal with it, what do you do?

You try to kill it.

You try to kill the pain and the brokenness and then it'll be dead. It'll be gone!! In that moment, you aren't thinking about you being dead along with it. You mostly don't give a damn as long as the excruciating pain will just stop.

So, we need to talk about it.

I need to talk about it. And because it's Suicide Prevention Week/Day/Month, I'm going to talk about it.

And I'm not talking to the people who've never been there and think they understand. You don't. I used to be one of you and you don't understand and I hope and pray you never, ever do.

BUT, if you HAVE been there, if you ARE there, if you know someone who IS there, this is for you:

It's OK to feel too much. It's OK to feel pain so visceral that it rearranges you, changes you forever. It's OK. You're OK. There is Hope.

It's OK because you are really a gift that the world needs for those of us who have found ourselves in a place that isn't "fine".

I need you.

I swear to you there is Hope.I have been with you as you lay curled on the floor crying so hard you are soundless and formless and bereft of anything but Pain.

I know what it feels like to be soundless and formless, sweet friend.

I have been with you as you looked at the world that has gone dark and cold and it just keeps on spinning and spinning and why the hell won't it stop spinning for JUST A SECOND?!

I know the soundless place. It is the loudest, most chaotic place on Earth, isn't it? It's so loud that no sound can escape, but no sound can get in, either. Not even thought can survive there, but Hope lives. The depression, the pain, is lying to you. It is a liar. Hope is living and breathing.

Stand up. Crawl out. Claw your way to the door. There is more good coming. I swear to you, there is more coming.

You and I know that once the Exit door makes itself truly known, it never really gets unknown, though, right?

But, please listen to me now: You get another try. YOU GET TO TRY AGAIN. You are NOT out of options.

Listen closer: Pain is not your master and it is not your enemy. It is your teacher. It's trying to tell you something. You don't have to listen to it RIGHT NOW, but you have to let it visit for a minute. You can listen to it once you get out of the soundless place that's so loud you can't hear anything but the pain. Feel it, stand up with it and RISE.

This is the hard part, but you can do it. You are loved. You are loved right now, right where you are.

If you have people in your life who are telling you to just "get over it", ignore them. They don't know and they don't understand and that's OK. They don't have to. Ignore them.

If you have people in your life who are telling you to just "pray harder and believe more", ignore them. God has not placed them on your path. They do not know and they don't understand and that's OK. They don't have to. Ignore them.

This minute, simply choose the option to take one more step.

Turn off the music that feeds the darkness pouring into you and out of you. Refuse to feed that. Turn off the TV shows that trigger things in you that you don't understand. Stop immediately. Turn on happy music and eat something you love. Do this until you can get somewhere to get help. And you MUST get help. You can't do this one alone and that is OK. You don't have to.

Get help. I will tell you I went through therapy about 5 years ago that helped me see my EXIT door and walk away. I went back to therapy and have every intention of continuing. Ignore people who tell you not to get help. Get help. Find someone who HEARS YOU and you feel comfortable with them hearing you and then tell them.

If you and your therapist determine that for now you need medication, take the medication. No one tells someone with cancer not to take meds, or rather, healthy people don't tell people with cancer not to take medication or get help, right?

If you cannot heal right now without the meds, take the medication. TAKE THE DAMN MEDICATION. Ignore anyone who tells you that you don't need it if you can not do this without it right now. That is your call. You are the boss of you.

You probably won't need them forever but if you do, take the medication because you deserve your time on this plane of existence. Hold up your medicated head and LIVE.

The medication will help you hear the lies in the depression if you can't hear them without it.

The medication will help you see the Pain without becoming the Pain. (Only you who've been here understand that statement. We are a tribe. We understand.)

YOUR LIFE IS WORTH LIVING. You matter. You are worth doing whatever you need to do to get healthy. No matter who has hurt you or who you have hurt, life is worth living.

Pain is real, but so is Love. Wrestle the Pain and the Love will come. Embrace the Pain and Love will return your embrace. Learn from the pain and Love will be your final teacher. I get that that may not make complete sense right now, this minute. Will you trust me when I say that you will understand and relief will come because you feel SO MUCH, so strongly and so deeply that you will understand if you just rise and stay and fight?

Please, please stay with us. You have something to say and do and achieve and be. I know because those of us who face the monster called suicide and knock it on its ass find a place inside that other people don't have. I know because I didn't have it once. I know because I have it now.

It is a new place where Hope and Compassion and Truth and Honesty live in a way they did not live in me before.

Stay, sweet friend.

Stay.

I love you. I feel you. I am you.

Kristi

PS...If you are alone or you don't have anyone you trust enough to talk to or you simply can't tell anyone but a stranger or if you just need this number, I am begging you to call them if you think today might be the day the EXIT door looks better than the LIFE door:

1-800-273-8255

They are available to you 24/7. They will hear you.

Love Wins

2015-06-27T13:49:00.000-04:00

My social media feed is filled with Confederate flags and multi-colored banners with "PRIDE" written from end to end. It's overflowing with terrorists acts and people being murdered on the beaches of Tunisia and beheadings in France. And it is exploding with my Christian brother's and sister's posts of outrage and anger.

So, this post is merely a gentle reminder to all those who believe, as I believe, that God is on His throne and Christ stands at His right hand pleading with the Father on our behalf:

God has purposed the generations from end to end, since time began. He makes no mistakes.

THIS is the world we are to SERVE. The one just as it is right now. I'll say it again: God planted us HERE, exactly. We are to SERVE this world.

Jesus tells us clearly that there WILL be troubles. But, He also says with equal clarity that He has overcome the world.

He HAS overcome it. Not that he will, but that He has overcome. Currently. Present time. Right now.

We are to serve and love and share the Gospel. We aren't to worry if people will hear it or respond or like us. That's not our job. The Holy Spirit is really good at what He does and He's got this.

We are to stand firm in our faith, but be gentle and kind.

We are to forgive and love and serve.

We are not called to serve only those who are kind to us or those who believe as we believe or those that we like. Actually, Jesus is pretty clear that those kinds of people aren't His and aren't following His heart. Those kinds of people are just like the world, not different from the world, as we're called to be.

"For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?" Mathew 5:46

We are to love God with all our hearts and all our minds and all our souls, with all the strength that WE have and then to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. Period.

Side note: He never, not once, said that would be easy. As a matter of fact, Jesus said,

“I have spoken these things to you so that you shall have peace in me. You shall have suffering in the world, but take heart, I have overcome the world.” John 16:33   Basically, this is going to be tough, but you can do the hard things because I have paved the way. I HAVE overcome the world. Now go, tell the world.

And this:

"If the world hates you, you know that it has hated Me before it hated you." John 15:18

We are planted exactly where we're supposed to be and we're called to love. It's hard and it's sometimes humbling. (more often than not, actually) But, while we were STILL sinners, Christ died for us. Not when we finally got our junk together or when we were good enough or when we eventually dropped all that sin that was weighing us down, but WHILE we were STILL sinners, He died for us.

How can we possibly do any less, even knowing that some will never hear us or be kind to us in return?

Last week, Elisabeth Elliot passed away and man was she a walking example of knowing she was planted where she was supposed to be and loving those that were unlovable to her!

The very people who murdered her husband were the people she served. She loved them FIRST. Their salvation followed as she told them about Christ, but most important, as she LIVED out the love of Christ. Those she served were cannibals. They ate her husband after they murdered him. Literally. I cannot fathom it.

If you've never read about Mrs. Elliot, please do. Her life was one of suffering and obedience and love.

Her life reminds me that I am not called to love the lovable and easy. Her life stands as a reminder of who I can become if my focus is on Jesus and Him alone. Mrs. Elliot wasn't supernatural. She loved Jesus and believed Him and His Word. She BELIEVED.

She didn't come to them with harsh words and retribution for murdering the man she loved. She came to that tribe of lost people and loved them as her Father Loved. She loved them. She knew that they could not love as she loved because they did not know the very One who IS Love.

I am reminded by Mrs. Elliot and, more importantly, the Word of God that this world isn't surprising God or wiping God from it's pages. This world is following the exact path God foresaw and knew and He loved it anyway. My thanks for that cannot be expressed on this little corner of the blogosphere because He loved me right in my sin, too.

I want to remember and know that my light can only shine when it reflects His love.

"But I say to you, love your enemies and bless the one who curses you, and do what is beautiful to the one who hates you, and pray over those who take you by force and persecute you."

We either believe Him or we don't. We either obey Him or we follow the world. We either trust Him or we don't. There is no gray or middle ground. Stand firm in Love.

The Plank of Racism

2015-06-23T16:53:00.000-04:00

I've been blessed to travel many parts of the world, but I've lived my entire life in the state of South Carolina. It's a beautiful state with both rolling mountains and a beautiful coastline. We have magnolia trees, backyard gardens and, usually, the opportunity to celebrate all four seasons.

Fireflies, pecan pies, sweet tea and homemade biscuits covered in sausage gravy are common here. The beauty of comfort food and hot Southern days cannot be overstated and those from the South know this truth. I'd remind those that question this to remember no one retires and moves up North.

I live a little over four hours from the Atlantic Ocean and hardly an hour from the mountains of Asheville, NC. I can be in Atlanta in three hours and Charlotte in a barely more than an hour.

And then there's Charleston. It's almost exactly three hours from my home and I've been there more than a hand full of times. There's fabulous food, incredible architecture, winding rivers and easy access to the ocean. The lyrical drawl unique to the South is fully realized in Charleston.

And there's history. Charleston's history includes horrific stories of racism and hate. That history now includes nine people being shot during their Bible study at a historically black church by a white man who claimed that black people were "stealing our women and taking over our country and it has to stop." White women take note because he was talking about you and me.

I'm ashamed to say I couldn't have imagined this truth. It's truth because it happened. I'm ashamed to say that I quite probably would have argued with someone who said that that kind of racism still lived in my home state. Even with the history SC has, I'd have still argued.

A white supremacist. That's what he was. Someone who believes that the white race is superior to all others and that white people deserve to rule over other races. Read that again.

This young man BELIEVED that as truth and he's not the only one out there. That feels surreal to me but it's not a fantasy and it can't just be ignored.

And over the last few days, I've gotten real with myself, because if we're not going to be real with ourselves, how can any of this ever change? Don't we want it to change?

I've watched people on my Facebook defend a flag that means nothing to me and, let's be real, nothing to them, either.

I've watched people bring up terrorism and Islam or any number of things to avoid talking about the white supremacist and what it all really means and how we all play a part.

I've seen others post about those families open forgiveness to a man who murdered their family in cold blood for no other reason than because they were black. For no other reason than because they were not white.

I've watched people post beautiful tributes showing more than 10,000 people of all colors marching together in unity across the Arthur Ravenel Bridge in Charleston . I've seen people post the faces of those nine precious souls who were shot in cold blood and I've read their stories. I've listened to Pastor Pinckney on Youtube and grieved that he's no longer here and thought long and hard on Father's Day about children who's Daddy wasn't there to celebrate.

But, there's still more truth to tell. There's still a log in our own eye.

I've watched people defend and offend and do anything but just tell the damn truth. Make no mistake, telling the truth is hard. It's so hard that God Himself had to tell us, "Thou shalt NOT lie."

I grew up in the South and I've heard the "N" word my entire life. I've heard it in my home growing up and through out my school years. I heard a pastor use it once and I've never forgotten it.

I've heard the undertones of people not brave enough, or honest enough, to own their racism outright. I've heard the undertones of racism by people who truly had no idea that the things they were saying were racist.

I've seen people whisper behind the backs of interracial couples and I've seen them openly look down on interracial children. (I actually didn't let that go, but did I say enough? I don't think so.)

I've watched a drug addicted, non-working member of my own family go on and on about the low-down black people (he didn't say black, either) on welfare. (while HE was collecting a welfare check and drawing food stamps because he'd used drugs often enough to fry his brain and his health). I had to leave the room, but I didn't say a word. And I'm ashamed of that.

I've heard racist jokes and seen racism first hand. I've heard people say, "I'm not racist, but..." about nine thousand four hundred and sixty times and they truly didn't realize that "not being racist, but..." IS racist. Period.

And still, I was utterly shocked that a white man walked into a pre-dominantly black church and murdered people for being black.

It has to stop. We have to tell the truth. We have to stop pretending we're not racists if we even listen to racist jokes, because we are. We are part of the problem as long we allow that to be said in front of us.

We have to stand up or walk away every single time someone pretends that someone's color makes them less than a human being.

We have to stop listening when someone says they wouldn't want their child to marry someone of a different color. We have to say to them, "Then you're a racist. Do you think your child is better than theirs?"

Because every single time we don't choose to stop racism, what we're doing is saying it's perfectly OK. That's uncomfortable, but it's true.

When we choose silence, we're creating an environment where men like Dylann Roof grow up and believe, truly believe, that somehow his being born white makes him superior. We like to think that the little racists things in our own lives don't birth the kind of racism that Roof displayed when he gunned down nine people in their church. We're wrong.

It makes men like Roof think that murdering nine human beings is OK. I know that because he killed them. He murdered those nine people and believed what he was doing was the right thing to do. He sat with those people for over an hour and listened to them pray and worship and read their Bibles and still stood up and murdered them.

He told the police he almost didn't go through with it because they were so nice. How can that not make your heart bleed? They were nice to him. They welcomed Dylann Roof into their church and treated him with kindness. But still...they were black.

He BELIEVED that being white made him superior. He learned that. He was taught that as truth by someone, somewhere.

We, who grew up with quiet racism, like to tell ourselves that having parents who used the "N" word or grandparents who did, aren't really part of the problem. We're more comfortable pointing out the low-hanging pants or the slang talking youth and saying "They're" the problem.

And yet, Jesus said, "Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye." We have a beam in our eye. We have a generational beam in our eye that we absolutely refuse to own.

We're not comfortable admitting that young men in hoodies make us uncomfortable because....why? I live here and not once has a young black man ever so much as laid his hands on me in anger and yet I've heard over and over to be careful. To be wary. It's racism. Flat out.

I can't do anything about black on black crime in Chicago and neither can anyone else in my sphere of influence. I can't do anything about all those statistics that people who can't seem to own their quiet racism post every single time systemic racism comes up in the news.

What I CAN do is say that for me...for my house...we're going to tell the truth and we're going to try and change. I want to know absolutely that the things I can do are being done because people are dying and hurting and anger and hate is winning.

Nine people were murdered in my home state FOR BEING BLACK and I'm horrified. I'm sad. I'm sickened. I'm awake.

Jesus also said, "Love thy neighbor as thyself."

I want to live that. I want to own THAT.

How can I love my neighbor in the same way that I love myself?

The first thing I can do is to tell the truth. It'll begin to set us ALL free.

The morning after this terrorist act, I sat in a doctor's office across from a black woman listening to the news on her phone. It was just loud enough to hear and when she looked up at me...I couldn't look away.

I started to cry. I sat in that damn doctor's office and cried. I hate to cry.

And do you know what? She hugged me. She didn't hate to cry.

We sat in the waiting room with our arms around each other and we cried while others looked on. We cried for lives that were senselessly lost but I knew....I KNEW....even with her arms around me, that I couldn't understand what it felt like to be afraid that I could be shot for no other reason than the color of my skin. I'd never truly thought of life in those terms. I understood that fear was real for her. SHE could have been shot for no other reason than the color of her skin by Dylann Roof even though he'd have walked by me without a glance because I was white.

That's real. That has to change and it starts with MY skin color. It starts with every white person with racism buried deep within our lives, quietly sitting there, to admit it and own it.

It starts when white people stop whipping up Chicago statistics because we don't want to talk about that time we said "I'm not racist, but..." or the time we laughed at Uncle Bobby's racist story or the time we didn't stop our friends from using the "N" word.

Sin and repentance is hard business. I believe that sin is a condition and repentance is humbling and racism is sin.

Racism killed nine people in Charleston because they weren't white. Can we tell the truth? Can we pull the log from our own eyes and love?

I pray so.

Losing My Religion

2015-06-15T18:10:00.001-04:00

I'm tired of religion. I'm even more tired of religious people.

The Pharisees were religious. They were the only people Jesus couldn't reach when his sandals met this dusty Earth. Man, did they tick Jesus off! And Jesus really ticked them off, too!

The Pharisees are perfect examples of religious people being "right" and still being wrong. The Pharisees were more concerned with being right than they were the people they were trying to reach.

The Pharisees would leave a hungry man on the side of the road if they thought he was wrong enough.

The Pharisees taught about God, but they didn't love Him.

They're the perfect example of religious people believing they are doing good things while sitting in their glass houses and missing God as He walks right up and talks with them. (Literally)

....Please God, don't let me miss you. Ever...Please....

I'm tired of religious people arguing about things that Jesus didn't argue about or care about or didn't really even seem to notice very much. I know those people because I used to be one of them.

I'm tired of religion being in the news.

I'm tired of people expecting the government to spread the Gospel because they're too busy to do it, or too lazy.

Something about all that fatigue is opening my eyes to something I'm not tired of, though:

The Cross and Jesus.

The fuzzier religion gets, the clearer Jesus gets. He gets more lovely and more gracious.

The farther away I get from religion, the closer I get to the voice that says to me: "Do not be afraid." "Love your neighbor as you love yourself".

The farther I get from religion, the closer I get to the voice that consistently said, "I am willing", even when no one else was.

The cross is divisive, isn't it? It's not pretty and sweet, with nice little hymns playing in the background and civilized little cups of grape juice being passed around.

The cross causes us to change if we've ever stopped long enough to look at it and see God hanging there in our place. We either feel humility and repentance call our name or anger and hate and disbelief.

Some try to explain it away or work really hard to deserve it. God says we are to allow God to bleed out for us and gasp His last breath in our place and accept a gift we simply are not worthy of receiving.

Religion spends a good bit of time telling people that Sunday from 10am till noon and, possibly, from 6pm till 8:30pm the Holy Spirit will show up at so and so address. Show up. It'll be a fun time! And God weeps.

Jesus showed up every day of the week, at all hours of the day and night to love on people and serve them and listen to them. He still does that, even if you haven't stepped foot in a building with a steeple in decades.

Jesus showed up on the doorsteps of sinners. He showed up where they were.

God busted out of meeting in a box more than 2000 years ago when He nailed Himself to a cross so we'd have a chance at redemption.

Religion spends entirely too much time and money on new programs and equipment and fancy pews and fancy buses with graphically designed slogans on the side and big screen TV's and sound systems when all they really need is Jesus and grace.

When what we all need is nothing more than Jesus and grace. Amazing, sweet grace...

Smaller churches spend a lot of time trying to catch up to the big churches and big churches spend millions to stay big. I mean, they're reaching people, right?

I suppose some do, but then the cycle starts over and something is missing in most religious places. It's missing. It's missing because church isn't a building. It's missing because religion is not Jesus.

I'm tired of religion.

I want Jesus.

I want to tell people about Jesus.

I want them to know that sin is a condition.

Sin isn't just things that we do, like lying and lusting and cheating and pride. Sin is a condition. We want what we want when we want it and we'll tell ourselves anything to think we're better than "that guy" or "that girl".

All of us. We tell ourselves whatever we need to tell ourselves to avoid the truth that we need Jesus and that is all. That. Is. All.

God doesn't quantify sin, either. Humans do that. Lying and pride and gossip are equal to lust and adultery and murder. Sin is a condition. We all are suffering from that condition equally.

Religion will try it's best to tell you that one is worse than the other because religion has nothing to do with Jesus. Religion has nothing to do with truth.

Truth, by its very definition, is exclusive, by the way.

The compelling truth of the cross will attract all kinds of cynics. I have no interest in arguing with them.

The compelling truth of the cross will attract all kinds of mockery and scorn. I'm OK with that. It's tough and humbling to truly see the hard truth that we aren't in control of our own destiny. It's hard to stop and look at our own lives and recognize that we are not in control. Of anything.

Oh, yes....we can make choices or go right or go left, but we have no control of where those choices lead or how they turn out. If we did, we'd all be blissfully happy all the time with no worries and every choice we'd ever made would have lead us right back to happy and wealthy and healthy and whole. But, they didn't, because we aren't in control. And that's a humbling thing. So, bring on the mockery and scorn.

The cross holds the greatest claim in history and that claim wasn't this: Religion and rules and laws will save you! God did that first to SHOW you those things didn't work. Ever. Those things make your sin heavy and real so you know you can't bear it. You can't bury it.

You can't live through sin.

The cross holds the greatest claim in history that is THIS:

The greatest claim in history is that God died with your sins strapped around his neck. He died. All the way.

But, death could not claim Him. He rose. He slew death like a boss.

The sinLESS wrapped Himself in the sinFUL and He OVERCAME.

He threw off sin and shame and found joy because He loves His creation. He loves His creation just like it is right now.

He DIED for His creation just like it is right now. We aren't surprising Him! And still...while we were sinners, He loved us.

And He rose. He extended His hand and said, "I love you. Now go and tell the world. It will be hard and it will be scary, but don't be afraid. I've got this. All you have to do is tell them and leave the rest to me."

Jesus said, don't be afraid. I overcome the world. Now go. Tell them I love them and I'll be back.

And LOVE THEM THE SAME WAY I HAVE LOVED YOU.

...the same way that He loved me...

...the same way that He loved me...

...Do you know all the things I've done, Jesus? Do you know all the horrific things I've thought and said and done?...

...Yes, I do...Every. Single. One.

...And you love me all the way, anyway?...

...Yes...All the way...

The Pharisees talked a lot about being clean and pure and holy. They talked a lot about laws and religious ceremony. But, they had no concern for the heart of a person or loving people or showing mercy or grace.

They were more concerned with the temple than the One the temple housed.

The most religious people of Jesus' day blocked the door to God Himself. The writer of the Law, the Creator Himself, was not good enough for religious men.

Religion isn't about plays and meetings and even Bible studies with sweet groups of men and women. It's not about us, at all.

It's about the cross. It's about grace and love. It's about accepting a gift and then sharing that priceless gift.

It's about Jesus.

And it's time we said so.

Truth About Marriage

2015-05-15T11:45:00.001-04:00

After almost eighteen years of marriage, I've learned some things. Not all the things, but some things, and after watching a sweet, young couple in front of me in the check out line a few days ago, I think I'll share a few of those things in the hopes that other young couples may read this and hear.

The young couple appeared to be in their very early twenties and still had the doe-eyed look of young love and I wished in my heart-of-hearts that they would hold tight to that love and never let it go, even when the doe-eyed look fades...and it WILL fade.

It's the nature of new love. Those first flushes of excitement wear off and suddenly the fact that she actually does fart and doesn't always spend an hour on her hair or that he occasionally leaves his underwear on the floor and doesn't particularly care if the grass is higher than his knees begins to grind the rose colored glasses down to the real. The real is where the good stuff lives, though, even if the Harlequin romances and 72 day marriages of Hollywood tell a different tale.

So, here's the truth of what I've learned after loving the same man for almost two decades of for better and for worse:

1. Sex matters. Sex matters a lot. Too often, though, women use sex as a weapon and men use sex as a measuring stick for love. Too often the world tells us that sex is only about the physical and we believe the lie.

To the women: Sex is not a tool to get your man to do what you want, when you want. Sex is not a toy that you withhold like your man is a dog there to perform tricks or finally have sex "if he's good". I have zero friends who play this game because I can't tolerate this kind of woman.

Sex isn't like those stupid novels make it out to be. (Thank God) Sex isn't going to always be up to the man to initiate nor should it be. He wants to feel wanted, too.

And to the men: A woman doesn't owe you sex because you took out the trash or washed the car or for any other reason. Sex isn't a reward system by which you can determine if she loves you or not. If you only do the things you should already be doing in the hopes that you'll get laid, then your wife, and you, deserve better.

You should do the things you should be doing because you love your family. Sex will follow because her heart feels warm and soft toward her husband who happily cares for her and what's theirs.

This is basic stuff, guys. If your girl feels cherished and loved and knows you value her, your sex life will increase exponentially but only if you do those things BECAUSE you love her, not because you want sex. (read that again, guys)

Sex is designed to create intimacy with your spouse in a way that you can not, and should not, have intimacy with anyone else on the planet. And, if done correctly, sex not only feels good, but also conveys a level of trust and love that nothing else can imitate or replace. A man's needs are different than a woman's but with the right level of communication and trust, sex can become the bridge by which many other obstacles can be overcome in a long-term marriage.

PS....After 20 years of marriage, I will also share with you that "the more you do it, the more you do it and the less you do it, the less you'll do it".

Sex, like everything else, must have a place in your marriage. You must prioritize being intimate with your spouse!

And here's another secret not enough long-term married couples discuss, especially among Christians (which is wrong!!): Sex with my husband is better NOW, after almost twenty years, than it ever was when we first married and he fully agrees. Sex gets better with time!!

2. Communication may be the key, but HOW you communicate is everything else: We've all heard the saying that communication is the key to a good relationship and I don't disagree. You must communicate with one another. However, I think there should be a blurb after that statement that says "And HOW you communicate may determine if your key works or not."

Ever heard someone use a tone of voice that lets you know they actually mean the OPPOSITE of what they said? Your tone of voice and inflection matters when you communicate. It matters even more when you're speaking to your husband or wife. Why? Because your spouse can push buttons no one else even knows exist. Your spouse can find buttons that YOU didn't even know exist. Amen?

The tone of voice and the way that my husband communicates with me (and vise versa) determines if we're going to ACTUALLY communicate or if we're going to go around and around and around until we're both just about ready to vomit...or stab each other. Not in the face or anything. Just in the arm or something. (just kidding...mostly)

Wait until you can communicate in a tone of voice that matches what you want to say before saying anything, even if you have to say, "I REALLY need to speak with you about what happened, but we're going to have to wait for an hour or two because I simply can't do it rationally right now." When you feel rational, talk it out, tell the TRUTH about how you feel and recognize that the entire point of arguing is to find a compromise you can BOTH live with.

Here's an example of something that happened in my marriage to give you a visual: My husband is a toucher. He likes to sit cuddled on the couch and is always rubbing my back as he passes or basically just touching me in some way. He's like a super toucher.

I'm not really that way. You know what? I'm the opposite of that, actually. But, he NEEDS to be touched. It's his love language.

After we'd been married a few years I noticed that he got quiet when I'd sit in the love seat and read while he sat on the couch and watched TV. I'd learned his "pout" and that was it.

When I asked him what was wrong he didn't shrug and say, "Nothing". (Stop doing that if that's your idea of communication. You're lying and your spouse already knows something is wrong if they asked. They live with you. They KNOW when something isn't right. If you don't want to talk right then, then say that. But, stop saying "nothing" when there's something. You're making the problem worse.)

When I asked him what was wrong, he didn't begin the conversation by accusing me or being angry at me. That wouldn't have ended well for either of us. He just told me the absolute truth in a conversational tone of voice. (Tell. The. Truth.)

What he said was this: "I feel rejected right now."

I was horrified. "WHAT?!"

He went on to explain that when I distanced myself from him in that way, he felt rejected. We didn't need to have some big psychological discussion about why he needs to be touched to feel loved. We didn't need to have some long lecture about why he needs ME to initiate that intimacy sometimes.

The simple truth is this: I NEVER want my husband to feel rejected by me and if a simple thing like sitting beside him on the couch makes him feel better, then that's what I'll do when I can.

Oddly enough, I not only learned to initiate snuggling together on the couch, but I enjoy it. This wasn't some big life change or sacrifice I had to make. This wasn't "the little woman" having to change myself for my man. This was a wife who loves her husband being told that something as simple as sitting side by side on the couch made him feel loved and cared for and wanted. And I WANT him to feel loved and cared for and wanted, because he is. Period.

Find the compromise, then go have great sex.(I'm not even kidding here.)

3. Prioritize your marriage into the #1 spot on your list: Marriages fall apart every single day because one spouse or the other places something above their marriage on their list of priorities. Whether it's a job, or money, or other family members, or activities, or friends or whatever else matters to you, nothing comes before the person you're sharing your life with.

This one is much harder than it sounds. It's easy for an ambitious person to place their job into slot #1, all the while thinking...Just as soon as I get this promotion, I'll come home earlier. As a woman who not only home educates her children but is also a real estate broker believe me when I tell you this: You won't. You'll come home earlier when your marriage matters to you.

It's easy for a Mom to place her kids above her husband and all the while be thinking...I'll spend more time with my husband just as soon as the kids are a little older. You won't. You'll spend more time with him when you make him a priority.

It's easy to say to yourself...My friends were here before my husband and I shouldn't just drop them for him. No, you shouldn't, but when you made vows to your spouse, your friends are behind your spouse on the priority list and everyone in that circle should realize and honor that position.

Friends are VERY important and I want to clarify that if your partner tries to guilt you out of having ANY friends, you have a problem, but your friends should never try to guilt trip you into spending more time with them than with your spouse. Those people are not your friends. Period.

I love him.

PS on prioritizing: Dear men who play video game for hours after work every day even after your wife has asked to spend time with you: Please put them down. No woman wants to look over at a man child who has callused thumbs because he plays games all evening. Gross. Your wife should matter more than Zelda or Call of Duty or whatever pretend world you think is cool and if she doesn't, stop looking shocked when she has no interest in you. WAY too many women out there are having to discuss this issue. Honestly, I'm not sure how I would have dealt with this one. My man plays games with our kids on occasion, but other than that, he lives an adult male life.

4. Never Gossip About Your Husband, Mostly: Never is a strong word, so I want to clarify. I think every person needs someone who knows them well enough to be able to share the good, the bad and the ugly, apart from their spouse. (This someone should ALWAYS be the same sex, too! More on this later.)

I have two friends that I trust enough to vomit most of my ugly onto when I'm about to explode. These friends know me well enough, and have known me long enough, to know how to pray with me, guide me and when to just listen and let me rant it all out. I don't discuss my husband with anyone else. Ever. EVER!

I don't gossip about him, I don't tell his secrets and I don't bad mouth him. I am his confidant and he is mine. I love him.

Sometimes we scrape each others nerves, but I love him all the way, all the time, with all of my heart. My two female confidantes know this and have witnessed this and would never lead me AWAY from my spouse, but always point me back TOWARD my spouse. If you're sharing with friends who do anything other than that when you're having a difficult time (and you WILL have difficult times), then stop allowing those people into the inner circle of your heart. They'll break it, and your marriage, eventually.

5. Married Individuals Should Not Have Private, Individual Friends of the Opposite Sex:   I know I'm going to get emails about this one, but go ahead...bring it.

Married men and women divorce every day because they "just wanted someone to talk to and she/he was there for me". Or what about this one: "We started out as friends and, you know, she/he just really got me. They're my soul mate". No, they aren't. They're the person you gave your emotional intimacy to because you stopped giving it to your husband or wife. This happens entirely too often to ignore.

Married men/women should not be consistently hanging around alone with someone of the opposite sex. The ONLY exception here is a business lunch/meeting that your spouse is fully aware is happening.

Human beings are designed to make connections and we should. However, it is way too easy to spill a hurting heart to someone of the opposite sex that we've always just viewed as "a friend" and form a false emotional bond that is based on secrecy and lies. It's exciting and reminds us of the time when we were still in the doe-eyed faze with our spouse.

This is not love. This is lust, infatuation and the rush of adrenaline everyone gets when someone we find attractive thinks we're attractive, too. Don't buy it!!! Walk away!! They fart and leave their dirty underwear on the floor, too!!! Love is NOT a feeling. It is a verb. Put love into action, and walk away from anyone of the opposite sex who distracts you from your spouse and the vows that you made to them.

6. Money: Lots of divorces happen because of money. We all know this and yet we still fall into the trap. You have to talk about money. Say it with me: You MUST talk about your money. You must know where it is, who is spending what and why. You have to have a plan with your money and follow the plan. The. End. I don't care if only one or both of you work. The money, by law and, hopefully, by heart, belongs to BOTH people in the marriage and you must discuss your money.

If money is ripping away at your marriage, you need counseling. You may not believe that, but it's true. Money issues will destroy your marriage if they aren't dealt with properly. There is no shame in asking for help.

7. Recognize that marriage is work:   Marriage is work. I know you've heard this but you need to hear it again. Marriage is WORK. There is sacrifice involved in marriage, but it's beautiful sacrifice. There is nothing I've sacrificed that hasn't been returned to me three-fold.

Marriage isn't a singles dance, but a partnership that only works when both sides do their part and honor their partner.

It's hard work that can sometimes drain you and make you wonder why in the world you stay. I've been there. My husband is an addict. He fell into a three year addiction almost seven years and four kids into our marriage. I know what it feels like to want to leave your spouse, and their heart, writhing on the floor. Maybe even kick it a bit after its on the floor writhing...

But, I stayed and we worked. WE worked. (No marriage will work if BOTH people in the marriage aren't willing to work)

We went to therapy, both separately and alone. We talked. We fought. We loved. We made love. We fought some more and we found out that love has never been, nor will it ever be, a feeling. Love is a choice. Love is a verb. And marriage is work. Beautiful, difficult, satisfying, life-altering work.

Another PS here: My husband put down his demons through hard work, therapy and faith. Period. If he had continued to abuse drugs I would have left him.

If he backslides, I will leave him.

This is not information he doesn't know and I'm only putting it here for all those women and men out there who are in a relationship with an addict. The addiction is THEIRS. Only THEY can defeat it. You must take care of yourself or you will NEVER take care of your marriage.

8. And finally, this: Love isn't perfect. Only Jesus is perfect.

Your spouse isn't perfect and neither are you. Give yourself some grace, cut yourself and your partner some slack. We're all learning and growing and trying to figure this thing out. You absolutely MUST show one another grace and forgiveness. Do unto others...

That is the real stuff, people. That's real, dirty, messy love, which, as it turns out, is pretty freakin' awesome.

Disclaimer:
NONE OF THIS APPLIES IF YOU'RE IN AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP: Because I know someone very closely who was in an abusive relationship I always feel compelled when I'm writing about marriage to include this statement: You must leave if you or your children are being physically abused.

You must get away from the relationship if you are being physically abused.

Call the national domestic abuse hot line at : 1-800-799-7233. They will help you and they will do it anonymously.

Kristi

Praise for the Pain and Letting it Go!

2015-03-17T20:27:00.000-04:00

Letting go is probably the hardest thing in the world for me to do. Letting go feels like I'm ripping off some vital organ and beating myself with it. Who knows? Maybe I was.

I used to take the worst relationships in my life and cling to them like they were the last crack dealer on the entire planet and I was a hard core addict.

Part of what makes it hard for me to let go of anything is flat out co-dependency, which I have in spades. Ask a codependent to fix something relationally broken and watch them break out into a cold sweat of pure longing while their broken interior voice whispers maliciously into their ear that if they fix it...then they will be loved.

Psychology says this is typically because co-dependents view others behaviors as a reflection of their self-worth. In other words, if I can fix this, THEN you'll love me. If I can be "good enough", THEN you'll love me. If you can accept me, THEN I'll be good enough. This is not love. This has nothing to do with love. This is the opposite of love.

But, the other part that makes letting go of bad relationships very hard for me is that I've been listening to the world's idea of what I should be doing for a very, very long time. I want my life to look like what it "should" look like. I was taught that how things look matters. A lot.

I wanted my life to look like a beautiful rainbow of peace, fun, loud mouthed family meals and people who love me with the same rabid passion that I loved them. I wanted them to trust in my goodness and love as much as I trusted in theirs.

When people that you trust and love don't trust in your goodness and love, then you begin to question if you have goodness and love in you. This is crippling. This will cost you thousands of dollars in therapy later in life. Trust me on that.

I want the people in my life to think the same happy thoughts for me that I think for them. I want them to include me in the same way that I include them. This is dangerous territory.

Learning that you must let go of those relationships, possibly even the idea of those relationships, will free you and cause you intense pain. Intense pain that must be endured to heal and come out the other side more whole than you've ever been up to this point.

Alas, one of the reasons it's been so quiet around here is that I've been dealing with loss and I don't deal with loss very well. Frankly, I suck at it.

I don't want to lose anything. Ever. I want to WIN! I want to win at everything all the time in every way that winning can happen, especially when it comes to loving someone and having them love me in return.

But, here's the thing: Winning relationally had a very specific pictorial set-up in my head. What my relationships "should" look like had blinded me from seeing how they actually WERE. This is dangerous territory and every therapist, even the bad ones, agree on that.

Refusing to see the reality of the relationships in your life is dangerous territory, no matter who that relationship is with.

Life HAD to look like that picture in my head or I wasn't OK!! I was happily willing to lie to myself about the health of a relationship if it meant the relationship wasn't over yet.

So, I've had to re-learn what relational winning looks like because the way it looked in my head was entirely different than what was happening in my life and it caused me intense pain for a long, long time. Pain that opened the door for me to be abused and mistreated. The pain of staying in the relationship finally became more than the pain of losing the relationship.

God Himself says that if you do not honor the relational rules He has laid out as acceptable, then you may not enter His house. He still loves and He still cares, but there are boundaries.

So, I took a step back. (the first step is ALWAYS the hardest, by the way) Then recently, I took another step back. And suddenly, the picture becomes more clear, more manageable. More healthy. More true.

And I realized that I cannot love anyone if I am not loving myself. Loving myself includes removing people from my life who are either incapable of loving me or unwilling to love me.

It does not mean that I wish them ill-will. It doesn't mean I don't care for them. It simply means that I am choosing to limit the access certain people can have in my life and into my heart. It means that I am the boss of me and as an adult it is my responsibility to take care of myself.

Once that decision was made in my heart, it was like the sun came out from a long, gray winter and spring was near.

Not long now...

I realized that I am surrounded by love.

My incredible husband and our four precious children. They love me. They love me fully and allow me to love them fully.

My absolutely bombastic friends who are there for me in a "we're going to rise together" kind of way.

A cousin whom I love like a true sister and I know she loves me that way in return. We have been friends and soul sisters since we were children playing together at our grandmother's home more than 40 years ago. She knows me all the way down to my deepest heart and she still looks at me like I'm better than chocolate.

That same cousins children, who are very much like my own. They make my heart actually sing they are such fabulous young people.

My church family who seriously should win some kind of award for being the most awesome church family in the history of church families. It's like the church family lottery up in here, people.

Some homeschooling mothers who are always, always encouraging and uplifting and inspiring to me. Every. Single. Time.

Another cousin who models what a loving aunt truly is. She brings me to tears with the genuine affection she consistency showers on her two nephews. She values them in much the same way she values her own two boys and it's positively a beautiful thing.

I had been surrounded by real, true love all this time that I'd been chasing love from people who simply cannot love me right now. I had been telling myself that it was all my fault that they did not love me. It was my fault that they simply did not like me.

And the truth is that maybe it is my fault. Maybe who I really am is simply not the kind of person that they can love or like very much. That's OK.

The harsher truth is that I don't like them very much, either. I had to learn that that was absolutely OK, too.

I love me. I like me. And I am surrounded by love.

I am surrounded by people who know me intimately and who allow me to love them with crazy passion and joy. There is no fear involved in loving the people that I have chosen to allow into my life. THAT is what love should look like.

Pain will always accompany letting go and loss, though. I think it should.

Praise should accompany the pain. Praise that we have loved someone. Praise that we still love them, even if it's from afar and the relationship is gone.

And then the pain begins to lesson because love is forever, even when it isn't.

This is Grace. This is still Love.

Books...All the Books

2015-01-24T22:41:00.001-05:00

I love to read. I would rather have books given to me than any other gift on the planet. They make me happy and, if I'm lucky, they make me wiser. Here's a few of my favorite books that I think everyone should own and read more than once:

This was the first book that my therapist suggested that I read when I began therapy and of all the books I've ever read, this one has had the biggest impact on how I take care of myself relationally. It's incredible.
Boundaries: When to Say Yes, How to Say No

This is the book I'm currently reading. It's the most clearly thought out book I've read on The Beatitudes and has impacted my walk with Christ in a very real way. I'm re-reading part of it before I've even finished the book. And all my book lover readers get that that says it's pure awesomeness.

The Sermon On The Mount

If you do not own this devotional, buy it now. Click the link and buy it right now. It is powerfully Spirit filled and I re-read it almost every single year. Mine looks like it's been through the laundry. Buy this if you don't click on another thing on this page!

My Utmost For His Highest

If you're in a place where you've forgotten just how much in love with you God really is, then this is the book you need to read. It reminds me again how crazy it is that God loves me so much that He'd die for me. I cried about every other chapter. But, they were the good kind of tears.

Crazy Love

And if you're looking for some light fiction reading that makes you remember why you like fiction, then Odd is a good choice. It's Dean Koontz's finest work, in my opinion. I call these kinds of books, brain-dead reading. You won't get anything out of it but a good read. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that!

Odd Thomas

And this last book is one that I call a watermelon book. It's really, really good and holds great truths in it, BUT it also has some seeds that you have to spit out. After reading this one, my husband and I re-read it with our children one chapter at a time and then had discussion time. It was powerful family time that led to some beautiful words with our children that I may not have thought to have otherwise.

So You Think You Don't Want To Go To Church Anymore

Happy Reading!!!

Kristi

Looking For Purpose

2015-01-03T20:37:00.002-05:00

Ever feel a need to have a defined ministry? Most Christians that I know seem to have that need. Almost every person, Christian or not, wants a defined purpose, a definitive compass that points them in a specific direction with a clear directive. Can I admit that I don't know tons of people who seem to have perfected that ideal?

Last year, there was a lot of transformation in my life and lots of change. During that time, God really began to bring to light what His Word has to say about the ministries in my life and what those should look like. I think some of that had to do with the fact that I'm one of those people who really need to feel like I'm being purposeful.

But then I began to notice that in God's Word there is rarely anyone running around looking for ministry or trying super hard to make "church" happen....except the Pharisees.

The heros of the faith weren't searching out fifteen ways to serve or signing up for committees at their local church building. (I'd like to point out that they didn't spend 100's of thousands on a church building to house the lists, either.) I couldn't find a single instance in the Bible where there was a list in the kiosk to notate who wanted to do what or who was bringing what to the next get-together.

Now, I'm not saying those lists in and of themselves are bad things. They aren't. What I'm suggesting is that maybe we're a little more churchy in our ministries than God intends for us to be. Maybe our ministries, our purpose, are the things God has placed right in front of our faces. Maybe we're so busy looking for ministries that we're missing the Christ opportunities that are right in front of us.

So, I started praying and asking God to show me what ministries HE has for me. What is my purpose, Lord? He answered me very clearly:

My ministry is the four lives He allowed me to bring into this world. My purpose is the marriage covenant that I have entered into with my husband. My purpose is to serve my family with joy and purpose and love.

My ministry is to uplift the precious friends He's brought into my life over the last year. It's to be real with them and encourage them in their walk and love them right where they are today, while encouraging them to love Jesus and always keep Him as their first love.

My purpose is to pray. Pray for my children, their future spouses (if they decide to marry) and my children's friends. I am to pray for my husband and lift him up before the Lord every single day. I am to encourage my friend's in their marriages, with their families and with their prayer life. I am to serve each of these people with joy and humility. I am to walk the path placed before me and make His Word a lamp at my feet to light the path and His voice the one I listen to when I choose to go left or to go right.

I am to pray for my church, its leaders and my church family. I am to open my home to these people and love them. I am to hear them in love and speak to them in love. God love, not people love.

My purpose is to open my eyes and my heart to the ministries that God has already placed all around me. Like that hungry guy standing at the side of the road while I have a take-out bag filled with yummy left overs sitting right there on my leather passenger seat.

"To those who use well what they are given, even more will be given, and they will have an abundance. But from those who do nothing, even what little they have will be taken away." Mathew 25:29

Noah was not a storm chaser, but built the ark as he was instructed.

Moses did not seek to be a leader or the center of attention, but walked over to the burning bush that stood before him and waited for God to speak.

Paul did not first seek to spread the Good News, he met Jesus on a road trip to Damascus.

Peter, James and John were just running their family fishing businesses when Jesus showed up and said, "Hey, let me show you how to REALLY fish."

David did not fight to become King, he watched his flock with diligence and asked God to create a pure heart within him.

Mary lived her life quietly, in a teeny town that no one else paid much attention to, when the angel of the Lord brought her great news of her child, who was also God Himself.

Our purpose is not to seek purpose. It is to open our eyes, see the ministries and blessings all around us, and submit to God. He'll do the rest. If we do this, we'll find our ministries are plentiful and our boredom, our restless hearts, will settle and be full.

You already HAVE a purpose. You are created in the image of God and He doesn't mess up. You can trust that.

PS....this post is as much as "note-to-self" as anything else. I don't have much figured out, but I'm praying to know better, do better, be better. I'm praying every day for eyes that can see and ears that can hear. Amen.

An Open Letter to My Body

2014-12-29T13:58:00.000-05:00

A New Year is coming around soon and with it, the inevitability of all those promises by women everywhere to get "healthier". I used to make those promises, too. I was a total liar.

What I really meant to say was I want to be skinnier. I want to be thinner and therefore, in my once warped brain, prettier. More appealing to...somebody?

What I really meant was, "I promise to become completely obsessed with my body and sometimes starve so I can look like what society tells me a "real" woman should look like to be accepted and beautiful". What's really sad is I've never worn anything larger than a 12 in my life and I am currently in a size 8-10 and that's been my average size other than the four times I've given birth!

P.S. If you're truly not the size you want to be, stop berating yourself to death and be honest with yourself and your health. You do not have to be a size 8 to be beautiful!!! Find your healthy life and LIVE it, but stop obsessing and being mean to yourself. Stop being mean to yourself!!

So, I thought I'd write a letter for 2015 to remind myself that I love the body I've been given and I'm thankful for it, because it's time we stop with the self hate and loathing, right?

Dear Body,

I'm sorry for all the mean things I've said to you through the years. I'm really sorry I called you fat. I'm even sorrier that you believed me a little bit. Mean things have a way of sticking to us, don't they?

I'm sorry that I starved you sometimes. I'm sorry that I gorged you other times and made you feel like crap. Thanks for not giving up on me even when I gave up on you every once in a while.

Thanks for having legs that work and run and walk and do all the things they should do. Thanks for hands that can hold my children and comb their hair and hold books and write stories. Thanks for arms that wrap around the people I love and squeeze.

Thanks for having five senses that work properly and allow me to see, hear and appreciate all the beauty of the world around me, including the image in the mirror that for so long I avoided.

Thank you for carrying four of the most awesome human beings I've ever met and keeping them safe and healthy and whole. Thank you for the stretch marks that remind me they were there. They're like medals of honor, aren't they?

Thank you for not aching too much even though we've made it through almost 44 years together. I appreciate that you only creak a little and that you still do all the things you're supposed to do. The older I get, the more I realize how truly blessed I am that all my parts still do their thing. You rock!

Thanks for being patient with me when I abused you because I wasn't satisfied with all you are. I'm sorry for that. It won't happen again.

Thank you for being patient with my brain when it was sick and didn't appreciate you the way that it should have. I was doing the best that I knew how at the time.

I'm thankful for you and I see now that being made in the image of God is a powerful, beautiful honor. I promise to do my very best to take care of you without obsessing over you.

I promise to never start a New Year with promises that include berating you because I didn't take responsibility for you. I promise that each New Year will include being healthy on the inside because those always seep through to you, my outside.

I promise to look in the mirror and tell you that you're beautiful and fierce and competent and awesome, because you are.

Love,
Me

Having a Day

2014-12-08T22:43:00.000-05:00

I had a great day today, but two days ago....well, I had "a day". Ever had one of those? That's what my Grandma Jolley used to call it when she was having a hard time. It went like this:

"Hey, Grandma."

"Hey, baby."

"How are you?"

"Oh, I'm having me a day."

And I knew that meant things sucked a little bit for Grandma that day. I didn't really get it as much when I was younger, but I get it now. I also get that it'll pass, but when I'm having "a day", it feels like the day is longer, bigger, stronger than the Great Wall of China and everyone can tell. If they can't, then they aren't paying me enough attention, darnit.

And when I'm having a day, I tend to focus on ANYTHING that will confirm the day's status as being a no-good-very-bad-day.

Things like this:

--Where did all this crap in my closet come from? I can't wear any of it and even if I could I wouldn't. I mean, who wears this junk? Ever? Why did I even buy any of this? I shouldn't have even bought a house with a closet. It's wasted on me.

--What is happening to my chin?! It's possible I'm getting two of them. EVERYTHING is a reflective surface that confirms I am, in fact, getting two chins. No. All the no's.

--And who's knees are those? When did they start looking like that? Have they always looked like that?

--My hair. The end.

--Look at the piles. There are piles in the corner and under the beds and in the closets and stuffed behind the TV. Have I ever put anything away? In the history of ever have I bothered to clean this house? It's possible I could win awards for worst housewife. At least I'd get an award.

--My husband is tolerating me. I'd rather be ANYTHING than tolerated. I might hit him with a cast iron skillet, which once belonged to Grandma Jolley and wouldn't THAT be poetic justice?! Surely that will snap him out of toleration and into something completely more invested like shock or anger. Or unconciousness. I mean that is ALL IN, people.

--And my kids. They are going to need therapy. They may already need therapy. Hell, we may all need therapy until the therapist needs therapy and then we're all screwed. I have already been to therapy. It obviously didn't work. I want my money back. (If you're reading this Dr. Trey...I only feel that way when I'm having a day. Otherwise, I think you're incredible at what you do.)

--Speaking of kids, why did I EVER think I could manage this many? If one of them asks me for One. More. Thing. I'm going to lose it.

--And ovaries. Who needs ovaries anyway?! (that's rhetorical)

And then something happens: I realize that the only thing happening is me. I am having a day. A day where I can't see my blessings. I'm having a day where everything feels overwhelming. (or maybe I'm getting my period?)

Don't get me wrong. I've gone through times when life WAS overwhelming and if you're there right now, I want you to hear me: This WILL pass. It will. And you will be OK and life will swing you back around on it's pendulum and you will be OK.

This is coming from a woman who has been divorced (surprise to some of you, I know), lost a baby between babies one and two and who almost divorced her second husband because he's an addict who relapsed once during our almost eighteen year marriage. For three years.

I know hard, people. I understand it. You'll be OK and you'll make it through. You will.

But, you have to make it through the days. You have to do the hard stuff and the small stuff and the big stuff and you will be OK. More than likely, you will surpass OK and stumble your way right into awesomeness, but you have to make it through the days that feel bigger than you. They aren't. You have to take care of yourself by loving yourself.

Here's a few of the things that pull me away from all the days being "a day".

My house is warm and cozy. We are all fed, even if it's just beans, and I have friends who love me. Really love me. (even with Crazy sitting over in the corner waving at me)

I have a Savior who died to bring me into relationship with Him and He never ever forgets me. Even when I'm having a day. He remembers me and He never tolerates me.

I have clothes on my back and shoes on my feet. I have four, healthy kids who love me and know, without a doubt, that I love them more than anything in the world, even if I don't always answer every 3895 times they say my name in a day.

I have Grace. I have been shown mercy. I have joy. I have been forgiven and have had opportunities to forgive. I have opportunities to serve others and hands and feet that work properly. I can see the sunrise and the sunset and hear my wind chimes and the fireplace crackling. I have a husband who just walked by and ran his hand down my hair because he loves me. I am blessed.

And before I know it...I am having a different kind of day, but I acknowledge the struggle is real. I hear you. I know there's days when we feel like being a Proverbs 31 woman is about as easy as concrete. But, then...

"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."

Why so Serious?

2014-12-01T22:58:00.000-05:00

I saw an elderly woman pushing her seemingly more elderly husband around Wal-Mart today in a nifty wheelchair/grocery cart. And then I saw them again. And then, we almost ran slam over each other in the bread aisle. We laughed and side stepped each other.

And THEN, they slipped in behind me in the check out line and we smiled at each other and I was sure they were thinking what I was thinking: Lord, are you trying to show me something with these encounters with this sweet couple?

But I guess God was showing them something else entirely because they started playing with the compulsion items and laughing and talking and basically ignoring me as I was staring them down. And stare them down, I did. He tossed her the items he could reach from his wheelchair and she slowly lifted the other items from the bottom of the wheelchair/grocery cart onto the belt as I began to load my final bags into my cart and whip out my debit card. And then, I stared some more. I don't think they noticed. They were still goofing around and being happy or they may have been whispering to ignore the lady who keeps staring. I don't know for sure.

After I pushed and pulled all the bags from my buggy into the back of my SUV, I climbed into the driver's seat and started to cry. I cry more now than I did when I was younger. I guess it could totally be hormones but I think I cry more now because life and all the things in it just seem more important to me now.

Things like sweet elderly couples who are having a blast in Wal-Mart even though his legs don't work anymore and are kind of crooked. It makes me realize that perseverance is underrated and that running the race sometimes means being faithful and good and kind in the simple things that are often the hardest things.

It's important to remember to run the race in such a way that we remember that all the runners are running, but only one can have the prize. Only I get the prize in MY life and perseverance will often determine what my prize will be and how my blessings pan out. That's serious stuff right there.

Things like a bread aisle that is packed with so many kinds of bread that I actually get to mash around on the loaves to see which one is the softest before picking one. I mean, for pete's sake, who wants a loaf of bread that will be old in like three days, right? Major 1st world problem there, but I forget sometimes and I don't want to forget because it's the little things that sneak up on us and make us ungrateful. And being ungrateful is serious to me (just ask my kids when they're ungrateful) but not quite as serious as being grateful (just ask my kids when they have grateful hearts).

Or things like fresh fruit in the winter. Ya'll they had ORGANIC bananas in Wal-Mart today of all places. I may have done a weird dance for a second but I don't think anyone saw me. The older I get, I'm not sure I even care. It was like the food lottery up in there.

That moment of thankfulness stayed with me all day and I don't want to miss being thankful. That is SUPER serious to me. I want to share all the things I'm thankful for with others and I hope God will one day give me a change to do just that.

And then, my brain goes like this: People are hungry. People are lonely. People are lost. People are cold. People are killing each other. Mothers have lost their babies. Fathers have lost their sons. Wives have lost their husbands. People are hurt. And people are hurting. And I'm worried about a freakin' piece of bread being fresh and whether I have organic bananas! And then I cry.

...I already know it's neurotic...thanks...

But, here's the thing: I think sometimes the world could be a little more serious. I think we could care more. Love more. Live more. Give more. I think we can not only do the hard things, I think things are going to get harder if we don't get serious about doing the hard things right now.

I think if we don't start finding joy in simple things like organic bananas at Wal-Mart and sweet elderly couples who haven't lost their love for one another, we're going to lose our joy at the big things. We're going to forget that there are big things and our hearts get hard and our attention gets sucked into ourselves like a big 'ole fat, narcissistic black hole instead of looking outward at a world that is starving not only for food, but for love.

We need to get serious about where we find our joy and what makes our hearts break. We need to remember that only broken hearts let anything into them. The cracks and breaks are where the love and empathy and compassion live.

Our world is turning into a place where people just can't take focusing on the heartbreak of the world because it gets them down. I've heard more than once in the last few months that I just take things more serious than other people. But here's the thing: If our hearts don't break, then whose will? If we don't take the broken, lost, hurting world and believe that the broken and the lost and the hurting people are serious business, then who will?

I think that we must surrender ourselves to something other than ourselves. And watching this elderly wife push her husband around Wal-Mart today made me remember that. She was happy serving him, pushing him along, being his legs when his no longer worked. She glowed. And you know...so did he.

I want to believe that's how it works. I want to believe that through serving, even when it's really hard, we find our joy and our purpose. I want to believe that when we choose to seriously love, we experience God. I need to believe it. There is joy to be had in being serious about something outside ourselves. And that's a serious thing.

I'm going to own up and just admit that the older I get the more I realize I don't know. Every day I feel dumber, y'all. I realize how little I actually understand and how little I grasp fully. I realize that my belief that I could change the world almost killed me, but...

But here's one little thing that I think I've finally got by it's hem: We're in this thing together and we need to take that seriously. We need to just wake up tomorrow and be kinder. We need to wake up tomorrow and serve something outside ourselves if we're going to make our world a little bit better, even if it's just me one day pushing my elderly husband around in a wheelchair/grocery cart thing in Wal-Mart and laughing in the compulsion aisle while a younger lady looks on and smiles (neurotically) at our joy because we persevere and we have faith and we took our part in this world seriously.

Lies, Love and Ferguson

2014-11-28T20:57:00.001-05:00

My Facebook has been blowing up with posts and memes about Ferguson, Michael Brown and Officer Darren Wilson. Much of it has been useless garbage and some of it has been down right lies. Much of it has been posted by Christians and it breaks my heart.

Earlier tonight someone I trusted and respected posted an entire post filled with lies about Michael Brown and when I politely pointed out that a cursory search or longer reading of the grand jury text would reveal those lies, they promptly erased my post and left the lies up for the world to see and that makes me so sad.

"Lying lips are an abomination to the LORD: but they that deal truly are his delight." Proverbs 12:22

It's not just the media and lying "witnesses" who should feel shame at how this tragedy has played out, but social media participants, as well. What we do on social media matters because the whole point of social media is to keep up with one another, learn from one another and connect with one another. We share into the psyche of those around us when we share. We are responsible for what we say and do, even on social media. We are either the light and the salt, or we are not.

Here's just some of the misinformation floating around on my wall:

Did you know that Officer Darren Wilson is 6' 4" tall and weighs 215 lbs? Yeah. The person who posted that he was "half" Michael Brown's size didn't know that, either. Officer Wilson is a huge guy, but for some reason the media doesn't want us to know that.

Did you know that Officer Wilson had NEVER fired his gun before that fateful afternoon, even though he'd been a policeman for more than seven years? Yep. The person that posted that Officer Wilson was out just looking to kill a "big, black kid" didn't know it, either. Officers who haven't fired their gun in seven years of service aren't roaming around looking to kill people.

Did you know that Michael Brown had ZERO felonies on his juvenile record, even though my Facebook is blown up with people lying and saying that he had a whole record of them. He didn't. He had NO felony record. The truth matters.

Did you know that most of the witnesses that came forward were lying and the media put them on the news with zero verification that they were, in fact, witnesses? Shouldn't that be a crime? Shouldn't NEWS be factual? What has happened to us?

We have to tell the truth! We have to actively seek to tell the truth. All the time. If we say something we think is truth but find out later it wasn't, there's no shame in going back and simply saying, "I genuinely thought this was the truth, but now I know better and I want to correct what I said." No shame in that. Ever. There IS shame in continuing to lie to save face, though. Lots and lots of shame.

The grand jury is in and Darren Wilson will not go to trial. Does that mean we celebrate a young man's death? Is that what it means? God, no. No, it doesn't!!!

Did you know that the majority of looters are not even from Ferguson?! They are people who came there to loot and destroy because they knew they could. Because they knew they would not be blamed. And my heart aches for the people who DO live there. I think of them Every. Single. Day. The people of Ferguson are REAL people. They are losing their lives, their businesses and their town. As a follower of Christ, your heart should break. It should crack in two for them.

And Michael Brown's momma... His momma. I am a momma. I doubt I am raising perfect kids, but I love them. Oh, how I love them and I know she loved her boy. I want to hold her and cry with her and pray with her and sob with her and tell her I'm so sorry she will live out her days without her boy. I'm sorry her boy is gone. I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry... From one Momma's heart to another Momma's heart I am sorry her boy is dead. I am sobbing as I type this because that Momma's boy is dead.

And I am angry at the people who ignore her pain and point their finger. I am angry that any Christian would stand and ignore her pain.

The truth is...what I really believe is this: A young man made a dumb decision to rob a store of five bucks worth of cigarellos and impress his friends. A cop who'd never fired his gun in the line of duty pulled up at just the right time and it freaked that young man out because he thought Officer Wilson knew what he'd done. He was caught...with only two more days to go before college started and he was caught...for stealing some cigarellos and pushing the store owner. Some stupid, damn cigarellos. The young man freaked out. The cop reacted as he'd been taught and because he felt his life was in danger. The boy is dead.

The media lied because it creates sensational head lines for millions and millions of viewers who are starving for sensational headlines and that's where the media's paycheck comes from....so they lie. And convince those who won't bother to do the research that their lies are truth and then those anxious for drama and untruth spread the lies.

The media films witnesses they know are lying or that they suspect of lying. People are hurt and scared and tired and they react. They react because one of their own lies dead in the street for four hours. Four. Long. Hours. And his Momma has to see him. His Momma has to see him lying dead in the street. And so they react. We react. Everyone reacts and the truth is obscured and hard to see and harder to know for certain and cold, horrible hearts blame and blame and blame until everything is obscured but hate from all sides. From everywhere. Hate. And we all react and forget that a man who had never fired his weapon before that day killed a boy. And a young man is dead. Forever. And we all react.

It has to stop. We have to stop. No more lies. No more tolerating racism where it exists (and stop lying and saying it doesn't exist. It does exist!) We have to stop apologizing for something we can't change and replace it with love. Be kind. Be merciful and hear. We must stand up and demand that the media stop lying and lying and lying. But most of all, we have to stop perpetuating the lies because it's burning a town to the ground and Jesus weeps.

We have to tell the truth and love one another. We have to love like Jesus loved. We have to love even when we know we are not being loved in return. We have to love even when it's hard. And it has to start right now. With each individual person who is strong enough to tell the truth.

Proverbs 15:1 "A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger."

Galatians 5:14 "For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this; Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."

We are either surrendered to Christ or we are not. If we are, we must love. We must have compassion. We must be gentle as a dove and sly as a fox. We must love our neighbors as ourselves. All the excuses in the world do not release us from this command. We must love one another. We must.

What My Pug Has Taught Me About Being Thankful

2014-11-26T16:15:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving so I thought I'd write about being thankful, but I couldn't really think of anything that hasn't been said a thousand times, even though I have a million things to be thankful for. Instead, I went in the living room to play with my pug, Loki, and while we were playing (mostly petting), I realized I'd learned a lot about being thankful from him. Might sound crazy, but it's true. And hey, as long as I'm learning, it doesn't really matter who's the teacher, right?

So here's 5 things my Pug is teaching me and I'm thankful I'm learning them:

5. Be thankful for the little things, even if you get them every single day. Maybe ESPECIALLY if you get them every single day. We feed our dogs every morning and then again in the afternoon. (We may, or may not, slip them things from the people table, too) And Every. Single. Time. Loki hears his food bag rattle around, he comes flying around the corner, little Pug claws scrambling to hold onto the wood floors, like he hasn't eaten in forever, like nothing will ever again taste this good. Food is like Loki's crack and I get that most Pug's love to eat but people, I'm telling you, if they gave out trophies for "Most Happy For Food", we'd have to build on a new room, even though he gets the same food every day at the same time. I want to be that thankful for all the things I let slip to the back of my mind or allow myself to view as mundane. Including the fact that I have food every single day, too. That's no small thing in our world.

Yoda Pug

4. Be happy just the way I am. I don't tan, I have freckles, my legs are much longer than my torso and my hair screams if I try to curl it. These are all the things I don't like about myself and for most of my young adult life I tried desperately to change these things. All to no avail, of course. I am what I am. Loki has fat rolls, a flat face and snorts. He is the cutest thing I have ever seen. Actually, the things that make him unique looking are the very things I think are so cute about him. I think maybe people are that way, too. The things we don't like about ourselves are the very things that make us who we are and embracing them would release us from being anything but thankful for who we are, not who we think we should be. We are what we should be at this moment.

3. This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it. Every morning Loki greets us as we tumble out of bed. He greets us as though when we went to sleep he thought we'd never, ever, never again awaken. He is so flippin' happy to see us. He jumps and romps and twirls around and basically acts like he hasn't seen any of us in 4392 days. We, literally, slept 7 hours, dude. And still, he greets us with joy and happiness. He epitomizes the joy that we should greet every day with simply because it's a new day. A new 24 hours to live and be thankful.

2. When we want love or we want to give love, we should just do it. I've had other dogs, but I've never had one who will hunt me down to get love or give it. If anyone in our house sits on the floor, the couch, the bed, the chair, Loki will find a way to be with them. If he can't get ON you, he will lay near you and stare you down until you move to another location so he can then get ON you in your new location. He is openly asking you to love on him. He is openly asking to love on you. We should all be this way. I'd never really thought about giving and receiving love so freely until I saw my Pug do it. It's a beautiful thing.

Because the couch is such a lovely place to bond with people you love.

And the floor is fine, too.

1. Live, Laugh, Love I couldn't think of what to term the thing Loki most makes me thankful for because it's a feeling more than an exact thought. Loki plays when he wants to play, loves when he wants to love and rests when he knows it time to rest. He doesn't think about dumb stuff like if his socks match, or if someone will think he's silly for just doing his thing or if he looks dumb while he's just doing his thing. He just does it. He's like a two year old child with fur. And the Lord said: "Then he said, "I tell all of you with certainty, unless you change and become like little children, you will never get into the kingdom from heaven." Loki gives me a sense of what that actually means.

When I had small kids of my own, the ones with skin and not fur, I think I was so consumed with making sure I did everything I could to do "the things" right, that I missed a lot of this time with them and I'm thankful that I'm remembering it now. We had a lot of fun, but many times while we were having fun, I was thinking about "the things" that would soon come that wouldn't be fun and that was stupid. It was just stupid. We should be in the moment, the now. It's the only moment we've got and every day I'm becoming more thankful for the days, the moments, the now. I'm becoming more thankful that I can just let go and have fun.

Happy Thanksgiving, ya'll. Be thankful. Every day. All the time.

"In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."

International Day to Stop Violence Against Women

2014-11-23T22:43:00.001-05:00

Today is International Day to Stop Violence Against Women and Bill Cosby's name is flying around the internet.

Sixteen women have now accused Bill Cosby of raping them. Some of the allegations happened many years ago, some not as long. All of the women have relatively the same story to tell and the reactions to those women's allegations have been varied, though most have leaned toward believing that Cosby is innocent. I'm not surprised.

I don't know for sure if Bill Cosby raped those women, but what I do know for sure is that there are countless studies out there that prove that less than 8% of women lie about being raped. That means AT LEAST 92% of them are telling the truth. Some studies say it's as few as 3%.

That means that somewhere between 92% and 97% of women are TELLING THE TRUTH about some man holding them down against their will and raping them. Most rapes are never reported at all.

US studies show that the majority of rapes go unreported because women are afraid that they will 1.) not be believed 2.) be forced to press charges and be subjected to a trial where they will have to tell the story of their assault publicly 3.) they knew their rapist and are afraid to press charges.(These statistics came from the Department of Justice. The CDC has unreported cases as much higher.)

What that boils down to is that women who have had a man force himself on them are afraid. IMAGINE THAT!

I had to go to therapy for anger and trust issues. Rape is one of those things that no amount of anger management is ever going to cure me of being nose bleed mad about. Men have no right to stick their penis in a woman who says NO. The end.

I don't care how she's dressed. I don't care how she talks. I don't care how much she's had to drink. I don't care if the man knows her or if he doesn't. I don't care if she bends down and twerks in the street, a man has no right to rape a woman if she says NO.A man has no right to drug a woman and give her no opportunity to say, "No."

We live in a culture that tells our daughters that women walking a catwalk in their panties on National TV is sexy and worthy of a moment of our time. We live in a society that subtly shows our daughters that beauty is an external quality to be applauded, showcased, coveted but that also mocks women who use their sexuality as a weapon or tool for monetary success. We live in a society that tells our daughters that they are ultimately little more than the caliber of husband they can catch.

We live in a society where a man whose body is an athletic machine can beat down a woman in an elevator and a sports organization believes it is OK to cover it up. Some less researched people even thinks it's relevant that she swatted at him after he spit on her and try to equate that action with a professional athlete beating a woman into unconsciousness.

We live in a society where Roman Polanski, a well know movie director, can admit to drugging and sodomizing a 13 year old girl and Hollywood, for the most part, still applauds his artistic merit and believes he should be allowed back in the US.

We live in an era where we still must discuss that men have no right to place their hands on a woman unless she asks him to do so and vice-versa.

And it is PISSING ME OFF. I'm so mad. I'm angry that people are assuming that the SIXTEEN women who have come forward and said that ONE MAN raped them are lying. I'm angry that for years the allegations were ignored and that some unknown comedian's jokes are the only thing that brought their stories to the light of day.

I'm angry that very few are mentioning that each of these women say they were raped at the height of this man's fame and fortune, where countless tales show us that he will be protected while she will be ridiculed and mocked if she dares to come forward (Bill Clinton and Roman Polanski, anyone?). I'm angry that the length of time they have remained silent is being questioned as though time is an indication or measurement of truth.

I have a friend who was raped many year ago. At that time, she told no one. She told no one because she was afraid. Afraid of the stares and the jeers and the mocking. Afraid that her parents may not believe her since she was afraid to tell them right away because they knew him and thought he was "a nice guy".

Many years after she was raped, she shared the story with me and a few close friends and my heart broke for her. The part of me that is darker than I would like spent a few days after she shared her story with us trying to find him until my friend found out and begged me to back off. So I did, but I was angry because I am a real estate broker by trade. If you have an address, I can find you and some part of me wanted this man to pay for what he'd done to my friend when she was only thirteen years old.

Angry that my friend, or any woman, would ever feel as though they should feel shame from a man who has to force someone weaker than him for sex to feel powerful. I am angry that my friend still doesn't feel safe enough to scream her story from the rafters and know...KNOW...that she will be believed. I am angry.

Here's a note: Any man who would rape a woman is not a man at all. They are pathetic and weak and deserve nothing more than the worst from those of us who are not weak in the face of things that are dark and twisted.

Any man who questions, even for a moment, if a woman "deserves" to be raped should be tied naked to a post and have that same woman shove a large stick up his rectum until he rethinks his position.

That sounds harsh, doesn't it? But, that's exactly how a woman feels when a man rapes her. I know because I have a friend who described it to me as she cried.

The world can't imagine tying a man up and violating him in such a way, but has the nerve to shrug their shoulders and question the woman's validity when she says that she was raped. It makes no sense.

I imagine it wouldn't take long for him to rethink and I'd also imagine he'd be less than thrilled to have others know what happened to him. Think he'd want to stand up in court in front of his friends, his family, his co-workers and recant the story of having that woman hold him down and ram a stick up his butt while he begged her to stop? While he bled?

Yeah. I didn't think so, either. I'd imagine rape statistics would plummet if rapist reaped what they sowed.

That scenario might create a clearer picture of why a woman doesn't step forward, too.

Rape is uncomfortable to talk about. Injustice is always uncomfortable because we must face the ugliness of our world and our part in it. We are forced to face the horrors that human beings can inflict on one another and that is never easy. But, we can do the hard things. We can stand up and refuse to bend.

We can purge the saying "boys will be boys" from our vernacular. We can rid our young men of the thought, even for a moment, that they have no control over their bodies and their minds. We can raise our boys to be men of honor and respectability. We can expect our men, young and old, to understand that when a woman says no, that means no. We can expect it.

Here's to hoping the truth about Bill Cosby comes out. And if he didn't rape those women, then I'll apologize for siding with the 92% to 97% of women who do come forward that are telling the truth about men who forced sex on them against their will. For now, I'm gonna go with the stats.

And to all you women out there (studies say it could be as high as 1 in 6 women) who didn't come forward: I'm sorry that even for a moment you were ashamed of something that wasn't your fault. I'm sorry that some broken man took something from you that you didn't want to give him.

I'm sorry that you believed no one would hear you, believe you. I'm sorry. YOU are the victim and I'm sorry.

We are raising two girls who will one day be women and this is what we're teaching them in our home:

Women don't get their value from men. Women don't get their value from their children or their parents or their brothers or their church or their job or anything else on this planet. Women get their value because they are made in the image of God. They get their value because they are breathing. Period.

It's time that we stand up and demand that the assaults on women stop.

The Truth About Motherhood

2014-11-17T13:07:00.001-05:00

I sent my eleven year old girl off to creative writing class this morning looking cute as a button. And then I remembered that I forgot to comb her hair or remind her to comb it. This is a true story.

When I picked her up to run her over to art class where I would drop her off while also picking up her brother and sister to take them back to THEIR creative writing class, I noticed that my other daughter, age fourteen, had on dirty jeans. Her hair was combed, though.

For just a minute, I felt that feeling creep up on me that says, "You're a bad Mom. Seriously, who doesn't comb their kid's hair or notice that big ole stain on the front of their kid's jeans?! Did you even look at them this morning?!"

But, I'm getting sassy in my 40's, so I answered myself back and said, "Yes. I did. I looked at them and hugged them and laughed with them on the way to their classes and I told them I loved them to the moon and back when I picked them up AND when I dropped them off. So kiss it, big mouth inside voice!".

I think it's time Moms start telling the truth and stop pretending like we have it all together. I think we need to stop seeing Facebook posts and Pinterest as reality and start reminding one another that those are just snapshots of our best days, our most successful days. We need to tell each other the truth and have some grace for one another and stop...just STOP...with the Mommy wars. So, here's my truth:

1. I do not serve our meals on china. Ever. If we're lucky, I whip out the Corelle ware and feel like a champ. We buy pretty paper plates for holidays because I don't want to do the dishes for a crowd.

2. I do not know, nor do I care to teach my kids, which fork is the salad fork or which glass is the water glass. Eating with their mouths closed is good enough for me.

3. I feed my kids sugar. Sometimes, I eat it with them. I also hide some sugar for myself and eat it after they go to bed because I don't want to share it.

4. When my kids were younger, Barney and Veggie Tales acted as the occasional baby sitter and I was grateful. So, to all you Moms of "littles": don't listen to the hype. You aren't going to warp your kids if you aren't sitting by their side reading from the classics or listening to Chopin every minute of every day. Heck, some days I just needed to jam to Seven Nation Army and my kids loved it.

5. My discipline isn't always, every time, forever consistent. There are times I tell my kids one thing and the next day I may contradict that completely. I've learned that every circumstance is different and unique and not all discipline is for all the time. The end. I don't care what "the books" that people are trying to sell for money say. This is the real world.

6. I don't give them a bath or force them to bathe every single day. I try on this one, but I sometimes just flat out fail because the day was B.U.S.Y. and waiting until the next day isn't going to turn them into Pigpen and if it does...well, they can always scrub a little harder. God made dirt and a little dirt never hurt.

7. Sometimes I raise my voice at my kids. Really, really loudly. This used to make my heart weep when my kids were small, but then one day I had to realize that screaming is better than them pouring boiling water over their head because I wanted to be politically correct and "perfect calm parent" and not scream when my baby reached for the stove. So, all you parents of still small kids out there: Screaming isn't the worst thing you can do. Show yourself some grace. It happens.

8. Sometimes I use the dryer as my iron. Sometimes, I do this multiple times a day and I'm thankful it works and other times I have to rewash the whole load because I forgot and the clothes got a little stinky.

9. When my kids were little, I LOVED nap time. I was thankful they were asleep because I needed a break. (I did a happy dance sometimes, y'all. For real.) Now that they're older when I need a break I either tell them to go in their room for a bit or I disappear into mine for a while. I also tell them unless someone is on fire or they have a bone poking out they are NOT to knock on my door...even if their sister IS breathing on them!

10. I have not mopped my floors in almost six weeks. (I swept them, though. That'll have to do.) We're busy right now and I'm choosing to look at it as an immune booster.

11. Fruit salad and goldfish have been lunch before. All of lunch.

12. This list is merely the tip of the iceberg. You should SEE my laundry room!!

Social media has motherhood...maybe parenthood...becoming a competition. Its turned loving your child into a sport between moms. That doesn't feel like love to me. That feels like insecure women trying to prove themselves by how well they can pretend to be perfect parents and no one is better for the trade off.

Kids need to SEE that parenting is tough business. They need to see that sometimes we fail because they learn how to deal with failure based on how well their parents deal with failure. They learn empathy and sympathy from us, their moms and their dads. They learn their priorities from US and I want my kid's priorities to be on loving Jesus and loving people, not on whether they have the right phone, the right outfit, the right toys or the Pinterest perfect birthday cake served on the correct platter. I want them to nail loving themselves and others and the only way to teach them that is if I live that.

So, here's to just being for real: I'm an imperfect parent, but I love my kids more than anything in the world. To infinity and beyond. And you know what? I think they know it....even when they don't comb their hair or wear clean jeans to class. Maybe especially then.

And now, maybe I'll go wash a load of clothes (or restart that dryer). Or maybe I'll just let everyone wear dirty jeans because a trip to the library would be more fun. Or take pictures of my oldest son, now 20, who just got back from his 5am job and is asleep on the couch with our Pug. They are CUTE and this oldest boy of mine is almost ready to fly from my nest and the laundry can just flat wait because very soon he will no longer be coming home to nap on my couch from a long day at work, but instead, his own...

On Patience...

2014-11-13T14:54:00.000-05:00

Patience is a virtue. The patience of Job. (Ya'll, I have read Job and he was NOT that patient!) Just be patient. I've heard the word patience all my life and I've lacked it equally as long. Or at least, I thought I did. The truth is, I didn't understand what patience meant until I decided to listen closer to what God had to say about it.

I always thought that patience was waiting for something. Just wait. I don't know what that something was or even what it looked like, but I was waiting. Waiting to be better, to be smarter, to be more successful, to be a better mother, a better friend, a better wife. Waiting to be...more. More of something. Anything.

If I worked harder, longer, smarter, surely that something would come and so I did all those things, but something was always missing. And so I waited some more.

The problem was that while I was waiting I was looking ahead, as far as I could see anyway. I was planning, plotting, thinking, dreaming, hoping. And sometimes I was mad.

While I was looking ahead and being a little mad, I was missing the beauty, the meaning, of now. I was missing what patience really means and the lessons that being patient brings to the one who is waiting. I was missing that being patient doesn't mean that we always have longing or lack.

I wasn't waiting patiently. I was just waiting. And in the waiting I missed the beauty, the present, the now. I was missing the gifts of the moment and the heart of what patience really means. I was missing that waiting produces fruit, but the kind of fruit it produces depends on the heart of the one doing the waiting.

Patience means that I stop white knuckling my way through this whole waiting thing and just relax. Trust God. Believe that He has my life, my beginning, my end. He knows what He's doing and I can stop enduring the things in life that I don't do a happy dance over and embrace every moment as one that He has divinely allowed and let go.

I am not in control, but instead, He is. I am not controlling anything and I don't have to be controlled by everything. I can let go. I can be patient. I can wait. I can wait with eyes fixed forward, but my heart in the now and still full of hope for the future.

Patience is not self-control and it's certainly not "other control". It's not biting my tongue, or enduring attacks, holding back every desire or pretending humility in the waiting. It's turning my life over to God and trusting...all the way trusting....that no matter what happens God is in control and He has got this. It's not judging every moment, every action, every thought. Patience is turning my life over to God Himself, no matter what happens, and being joyous in the release.

I'm not there yet, but my knuckles aren't white anymore, either. I'm getting there...