Belief > Hope

A year ago today, I made a choice.

It was a choice I had been trying to make for several years.

A year ago, a glimmer of hope shown through darkness and made me think maybe, just maybe my life could be different. Maybe I was worth so more than I had come to believe I was. Maybe I was born with destiny. Maybe my story wasn't anywhere near complete. Maybe the dreams and visions I had for so many years were shown to me for a reason. And, maybe I could re-discover who I was and teach my kids about being brave and honest and about following God. Maybe, if I took this step, the next one would be clearer.

I couldn't have imagined what I'd go through this year. So many chains broken and so much freedom discovered.

In hindsight, relationships that were standing between me and God are gone. Old "truths" about who I was fell away, replaced with evidence of God's truth.

Throughout the year, hope has come and gone and come again.

Over the past several weeks, I'd been asking God to give me hope in abundance. Selfishly, I asked Him for proof that Hope is Alive. And, as He does, He showed up in the most unexpected ways...

First, a vivid dream...I won't get into it since some of you will think I'm nutty (some of you already know I'm a bit of a Jesus freak)...but, there was a sailboat (I'm the sailboat here), it gets nearly capsized by a powerful, fresh wind; rightsizes and begins a journey of purpose, speed and direction that it never expected. As I've prayed into it, it's clear to me that He's got a plan for me...

Then, a random email encounter with a real man of God. A man that I'll probably never meet, but who wrote of God's definition of marriage and man.

Finally, an invitation to dance and socialize with three couples that I really don't know well at all. Against my nature, I accepted the invite. Throughout the evening, an unexpected gift: I saw couples who love and touch and dance and laugh and genuinely enjoy each other.

Cowardly confession: I still only had hope that I was worth a different life; that society hadn't eroded the courage and conviction of 99.9% of men; and that love can last.

Today, it hit me. Hope is great, but I'm ready to move beyond hope.

I'm making a choice today.

I'm choosing belief over hope.

See, hope is beautiful, but is always clouded with a mist of "maybe." For me, that's driven by the voice I battle that says I'm not worth whatever I'm hoping for. And the pessimism that creeps into my heart from time to time that people just don't fight for others -- let alone themselves...it's just too easy to give in to fear and insecurity and mediocrity.

But, belief is hope with conviction.

Belief says "I know" this is going to happen. I know my life will be different. Not that my life can be different, but that it will be different. That my story will be amazing. That I am worth more to my Father than I can ever imagine."

It's a bold choice. It would be easier to stick with hope. But, I will choose belief, and I will ask my friends to hold me to it. And I will start living differently today because of the choice.

Will you join me?

a better story

"We live in a world where bad stories are told, stories that teach us life doesn't mean anything and that humanity has no great purpose. It's a good calling, then, to speak a better story. How brightly a better story shines. How easily the world looks to it in wonder. How grateful we are to hear these stories, and how happy it makes us to repeat them." - Donald Miller, from "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years"

I didn't want to finish this book. I stalled and read just a few pages at a time...it was that good...I just didn't want it to end.

Never has a book read me like this one did -- at this very moment in my life.

This moment of transformation. Hope. Belief that I can have a better story. Embracing that I'm worthy of a better story. Serious, difficult, chain-breaking honesty with myself. Learning to walk on the right side of the line that divides self-deprecating levels of humility from fully embracing the glory of who I was created to be and the story I was created to live and tell; and the countless stories I was created to intersect and inspire.

You and I were created to live an amazing story. There are so many opportunities right in front of us, every day. Beauty that we can choose to appreciate or rush by. Risks we can embrace or shy away from. Relationships we can initiate and invest in or keep at arm's length. Hurt and shame we can leave behind or choose to hold onto.

I'm starting small, but committing myself to making little steps every day...each of these are new habits for me...so, it's a risk to break my routine, which I've recently realized I was really attached to...something about when your routine gets thrown out the window and you have no choice but to embrace each moment...

• Run. Already blogged about this one...
• Enjoy decorating my house -- even though I know I probably won't stay in this house very long, I really like to decorate and I want my space to reflect who I am...so, instead of rationalizing why I shouldn't invest the time or money, I'm going to enjoy it.
• Laugh with my kids. I'm working hard to be "present" with my kids. To close the computer and put down the iphone and really listen when they talk. Giggle with them when they are silly at the dinner table.
• Ask for help. Reaching out to friends to ask for help and offer to help. Share my pain and sadness and fear; and my victories and accomplishments and celebrations. I don't have to do it all myself.
• Choose hope. My friend, Ali, models this really well. Fear and loneliness and self-pity pull strongly, but hope is stronger, when I choose to allow it to be.

There are more to come...but for now, READ THIS BOOK. Please. Start living a better story. If you're reading this, welcome to my story...I want to hear your story. I want to learn from you and marvel at whatever inspiration or idea or insight comes from the intersection of your story with mine. Are you ready to start living a better story?

freedom

The birdcage in my family room is empty. It represents my past...limiting, confining, artificial boundaries set by someone other than me. I've been inspired, moved (to tears tonight, when I found this one and brought it home), motivated, reminded and hopeful each time I've seen a birdcage over the past year.

Tonight, I was trying to decide whether to keep the door on the cage open or close it.

On one hand, I like the celebration of the open door. The freedom it signifies. The release. That first gush of fresh air that the trapped bird feels as she leaves the cage.

But, as I was reflecting on this whole journey I'm on to recover from being a coward, I realized that I want that door to be closed. Shut tight. I never want to be in a cage again. And, the door needs to stay closed because sometimes it's really tempting to go right back into that cage.

In the cage, it's safe and predictable. I know how to survive in the cage. The fear that I can survive outside the cage is real and it taunts me with self-doubt and reminders of the woman I let myself believe I was.

My mom came over today and she was cleaning out the hummingbird feeder that she had put in the front yard for the kids several weeks ago. She told me that we can pack it away til spring because the hummingbirds had all migrated by now. To Panama. Seriously...those little tiny creatures make it from Cincinnati to Panama.

And I realized, in that moment, that the fear I have to fly away from that cage is not from the One that created me to fly.

I don't think those birds know the exact route they will take. I think they get stuck in storms and wind gusts and they just keep pressing on...flapping their wings harder when they need to, gliding when they get a little tired. Relying on the other birds they're with to help guide them and keep them company and enjoy the flight. Somehow, they find food and rest and everything they need along the way.

If those little hummingbirds can make it all the way to Panama, I can shut the door on the cage of the boundaries I had on my life and spread my wings and fly with expectation to the place I'll spend the next season...

So, the door on the birdcage in my family room will stay closed as a reminder that I have all that I need out here, and that the place I'm heading is so much better.

my strange relationship with anger

I am coming to realize that I have a very odd relationship with anger.

On one hand, I don't mind being angry myself. I experience the emotion, get it out of my system by screaming or venting or punching a pillow (I know, tough girl, right?) or crying. I'm not afraid to get angry. Anger is an emotion I'm able to experience that helps me process through things I'm going through.

However, when someone else is angry, I've realized that their anger brings up a fear in me that is almost paralyzing. It's odd that I've only recently come to see this about myself. I always thought of myself as someone that welcomes conflict and debate. But, maybe I told myself that as a way to cope with lots of people in my life over the years that haven't controlled their anger very well.

Across several key relationships in my life, others' anger has caused me a great deal of pain, a deep sense of worthlessness and a fear of abandonment. Here's what I was conditioned to believe: If someone gets angry, it's probably my fault. If they get angry enough with me, they will probably give up on me and decide that I'm not worth staying in relationship with me. It's probably my fault anyway...I made him angry...if only I'd done "this" or not done "that"...

Anger and manipulation were never too far away from each other throughout most of my life. So, for many, many years, I've walked on eggshells in most of the relationships I've been in -- with anyone. Always afraid that I might make someone angry, and they'd write me off.

Recently this hit home in a new way...

I had been having a hard time with one of my kids. He was being disrespectful and, well, angry, fairly often and about often seemingly irrational things. He'd lash out with his words and his disrespectful attitude of blame; playing the victim and pointing fingers.

Now, I've come far enough in this journey to recognize the pattern of manipulation and verbal abuse that accompanies it, and I know that I need to set boundaries and hold him accountable with consequences for his behavior.

But, as I was disciplining him and setting the boundaries and explaining the consequences, and I could see his anger increasing, I could feel myself starting to back off...to take responsibility for his actions myself -- I was afraid that he'd get angry and decide that he just didn't love his mom anymore...

I felt stuck...trapped by my own fear of being rejected and the knowledge that I needed to teach him to be accountable and responsible. There was no way I could have both -- I'd have to risk either letting him be angry with me, or passing up the teaching moment (worst, teaching him that he could treat me in a disrespectful and manipulative way and that it was okay!).

In the end, I stuck to my convictions. I held him to the consequences and let him stomp loudly up to his room, slam the door and punch his pillow (heredity, huh?).

Honestly, I felt like crap about it though...until one of those friends (remember the ones that kick my ass regularly) reminded me that sometimes, as a parent, your kids are going to be angry with you. I know this is completely common sense for most of you, and I know this is true myself, but my default behavior doesn't reflect this as truth.

So, this is going to be a tough one for me...but I'm realizing that if I'm ever going to have real, intimate relationships that go deep, I'm going to have to bravely deal with anger and trust that the person who's angry will handle it in a healthy way...all part of this recovering coward's journey into her new story.

Run

The coward in me said I couldn't run. That it wasn't safe since I'm diabetic and I might pass out if my blood sugar dropped too low. That my left knee couldn't handle it. That I was too out-of-shape. Recently, that I was too old to start. That I just didn't have time. That I might try, and then I'd fail, so therefore, I shouldn't try.

But, the recovering coward decided to give it a try. I've been inspired and encouraged by several friends who are long-time runners, and even more influenced by some friends who have quite recently become runners.

Now, the first time out, it was good. I was excited and energized. I went almost 2 miles. I walked most of the way, but when I ran, it felt great. And when I got home and collapsed on the floor, it was with a big smile on my face.

The second time was great, and I started to get a little cocky. So, I decided to run last week on the one hot afternoon that we had. It was u.g.l.y. I only made it about 1.5 miles and nearly passed out. I was discouraged and disappointed in myself. I felt like I backtracked about a zillion steps. I wanted to give up.

Here's where I divulge a key step in the recovering coward program: you must have friends who know you're on the journey and who will kick your ass when needed. They kick your ass sometimes nicely with encouraging words and affirmation, and other times by reminding you that you are strong and tenacious and that you need to quit whining and just do the thing you are so afraid of. I have a few of these friends (they know who they are). And, they did their jobs.

So, a few days later, I took a big leap and invested some serious cash in some new running shoes (they're cute, too, don't you agree?), took a few deep breaths and hit the sidewalks again. This time, I slowed down and took my time. I put together a playlist of songs that I knew I'd want to sing along to between breaths. And...I did it. I ran 2 solid miles -- no walking.

I felt great. Accomplished. Courageous. Persistent. Strong. Like a conqueror. A Runner.

I set a few goals for myself several months ago -- one of them was to "feel my strength emotionally, spiritually, mentally and physically." I committed to run a 10K sometime in the next 2 years when I wrote that goal down -- I had never run more than a mile, and that had been in high school (which was a really long time ago!).

I'm excited to say I'm on my way.

And, I'm learning that one by one, this long list of things that I thought I couldn't do is really a bunch of crap. I can do so much more than I let myself believe. Wanna know some of the others? Here are just a few:

• I can't paint. (Killed that one when I painted my new dining room a few weeks ago)
• I can't cut grass in a straight line. (My yard looks damn good, thank you)
• I can't hang a shelf or a picture or curtain rod. (You should see the drill I bought myself and have been busily using all over my house.)
• I can't cook a decent meal. (I actually had myself convinced that I didn't like to cook...I kicked that one to the curb months ago and have really enjoyed trying new recipes and making up my own...invite yourself over and I will surprise you!)
• I can't start my own company. (Ha...check it out http://www.theazoregarage.com)

I want to teach my kids to not use the phrase "I can't." That won't happen unless I stop saying it...it's going to be hard, but it's going to feel so so good. Just like running and cutting my own grass and painting and hanging pictures and cooking...I have a few more on my list...watch this space for updates...

Who I am

A few weeks ago, I was at church for a prayer and worship night. I knew I needed to just be quiet for awhile and let God talk to me a bit. I had asked Him one simple question: who am I?

This is the list of words that I felt like he was giving me...I wrote them down, in the dark of the church as the worship music was playing (hence the messy handwriting):

Redeemed
Released
Refreshed
Free
Given
Touched
Anointed
Planned
Provided
Surrounded
Carried
Held
Becoming
Joy
Treasure
Treasured
Changed

Whoa, right? He really kinda likes me, eh?

Here's the thing...He has had to remind me of these things so often. I so easily let gravity pull me back into other beliefs about myself.

One of the disciplines I've been working on over the past year or so is asking others (including the Big Guy Himself) to give me words to describe me -- not just because I want to hear nice things about myself, but really because I need to re-learn, re-program my beliefs about who I am. Healthy practice...you should try it.

Tonight I needed to re-read a few of these words. This particular list I have tacked to a mirror in my room.

The coward I used to be would look in the mirror to find the flaws. It was the "humble" thing to do, she thought. The recovering coward knows that it takes a brave woman to embrace the good and bad about herself...I'm not sure if that makes sense to anyone else...What I mean is, once I embrace the glory of who I am, I have to act on it. I can't hide behind beliefs that I'm not worthy of an extraordinary life. I have to get out and embrace life, change, opportunity. And, that's a whole new habit for me. But, I'm doing it. Every day. (well, just about every day).

Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!

Coming soon...

a re-launch...

of my blog.

of my life.

Have been busy losing things the past two years: my 16 year marriage, too-big-house, job, several friends (hmmm...maybe they weren't really friends), and several pounds.

Thankfully, through it all, I've gained so so much more...and I want to write about it. Faith. Trust. Boldness. Beauty. Worthiness. Joy. Intimacy. Courage. And freedom, freedom, freedom.

I'm coming back...see you soon, blogworld...