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.