Chasing Rainbow Unicorns

The biggest hurts and heartaches I've ever experienced have been within the walls of the church.

And so have the greatest healings.

I am a church girl through and through. I was the first baby born into a brand new church my teen-mom found her way to in the final months of her pregnancy. I gave my heart to Jesus in Sunday School when I was four years old along side my cousin with my aunt/Sunday School teacher guiding us along the way. I attended private Christian school, youth group and Bible camp. I went on short term mission trips, picketed abortion clinics and handed out sandwiches to the homeless. I have been a Sunday School teacher, youth group leader, passion play director, Bible Study facilitator, greeter, bookstore volunteer and - for a short time - a pastor.

I am a church girl through and through.

Along the way I have been over looked, judged, bullied, embarrassed, mocked, wrongly accused and shut out by the very people I counted on to include me and accept me. I was told that I didn't have the right skills, I associated with the wrong people, I cared about the wrong things, I wasn't cool enough, pretty enough, young enough - or I was too young, too edgy, too bold. I was too much and not enough at the same time.

I was hurt and angry and bitter. I was consumed by all the ways I was wrong and neglected the ways I was right, the people who were loving and good and the opportunities I had to just be me. I focused on my disappointment and began to judge the church - leadership, structures, programs and people - harshly. The more I judged the less I liked who I was but instead of dealing with me I blamed them.

I spent a lot of time dreaming of The Perfect Church. I imagined what it would look like, how it would feel to walk through those doors and be loved and accepted. I thought of the programs, structures, sermons and serving opportunities that would be full of life and joy. I dreamed of the perfect youth ministry and the perfect kids ministry and the perfect way to do baptisms and testimonies. I saw a place filled with laughter and love and sunshine and hearts and butterflies and rainbow unicorns!

Yeah - rainbow unicorns. That's what the perfect anything is. It's a completely unattainable notion that you will spend your life chasing without actually ever catching it. You will waste years of your life in this pursuit of a standard that is more of a vague idea than a real, tangible thing. You will sacrifice experiences, relationships and your own peace of mind in this fruitless quest for perfection. You will waste so much and lose so much. I know because I did.

I was looking for a perfect church, a perfect marriage, a perfect family and a perfect life. I hunted everywhere but I could never find it. Sometimes I would think I saw glimpses of perfection so I would chase after it hard but it was also to no avail. I was disgruntled and never content because I knew KNEW that somewhere out there was the perfect life I craved. I was sure that perfection would be found once we had that new house, or that friendship with that popular person, or a higher pay check, or a smaller pant size, or … or  …. or  … Wherever it was, it was always just outside my reach.

I lived like this for a lot of years - desperately discontent. Then cancer happened and things changed. I had a whole lot of time alone with myself and I discovered that I was lousy company. I was critical, angry, snarky and spent most of my time complaining - if not out loud, certainly in my head and heart. During that year of healing from cancer I also began to ask God to heal my heart. I specifically remember praying and asking God to break my heart for what broke His - and He did.

He broke my heart - and my pride. At the time we were living away from our hometown and had little to do with the church I grew up in. The distance from the place and people who had hurt me made it easier for me to feel like I was better, like I was over my bitterness and disappointment. I healed from cancer and in a lot of ways my heart healed too. I loved people more and I loved more people. I loved God more and I loved His Church better. I was aware of injustice more and was compelled to respond whenever and wherever I saw it. In this time I redefined what was 'perfect' and what was 'perfect' for me. I was living a practically perfect life - and I was okay with that.

It was in this practically perfect life that I was confronted with some unfinished business. When we decided to move back to our hometown I immediately said, in no uncertain terms, I would not WOULD NOT return to the church I had grown up in. I said that I had forgiven everyone but I had moved on. I'm not the person now that I was then so I don't want to go back. Nope. No way. Not going back.

So, we're now attending the church I grew up in. The church where I was hurt, disappointed and devastated. Yeah, that church. That imperfect, mess of a place. But here's the thing. I'm an imperfect, mess of a person but I'm changing - and so are they. No one there is the same either. All of us have changed. We have all learned and we have all grown. We are all trying to do better. None of us is perfect but we are perfect enough together.

I realized that I couldn't heal properly, forgive fully, as long as I was hiding out in some other church. I couldn't really let go of my bitterness as long as I held that church at arms length. For me, I needed to learn how to genuinely and warmly greet those who hurt me the most. I had to walk the halls with them, shake their hands and learn about their lives. I had to let them out of the box I put them in so I could step out of my own box. And you know what? Not one person has apologized to me or made amends. The same leaders who escorted me out of youth group are still there - and now they teach my children. The same pastor who misjudged me is still there - and now he is friendly with Mr. Awesome. The same person who looked at me like I was less than is still there - and they are still looking at me like I'm gum on the bottom of their shoe.

Not everyone changes at the same rate and at the same time. And some people really do never change and that's their loss. It's not up to me to prove to them how much they need to change or how much I have changed. My only responsibility is to live this practically perfect life as best I can and allow others the room and grace to live their practically perfect life, too.

The other thing I learned was that people very rarely intend to hurt one another. People usually do the best they can with what they know in any given situation. They make the best decisions they can in the moment and are usually surprised when they learn how deeply that have hurt someone. I know this to be true because it's been true for me. I do the best I can to live with kindness but sometimes I miss the mark, too.

So we are back at the church and finding our way again. I'm not looking for perfection. I am looking for community - but community is messy and complicated. I will probably get hurt and disappointed again and I will surely hurt and disappoint as well. I'm human. Humans are messy and imperfect and make mistakes at an alarming rate. I will have a messy marriage, I will raise messy kids, I will have messy friendships and I will attend a messy church and I'm totally good with that.

Just like rainbow unicorns, perfection isn't real but grace is. Grace is the antidote to mess. It's the buffer to relationships and its the fertilizer of our hearts. Grace is the real thing that I don't have to hunt or chase. Grace finds me where I am and if I allow it, if I relax into it, it will flow in and out of my life leaving a Perfect Enough life in it's wake.


The meaning of life. The wasted years of life. The poor choices of life. God answers the mess of life with one word: 'grace.'

~Max Lucado

Before What Comes Next

For a good time and an uplifting read take a look at the books of Jeremiah and Lamentations - said no person ever. But I am. Not looking for a good time but reading Jeremiah and Lamentations. I committed to read the whole Bible through using a two year reading plan about two and a half years ago. So yeah, there's that. I'm late. What else is new? I may be six months behind but I am dedicated to finishing this plan. So - I'm reading Jeremiah and Lamentations.

People often dive into these books to pull out the lovely, encouraging bits like Jeremiah 29:11 (For I know the thoughts I have for you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope) or Lamentations 3:25 (The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him) but did you know that those sweet verse are just a flash in the pan? Before Jeremiah 29:11 there are 28 chapters of doom and gloom prophecy about how Israel is going to face the natural consequences for a life lived outside of God's will. And after this hopeful glimpse there are two dozen more chapters that highlight the destruction and terror that is heading Israel's way. And in Lamentations when Jeremiah writes about God's goodness he is literally standing in the rubble that used to be God's holy city.

Reading these books have been a real eye-opener for me. I'm usually a glass half full kind of girl and if the glass happens to dip below the half way mark I tend to just ignore it and hope things will turn around. I love good news and I pretend bad news doesn't exist so I found the book of Jeremiah jarring. It's 10 to 1 bad news. Even the good news is flanked by bad news. That's no fun! Especially for me, who has grown up spiritually marinated in the promises and goodness of God and happily skipped over the messy parts of the Bible.

But here's the thing, God is in the messes too. He is in the moments of correction, the walking through consequences and in the devastating unforeseen circumstances. He is there - with us. That's the beauty of the mess. We are never alone in it. God doesn't rescue us from the circumstances because He has already rescued our hearts with His love. And that's better. Seriously, it is.

When I was a kid, I thought God was kind of like Cinderella's fairy godmother. I thought He was just waiting in the wings for things to get 'just bad enough' and then He would swoop in, change everything and rescue me. And when He didn't I was hurt, confused and angry. What kind of magical being was He if He couldn't fix my problems? How could He love me if He wouldn't change my circumstances?

I never really got an answer to those questions but somewhere along the way I decided to lock those questions and doubts in The Bad News Corner of my brain and move on. I still felt that God should be more like a fairy godmother, even if He wasn't but there wasn't anything that could be done for it so I let it go.

As I matured I understood a little better how God worked, how He loved and why He did some of the things He did. Occasionally I'd be chatting with a friend about the Bible and God and the question would come up, "If God is unchanging and so loving then what's with all the smiting in the Old Testament?" I would shrug, babble a little and then try to shift the conversation because I had no answer. I wondered what was with all the smiting, too.

This is the first time that I have read every word in Jeremiah, from start to finish and I now kind of understand what was with all the smiting and destruction. Israel took what was holy and made it unholy. They defiled the temple, the city and the countryside with false idols and pagan worship. Every good thing God had given them they distorted into something profane. God cannot be in an unholy place because He IS holy. So what option did He have?

After generations of warnings, pleadings, chances and mercy Israel was beyond repair - but not beyond redemption. God had to start fresh. He had to tear down all that was unholy to make way for His holiness once again. And in the tearing down there was some natural grief, mourning and pain - but God was still there. He stayed with His people. He watched them, comforted them and made a way for them to come back to Him. He redeemed them.

When we make dumb choices, when we are foolish and selfish and vain we defile what God has made holy. When we put selfish gain, fame, popularity or any current idol in the place of God in our lives there will be some natural consequences. We might be able to live a long time with this off kilter perspective - Israel did - but eventually loneliness, despair, greed, anger and fear will creep into your life. And it is only by tearing down that there will be room to build back up. Room for God to build you back up.

This is something I am learning. Something I am living. In order to be ready to handle what is coming next, you have to make room and prepare yourself. Tear down what is holding you back. Remove what is keeping you at a distance from where you want to be. Be okay with being unpopular. Give up your dreams of fame. Let go of your greed and self ambition and be content to work, to love, to serve, to give.

It took 70 years but God eventually rebuilt Israel. He brought them back, held them near and loved them. He gave them everything He had promised - a hope and a future. But it took time. It took walking through the hard road of captivity to freedom to rebuilding. It took learning again how to work, how to be in community, how to trust God. It took generations. But all the while God had His eye on them.

That's me. I'm Israel. I'm in my 70 years - again. I go through these times regularly. Every time God is preparing me for something new He asks me to take a look at my life, my time, my idols. He asks me to tear down, to make room. Sometimes it's easy but most of the time I struggle a bit. It's hard letting go of the life you've planned, of the things you love. It's scary. What if this is the last good thing? What if I let go and there's nothing else for me? What if I free fall?

The what ifs never happen. There's always something better waiting. There is always the next thing when I let go of the last thing. I never fall. I am always carried by God's grace and mercy and love.

Jeremiah and Lamentations are good news books, after all. They are full of hope and redemption and preparation for the next good thing. They are a reminder that God never is far away, never too far to see you, know you and love you. They are a declaration of God's hope and future and plan.

For us.

"And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart. I will be found by you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back from your captivity …"
Jeremiah 29:13 & 14a

They are My People,Too

Last Friday, Good Friday, we hauled our Wee Ones out of bed at the crack of dawn, bundled up and headed downtown for our own kind of Good Friday service. We spent just over an hour set up on Main Street, within eyesight of four different shelters, handing out coffee and muffins to whoever happened by. Nothing fancy, just a folding table, some snacks and teeth chattering smiles. We served about 60 people before we ran out of … well, everything. And each person we served changed us.

I was slightly terrified to do this thing. I felt that it was what we were supposed to do but I was still so nervous that I hardly slept the night before. All of my preconceived ideas, all my stereotypes, all my fears ran through my brain on a lightening fast loop all night. I put on a brave face in the morning as the kids excitedly chatted about who was going to do what job and what they were going to say to the people who stopped by the table. I put on a brave face but my stomach was in knots!

I said next to nothing on the drive downtown. I just watched Crafty in the review mirror as she carefully folded the 60 little notes of encouragement she wrote to hand out with the coffee and wondered if I was making a HUGE mistake. What if someone violent came by? What of we were asked for money? What if someone approached our kids inappropriately? What if? What if? What if?

I had a dozen reasonable concerns and a million unreasonable ones swirling through my brain as we pulled up to our pre-scouted spot. We weren't even out of the van when we were approached by a couple of men, asking if we were lost. We told them that we were exactly where we meant to be and that we had coffee and muffins to share. And that's when all of my fears and stereotypes were turned upside down.

These guys waited patiently for us to set up and chatted with us for a bit after we handed them their coffee. They spread the word to a few other fellas who were taking shelter in a doorway and soon we had line going. As we poured and joked and chatted, I felt like an idiot -  a middle class, white, privileged idiot. I forgot the most important thing while I was obsessing over my fears. We were planning on serving people. Not Homeless. Not Street. Not Underprivileged. We were serving PEOPLE. Just people. Just regular folks who laugh and love and care and live. People who have their own community, their own culture, their own sense of family and belonging with each other.

And they accepted us. Just as we came. How beautiful is that?!

One older gentleman stood and talked with Dude about school and music. A beautiful woman, dressed like Rainbow Bright, complimented Crafty on her hair and jacket. A jovial middle age man teased Joyboy about his broken foot. Several people took coffee for themselves and came back for coffee and muffins for their wheelchair bound friends who were parked across the street. One man noticed we were running low on sugar so he searched through his pockets for packets he had been saving up and he left them on the table for others who might need. Another man took and apple but left a banana, "for someone in need" then he whistled a happy tune as he ambled away in his duct taped shoes.

Time and time again we saw humanity, care and pride from the people we came to serve. They asked us about our lives, thanked us for showing up on a day when almost everything within walking distance was closed and blessed us for our generosity. I stood there humbled because, in truth, we were the ones being served.

Each person who stopped by the table served us joy, hope, compassion, dignity and grace. They gave us humour and acceptance. They offered us a glimpse into contentment and thankfulness. They left us with overflowing hearts and a burning desire to do more, to return to this spot so we can know them better.

Yesterday I drove by the corner where we served and were served and I saw a few familiar faces. I saw the man who took six sugars in his coffee, the man who joked with Dude about being a casanova, the woman who brought her friend to the table just to show her people cared. I saw them. I recognized them. They are my people, too. They are the ones I think of, pray for and hope for as I crawl into my safe and warm bed each night. They are the ones that come to mind when I see the weather report each morning. They are the ones I hope to know better as we continue to think of ways to connect and be helpful.

Yes, they are addicts, homeless, poor and abusers. But so are we. Yes, they have made horrible decisions, led lives of disappointment and destruction and have alienated so many people who have tried to help. But so have we. Sure, they are dirty, smelly, unkempt and unhealthy. But so are we. They are a broken, used up, desperate people. And so are we. Our brokenness, our filth, our bad habits didn't stop them from accepting us, from being kind to us, from welcoming us into their space. So why does their mess stop us?

That's what I've been asking myself every day for the last week. Jesus died for me and he died for them. Their sin is not greater than mine. My heart is no more worth saving than theirs. There is no difference but the difference I invent.

These are my people. And I am theirs.

I will invite myself into their space again soon. We will bring the treats and receive their welcome. We will spend more time chatting and less time fearing. We will open our hearts wide and let their acceptance be an example to us. We will love and care and share … and so will they.


“Love is not patronizing and charity isn't about pity, it is about love. Charity and love are the same -- with charity you give love, so don't just give money but reach out your hand instead.” 
― Mother Teresa

A New Tradition?

I'm a sucker for traditions. I love the comfort that sameness brings.

On Christmas Eve we go to church together, make a good Ukrainian lunch and watch It's a Wonderful Life in our brand new pjs. On Canada Day we put on our new Canada Day t-shirts and make our rounds to Lower Fort Garry, The Forks and Assiniboine Park to celebrate our awesome Canada. Pick a holiday and I bet you we have some dear-held tradition associated with it, so with Easter coming you'd think I'd be in my glory, what with new outfits, Easter egg hunts and family brunch after church.

You'd think but you'd be wrong.

I'm all squiggy and discontent and irritated with Easter traditions this year. These traditions feel hollow and self serving and somehow, on their own, missing the mark of what Easter really is about. I think all of these feeling may have something to do with that weird prayer I started praying (Lord, make me uncomfortable. Keep me from settling for a life less than Your best - however that looks.) In a thousand ways, God has answered that prayer -  a thousand uncomfortable, irritating and life disrupting ways. And I think my Easter traditions are just the latest casualties of this prayer.

A few weeks ago I began my annual search for a Good Friday Service to attend. Our regular church participates in a community service but I don't love attending it. My mom's church hasn't done a Good Friday service for years, my cousin's church does a really good service but the parking is terrible, there's the one we went to last year but it was kind of boring and didn't leave me with the emotional high I'd come to expect from a special service - yes, I know how snobby and petty I sound. I caught myself the first time had had this train of thought - or rather God caught me.

Service. Service. Service. Serv-ice.

Serve Us.

Um. Ouch.  I was looking for a place that would serve us. Serve our needs. Make me feel warm and fuzzy and reflective of the sacrifice of Jesus, without having to, you know, be like Jesus. I had a moment of realization of how consumer focused I was being while trying to find a church service to attend to commemorate Jesus dying for my selfish hide and I was humbled and ashamed. But God din't leave me in my shame. Instead He spoke straight to my heart and corrected my selfish views. It went something like this,

"Service? Serve us? The greatest act of service that Jesus ever did for you was to die in your place. If you want to commemorate His act of service then do one of your own."

Well, okay then. I spent a week trying to figure out what that meant and then my lightening fast mind realized that maybe it meant I should find someone or someway to serve. I've spent the last week emailing and calling different organizations who help the marginalized people of our community - and no one wants our help. Like seriously, I can't get any takers. I still have a couple of emails out there but it's not looking good, folks.

So this morning, as I was pouting and wigging out and complaining to God about how I wanted to help but no one would let me, He got to me again.

What's stopping you?

No one wants me.

Poor you.

Thank you.

No, really. What's stopping you?

I don't have an organization to partner with. I don't have time to go through the application process. All of their spots for helping are booked.

And …

Well … I can't help.

I'm sorry. You don't have a van? And built in volunteers? And some spare cash? You can't buy some muffins and hot chocolate and drive your poor self downtown to hand those things out? Oh, poor you.

Ok, yes. God is sarcastic when He speaks to me - He meets us where we are at. Don't judge me. And yes, I have a van and a family willing to do Any Crazy Thing and I can afford a few dozen muffins. So what's stopping me?

It's inconvenient. And scary. And weird. And uncomfortable.

Oops. Didn't I pray for that last one?

Okay. So, here's the deal, unless one of my free floating emails returns to me with some kind of place to serve, Mr. Awesome and I will be loading the Wee Ones into the van and driving to downtown Winnipeg to hand out hot chocolate and muffins.

Not because the homeless of Winnipeg need me but because I need to remember that it's not all about me, that Jesus died for me and for them and that makes us the same. I need to remember that the best way to honour the sacrifice Jesus made is to live like Him, everyday.

If you are in the Winnipeg area and want to join us message me … who knows, maybe this will be our new tradition.

I have shown you in every way, by labouring like this, that you must support the weak. And remember the words of the Lord Jesus, that he said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."
Acts 20:35

The Things I Know

So, I'm in a time of transition … blah, blah, blah. I'm tired of talking about it (and writing about it) which means you are probably WELL past being tired of hearing about it. I've been a little doom and gloom and mournful over all of this loss and change - which, to a certain extent, in normal. But in the midst of all of the good-byes, I've kind of lost sight of who I am and what is important to me.

I am still a writer. I write everyday. Sometimes its a few words about the end of Friday Night Lights via Netflix (every time I watch that series on Netflix I mourn the final episode like it's the first time) on Twitter. Other times its a note in my kids' lunchbox or a text to a friend who comes to mind. But most days I journal as I read the Bible and sometimes I share those tidbits on Instagram or Facebook. And I am still plugging away on my next book. Writing is important to me. It keeps my mind sharp and curious.  It feeds my soul and awakens my heart.

I am still a wife and a mom. Mr. Awesome rocks my world. I love his humour, his heart for justice and his focus on family. He is my best friend and a gift in more ways than I can say. I get to be his partner and helpmate, as he is mine. Together we get to lead this ragtag band of hooligans known as The Forbes Five. We get to dream, laugh, teach, play and live together. How awesome is that?!

I am still a church-girl. I love church. I love all the crazy, messy, lovely people who gather each week to learn more and love better. I love that I am accepted, that I am one of the crazy, messy lovely people. I love that church gives me lots of opportunity to learn and practice grace, to serve others and to take huge heart risks. I love that I don't have to be perfect to show up. I love that church is family.

I still love people.  People are the most amazing, resilient, bizarre creatures on the planet. I love how every person has a story to tell, that we can learn from each other. I am intrigued by what makes others tick, what awakens their deepest heart dreams and what disappointments they have weathered. I love connecting with folks and hearing their crazy because I have some crazy, too. I love that every soul as a secret place of gentleness and a deep place of untapped possibilities. I love that we are all so unique yet crave sameness in each other. I love that you can know someone for your whole life and still they are a mystery - a beautiful, familiar mystery.

I am a Jesus-girl. I am found. I am free. I am chosen. Some of you readers don't get this, and that's cool, but in this relationship with Jesus I found the deepest sense of peace, belonging and purpose. I know thatHe loves me unconditionally and I trust Him with my everything. Life bites sometimes but I am never, ever alone. I can feel the comfort and strength of Jesus near me even in my darkest times. It is His hope that keeps me moving forward in the midst of loss and heart ache. It is also His joy that swirls around me like a force of nature and causes me to laugh into the stormy winds of life. I am just Jesus' type of girl.

I feel life our life has been tossed up in the air and now we are stuck in a Matrix moment where everything is suspended and we aren't quite sure where everything will land. And although that freaks me out a bit, I know that my feet are firmly placed in my trust in Jesus, I am surrounded by people who love and are willing to be loved, my heart is full of my family and I have words, lots and lots of words, to share.

If we all did the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves.
 — Thomas Alva Edison

Uniquely Beautiful Together

My mom has several awards of recognition from her professional life. They are these hand blown glass tear-drop things. And she has four. To look at them as individuals they all look the same. Clear, pear-shaped with little air bubbles trapped in their core. But when you line them up, side by side, you can see the inconsistencies.

One is tall and almost a perfect tear-drop but it has more air bubbles than the shorter one beside it that leans slightly. The shortest one is bottom heavy but has the most interesting shaped air bubble right at its core and the fourth one is a perfect cross section of the other three but with three bubbles stacked neatly on top of each other. Individually they all looked the same but lined up together you can see the unique beauty in each of these ornaments.

We are just like these wee drops of glass.

A couple of weeks ago, I stepped out on a limb and applied to be part of my 'friend' Jen Hatmaker's launch team. She has a new book coming out in August (For the Love) and she invited her blog followers to apply to be one of 500 lucky gals who would receive an advance copy of her new book so that they might use their social media presence to promote the pants of her book. I, sadly, was not chosen … and neither were 4500 other Lovelies.

It was disappointing but not earth shatteringly so. I received my consolation prize of four (FABULOUS) sample chapters and was prepared to move on. But then this thing happened. The Unchosen took to twitter and began tweeting with the hashtag #The4500. And then they created a Facebook group. And then more than 400 of the 4500 joined the group. And then we got to know one another. We shared snippets of our own life stories, we shared blogs, we shared our love for Jen. It was awesome!

And then something wanky started to happen. We were all their, beautiful in our own individuality, yet now lined up side by side. The comparison thing started to happen. A few Lovelies felt 'less than' for not being chosen as one of the 500, a few felt "not a funny" as others … not as popular, not as experienced, not as deep. Some felt messy, chaotic and undeserving. Others elevated Jen to an impossible-to-maintain position of greatness (don't get me wrong, love me some Jen Hatmaker but she IS just a regular gal after all).While there was much love in this wee band of Jen fans there was also a lot of insecurity beginning to surface. And just when I was feeling uncomfortable and contemplating stepping out of the group our gal-pal, Jen stepped in.

A couple of days ago Jen popped into the group and tok in some of the threads. Like I said, much of what is one this page is funny, kind, uplifting and community building but there were also some very disappointed folks (me included, I may or may not have consumed more Jolly Ranchers than necessary following the Unchosen email) who were questioning their worth. This is what Jen had to say …

"Morning, friends! We are almost at the 400 member mark! All the feels.

You know what? Let me tell you what you are NOT: You are not the "B Team" or "Junior Varsity" or "the rejects." And you don't have to declare that "you will be heard." You already ARE heard! You are already amazing in your place. Your influence is as strong and powerful as it ever was.

The whole message of For the Love says there is not a better than or less than in our community. WE ARE ALL IN. Honestly? For me, there is really no "launch team" and "the rest of us." We are all on the same team. We really are. We are ALL for grace and community and courage and love. We are all reading parts or all of the book in advance. We are all IN THIS TOGETHER. This is not a tribe of scarcity. There is enough to go around, and every last one of us is ENOUGH.

So no more B Team talk. You are my A TEAM. I adore you! I adore this sweet community forming! I am so grateful for every encouraging, kind, funny thing you have said to me and each other. What a joy you are! Let's stand up together and take our place...love you, sisters!"

And this is why I love her! This is the message of her heart … and it is the message of mine as well.

We have been designed as individuals and the purpose in coming together is not to point out our flaws or short comings but to highlight how uniquely beautiful we each are. Alone we may appear 'just like everyone else' but it's in Together that we see how our individuality compliments the uniqueness in others. We are in this together … we are in Together. Together.

Uniquely beautiful together!

Let’s just say amongst ourselves that we will silence the bossy, mean voice telling us to BE MORE AWESOME and instead we will obey the other nudges, the ones that lead us to love and life and peace and generosity and God and people and rest and gratitude.

~Jen Hatmaker

Empty Spaces

So we've moved … sort of.

We are back in our hometown - at least our bodies and our clothes are. Everything else is still in our house an hour and a half away. We have loose ends all over the place that makes it tough to be settled but we are trying our best. We are awkwardly stumbling through our new routine and making a niche, each of us where we are. In truth, some of us are having an easier time of this than others.

The kids, so far, have hit the ground running. They love their new school. They have each made friends, have joined a variety of extra-curriculars (yes, I am literally living in my van these days!) and are genuinely happy to be here.

Mr. Awesome loves his new job but this new job won't be his for much longer. Last week he was offered a promotion that will take him away from some of the most dangerous parts of his job (yay!) and into the office most of the time. He starts his training in a couple of weeks and he couldn't be happier.

I, on the other hand, have absolutely no plans, no routine and no sense of what I am doing here. I had taken a term position with a not-for-profit but that didn't work out. The job description changed drastically after I started and became something that I didn't enjoy and didn't really have the skill set for. It was disappointing but the director and I parted as friends and I still whole heartedly believe in what they are doing as a foundation. So, that being said, I am here … with nothing to do.

That's not entirely true. I have laundry and bathroom cleaning and kid driving and meal making and coffee drinking but I have no occupation. I have an empty space where my job used to be. I miss writing curriculum, planning object lessons and meeting with my team. I miss teaching my Buddies on Sunday morning and high-fiving my volunteers as the last kidlet walked out the door. I miss that life. I miss having no empty spaces, no moments to spare. I miss the feeling of a full life.

Last Thursday, as I was laundering and coffeing I was also praying, reading my Bible and listening to podcasts. I was looking for answers for The Big Question: What's next? I hadn't been sleeping well and frankly, I was not very pleasant to live with. The not-for-profit job was not going well and I knew I'd have to have a chat with the director soon. I was also having trouble finding my rhythm with the new book I was working on. The outline and concept had come so easily but I had completely stalled out. I was stalled and panicking. And cranky.

This is where I was when I decided to lock myself away in my room, fold mountains of laundry and listen to some Sisterhood podcasts. As I folded and prayed and listened I realized that I was afraid. I was afraid of not having a job description, a title and a purpose. I was afraid that I had thrown away my one chance of being relevant. And then I realized I was being a ridiculous control freak.

The message I teach more than any other is that God sees us, knows us and loves us. His thoughts are always towards us therefore we will never be forgotten. I teach this, I write about this (see my previous blog post) and I do believe this. It's just that I am human and prone to dramatic over reactions in times of uncertainty. I sometimes forget the very truth that God has engraved on my heart. He created me, he chose me for a life with Him and He calls me His very own. He's got this.

So as I stood in my bedroom, folding clothes and weeping, I prayed the prayer that is my mantra, "Lord, make me uncomfortable. Keep me from settling for a life less than your best. Not my will but yours - however that looks." It's a scary prayer, its a humbling prayer and its a prayer of surrender. It's the prayer that reminds me that I'm not in control and, in fact, it's better this way.

I have a lot of empty spaces in my life right now. A lot of holes where busyness and purpose used to fill. Where commitments and obligations fought for top spot. These empty spaces aren't really empty, though. God has reserved them for The Next Thing. He is readying these spaces, and my heart, for whatever comes next and in the mean time I have to remind myself to surrender and to allow God to fill these empty spaces in His way and in His time. I have inklings of what this might be but The How and The When are complete mysteries … and I am choosing, moment by moment, to be okay with that.

But for now and for always I pray ...

Lord, make me uncomfortable.
Keep me from settling for a life less than Your best.
Not my will but yours - however that looks.
Thanks for loving me always.
You are so very good.

Amen.

Pray prayers that scare what's scared inside you.
~Lisa Bevere