Expectation vs. Reality

Sometimes I look at my life and I think "WOW. This has turned out nothing like I expected!". Some days, that's a good thing. Some days that's a bad thing.

I'm coming up on five years since I graduated college, and with that comes a lot of emotions. It's been since I last held a "job", since I was diagnosed with an eating disorder, since I went to treatment for the first time, since I was "supposed" to go to grad school...

I think had you asked the girl in the picture above where she would be in five years, it might involve being a social worker, working in the foster care/adoption field. She might think that she'd be married...maybe just engaged. Possibly a baby. Probably still living in Alabama. She'd probably tell you that she'd be *completely* recovered and have a healthy relationship with food and body image (though she'd probably also tell you that she's weight restored right now and would weigh 115 pounds for the rest of her life, thank you very much...*cough*not happening*cough*).

Last week while visiting my parents, I took my little girl down to that same patch of grass and thought about all of the memories that had happened in that park- and I thought of the picture that I posted above. I thought about what five-year-ago-me might think if she met today-me. I think that she'd laugh. I think that she'd cry (happy and sad cries). Today, I live roughly 830 miles from home. I haven't been to grad school...haven't had another job. I've come to realize that complete recovery from this monster of an eating disorder isn't as easy as I once thought, it's far more ingrained in my brain. Further recovery and pregnancy have brought many more pounds to my body, which messes with my body image, but I am far healthier (and I have an adorable child). But...it's not all sad. I'm happily married to a man that loves me (and my body) more than I could ever imagine. I'm married to the One who makes me laugh and brings me more joy than I thought existed. I'm married to my soulmate, the one who has already in the three short years we have been together, loved me in sickness and health, for better or for worse, and has never left me. I have a daughter who shows me the meaning of wonder on a daily basis, who gives the best slobbery kisses, and who melts my heart when she calls me Mama.

In the end, is it really all that bad that life didn't turn out how I had planned? Is it possible that even though there are still struggles, my life might actually be better than I had planned? 

Jeremiah 29:11 says,

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

I've read this verse for years. I mean, I think it's on every single Christian graduation present out there. It's everywhere. I've always read it looking forward, looking out- but today, I'm reading it backwards, because it has been fulfilled in my life. I've always read it to mean that God has a plan for my future, even when things seem dark at this moment. I've read it that there is a future hope. But today, looking back at the last five years, I feel like I have made it into the hope and future. There were days in the last five years when I prayed that I wouldn't wake up in the morning, I was tired of fighting the battles within. But, God had a plan for my life- a plan wilder and crazier than I could have ever dreamed of. A plan involving a kilt-wearing man showing up at Cici's for a first date and end up in an engagement a month later, a wedding six months later, and a baby a year after that. A plan that would involve not just one move away from Alabama, but two moves in the first two years of our marriage. A plan that showed just how great and mighty God is, that He could use me in my darkest moments, bring light into the darkness, and bring me into a season of hope- a future. Five years ago, I might have read that verse to mean that God had a career or ministry in mind for me- but today, I look at that verse and I see my life. I see that the journey to get to this point may have been very painful, but we (me + God) survived.

So, five-year-ago-me, throw away that color coded Excel spreadsheet plan of your life. God is laughing at you right now, oh ye of little faith. He's got something so much bigger and so much better in store for you- you just wait!

And today-me? You do the same thing. God isn't through with you yet. Are the struggles gone? Is your life over? Then, neither is this journey. You've got another seventy-five years in you at least, I'd guess (my people like living really, really old, okay?)- let God lead the way and see where He takes you. Maybe there's something bigger, just waiting right around the corner.

Please Be Still

Since I began this blog, I got married, got pregnant, moved 9 hours from "home", and had a baby. Just thinking about everything that these last two years has held gets me exhausted, so its no wonder that I haven't posted as frequently in this space as I did in previous writing spaces that I've had. Things were very different back in the days of Diaryland and Xanga and MySpace, and the days of "Not Your Everyday Cinderella"/"Finding Free" (the two names for the blog I authored in my college years). When I began Wiferella, I lived in Alabama and I was preparing for my first PCS with my husband as we looked forward to the Air Force sending us to AFIT at Wright-Patterson AFB in Dayton, Ohio. Now, our eighteen months in Ohio is drawing to a close and we are preparing to make another move- this time to Ft. Meade, Maryland! This time is filled with lots of emotions. For most of my time in Ohio, I've hated being here. I hated it because it wasn't home, it wasn't Alabama, it wasn't comfortable or something familiar that I knew. I just knew that I couldn't wait to leave Ohio- but now that the time is coming...I'm kind of sad. Ohio has become something "known" and Maryland is the new unknown that I am dreading. I wonder if this is just a part of the process of being a military wife- making wherever the Air Force sends us home for the season we are in and embracing what it is in that moment. Maybe one of these days I will get used to the moving and PCSing and uncertainty and unknown, but right now? Right now it feels terrible and awful and I'm internally (and sometimes externally) freaking out.

In these moments, one phrase often comes to mind- "Peace be still." There's a song that came out when I was in high school that runs through my mind and I am drawn back to a much simpler, yet still anxiety-filled season of my life.

Come to Me, you who are weak
Let My strength be yours tonight
Come and rest, let My love be your bed
Let My heart be yours tonight
Peace be still, Peace be still
Please be still and know that I am God
and know that I am God
Come empty cup, let Me fill you up
I'll descend on you like a dove tonight
Lift your head, let your eyes fall into Mine
Let your fear subside tonight
Hallelujah, Hallelujah*

In these moments, it's almost like I can hear God whispering to me to just be still, be still for one moment. I wonder if he ever gets frustrated with my frequent worries about "what is", and then I think of my daughter. S is twelve months old, and she has decided that she no longer needs a nap, even though she really does. She just doesn't want to miss out on anything that is happening in the world around her. So, sometimes she will work herself up to the point of exhaustion and refuse to take a nap. She's crabby. She's crying and whining and I'm starting to get cry-y and whiney and it's super frustrating. She starts to cry a simple cry, but it's a cry that signals to me that she's tired and that if I can just get her to be still for 30 seconds- she'll be out like a rock for 2 hours. So, I lay her on my chest and we snuggle under the blankets and I hold her arms and legs and tell her that everything will be okay, that she is loved, that she is safe, that Mama is right here. I start to sing to her- and just like that- she's out. She just needed to calm down and be still long enough to fall asleep.

I wonder if it's like that with us and God. I mean, every single time I work myself up like this, he works it out in the end and I'm like "why did I freak out over that?" Maybe I just need to stop crawling away from him, stop fighting his hold on me, and lean into him. Maybe I just need to listen to his soothing voice on my life and let him calm my fighting spirit. Maybe he's sitting here, holding me, whispering to me, saying "Please child. Please be still, please be still and know that I am God."

I'm holding on to that image tonight- and in the days of uncertainty to come. Maybe I can't change what it to come, but with God by my side, I can accept the things I cannot change.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Just for today. 

*Song: Peace Be Still by Rush of Fools

Finding Me

I've been struggling to find my place in the blogging world as of late. In college, it seemed like I had found my place and my groove. But in the crazy post-college time where recovery seemed to be all I was doing, my blogging seemed to fall apart. Blogging friendships weren't maintained (we were going different directions anyways). People got married (and I didn't until I did). Blogging took time and effort and emotion and I was too emotionally exhausted to bare my soul to the world (still true). I've tried to create my little space over here at Wiferella, at a new address, a new place, with my new little life...and it hasn't come together as neatly as I planned. I mean, I didn't really plan things out and life got busy and blogging wasn't a priority...so I didn't do it. I failed to plan, so I kind of planned to fail. I'm still not sure exactly what I want this space to look like, but in my ideal world, it might include blogging some recipes, some activities that I've done with the little, and then some more soul baring-sharing (because that's kind of what I'm all about). I've come to accept that this probably isn't going to be the perfect little mommy blog, and that's okay. I'm just not that kind of blogger. I don't have time for that...and I'd rather keep the memory keeping to something like Instagram. It gets done that way, and I'm a huge proponent of "done is best" sometimes. :)

A few years ago, I wrote a "Mission Statement" as a part of an art therapy assignment. While looking through files on my computer, I came across the document again and it made me start thinking about picking up blogging again. I love being a wife and mom, but sometimes I need to dig a little deeper and search for who I am and what my purpose is in my core inner being. That core purpose has a huge influence on how I wife and how I mother. When that core purpose is lost or forgotten...things start falling apart. I forget how I was made to be a storyteller, made to bear the light of hope found in Christ to a fallen world. So, today, as an act of accountability, I'd like to share some pieces of my Mission Statement.

I will remember, in all things that I do, that I want to guide my life and my decisions with these qualities that I value most:Sobriety, Courage, and Love.
I know that I am my very best self when...I am sober in my recovery,
I am pursuing a passionate personal relationship with God,
and I am engaged in relationships with others.
I am most at peace and happiest when I spend my personal life:focusing on God more than self,
letting my creativity and imagination flourish,
and when things are in their place.
I will be most at peace and happiest when I spend my work life:loving people,
sharing my story,
offering hope to a fallen world,
and sharing the love of Christ.
I will seek out times when I can use my inborn gifts to:be a storyteller
spread the gospel to others,
and shining my light.
I know that I am meant to:love God and love people.
Nothing else matters.
I will work hard to be known as someone who:is strong,
courageous,
bold,
and brave.

Sometimes I lost track of what is important- those three qualities at the beginning: Sobriety, courage, and love. When I lose track of these things, my life begins to crumble. My recovery becomes shakey and behaviors begin slipping their way into my life. I don't speak up for myself and how I feel and I grow resentful of others. My relationships with both my husband and child begin to fill up with irritation and frustration. I become overwhelmed and the cycle repeats over and over again until I am worn down, tired, laying on the ground in a heap sobbing. I find my place in the place that I swore I'd never be again, struggling the same demons. That isn't to say that remembering the qualities means that life is 100% okie dokie all the time either, but I am much more able to reach out for support and do not become as overwhelmed.

Way back in the Spring of 2013, I blogged at a different space (laurenelizabethadam.blogspot.com if you ever want to know what I was like back in college). I changed the name of my blog to "Finding Free" and I wrote the following explanation for the change. Reading it today was encouraging and frustrating at the same time. There are still so many lessons that I need to learn about true freedom, but I have come so far from where I was back then. 

Be brave. Let Him make you brand new. That's what I want to be right? Brand new? A new creation? But, this is a painful process. It kind of hurts. It hurts to be real and honest. But, secrets don't bring freedom. Secrets bring shame. Secrets bring guilt. Secrets keep us entangled. Secrets keep us in chains, in bondage.They hold us back. They keep us from living...really living! But, being open and real and honest and admitting that we have struggles? That we have strongholds that bind us? That brings freedom.

The new name of this little space on the internet is "Finding Free".The title is inspired by Maya Angelou's "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings". My favorite part of the poem is the last two stanzas:
"But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom."

The truth of the matter is: I feel like I'm that bird standing on the "grave of dreams" with clipped wings and tied feet. I feel like giving up some days. Sometimes the struggle to live and breathe and function seems to be too much work. That's why I entered a treatment program for eating disorders a month ago. For the last four years, in addition to keeping up this blog, I've struggled off and on with anorexia. It's easy to hide things when you feel like your whole life is a secret. It's easier to not let anyone know that you're struggling. But, over the last few months, things hit a breaking point. I wasn't able to hide my secret struggle anymore. I felt so ashamed for living this way. My secret was killing me (literally). So, I finished off a rough last semester to complete my degree, and then I entered a program to help me recover. It's been one of the best decisions I've ever made. Recovery? Is ridiculously hard. But, I'm finding free. And even though I'm not free yet, I'll sing the song of freedom from my cage, because I know that redemption is coming. 

I'm learning to love and trust myself in a way that I never imagined. I'm finding what "free" really means. Life isn't just about growing up, moving out of your parents' house, getting married, buying a house, giving birth to 2.5 babies, and working at a job you hate until you can retire. Life has to be something more. There has to be a purpose for living- a passion behind what you do. I think that when you live life in this manner, it won't matter how the details work out. It won't matter what kind of house you have, when you get married, or how much money you make. It won't matter what color the walls of the foyer are painted or how many smocked dresses your precious baby girl owns. What matters is that you are FREE. Free to be the person that God created you to be. Free to travel, explore, and have adventures wherever life takes you. A life lived "free" is a life without limitations. It's not limited by false ideals of perfection. It's not limited by what other people may think. Finding free means learning to embrace life at it's fullest. It means running with the moment and enjoying what each and every moment brings....the good and the bad. It means shifting your perspective to focus on the positives of the situation, even when everything is falling apart. It means living for today, and letting tomorrow worry about tomorrow. Finding free means running in full pursuit after the coattails of the creator of the universe. It means dancing in the fields of wildflowers... even if they make you sneeze. It means fighting for life with every fiber that you've got. It means clinging to faith when you have nothing left. I may be standing on the "grave of dreams" right now, my voice may waver with a "fearful trill", but it's okay...I'm singing of freedom. As the Beatles' put it in their famed "Blackbird",
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise"
I may be broken. I may be down. But I will rise. I'm finding free.

Maybe the purpose of this blogging drought I've been in is so that I can rediscover the wisdom of old and drink it deeply.

Maybe I was only waiting for this moment to arise.

...to be continued

the lie of not enough

I feel like sometimes we like to blame Eve for all of our problems. Sometimes, I think that she's the most hated woman of the Bible. I mean, if it wasn't for her believing that silly little lie from the serpent, we'd still be living in paradise (and we'd have NO pain in childbirth. Seriously Eve, what were you thinking?). We like to blame this women for messing up the world (and causing us to have pain during childbirth...SERIOUSLY EVE. I don't know if I can ever forgive you for that one). We blame her for believing the serpent, we like to pretend that we wouldn't have done the exact same thing in that situation, but the truth is...Satan isn't all that creative. He knows that what worked all those years ago can still mess us up big time today. All this time, since the beginning of time, we've been fed the same lie over and over and over and over again. The serpent whispers softly in our ear just like he did to Eve on that day long ago. He seductively dangles a fruit in front of our hungry eyes and lures us away from the truth. He tells us that who we are is not enough. From the days of childhood, he whispers this thought into our ear over and over again. It begins to seem so natural, a part of our inner being that is so engrained, such a part of who we are that we no recognize this fruit as dangerous or harmful. Just like a Pooh Bear being drawn to his pot of Hunny...we're helplessly, hopelessly lured into the trap and we believe the lies.



As little girls, we believe the lie that everyone in this class is better than us. In ballet class, they're better at the pirouettes. At the playground, they're better at the monkey bars. Some other little girl's dress is prettier and more twirly than ours. At a very young age, we begin to compare our bodies and our clothes and we believe this lie that is whispered to us that we are not pretty enough. The belief that we would somehow be a "better" version of ourselves if only we were smarter, faster, taller, smaller begins flicker in our tiny brains, slowly becoming the very center of our thoughts. As we grow older, these lies continue and morph and spin out of our control. In Middle School, we spend hours obsessing over how to tame our frizzy hair, how to paint on a pretty face, how to put up a facade that everyone will fall for. We spend so much time worrying about being smart enough to make the grade, athletic enough to make the team. We base our entire existence on being accepted by this invisible audience. We play a role, dancing and twirling around the stage. We try and we try, but we just end up exhausted, collapsing in a heap in the middle of the stage with the spotlight shining straight on us. And there we lay. Vulnerable. Weary. Overwhelmed. The serpent whispers in our ear "Darling, you will never be enough. God is hiding something from you, you're just not good enough for him. Trust in me, I won't fail you. I won't hide the magic cure from you. Take this fruit...and eat.". And just like Eve, we fall for his trap.

He's an awfully good manipulator. We believe his lies with all of our heart. We live a life of fad diet after fad diet. We restrict what we eat, and punish ourselves when we eat "bad foods". We run after this false ideal of perfection- if I just reach this weight, if I just can wear this pants size, if I can just get noticed by someone...I will be enough. But, the fact of the matter is...nothing you do will ever be "enough". You might reach that goal weight, but the serpent will whisper in your ear "Just five more pounds". You might suddenly be able to squeeze into your "skinny day jeans", but the serpent will whisper to you "You're still not enough. See that muffin top? So unattractive". He'll plant lies into your head:

• If you eat that, you're going to get fat.
• If you get fat, nobody will like you.
• You seriously just ate that? Go throw that up. You know the drill. You don't deserve "it".
• So what if they say you're skinny? Behind your back, they're probably whispering about how ugly and fat you are.
• If you just lose some weight, you'll have more friends.
• You don't fit into this playgroup with all of these pretty, wonderful women.
• You'd look more attractive if you just had a salad for lunch. Real women don't eat.
• If only you were skinny, your husband would love you more. You don't want him to leave you for some other more beautiful woman, do you?
• If people knew about your past, they'd be gone.

LIES. All of them. This serpent that we allow to linger in our lives is a terrible, horrible friend. He's not looking out for our best interests. He's a toxic and abusive relationship that we choose to remain in- yes, we choose to stay with this terrible one. Why? We find comfort and security in him. Even though he treats us horribly, he still sticks around. And, it's not really that bad, right? I mean, losing a little weight isn't a horrible thing. It's not bad to work hard to achieve success in academic endeavors. We rationalize our "dear friend"and his horrible behavior. The serpent whispers seductively in our ear, "I won't hurt you. I only want what's best for you. Trust in me." But, it is time to fire back. It is time to tell that serpent who's boss. We need to stand up and be assertive and tell him, "Nope. Not gonna listen to you. Not gonna trust you." Will he like this? Probably not. But, that's where we can change our story and stop the lies.

In the story found in Genesis, Eve falls for the serpent's trap. She ate of the fruit and then she felt ashamed. Rather than getting up and confessing her sin, she stays trapped in her shame and guilt. She made clothing out of fig leaves to cover up all she had done. She saw that she had been lied to, but she didn't run away from her serpent friend. She rolled around in her shame and guilt and let it consume her. She decided that she would rather stay trapped in the "comfortable terrible" than face God and say goodbye to the serpent. We can learn a lot from this. True freedom means finding freedom from these chains that have bound us, all of these lies that we have believed. This means that we have to acknowledge that we had a thought (such as, "I am not pretty" or "I am broken" or "I am unlovable"), and then move on from that thought. Thoughts are not fact- lots of them are lies. We need to let go of these false thoughts. They're just holding us back.

Here's the thing: God loves you, no matter what you've done in the past. Our entire faith is based around the principle that we do not have to be enough, in fact we alone CANNOT EVER be enough. There's this not-so-tiny concept called grace. We celebrate the various liturgical seasons (Christmas, Lent, Easter) to remember all of what Christ has done for us. If we were "enough", if we had EVER been "enough", he wouldn't have had to come down to this crappy planet when he could have been partying it up with God in Heaven. But, he chose to die for us. While the serpent whispers in our ear, "You will never be enough", Christ tells us that it is okay for us to not be "good enough". In Romans, it says that ALL have fallen short of the glory of God. But, that is why Christ died for us! It's this wonderful thing that we need to celebrate! We do not have to be enough. We don't have to live up to unrealistically high standards. We are beautiful just the way we are, because we are made in the image of God and he loves us! We don't have to live in the embrace of the serpent any longer. You can choose to walk away from that abusive relationship and start a new journey on the path of freedom. Freedom from the lie of "not enough". Free from the lie of "if I just lose five more pounds." Free from the lie of "if I just make the grade, make the team". John 3:16-17 reveals this wonderful truth:

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

We are free. We are free from these unrealistic, unattainable lies that have taunted us since the day that we came into this world. God didn't send his Son to condemn us. Jesus didn't come to Earth, see us in all of our brokenness and say "Ain't nobody got time for that!" and walk away. No.

He came to heal.

He came to restore.

He came to bridge the gap so that we could be forgiven and have eternal, everlasting life!

You are enough to him. Let that sink in for a moment. You. Are. Enough. For. Him. If you were the only one on this planet, he still would have chosen to come down here to save your soul. You don't have to lose five pounds to gain his acceptance. You don't have to pretend to have it all together for Him to gain his acceptance. You don't have to be the prettiest, smartest, or most outgoing to gain his acceptance. He loves you for you, not for what you have done or what you will become. All he requires is that we love Him with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength...and that will be enough.

"I'm Offended"

"I'm offended."

I'm tired of hearing that phrase come out of people's mouths. I'm tired of people being offended that they aren't always 1110% fairly treated. I'm tired of people claiming that they deserve something or that a certain debt is owed to them by society. I'm tired of this season where political correctness is all that I see, all that I hear about. Why do we have race quotas? Why do we have gender quotas? Why am I "required" by society to to accept a person's sexuality, when it is something that based on freedom of religion, I should be allowed to disagree with? 

I'm tired of the lies. I'm tired of people saying that all police are brutal, or that only "black lives matter"- in my mind, ALL lives matter, including the wee ones that have no voice that are growing in their mommies wombs. I'm tired of people claiming that women are just the same as men- we aren't, we have different parts (and if you want to argue about that, I recommend you go back to middle school biology or ask your parents). I'm tired of constantly having my beliefs degraded, discarded, and not considered. I am willing to debate. I am willing to have a constructive, respectful discussion on topics that I might not agree with a person on. I am not going to give in though, just because you call me a racist, a bigot, a woman-hater, or- my personal favorite- a conservative. 

I don't understand how I'm the intolerant one. I'm not trying to tell you that you are less than human because you believe that women should work outside the home. I'm not trying to make you feel less than a person because you are a different race, and I'm kind of race-blind, so I don't really understand what the issue is. I'm not trying to make you feel unloved because I feel that homosexuality is a sin- you are a person, you have certain unalienable rights, in the society we live in you can be "married"- but I'm not going to go out celebrating and condoning your sin. I'm not going to say it's right- just like I wouldn't tell an adulterer that what he was doing was right. 

Since you keep throwing it in my face that I'm the intolerant one- let me take a minute to tell you the ways that YOU, that society, has been intolerant of me.

Let me tell you the story of how my faith and my religious beliefs were tolerated at the religious institution of higher learning that I attended. There's so many instances, it's hard to decide which story to tell.

Oh, HC. I don't miss you. Nope, I don't miss you one itsy-bitsy bit.

• I could tell you about the once a month GYT (Get Yourself Tested) days in the dining hall. I mean, when I go to lunch, the first thing I always want to think is, "Oh yes. Got to remember to get myself tested this month. I'll do that while I eat my chicken sandwich".
• I could tell you of the time that Res Life decided to do a dorm social called "Sex on the Shore"- that's an interesting story. I couldn't leave my dorm room that night for fear of being exposed to unknown debauchery on the hall. I mean, why wouldn't I want to watch Jersey Shore, while eating pizza, and passing out boxes of condoms??!
• There was that time that ResLife wouldn't tell my roommate that her boyfriend couldn't spend the night and shower in our dorm room- and they were trying to get ME kicked out of the room for disagreeing. (They had sex in my bed and admitted it- I feel like I had a right to complain)
• Or there was the fact that Planned Parenthood visited campus for meetings- and I never once heard of the college working with various pro-life organizations based in the city, that were supported by churches in the area, and the denomination that gave us funding. 

Or, my personal favorite, that time when a professor marked me down a letter grade on a presentation/paper on Biblical Womanhood because he said I took a heretical, unChristlike, unbiblical point of view by-get this-saying that I personally believed:

• that a woman's role was to be submissive to her husband (based on mutual respect and the example of Jesus).
• that I was called to be a wife and a mother first- and that I was convicted that when the time came that I should not work outside the home.
• that I would not be able to attend a church with a female as the senior pastor. I didn't say that the Bible said it was wrong- I simply stated that it was a personal conviction and that I did not want to attend a church led by a woman. I didn't say that women could not serve as associate pastors, or that women could not be senior pastors- just that I had a personal conviction on the issue.

I didn't shame women that chose other paths. I didn't claim to have all of the answers. It was an opinion based assignment. But, because I took a conservative view at a liberal arts college- I had points deducted from my grade, which let to me receiving a lower grade in the class. I also had many other professors that enjoyed the discussions and debate, that respected my views on the issues, and allowed me to maintain my beliefs and dignity- as long as I had evidence to back it up- but there was a reason that I was known as a woman-hater in my classes, even if it was jokingly.

Let me put it this way- my faith was more respected at public universities that I attended in the state than the United Methodist private school that I received my degree at.

But yet, I'm the intolerant one. 

I'm the one that is "offensive".

Here's an open call for discussion. If you want to respectfully discuss an issue, let's chat. Let's meet up for coffee and talk about life and how we feel on different issues and just agree that we're probably going to disagree. But, if you want to just put me down and degrade me and call me names because I'm not going to bend and break and give in and agree with you- I'm not interested. You aren't really wanting change- you're like a toddler that's throwing a fit and stomping their feet- and I'm not interested in that nonsense. 

If you just want to go on a hunger strike and call it my fault that you're effectively committing suicide because you aren't getting your way, and your way exactly- I don't think I'm the one that is being intolerant- I think that you need to have a good look in the mirror for that one.

The Gift of Struggle

It all started when I was reading through my news app on my phone the other day and I came across this article where Rob Lowe reflected on "the gift of alcoholism" (now is probably the time to fess up and tell you that I have NO IDEA who this Rob Lowe guy is, so if he turns out to be some porn star when you Google him, don't blame me. I warned you!). At first, I was a little setback by him calling alcoholism a gift. I mean, it's a mental illness. It's an addiction. A gift? Doesn't he know how many lives are destroyed by overconsumption of alcohol? But, then I got to the part of the article where they quoted a part of a speech he gave- and suddenly...I understood.

"Being in recovery has given me everything of value that I have in my life," Lowe told the crowd. "Integrity, honesty, fearlessness, faith, a relationship with God, and most of all gratitude. It's given me a beautiful family and an amazing career. I'm under no illusions where I would be without the gift of alcoholism and the chance to recover from it."

It's the same idea that I've been taking about all this time- the idea that sometimes the best things in life come from lessons learned in the darkest night of the soul.

After I read the article, things just kept popping up in my daily life that seemed to reiterate this idea. Multiple articles on gratitude and being grateful seemed to show up on my Facebook newsfeed- people thanking God for "blessings in disguise".  It was then that I realized that I was receiving what many wise Christians in the faith have called a "God wink". There was clearly something that God was trying to teach me through all of this- and I decided that I needed to use the time that I had to think about what lesson he might be trying to teach me in this given moment.

To be completely honest (since I place a high value on being honest on this blog), I've been struggling with antenatal depression throughout (more often than not) this pregnancy. It's something that I just don't hear people talk about- so it brought a fair amount of shame to me. I mean, I've heard of postpartum depression. I knew that based on my history, it was something that I needed to look out for after the baby comes. But antenatal depression? I'd never even heard of that! After all- pregnancy- this is supposed to be an exciting time! I am excited, very excited- after all, this was a very planned and very wanted pregnancy. But since the beginning, I've suffered from extreme, debilitating morning sickness. Some days it is better, some days it is worse. On the days where it is better and I am able to get out of bed for a majority of the day and get stuff done around the house- things are good. I am happy. I am content. But, on the days when the nausea and vomiting is relentless and I've tried every medication that the doctors have prescribed- I can get very very down on myself. When this happens for days on end...it can be quite difficult. Last weekend, we spent Saturday night in the ER getting rehydrated, since I hadn't been able to keep fluids down in 24 hours. Hypermesis has been thrown around, but I don't fall anywhere near the severity for that, so it has kind of been a waiting game, trying to figure out how to make things better. Sometimes, it gets very difficult to celebrate this pregnancy, especially when I remember that I still have 29 weeks left!

I am blessed though, that I have an incredible support system. I have a husband that is willing to drop anything and everything to make sure that I am safe. I have a husband that is willing to call the psychiatrist office for me, make the appointment for me, and bring me to that appointment. When the anxiety and the depression build up, I have a spouse that will step in and meet my needs. T is so supportive about everything- and I'm grateful that I married a man like that. Thanks to the hard work, we were able to meet with a psychiatrist on base this last Monday for a medication adjustment, and other than being very very drowsy all of the time- it seems to be making a difference. The dark thoughts aren't quite as dark anymore, and I'm grateful for that.

Last Friday, I was browsing on Facebook and I came across a blog post that the organization To Write Love on Her Arms posted for Suicide Prevention Week. I'd encourage you all to click over and read the post in it's entirety, but for now, I'm just going to summarize what really stood out to me. The post is about endurance, and what "endure" means. When I think of endurance, I normally think of an athlete or someone running a marathon. I think of them having the strength to make it to the end- on their own, by their own power, without help. But, I'm beginning to realize that maybe it isn't about doing it on our own. The author of the post discusses three definitions of the word "endure":

1. "To suffer patiently"- I tend to get caught up on the word "patience". I am terrible about being patient- I am like a five year old, that desperately wants to grab the marshmallow on the shelf, rather than wait five minutes and get two. At first, I was like- well, there we go. I guess I can never endure anything. But then, I saw the definition of "patience"- it means "bearing pain, being tolerant, and persevering". Well, I am bearing the pain, I'm tolerating it, I'm not acting out or using behaviors. I guess you could even say that I am "persevering". If the act of suffering, the act of putting up with the pain, is a form of being patient- maybe I am a patient person.
2. "To remain in existence"- I am still here. After all of the illness and sickness over the years- I haven't given up. I am still here. Even through this difficult pregnancy- I have made it to eleven and a half weeks- that is a huge accomplishment. I may not be pain free- but I am still existing. 
3. "To undergo a hardship without giving in"- There have been many times over the last eleven weeks that I have felt like resorting back to old behaviors would make things easier to handle. There have been many, many temptations- many, many opportunity to act out without getting caught. But, I haven't. I have stayed on track. I am trying to eat a balanced diet. I am caring for myself. I am not harming myself. I am not giving in to the urges.

When I look at these definitions, I realize that even though I might not be running marathons- I do have endurance. I also realize that endurance is not about surviving until the end under your own power or strength. In order for me to "suffer patiently", "remain in existence", and "undergo hardship without giving in"- I need other people. I need to reach out and ask for help if I need it. Asking for help doesn't put an asterisk next to my name when I finish the race. We need each other. We need community. We need to be able to be open and honest about our struggles, because then we are allowing others to come beside us, be a part of our story, and give and receive gifts. Gifts don't have to be tangible objects. Sometimes they might be a pat on the back, or a warm hug. Sometimes a gift is a kind word of encouragement. Sometimes a gift is someone sitting in silence while you pour your heart out and cry out every tear in your body. Back in the beginning of the post, Rob Lowe said that die to alcoholism, he received the gifts of "integrity, honesty, fearlessness, faith, a relationship with God, and most of all gratitude". In my journey, I have received many gifts as well, but I think that the one that I'm just now open to receiving is gratitude. 

• I am grateful for the Hell that I've been through, because now I can enjoy life that much more. 
• I am grateful that I have discovered my imperfections, because now I can celebrate in being imperfect- and I can allow God and others to step in my life and help me- because I don't have to do this by my own power anymore. 
• I'm grateful for this pregnancy. I'm grateful for the opportunity to carry this child in my womb, for however long God sees fit. I'm grateful that I've gotten to see our precious baby on an ultrasound machine, and I've heard his or her heart pumping away like crazy. I'm grateful that I can receive quality prenatal care from a team of wise doctors, nurses, and midwives. I'm grateful for the invention of medication that can help curb the nausea and stop the vomiting. I'm grateful that my husband hasn't given up or gotten too annoyed by my whining yet. I'm grateful that in two days, I will be twelve weeks pregnant- and I'll only have 28 more weeks to go. :)

Maybe struggle is a gift after all. It helps us realize that we are not alone, that we are not an island. It helps us accept the fact that we are pretty much powerless, and we need others- we need a mighty God in heaven to save us. We need a God that won't just stay up on a big throne up in the sky, but rather one that will come down to Earth and save us from ourselves. We need a God that will run the marathon of life beside us, one that will carry us to the finish line when we are too exhausted to make it any further. Is there darkness in the world? Most definitely. Will I still struggle with antenatal depression after writing this post? Probably. But, what will help us make it through the hard times, what will help me endure this pregnancy is the idea that even in the darkness, there is light. There is a glimmering, sparkling, shimmer that is peeking its way through the cloud. It is a hand that is reaching down from above, saying "Come, my dear child. Come and drink of the living water. I want you to choose life over death. I want to walk beside you all of the days of your life, and when you get tired, too exhausted to walk another step, I will hold you in my arms and carry you the rest of the way- all because I love you this much."

Out of the Darkness and Into the Light

I used to joke that I was born in a church. Literally- born in a church. I've gone to church since I was a wee little baby child- many times it seemed like we lived there- even though where "there" was changed a few times over the years. Until recently, my "salvation story" went something like this: I was practically born in a church, I grew up loving Jesus, and when I was eight years old I walked down the aisle of a church at Vacation Bible School and said a prayer and asked Jesus into my heart. I was baptized when I was twelve, and I never really strayed from church. I'm just a super awesome Christian. I mean, I went to college and majored in religion and worked at churches..what else would you expect?

But, I've come to realize that I didn't meet Jesus in the back of a pretty little sanctuary off of backroads in rural Alabama. I didn't meet Jesus at Vacation Bible School. I didn't meet Jesus at Children's Choir. I didn't meet Jesus by doing Bible drills or playing Bible Jeopardy. I didn't meet Jesus on a mission trip or a ski trip. I didn't meet Jesus in a worship service, or during a great sermon, or at a college Bible conference. I didn't meet Jesus in the classroom- even though I did take a class or two on Him.

I didn't meet Jesus in a bible study or in Sunday School or at my youth group or even at bible college- even if these were the places that I learned about Christianity. 

Sure- I considered myself a Christian. I knew all of the right answers. I'd read the bible from cover to cover, written term paper after term paper, interned at various different churches. I could share a message in front of children, teenagers, and adults. I could write curriculum. I could "lead someone to Christ" and teach them how to pray that simple prayer. But, I didn't know Jesus. I didn't know the extent of His love. I didn't understand the messages of love and mercy and grace.

It wasn't until I began to recognize my own depravity, helplessness, and hit rock bottom that I could see just

how good,
how great,
how strong,
and how mighty

Jesus was and is.

Jesus met me in the mess, I met him in the struggle.
It wasn't until I started genuinely struggling with my faith, wrestling with all things holy, questioning the beliefs that I had grown up blindly believing because "that's what I was taught and why would I need to think for myself?"- that I really began to know Jesus.

It wasn't until I started questioning his love, that I began to understand his love. 

He came to me in the drugstore aisle as I debated which brand of laxatives would be the most effective. He met me in the grocery store as I walked away from a full buggy, once again, because I felt too guilty buying food. He sat by me as I sat on the bathroom floor, vomiting in a toilet, watching all of my hopes and dreams get flushed away, down into the sewer. He was with me as I lay in bed, begging him to just make it stop- to just make it stop- to just make it all stop. He sat with me as I sat on the tiny white bed with the scratchy pink blanket at the psychiatric hospital. He was there with the blood and the razors and the pills and the treatment facilities. He was there as I tried over and over again to hide the pain, to numb the pain, to stop the pain once and for all. He was there as I cried out in hopelessness, "my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?".

He was beside me through the darkest night of my soul- and he never ever gave up on me- even when I started giving up on him. 

He met me in the darkness,
he rescued me from the pit,
and he brought me up and out and into the light.

I learned about God in church, sure. But, I learned to love him when I hit rock bottom and Jesus didn't just leave me there, but rather he came down into the muddy, dirty, pit of depravity and wretchedness; and he embraced me, wiped the mud from my eyes that had blinded me all of these years, and he grabbed my hand, and led me out to start a new life.

I walked out of the darkness and into the light, from fear of shame into the hope of life. Mercy called my name and made a way to fly-out of the darkness and into the light. 

-Ellie Holcomb, Marvelous Light 

And if not, he is still GOOD

But even if he doesn't, we want to make it clear to you, Your Majesty, that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up. 

-Daniel 3:18

This verse has been echoing through my mind the last few days. 
There's just so many things that I seem to be waiting for, and sometimes it feels like they are never going to come. It can be really really hard sometimes not to lose it. It can be really really hard sometimes to not give in and blame God. It can be really really hard sometimes to not turn to false idols, to not let my dreams and ideas and plans become these idols. I mean, sure- I'm not worshipping Buddha or Baal- but these things- these good things- can still become idols in my life if I keep building them up and letting them get in between me and God. 

I'm about to get a wee bit personal here- and vulnerable- and I'm a little scared to write what I'm about to write and publish it on the internet. I SO so so don't want to hear lectures about how we aren't ready, or now is not the time, or about how I just need to be patient and give it some time. I know, I know...if I'm overwhelmed with our new puppy- I definitely shouldn't be wanting to add a baby to the mix. So please- I'm asking you- don't offer advice. I just want to sit down with a cup of tea and chat with you guys for a minute and let some thoughts out. Okay? Awesome. With the knowledge that we were going to be making a nine hour move five months after our wedding- T and I started discussing the idea of having a baby. I mean, it started innocent enough. We weren't going to be super-psycho-serious about it- we were just going to let things happen if they happened, if you know what I mean. Well a month later, a day late, and a negative test later- I was devastated. Sure- I "knew" that making babies wasn't that easy. I knew it could take some time. But suddenly- I really really wanted to be pregnant. I really really wanted a baby. Its become a bit of an obsession over the last four months. From ovulation testing, to other things that I'm not going to discuss on a public blog that my father reads (Hi Dad!), to obsessive peeing on a stick- I began to feel very very negative about myself. I mean, surely- if God had put this desire to be a mommy in my heart all of those years ago- wouldn't he make it easy? Why are we not getting pregnant? Why can't a stupid line show up on a test? Why do I feel the need to let the results of a test define my worth and value? I feel like everybody that I know is announcing a pregnancy. No lie- I had three announcements on my Facebook timeline last Saturday. I began to beat myself up internally. I began to believe awful, terrible lies about myself and about God. My innocent longing to be a mommy turned into an anger against God. What horrible thing had I done to deserve this? Does this mean that I'm going to be infertile? What if we can never have a baby? What if it's just me and T and our new puppy forever and ever? I began to fall into the shame spiral. I began to let the darkness engulf me. And--I might have wasted another pregnancy test that I knew was going to be negative because it was way, way, way too early for anything.

No, I don't have a cute little announcement at the end of this post about how the last four months have been insanely terrible but that some magical glitter sparkle baby dust flew into me and decided to form a baby. It hasn't yet. Like months 1, 2, and 3...I'm still waiting. But, when I came across this verse at the beginning of the post, it really made me began to think about how I'm made my ability (or lack thereof) to bear a child into an idol. Even if we don't get a positive this month- HE is still GOOD. Even if we don't get a positive this year- HE is still GOOD. Even if we never ever ever get a positive pregnancy test or are able to carry a child- HE IS STILL GOOD. I don't have to turn to false gods, I don't have to curse the name of God, I don't have to say that he is an evil evil god because he won't give me a child to carry in my womb. I can know that all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to HIS purpose. I can know that God DOES have a plan for my life, and T's life, and our life together- and if it is his will, he can make any kind of miraculous act occur. Patience. Patience. Waiting. Waiting. This really really stinks. But, in the middle of the mess, I know that even if my plans don't come to fruition, even if it takes a long time, or never happens- he is still good and I will worship Him.

10 Months Sober, or Wearing the Scarlet Letter

Ten months sober, I must admit- just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it.
Ten months older, I won't give in- now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it.
- Taylor Swift, "Clean" 

A year ago, I was another girl. A year ago, I was a completely different person. I was a depressed, miserable, mentally unstable, skeletal, shadow of myself. A year ago, I wrote the following in my journal:

Running. I am running hard and fast into the cold, hard ground. My face is slamming against the pavement. I am so frustrated. Here I am, sitting at twenty three years old, a college degree under my belt, and I’m unemployed and will most likely be underemployed for my entire life. My light is going dim. I am so depressed right now. My motivation is lacking. I find it hard to conceive complete sentences and coherent thoughts. The days run into each other like a freight train flying fast down the tracks. I am frustrated. This is not how I imagined my life to be. I always imagined I’d be happy. I’d be either employed or married with children. I always imagined my life to be so much different than this. It does not seem fair that mental illness has stolen so much from me.

I wish I could say that things got better in August. They didn't. The descent into darkness was not as a slow, seeping drop of syrup, dripping down the bottle. No, the decent was a spiral of doom, a black hole, a tornadic even with enough force to hold me in, so that even though my nose was against the glass and I could see what was outside...I could not escape. August turned into September, and the storm seemed to get darker and darker, stronger and stronger. That's where this post really begins.

Ten months ago, shit hit the fan. Pardon my language, but there is no other way that I can think of to adequately describe it. I had told my therapist that I was self harming, but nobody really knew the point it had reached. At a doctor's appointment, wounds were discovered, people freaked out, and my mom and dietitian were called- something had to be done. I was to be shipped off to rehab again- in hopes that this time would be the time that everything magically got better. I remember sitting with my mom and her crying and begging me to "please make this work" that it was "rehab or the psych ward" and that "we could lose everything". Honestly, in the darkness of that long night of waiting, I just wanted to die. But, I knew I had to fight this- I didn't want to cause any more pain to my family than I already had. So, I agreed to not self harm until I got to treatment. This was huge. At this point, it had been almost two years since I'd gone more than a day or two without harming. It was incredibly frustrating. I just wanted to feel something. I wanted to numb all of these emotions within the confines of my brain and quiet the noise for five minutes. But, I lasted until the Sunday that I admitted to treatment, if only because of the threat of locking me up in a psych ward. And then treatment went south, and I begged my parents to just let me come home. It was a terrible, awful feeling. On the phone, I made all sorts of agreements- agreements to eat, to not purge, to not harm myself, to be better. Honestly, I didn't believe myself as I agreed to most of the conditions for me returning home. I just didn't think it was possible. But, I was desperate to do anything to get out of that place and return home- I would agree to anything. When I got home, everything from before changed. Yes, a part of me still wanted to die. A part of me still wanted to continue the slow painful suicidal actions of before. The day I left treatment was September 17, 2014.

I met T on September 27, 2014- honestly, it was probably not the wisest decision I've ever made. My therapist was begging me to get off of online dating. My parents were not terribly happy with it. It was honestly just another one of those bipolar/borderline "let me feel something" spells- until I met T. Things didn't change overnight, but they did change quickly. I suddenly had a reason for living, a reason for fighting. So the "no self harm" thing continued. Eventually, by the grace of God and the love of my wonderful husband, I was able to quit purging. As I look back to my life a year ago, I realize just how different things are, and it amazes me that God could take the brokenness of my life a year ago and change it into something this beautiful. As T and I were driving to therapy today, the song at the beginning of this post began to play. Since the CD was released, I loved "Clean". I loved the words. And I loved the truth and vulnerability contained in the line "Ten months sober, I must admit- just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it." There is so much truth in that statement. There are some days that I miss my old destructive coping mechanisms. They sneak into my brain and they taunt me- telling me terrible, horrible lies. As I sat in the car today, I realized that it's been TEN MONTHS since I last self harmed. Ten months since I picked up a sharp object with the intent of harming myself, in the name of "feeling something". I'm really proud of myself for this feat. It's a huge thing. 

Nothing can prepare you for the moment when the person you love discovers your wounds and your scars for the first time. The most horrible, most awful moment in my relationship with T happened when he ran his hand across my leg and found those horrible awful marks, still not completely healed. Having to answer the quiet question of "what happened, honey?" totally gutted me. I felt so teeny tiny at the moment. The first time, I answered something like "I don't really want to talk about it" and he didn't press it. But the next time, he patiently prodded me on to explain this chapter of my story. For the most part, a majority of the scars have faded or blend into my skin. But, there is one section that I fear never will- the section where I carved the word "fat" into my thigh. The scars from these terrible letters haunt me every time I get dressed, every time I see my leg, every time my shorts go up to high, every time I'm lying in bed with my husband and his hand brushes across it. I can't wear a bathing suit without showing the world my scars- literally. They have faded somewhat, but I fear that they will never be completely gone. How will I explain this to my future daughters? 

If you are struggling with self harm, please reach out. There is so much more to life than spending your days and nights punishing yourself. It is not worth it- and please, learn from my mistakes so that you don't have scars of your own someday. I don't want you to have that awful experience of explaining to your husband that there was a time when you used to hurt yourself, when you used to carve terrible awful words into your thigh because you believed that you deserved to carry that scarlet letter. You don't have to carry that scarlet letter. Jesus came down and because a man and walked on this Earth and died on the cross so that you didn't have to bear that scarlet letter. He bears it for you. Please reach for healing today? Please reach out for help? Please know that you are not alone in this darkness- Jesus is standing there with open arms, just waiting to embrace you and love you as you are- as messed up and shitty as you might feel that you are. You are never too broken for Him. He redeems. His job is making broken things beautiful. Don't bear your scarlet letter alone.

What I Wish You Knew: Anxiety

I skipped church again last Sunday. And the Sunday before that. And the Sunday before that. To be honest, I haven't attended a service in months. I wish you knew that I hate this. I wish you understood how much I hate this, how much I really, really hate the control anxiety has over my life. I wish you understood how crippling anxiety really is. I want so badly to be “better”- to be able to go places and do things. But, I get so anxious that it literally pains me to sit still. My hands and legs won’t stop shaking. Sitting still, as is expected by an adult in church, is excruciating- both physically and mentally. When I do make it to church, I have to leave. This is extremely embarrassing.

Why do I struggle so much at church? Many reasons- the amount of people, the unknown, the fear of judgement, the fear of God, the fear that a pastor is once again going to call anxiety a sin and make me feel like a bad person. All of this makes walking through the church doors extremely difficult and sitting through services seems impossible. I feel hopeless. I want to go to church- it’s the “good Christian girl” thing to do- but I cannot make myself do it. I was reading a blog the other day that was talking about how churches could be more inclusive to children, teens, and adults with special needs. I think these paragraphs explain quite perfectly why I don't going out trying new churches every Sunday in hopes that I'll find one, and why I'm not looking forward to that process once we move to Ohio. If you are a ministry leader, I encourage you to think of these things:

Signage is an important component of any review of ministry environments. Are directions clear and simple? Do they avoid “insider lingo?” For example, a visitor to my church wouldn’t know that our large group children’s ministry is “Upstreet” or that “Circle of Friends” is our special needs ministry.
As someone with ADD and a history of anxiety/depression, I wish I could impress how simple and effective it is to clearly communicate traffic patterns, church campus and parking entrances and parking directions with signage–even mapped on websites. I’ve had this discussion with many friends and was relieved to learn I wasn’t alone but surprised that churches generally know about the issues but fail to address.
I’ve visited churches and left before reaching the parking lot if the traffic was overly stimulating and the parking lot was confusing and poorly marked. I’ve turned around in a parking lot if I couldn’t find the correct entrance after parking and leaving my car. Imagine having a panic attack with a car of family, forcing yourself to go in while wanting to cry in the bathroom–avoidable with clear signs and a good map on a website. I’ve prioritized visiting churches over others because their websites and info provided clear campus maps for first-timers. I’ve found I’m not the only one–and I’m a committed, life-long church attendee who prioritizes the community component. I couldn’t imagine being new to the church experience–it almost wouldn’t be worth attending church in person.

I wish you understood that my anxiety is out of my control right now and I can’t help it. I’m trying my hardest, but it’s not always enough. I'm taking my meds, I'm going to therapy, I'm practicing my DBT and stress tolerance skills. But sometimes, it is just too much. I want you to know that some days I can't get out of bed in the morning. Some days, I just lie in bed for hours, thinking of all of the things that I have to do that day, thinking of all of the people I might have to encounter, thinking of the places that I might have to go. I know- I used to be okay with large groups. They weren’t my favorite, but I could handle them. I wish you understood that my anxiety comes in phases. I can do things one day and not be able to do it the next.

I wish you could see and understand that this is not how I want to live. It’s not always a choice. I did not choose this illness, this disease. My body is forcing me to act this way. My brain doesn't function right. There's a chemical imbalance. I don’t know how to fix it. It’s really scary sometimes. I wish you could understand how physically uncomfortable my anxiety is. If you see me twitching or moving or having trouble sitting still, offer me grace. If you see me walk out of service, try not be be distracted or draw attention to me. Please, don't judge me. I'm trying. I'm trying.

I wish you understood that anxiety isn’t a joke or a laughing matter. Panic disorder and social anxiety are scary and hard- they definitely aren’t something to joke about. They are painful and sometimes they make you feel like you are going to die or that dying would be better. It is hard to live this way. I would never choose to live this path, but it’s the path I’ve been given- so I’m trying to accept it. It is serious and it’s my life right now. I’m struggling to accept it- but I am surviving. Please don't make this any more difficult by making jokes at my expense- or at the expense of ANYONE that has an anxiety disorder, not everyone verbalizes their anxieties- some people keep it hidden for years and years. And please, please, please...if you are a pastor of some sort- never ever ever make an anxiety joke from the pulpit. That's the number one way to get me to walk out of church and never come back.

Wedding Recap: The Ceremony

From the beginning, I knew that I wanted to have a ceremony that was special to T and I as a couple. Having a degree in religion, having done church work and written sermons, having written papers on The Wedding Feast of Revelation...I knew that we wouldn't be following any ordinary liturgy. I wanted a special, intimate ceremony, celebrating our union to one another, but more importantly- celebrating the goodness of God. I wanted Christ to be at the very center of our wedding. Luckily, our pastor was amazing and allowed me to write the ceremony. I'm so thankful that he allowed me to do so, and that he allowed me to have my special day the way that I had dreamed of.

Before the ceremony, I had a playlist of soft worship music playing to bring people into the atmosphere of worship, but the music in the ceremony itself was done by my brother and his band. They were amazing to work with. I really enjoyed the fact that my brother got to be a part of my day, that we were able to have a band, and that I was able to have control over musical composition and tell them how to sing the song. :) I'm sure that my constant changes to style and sound were annoying, but they put up with it, and even wore pi bowties. It was pretty neat.

The whole thing was actually a pretty-much family affair. Max and band did the music, my childhood best friend was my matron of honor, and the rest of the wedding party was Travis's family (his brother, sisters, brother in law, and father). Our adorable flower girl was our niece, she did AMAZING and made us all laugh.

 I walked down the aisle to "You're Beautuful" by Phil Wickham (but we did it more in the style of this cover by Sarah Reeves).

One of my favorite moments from the ceremony was the time when the doors to the sanctuary closed, and my father and I got into place. I was so worried about timing and having too much time between the wedding party and myself walking down the aisle, but time just flew, timing worked itself out, our flower girl made it down the aisle, and then, I heard these words as the doors opened and I walked to my groom.

When we arrive at eternity's shore
Where death is just a memory and tears are no more
We'll enter in as the wedding bells ring
Your bride will come together and we'll sing
You're beautiful

I can't put the feeling of pure joy that I felt at that moment into words. I was just so happy- the happiest I have ever been, and I could not stop thanking God for all of his blessings in this moment. You guys- God is so good, he is so so good. His story of redemption and restoration in my life seemed to climax at this moment.  All of my dreams from the time that I was a little girl and I started praying for my future husband were coming true. I was walking down the aisle to marry my best friend. And- I had my daddy by my side, wearing my favorite popsicle people tie.
And then...the ceremony started!

One part of our ceremony that was "different" was that my father didn't "give me away". I don't know, but the whole thing of "who gives this woman to be married" thing just didn't sit well with me. I mean, it's not like my parents aren't still going to be my parents, it's not like I'm not going to get to see them again, and I'm not cattle that is meant to be bought or sold. Plus, why is there so much emphasis on the bride's family approving and blessing the marriage, but no mention of the groom's family? Both of our families are very special to us, and I wanted both of our families to be involved, plus I wanted some audience interaction. So, I merged some things I read online together, added some of my own stuff, and came up with this:

A marriage is not only the joining together of two individuals, it is also a joining together of two families. The care, support, and nurture that has been extended to T and L by their families is just as important now as it has ever been. In fact, it needs to be extended now to include another person. Both families need to be committed to love and encourage both partners in this marriage. To honor this uniting of the families, L and T wish to ask their parents’ blessing. 

 (To the parents) Will you bless T and L in their marriage? Will you celebrate with them in their times of joy and bolster them in times of hardship? Will you offer them your love and encouragement?
We will.  

(To the congregation) Will all of you, by God’s grace, do everything in your power to uphold and care for these two persons in their marriage?
We will.

Sidenote: For our parents' responses, each of our fathers spoke on behalf of the families, T's father going first, followed by my father.

Then, we went ahead and got all of the legal stuff out of the way- we said our "I do"s and declared our intent, and then we proceeded with the rest of the service! It was very simple, "Will you have xxx to be your husband/wife, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, for better for worse, in sickness and health, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?

Once again, we continued the theme of nontraditional by choosing two portions of scripture from Revelation. Both of these held a special meaning to me, as I wrote my final senior paper in college on a chunk of scripture that contains these.

After this I heard what seemed to be the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, saying, “Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power to our God,
And from the throne came a voice saying, “Praise our God, all you his servants, and all who fear him, small and great.” Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty thunderpeals, crying out, “Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready; to her it has been granted to be clothed with fine linen, bright and pure”— for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints. And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These are true words of God.” - Revelation 19: 1, 5-9

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” -Revelation 21: 1-5

We stuck with a very simple ceremony, there was no message- our pastor read the passages and moved onward with the ceremony.

Before the wedding, I had gone back and forth about writing our own vows. I wanted to, but I wanted to maintain tradition. I wanted to repeat the same words that my parents and other family members had recited in the years before me. Then, the week of the wedding came, vows still were not written, and I was stressed out. One night, I think it was two nights before the wedding, I got a sudden stroke of brilliance around 2 am, when I was unable to sleep due to all of the stress of the upcoming wedding, and I wrote my vows. These are vows that I will cherish forever. I mean each and every word that I said that day, and I'd say them again over and over. I love my vows. I'm going to do a post on writing them and how I did that after I finish the wedding recap- so tune in for that in a few days!

Travis: Before I met you, I was sure I would be the guy version of an old maid.... Being single was what I was used to and I had almost given up on finding my lost rib. But even before our first date to Ci-Ci's, I knew you were different. And after our first trip to Texas, I knew I wouldn't want to live without you (and no longer trusted antibiotics). I promise to stay by your side and to love you most of all His creations down here and to move my stuff to the man cave without complaint.And if you get bit in the impending zombie apocalypse, you'd be the one zombie I don't shoot, even if it means that you'd bite me. I love you and can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm excited to be rejoined with my long lost, finally found, rib

Mine were slightly longer...whatever. Our vows were "us" to a tee. T was short and sweet, I rambled on and on poetically. :)

T, From the time that I was a very little girl, I have dreamed of this day. I prayed continuously for my husband and the fact that you are standing in front of me today completely exceeds any expectations that I had. This moment is better than anything I could dream up. When you came into my life, I realized that what I had always thought was happiness couldn’t compare to the joy that loving you has brought me. I never thought that I could meet someone like you. I never thought I would meet someone like you. But, you are the person that God created for me. We go together like two pieces of a puzzle. You are my very best friend. You make me smile and you make me laugh. You are my everything. Your faith inspires me, your drive to seek truth and love compels me. You encourage me to be the woman that God created me to be and you accept me for who I am. You love me despite my imperfections and flaws. You are a breathtaking reflection of God’s heart for me, of how he pursued me and loved me even when I didn’t love myself. You held my hand in the darkness and you pulled me out into the light. You are my life. Because of you, I laugh, smile, and I dare to dream again.
 I am so proud today to call you mine and to become your wife. I have so much respect for you. I will follow and support you wherever God…or the United States Air Force…calls you to go. It doesn’t matter what happens in this life as long as I have you. You are, and always will be, the love of my life. Everything that I have is yours. I will love you without reservation, cherish you, and hold you in the highest regard. I will support you and comfort you, through life’s joys and sorrows. I promise to respect your aspirations wile recognizing that mutual respect requires mutual sacrifice. I will encourage you, inspire you, be honest and faithful to you. I will stand by your side-in sickness and in health, for worse or for better, in an apocalyptic scenario or a zombie invasion. By embracing our challenges together and with the Lord, we will emerge stronger than before. I vow all of this to you, knowing that none of it can be fulfilled thorough my own strength, but only as I continually strive to live in the strength, grace, and love that God provides me.
 Today, I get to marry my very best friend. I love you with all of my heart and I can’t wait to see what adventures God has in store for our life together.

I just love them. I just love them, love them, love them. Yes, we are planning on framing them and hanging them on our walls to remember for years to come. :)

 For the exchanging of rings, I really wanted to incorporate some aspects of a Jewish wedding. Honestly, I wanted a much more Jewish wedding than I got (i.e. smashing of the glass and some "Mazel Tov"s!), but we settled on this little bit (Travis still isn't too sure about my obsession with Judaism). I was viewing different wordings for the ring ceremony, and rather than the typical "With this ring, I thee wed" (that sounded way too formal and not at all us), we simply said

By this ring you are sanctified to me as my wife/husband in accordance with the traditions of Moses and Israel. I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.

Our pastor followed up with by saying

May you remember to set one another as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for there is love that is strong as death and jealousy is as demanding as the grave. Many waters cannot quench this love, no flood can sweep it away.

I thought it was beautiful and it gave me that Jewish vibe I was going for, while incorporating some Song of Songs.

Then, he declared us husband and wife!

And the band started playing Taylor Swift's "That's How You Get the Girl" as we left!

I had earlier joked with T about how I was going to sing and dance my way up the aisle, and I don't think he totally believed me. But, I was just so so so happy, so I had to dance. It was so much fun, we laughed, and I just loved it.

After we exited, the band broke out into a medley of songs that use the same chord progression as "How You Get the Girl"- it included some Journey ("Don't Stop Believing") and some "Country Road Take Me Home",  I think some harmonica, and who knows what else. I have no idea- I had gone into a room to be alone with my new husband for a few. All I know is that my mom had to finally tell them to stop so that everyone would leave (it was apparently a fun thing and people were mingling and having a great time) and go to the reception, so that we wouldn't beat them downstairs. :) We had a recording of the wedding (that I hoped would show the exit so that we could listen to the medley), but something happened and the files and disc decided to not work. So, if anyone who was there does so happen to have a copy of the exit (or just a recording of the medley), I'd love to see/hear it- send it my way!

Next up- the reception!