the struggle is real…

photo-1429080695038-cdf6ae5dbc13This internet is full of advice for writers. Sometimes I read it and I question if the advice giver knows anything about writing at all. {side note- I’m not saying that out of arrogance. I will be the first to admit my writing is more heart/feel based that textbook accurate. I am actually pretty ok with that. As a reader I tend to appreciate and feel more with the warmth of written word over the cold and clinical.} Some advice is great. One I see quite often that simply baffles me is that to be a great writer, you just need to write. Even 5 minutes a day…

Any writer knows that to get into the groove and have your writing flow well, you need to warm up. Once you’re in that flow you need time. Uninterrupted, undistracted time to write… That seems like a lot of pressure for 5 minute intervals…

I have this writing project that feels like it. You know, that culmination of a dream and a life’s purpose… It’s that thing that random strangers have suggested, which leads me down the narrow walk way of life which feels like eerie chills and something bigger. Something more. Ironically the working title of said project is More, but I digress… With 24 hours in a day, I could theoretically pour a lot into this project. A lot of time, a lot of effort, a lot of heart. Instead what do I do? Think. Stress. Feel guilt for not working on said project. Master levels of candy crush. Feel guilt over not reading more. Pray about writing and how to get in that zone. Watch a Netflix series show.

What is it that keeps me from sitting down and going for it? Fear… Of course it’s fear. But Why? Here’s what I know… 5 minutes a day will not help me. And the only answer is to just do it… Just jump in and work on it. Let go of the distractions & fear and write.

Why is this always followed by a But…

Somethings that I love…

Over the weekend my beautiful daughter gave birth to an amazing baby boy. My heart could not be any fuller than it is when I hold that sweet baby, surrounded by my family.

Amidst my journey of infertility, adoption, marital issues, and other heartaches, I try desperately hard to hold tight to the beautiful bits of something. The way my beaming, pig tailed daughter would giggle and play on warm summer days; that crisp flavor of the a fresh picked autumn apple as it tickles the tongue; the lazy Saturday mornings of streaming sunlight and sheet chaperoned laughter and dreams spoken aloud with my husband; crazy late Idaho-summer sunsets… My mind has stored up thousands upon thousands of these moments in which life simply feels.  Every time that I am caught in one, something in my soul tells me to carve that moment into me. Those moments are gone and all that remains are the bits I’ve sewn deep into my grasp. I look for more, and my supply gets me through the ugly dark.

If I were to take the culmination of thousands of those moments and put them all together to get one giant amazing feeling, that feeling might begin to compare to how I felt one evening in early May.  My 17-year-old daughter had nearly died a few days before. My life was in the climaxing stage of seven months of turmoil and stress had taken its toll to the point that my body had stopped working the way it was supposed to. My mind was full and as a friend and I went to dinner that particular Thursday evening I found myself so overwhelmed by life and all of its hopeless details…

I do believe in Jesus. I love God with all of my heart, but a lot of people I care deeply for do not share these feelings and that has never stopped me from loving them, laughing with them or building our own leg of our life-journeys together. I can’t speak for them and how the events of that Thursday evening would have felt. I can only share of my experience… I went into that Hillsong concert in Boise, after dinner, with no expectations but this deeply burning knowledge that I needed to be there. As the hours played out, I lived an incredible experience that balmed my soul in a truly unexplainable way. Within the crowds of people I witnessed many extraordinary, beautiful and deeply human things. My daughter texted in the middle and said that she really wished she could go, that she felt like she needed it. This is the girl who had tried to take her own life a few days before… This is the girl whom I had said nothing to other than that I was going, because I felt guilty being 2000 miles away from her and I didn’t know how to say what my spirit was feeling because I could not understand her frame of mind. Still, she told me she knew she was broken and that she really wished she could have gone with me, to Hillsong. After the evening ended, I knew I needed to take her, and in a few weeks I am. Chicago, here we come…

When talk of the Hillsong movie Let Hope Rise was first surfacing, I viewed the trailer with a skepticism which turned to a soul-deep-ache. I wanted to crawl inside the movie and live. I am a lover of concerts, but not typically this genre. Something about that trailer stirred me and I wondered… When I attended, in May, I lived it. That same something was there, it was touchable and real.

Like I said, I can’t speak for someone with different God/heart choices than mine. As deeply personal as I can muster, I’m just going to state that I would spend every day in that moment, if I could. I would share that something with anyone I could, anyone hurting, lonely, broken or weary… I am powerless to do such things, but I can share with you this trailer… Because I believe Hope will Rise, and if you’re wanting that something, then you understand how this movie excites me as much as it does…

invisibility…

4aqy2crxsa8-sergio-rolaBlogging, writing, social media and all of the other ways that the current era leads us to an inevitable fork-in-the-road, are not without uninvolved people and their strong opinions. About a month ago I was virtually (as it was on the internet, so virtual) put through the ringer by people I would have consider more than acquaintances and had great respect for. It was actually two unconnected sources, over two different things, within the span of 24 hours. One was based on unfounded gossip, and the other was based on social media…

There is a saying that anyone with a pulse knows now, Haters gonna Hate… And that is just it. When those particular haters though, are more than just internet trolls, there will be lasting consequences…

In regards to incident number one- it is nothing more than immature, two-faced, drama causing nonsense. Unfortunately I can honestly say their middle school behavior and choices that followed had lasting impact on the life and course of my family healing and one day they will have to move out of 6th grade mentality and answer for that. Thankfully, it will not be to me because I just don’t have time for such sad behavior in adult women, mothers and wives…

The second incident is much more relevant. After the first incident began (and sadly, it hasn’t ended yet) I made a rash decision to make a post on my private facebook page stating that I did not care about these women’s opinions of me, and that despite the fact that my husband had been unfaithful, I still valued reconciliation and wanted my marriage restored. A couple of friends called and asked me to self examine why I had written it. It was up for less than 2 hours, I realized I had done it in a moment of anger and took it down. A woman I respected and had invited in to an inner circle of trust, (a place reserved for few) reacted very judgmentally and said some incredibly cruel things. We are no longer in contact and when she revealed her true colors, I was ok with that.

Over the past month though, I have been reflecting on both issues and my handling of them. I have had countless conversations with people about the transparency of being a writer and living as a writer in this day and age… Whenever the girls in the first incident are discussed, by my husband, he brings up my blog as validation for their pathetic behavior. My blog, which emphatically states the constant theme of these two things: 1) that I wanted healing and reconciliation in my marriage, and 2) that I was never unfaithful to my husband. When the very origin of their scheme was that I had a torrid affair, left my husband for my lover, etc- my blog seems like an unfounded contributor. Person number two also used my blog as justification for her cruelty stating that my blog was evidence that I was seethingly angry and out to ruin my husband. Also ridiculous, except that maybe people read into another person’s words, what they want to see. Whatever the case, despite these two pathetic instances, here is what I know-

-Over the six months that I have been separated in my marriage, I have carefully blogged about my side of the journey.

-There was one post where I mentioned my husband was one hundred percent responsible for our state of continued separation. My husband read it and asked me to take it down because, even though it was true, he did not want people to think he was a bad guy.

-I have received dozens of emails from women who were walking similar journeys and felt alone.

-I have connected with 4 different women who believe I helped them journey through some really awful marriage times.

-I have come to realize that being a writer, and blogger, in this day and age requires me to make a choice. I can either pretend like things are different and live in a plastic facebook world, OR I can be transparent and journey as authentically as possible.

-I have done the latter… and obviously some people do not like that, and that is ok. As incident number one and two have both taught me, there are people who live to cause drama and interfere where they don’t belong. All I can do is worry about my own stuff, keep my side of the fence clean and weeded and let them deal with their own garbage.

Ouch…

I had lunch with a beautiful friend, this week on my day off, who has seen her fair share of judgement. Because of this, she has also lost a lot of friends… This sort of “justified judgement” ruins everything, always.

Let me be transparent for a moment. Sometimes I may see someone I care about make some really bad decisions. I may go to them and say “I love you. I really do and I’m worried about you because you are _________. What’s going on? How can I help?” That very scenario is just an example of the dozens and dozens of ways this can be addressed. I’m no expert on how to talk to people but in my few decades on the planet I’ve kind of become an expert on how not to.

Don’t approach someone as if you are their authority and tell them they are making a mistake. If It’s a mistake, they likely already know it… And unless it’s outlined in the rules, it may not be a mistake. Just because you think it’s wrong doesn’t make it so.

Don’t tell someone the reason bad things are happening to their children is because they or their partner committed a sin.

Don’t lash out at them because they didn’t receive your inappropriate and ignorant rebuke, by telling them it’s obvious they are the problem in their marriage.

None of us are perfect. We ALL mess up. None of us is better than the other, no matter how long they’ve faked it on social media by not being transparent. We are each responsible for living our own lives… We each have to do our best, and fix it when we let something slide. My way may not be your way, but that doesn’t make it wrong. I guarantee you are doing 20 things that someone else is judging you for. All we can do is love and support one another, and that NEVER looks like talking down to someone. Real support looks like opening our ears, shutting our mouths and trying to see what it’s like from that other person’s perspective. Actually caring about what’s going on, and then if there’s something unsettling, saying “hey, friend, let’s look at this ______. Maybe there’s a different way to handle it. Let me know how I can help and what I can do to ease your burden right now.”

Because, honestly, any other way than that simply adds to that person’s burden and your “justification” for it is simply self-righteous. Whenever SELF is a contributor, you’re doing it wrong. We are supposed to bear one another’s burdens, or at least ease them… So let’s share the hard and celebrate the beautiful TOGETHER…

House of cake…

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I live in a house and have been brought into a little family that is pretty amazing, minus the cat…

The wind blows, the sun rises and sets just as any other home. It isn’t perfect and it’s walls and shape remain hauntingly familiar… but it’s a home all the same. The bed can be warm, the conversation nurturing and well, the cat can be relied on for sneaky little cat-like things…

Outside of this house the world can be challenging and terrifying, dishonest and raw. The world can feel overwhelming and the people you love can be more so. Outside of this house is life, pulse beating and oxygen breathing life and it happens whether we venture out or stay wrapped in the sometimes warm bed to hide.

Today was hard, tears were had and gut-wrenching gave way to lessons. More lessons. Always, always learning. We kind of have to.

I’ve learned there are no guarantees; helping others does not mean they will line up when you have need; friendships are only ever a sum of the effort put into them, and even then they are nothing more than a word; marriage is far more emotional connection than legally binding document; adultery questions your worth though it is not an exact reflection of such; children hurt and their life-hurts are the worst of all evils, in this world; every single thing boils down to intention, effort and self discipline- only choosing the easy route leads to self-destruction…

Outside tonight the wind howls. Down the street my sweet friend is putting a baby to bed. ten miles away my sister worries as my niece is still missing. States away a seventeen year old goes to bed feeling disposable, unworthy and unloveable just as her momma always has. This is the worst of all realities, that and the fact that the one person who can fix it all doesn’t want to.

Here, inside this house that is also home, the wind echoes and the chill kisses my spine. The cat stalks, communicating his ownership. The one guarantee outside is that there is evil and greatness and it is up to me to choose which way to see- which way to live…

The one guarantee inside? There will always be cake…