so very grateful…

As I’ve been struggling with turning 40 and with my self-image and with my crisis of faith, I’ve had some remarkable discussions with some really amazing individuals. And I’m reminded again of how God places specific people in our paths at specific times to address our needs.

I try so hard to always be aware of how God can use me with someone else that I sometimes forget that He’s sending people to me, too.

the chase is on…

Originally, I began this blog (back in its original incarnation) as a sort of online diary. It was easier to type than to handwrite my thoughts (which I have been doing for years and years). It’s been a bit of a personal history for me, a chronicle of the good and bad points of life, a narrative of my faith.

I am pretty sure that happiness is fleeting. It’s something that comes and goes with the wind or the sun or the latest fall fashions or a surprise present in the mail or a really good milkshake.

But contentment is a different matter. Contentment is a deeper, more abiding sense of being. It is rarely as tingly or exciting as happiness, but it is also not as dark or painful as unhappiness. Contentment is peaceful. And despite my way-too-wound up personality, some peaceful contentment is what I seek.

The verse on the main blog page is my goal in life…

Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am.
Phillipians 4:11

I say it’s a goal because it is certainly not something I accomplish on a daily basis. There have been weeks and months stretched out end to end when I wasn’t much content and I certainly wasn’t happy. But even in the darkest of my days, I knew what my goal was. I knew what I was striving to achieve… where my chase would lead me. I wanted to arrive at a point where, when all of the trappings of life and difficulty were stripped away, I was content with my life.

My search for contentment has taken many forms through the years. I’ve needed to find contentment in my friendships, my relationship with my parents, my self-image and body image and feelings of self-worth, in my own parenting, in my job, in my professional endeavors, in my social lives.

My faith journey has seen evidence of that search for contentment. I’ve sought to know God more deeply, to connect more intimately. I’ve attempted to see God through a more logical eye (I’m not given over to logic just all that much, so that one was a real struggle). I’ve tried to read spiritual self-help books (not very successfully). I’ve felt comfortable and peaceful in my prayer life.

But all of that was before we moved here to Florida and my life went a little haywire. I’ve not been shy about sharing that, at first, I was really, painfully angry with God. And then, I thought God might be angry with me. And then, there was a quiet stillness. A nothingness at times.

I believe with all my heart that God exists and that He is a kind and caring Lord. I believe that He created all and that He is in control of all. I just don’t feel His presence much any longer.

When we lived in Louisiana and were first married, I drove past a little, tiny church a couple of times a day. It had one of those signs that had proverbs or homespun wisdom (or stupid little sayings) on it. The one that stayed with me was ‘If there’s a distance between you and God, it wasn’t God that moved.”

I believe that to be true. But in all honesty, I’m not sure how to get back to Him.

It’s clear that I have either inadvertently become an agnostic (which Mike routinely says isn’t the case… he says if I struggle with as many questions as I do, then I’m still deeply invested in the idea of a personal relationship with Christ) or I am having a crisis of faith.

I think sometimes a crisis of faith is a good thing. I think it can lead to a deeper and more intense relationship with God. I also think that contentment isn’t necessarily something I want to achieve in that relationship. I think I should always want something more, something greater there.

But for now, I think chasing a little contentment in my relationship with Christ is as good way to find my way back to Him as any. I am thankful that He didn’t move and is waiting for me to find the right path back.

beach lessons

Each year, we go to St. Pete Beach with Mike’s brother and his family. It’s one of my favorite weekends each year.

Now, sure, while I was holding Eliza in the water, a wave knocked me over, and I scraped both shins on the shells on the ocean floor. And yeah, a jellyfish stung me (or a fish bit me, depending upon who you ask). And yes, despite Bullfrog SPF 70, I’m burned a shocking shade of red.

But I am a happy scraped, stung, burned girl.

It’s no secret that the lessons I learn at the beach are all about God. I can’t help but see Him there. I can’t decide if that’s because the His workmanship is on such display there or if it’s just the one place where I’m not able to worry much about work and where I’m completely at peace. Probably the latter.

But I sit on the sand and hold shells in my hand and am amazed by the detail on each one. The lines and the colors and the designs. We were collecting shells for Eliza and Hannah to use in a craft project, and Mike asked me if I only wanted the perfect ones.

I told him that I usually start only picking up the perfect ones, but then I find one that’s really pretty but has a crack in it. Or one of that has the remains of other shells on it. Or a tiny piece of what was clearly a much larger shell. And I remember that God doesn’t just keep the perfect people. He wants all of us, cracks and broken pieces and all. Most of the time, it’s those of us who are cracked and broken who need love most of all.

So I’ve got a bucket full of imperfect and perfectly lovely shells. And I’ve got a renewed sense of gratitude that God loves me regardless of the myriad of imperfections.

And that seems like a reminder that is well worth the scrapes and the sting and the burn.

finding my morning…

As of this week, we’ve now been Florida residents for three years. In some ways, it seems like far less time has passed, and yet, in other ways, it feels like an eternity.

Three years. Griff’s attended two different schools, had three different homeroom teachers and one amazing gifted teacher, had surgery on both legs and learned that he’s stronger than he thought. Eliza’s gone from daycare to pre-k graduation, lost her first tooth and completely forgotten her life before Florida.

Mike has grown into this strong, capable, motivating professor. He has his own style and is comfortable in it. He’s serving on committees and hating it and missing his own faculty, but he’s so very good at what he does.

My three years were harder than Mike’s. Though now that I’m feeling better, stronger and more confident myself, I think that those first months, years, were just as hard on him as they were on me as he had to watch me struggle and suffer and flounder. And while we made the decision to move together, the move initially was far kinder to him than to me, and I was not too proud to mention that to him, more often than was necessary. He’s a kind man to have stayed with me when I was so miserable that I considered not staying with him.

But even then, all curled up in the bed, aching from the depression and homesickness, longing to go home, I couldn’t have possibly left him. He’s my anchor, and I’m deeply thankful for his kindness and compassion and patience.

Because today, I am happy here. Now, there are things we’re lacking - namely, a church home - but a lacking of our own making. But in general, I’m happy here now. Contented with my life.

A few months ago, I was driving home from work (I had already applied for the promotion but hadn’t been told that I had gotten it) and thinking that I was liking this life. It was really a lovely realization that we had come so far. And in that moment, I decided that if I got the promotion, I would do something permanent to remind myself that things will eventually even out, even after something so completely unsettling to me as the move.

I wanted something that would be a tangible reminder to me that the bad in life rarely lasts forever. For as long as I can remember, Psalm 30:5 has been one of my favorites.

For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for a lifetime; Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning. (New American Standard)

There’s something endlessly comforting to me about the notion that sorry and weeping and aching and longing and soul-searing unhappiness are only temporary. I understand that the time between night and morning can be a really long time. My Florida night seemed endless. But this morning, it is lovely.

One of my 101 Things in 1001 Days goals was to get a tattoo, and when I decided that I wanted something happy and permanent to be a reminder to me that joy will always come in the morning, I decided to get a tattoo.

So I asked my brother to design something for me, and he agreed. A couple of days later, he sent me the design. It was something I already had, something Aleece did for me years ago.

John told me, “I think I’ve got the right one for ya.  For years now, you’ve been chasing it.  Now, when we spoke the other day, it sounded like you’ve all essentially found it.

No WAY…

That was my response… uttered twice in disbelief, in fact… right before I burst into stunned tears. I’ve been working this job for more than two years now, hating most of that time. It was late last year before I really felt comfortable with what I was doing, like I really understood what I was doing. I’ve been in the Miami division (in name and work but not in geography) since January, and it’s brought it’s own struggle, mainly with the language barrier. Geez, I wished I’d taken a language in college.

But I posted (applied) for a promotion back in late March/early April. Getting a promotion at work was one of my 101 Things in 1001 Days goals. I didn’t expect to get it, and I was so delightfully surprised Wednesday when management told me I had gotten the job. I have four more days in this job I’ve hated (but been grateful for every day) before I begin training for the new position. I’ll do a week of training here at our offices and then spend two weeks of training at the corporate office. I have never been away from Mike and the kids for that long!

I have been blessed, though, with a really good group of girls who are being promoted along with me. If I could have hand picked the people who would go with me on this journey, I’d have selected most of these girls.

This is really exceptional for me. I am so humbled to have been selected, and yet, for once, I am absolutely certain that I got this based upon my work performance. I earned this. I am proud of myself for taking a job I had no training or aptitude for… for sticking with it when I felt so overwhelmed and unsure… for sticking with it when my supervisor didn’t so much enjoy me… for being willing to do whatever management asked of me and for trying to do it with a good attitude.

In the end, I am proudest of me for the way people seem to see me. My supervisor told me - before I knew I would get the promotion - that he knew management was considering me and that I was spoken of very well. That means a lot to me. I’ve had several random (well, they seemed random to me at the time) compliments from various individuals this week. I appreciate that people respond well to me, that they see me as agreeable and accommodating and accepting, despite the fact that I have struggled with this job, been discouraged by it, wished I wasn’t in it.

I believe that if people can see happiness in me, throughout all the difficulties of this job, then it must be Christ they see in me.