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.

"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.

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 

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!

Why I Walked Out of Church Today And I'm Not Going Back (To That One Anyways)

I walked out of church during a sermon out of anger for the first time today.

It started out alright. Some of you that know me in real life may know that I haven't been consistently attending church in awhile. After I started recovering from my eating disorder, my social anxiety went through the roof. I would try to attend church- and could sometimes make it to Sunday School, but going into a worship service with all of the noise and people would launch me into a panic attach. This has been a huge source of guilt for me- I graduated with a degree in Religion and the intent to work at a church! Church has always been my home, my safe place, and yet...I became fearful. T and I tried attending a few services together, but due to anxiety and his super crazy work schedule, we never got consistent. In recent weeks, we've been looking at finding a new church- one closer to our home, a smaller place where I might have less anxiety issues, but this has proven to be a challenge. T was raised Baptist. I was raised "theologically confused"-I don't really claim any one denomination, but I've attended a Methodist church since I was 11. Finding a church that we can both agree on, that isn't too big...it's a challenge. But, we came across a church and thought we'd try it this morning.

It started out great. Worship was good. I knew I'd like this church okay, since my Dad and I visited once last fall. We acquired seats on the end of the aisle, so I had an easy escape plan/less social anxiety. It was small. I thought to myself, "I can do this! We are TOTALLY coming back next week!". And then- the sermon started. Now, I'm not trying to bash any churches. I'm not going to name names, but I was really disappointed, and that disappointment turned into what I feel like was a righteous anger. The pastor's teaching was biblical at the beginning, and then he shifted into a whole "I'm going through a season that is hard right now" spill. You know the spill. It's basically a pastor telling his congregation that he is a workhorse and he needs a sabbatical- STAT. So, I'm sitting in my seat, cringing a little on the inside, and he said IT.

ANXIETY.

If there is anything that I cannot stand for a pastor to teach on- it is anxiety. Here's the thing: Yes, the bible says you shouldn't worry and that God will take care of it and he will be with you every step of the way. I'm not trying to ignore scripture here. But, as someone who struggles with several diagnosed anxiety disorders...this isn't what I need to hear. It isn't helpful. My biggest struggle with God right now it how he could create me this messed up- hearing that it's my fault and I just need to give it over to God makes me angrier. I have chemical imbalances. I cannot always control my body's reactions to certain triggers. There are times when I can talk myself down or take a PRN medication, but there are times when I have to sit with the anxiety and scream and cry and fling myself to the floor. Hearing someone say I shouldn't worry seems to be oversimplifying the situation. I leaned over to T at this point and whispered in his ear "But, it's just not that easy!". We shared a smile. I thought to myself, "It's okay. You've heard this spill from every single pastor in your life. Deal with it. They will change topics soon enough." As I had that thought, two things happened. The pastor made the comment that he expected the alters to be filled during the response time. *Cringe* He said that there was a lot of anxiety in the congregation (now, I'm thinking "Okay...we are on the right track. Maybe this guy can redeem himself") and people come to him all the time asking for help- but that "it's not that hard".

IT'S. NOT. THAT. HARD.
IT'S. NOT. THAT. HARD.
IT'S. NOT. THAT. HARD.

That statement infuriated me. It was probably the worst thing anybody's ever told me. It was embarrassing and degrading and infuriating and not at all useful. T looked at me and saw the look in my eyes and tried to reassure me that it was okay, and that surely the pastor didn't mean people like me. And meanwhile, the pastor kept harping on the fact that it wasn't that hard to get rid of anxiety and we just needed to have faith and trust God. After about a minute of this madness and realizing that it wasn't stopping anytime soon, I turned to my husband and told him that I wanted to go home. NOW. He didn't question me (after all, he has been dealing with my anxious self over the last seven months), and we got up, walked out of the sanctuary, didn't say a word to anyone, didn't turn in our connection card...we just walked out to the parking lot, got in the car, and drove home. We are never going back to that church again, and to be honest...we may be living in Ohio before I am able to trust a pastor enough to attend a Sunday service again.

Here's the thing- anxiety is hard.

My walks to therapy, for example, were spent outlining with great logical precision the manner in which my state of mind would lead me to complete existential ruin. A typical line of thought went something like this: I am anxious. The anxiety makes it impossible to concentrate. Because it is impossible to concentrate, I will make an unforgivable mistake at work. Because I will make an unforgivable mistake at work, I will be fired. Because I will be fired, I will not be able to pay my rent. Because I will not be able to pay my rent, I will be forced to have sex for money in an alley behind Fenway Park. Because I will be forced to have sex for money in an alley behind Fenway Park, I will contract HIV. Because I will contract HIV, I will develop full-blown AIDS. Because I will develop full-blown AIDS, I will die disgraced and alone.
From freeform anxiety to death-by-prostitution in eight short steps.
-Monkey Mind by Daniel Smith

Anxiety is the hardest thing that I've ever dealt with. Anxiety makes it hard to get up in the morning. Anxiety makes it hard to go to bed at night. Going out in public is terrifying. I have weird quirks. I have an irrational fear of waking up to find that my husband has been raptured and I've been left behind. I'm scared that I'll fall in the oven and burn myself. I have a hard time putting gas in my car, because I'm afraid that if even a single drop of gasoline drips, then I will somehow set the entire gas station on fire and everything will explode and I'll die. I'm afraid...of many irrational things that make no sense when I really think about it..but these anxieties add up and I spend my days thinking of everything that could go wrong.

I'll be the first to admit- this is a miserable way to live. I don't want to have anxiety. I don't want to be anxious. I would love to be rid of it- but it is part of who I am. I'm hoping that my anxieties and obsessions can calm down and get to a more manageable level, but the fact of the matter is- I am surviving. Yes, I'm anxious, but I'm not using destructive behaviors- like restricting or purging or self harm or acting out.  I'm actually doing really amazing right now- aside from the fact that I live my life in a constant state of anxiety attack. I do things to try and fight the anxieties- I take meds, I use essential oils, I try and stick to a comforting routine. I talk about my feelings to my husband and my therapist. I use DBT skills from therapy. I try to do things to calm and soothe myself, I practice self care. But, the fact of the matter is...I have a chemical imbalance in my brain. We've tried loads of med combinations, but most of them have just made things worse, and at least I'm at the point where I can function in society (for the most part) at the moment. I can go places with my husband, even if I am feeling anxious. I can go grocery shopping. I can cook dinner. Sometimes, I can even talk myself through a panic attack without medication. :) But sometimes...I am anxious, and yet? I think God's okay with that.

God made me this way, with all of my little funny things and quirks. God loves me how I am, and he acknowledges that sometimes certain things are hard for me- and I believe that he is okay with that. I have finally (after about two years) reconciled with myself that God will still love me, even if I don't make it to church every Sunday, and even if I still worry. I have finally began to believe that I can be a Christian who has faith, who is also anxious. I can praise God, even when my legs are trembling and my heart is shaking. To hear from the pulpit, from a man that says that he is proclaiming the Word of God, that worrying and anxiety is bad- that hurts. To hear that it is "not that hard to deal with"- it feels demeaning.  I am trying. I am fighting with every fiber in my being, with every ounce of energy I have. I talk back to the anxiety. I pray about it. I try all of the tools in my toolbox, and yet, at the end of the day, I'm still left in this place. At the end of the day, I am still anxious, I am still worried, I am still lying in bed in the dark, trying to tell myself that I can go to sleep, that the smoke alarm will go off, wake me up, and alert me of a house fire.

To anyone in a position of leadership- I have a few things that I ask of you.

• Love me as I am. 
• Lead me to Christ, rather than away from him. 
• When you feel convicted to quote scriptures about worry, do it in a small group setting, in a place where discussion is permitted, so that those of us with spiritual issues concerning anxiety can verbalize them. 
• Take into account what people are going through and how what you say might affect the way they view self, you, your church, and most importantly- GOD. Years of work of God being more than a big man in the sky that wants to judge me because I am not perfect- could be destroyed.
• If you know me, recognize the steps that I'm taking, and feel free to offer to help in any way you can (I prefer the phrase- "Is there anything I can help you with?" rather than "Do you want me to go to the grocery store with you?" It gives me more of an option to say no if I'm not in a place where its safe for me to challenge my fears and obsessions at the moment). 
• I like hugs- but always ask me first. Don't be offended if I say no or not right now. Sometimes, my anxiety manifests itself in a sensory manner and I cannot stand being touched- it will feel like you are assaulting me. 
• Recognize that I am fighting a hard battle and that some days...I may be exhausted.
• Pray. You can always pray for me (but you don't have to tell me- sometimes that makes me feel more self conscious and anxious about it.)

I feel like most of those could be used for other mental health issues, Christian struggles, or addiction recovery.

And here's a list of things, that I'd really like for you NOT to do (and YES, these have been said to me at some point, in some way/shape/form):

• Say that "It's not that hard" or that it's easy. Don't tell me that you were anxious once and you prayed and it went away...trust me, I've been there/done that/didn't work. I've had enough theological debates with Daddy God over this. I don't need you telling me that I "should have been better'. NOT HELPING.
• Tell me that God wouldn't want me to worry/be anxious.
• Tell me that if I was a good Christian, I wouldn't worry.
• Telling me that worriers go to Hell.
• Please never call anxiety a sin.
• Don't ask me how it would make me feel to get to the Pearly Gates and see God and have him say "Well, you worried too much, you can't come in". Or any implication that God and I are going to have a conversation where he chastises me due to my anxious nature.
• Don't point out my quirks- it makes me self conscious and makes my anxiety worse. 
• If I'm flipping out- please don't ask me if I've gone off my meds. It makes me feel childish- if I want you to know the status of my medicating- I'll tell you (obviously, doesn't apply to parents, spouse, or doctors).
• Say "Oh, I have an anxiety disorder, too! I was anxious this one time. I wanted to ask this guy out and I, like totally, had a panic attack, and almost, like, died. For reals." That makes my fight seem silly. That was a temporary anxiety thing...it went away. It didn't affect your everyday life. It didn't keep you from living life. You telling me this is not at all useful.

This isn't really the end of the post, but I'm tired and I can't really think of what else I want to say on the matter. I'm trying not to become infuriated. I'm trying to remember that this pastor was just a man, he is not God, and that he can (and was) wrong. But, damage was done today. My heart is aching. I feel like progress that I had made in accepting who I am and that I can be a Christian that is anxious has been shaken...and I'm very uncertain and unsure. I walked out of church today, and I'm not going back to THAT church. At some point, I will try church again...but I am hurt and confused. I am tired or trying and fighting for it to end up the same way- me leaving, yet again.

I'm not sure what else there is to say...but I'll end this post with this quote.

The only meaningful thing we can offer one another is love. Not advice, not questions about our choices, not suggestions for the future, just love.
― Glennon Doyle Melton

Who is Wiferella?

My name is Lauren. I am a newlywed (see picture above, I'm the one on the right in the pretty dress- my handsome goofball of a husband is on the left). I am married to my very best friend- I may have had to wait twenty four years for him, but he was totally worth the wait. T is a LT in the US Air Force (we shall call him T on here to protect his identity and keep PERSEC and OPSEC and all that fancy military lingo...I don't want no terrorists tracking my man!). We currently live a town near where I grew up (my parents house is 15 minutes down the road), but we are preparing for our first PCS in the fall. To be honest, I'm a little nervous about moving ten hours away from the only home I really know (we moved here when I was four) and yeah...but I said in my vows that I'd follow him wherever God or the US Air Force led us, so I guess that's life as a military wife.

We got married at a small ceremony about three weeks ago. It was simple, but it was totally us and I loved it. I got to walk down the aisle of the church I grew up in, our families were there, and we had pie (it was on Pi Day!). I can't wait to share more about our day, but I'm waiting for our professional pictures to come back before I recap too much of the wedding. Just know that there were super cute tree stump cupcake stands, a zombie cake, and we wrote our own vows. I think that's enough of a sneak peak, for now. 

I'm a self proclaimed theology nut. I got a Bachelor of Arts in Religion at Huntingdon College, which is located in Montgomery, AL. During the course of my college years, I attended three colleges, had five majors, and finally settled where I did. I'm glad I did, because I really enjoyed my major, but there isn't much you can do with a religion degree, I'm not very interested in going to seminary or becoming a pastor, plus throw in the whole "moving every 2-3 years" thing- it's probably just really good prep work for becoming an awesome stay-at-home, homeschool mom. Right now, I'm a "stay-at-home wife"- and it's actually been pretty fun once I got used to it. I do most of the cooking and cleaning, and I get to spend time with my husband on days when he is off (he works a super weird schedule). 

I'm in recovery from an eating disorder, anxiety, depression, and all sorts of other fun stuff. I fight a daily battle to recover from perfectionism. Basically, I have more issues than the DSM-5 can handle and more issues than Vogue. But, on a positive note- things are going really really amazing at the moment. I'm pretty much recovered from the eating disorder, and I can generally manage the rest with meds, therapy, and my amazing support system. Recovery is the hardest thing that I've ever done in my life- but it's also the best thing I've ever done. Deuteronomy 30: 15-16, 19 is one of my favorite sections of scripture. It reads,

See I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. For I command you today to love the Lord your God, to walk in his ways, keep his commands; then you will live and increase, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land you are entering to possess…now choose life.

These verses spoke very clearly to my heart. God wants me to choose life.  If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder or any other mental illness, reach out. I'd be glad to talk, contact me at one of the links at the top of the sidebar. Please know that you are never ever alone in your struggle and God loves you- no matter what!

I think that's all for today. I've got a few errands to one- mainly a trip to the grocery store to get the one item I went to the grocery store for earlier...and then walked off without. Oh- and thank you notes. I don't even want to think about those. Thinking about them makes my hand hurt, but I love the feeling of writing a handwritten, heartfelt thank you note! I can't just write "Thanks for the gift. You are awesome."...I have to launch into some grand explanation of how they've changed my life and how we are going to specifically use their present...I'm probably overanalyzing things, but whatever!