Learning about what I don't do while crying over milk

This current season has brought up a lot of great conversations with my girlfriends about the things we commit to doing, and maybe even more importantly, the things that we say no to so that we can say yes to the things that hold the most truth in our lives. When I read Bittersweet and Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist, it was like a bomb exploded in my heart. She wrote great, powerful pieces about the walk we take in doing life with others, pursuing faith, and the experiences that our lives present. I literally have pages and pages where entire paragraphs are highlighted as the words were challenging me and stirring up opportunities for growth.

One of my favorite chapters featured her tough lessons on overcoming her inclination to do EVERYTHING. Everything for everyone being my drug of choice in the fall. My list of things to do better had been getting long, quite long, and weighty, with what felt like new things being added all the time, never with the thought about what should I stop doing. Stop doing anything? Um, no. For a long time, I had been the girl that could do everything. I don't even have a husband or kids yet so I certainly should have been able to handle all that was on my plate. Not doing everything felt a lot like failing and I wanted anything but to feel like I had not lived up to some potential that I thought had been determined for me.

I remember the day where I thought to myself, "this just has to be enough and how do I stop this crazy train that I am driving". The day.. well, it was when I burst into tears over being out of milk. Full on tears. Over milk. Full of shame. Failing to meet some crazy standard I had set for myself that day of being the perfect girlfriend who makes her boyfriend breakfast before his work trip, in the midst of a hectic week, because I was certain that I could do it all. I am not sure if I cried in that moment because I realized that being a perfect girlfriend is not attainable, or the realization that I could not do everything, or the fact that I was actually questioning if my boyfriend would still love me when he found out I was not wonder woman, or from being exhausted from striving for so much all of the time. I'm going with all of above, as illogical as all of those thoughts may be.

Of course, I tried to recover quickly in the moment, saying I was just tired, and suppressing all those emotions, hoping I could pretend to shut off my mind, and stop my tears for the duration of the breakfast. The saddest part is that all I really wanted was an hour of enjoying being with him and feeling connected. I spent the rest of that day trying to recover and wrestling with how I come clean about where I actually was. On a lot of days last semester, that felt a lot like a sinking ship. I was no where near even knowing how to admit the reality of where I was, but clearly, the moment you start crying over milk, that isn't even spilled, is probably your enough point. At least, it was mine.

Thanks to my graduate program, I am an eternal student of development theory and aware that I am transitioning from seeing self-sacrifice as value for my goodness, and learning that I need to find care for myself (Gilligan's second transition). I am in some serious growth now, full of cognitive dissonance, which I find really hard some days and a total breeze on others. Thankful each day to be where I am, learning and making different choices - much more like a sailing ship.

Niequist wrote a chapter entitled, "Things I Don't Do", where she reflects on her own battle with doing everything and needing to articulate (she's a list maker too!) what she had to quit in order to do the things that allow for the life that we are really intended to be living. I am working on writing my own list, actively turning down opportunities I would have piled on before, and making room for the ability to say yes to the things that are deeply important to me.

As hard as it was to reach this point, I am encouraged daily, and I hope that sharing this will encourage all of you that are struggling with your EVERYTHING. What is on your list of things you don't do so you can say yes?

Remaining

I had never been to the state of Arkansas or even knew anyone who had been there when I visited campus for an interview in 2009. It was the furthest I had lived from family, the lowest paying job I interviewed for, and I did not know a single person for miles around, but I knew without a shred of doubt that I was meant to go there. I'm grateful, all the time, for that part of my plan.

While I was there, I met my friend Lyndsy. She inspired me with her pursuit in natural childbirth, living with less measures, and comfort in her own vulnerability. Her vulnerability often challenged my own discomfort in that arena. She would often allow me to give my first response to a question and then with patience and love, she would pursue my answer again, allowing me to have space to communicate what was really on my heart. Every time I felt thankful for her pursuit of me in those moments and the space she provided for me to be seen and known.

During my time there, I watched Lyndsy become a mother. I watched her find joy in the transition and struggle through the hard pieces with honesty and love, showing up each day with renewed strength. Her little one began these crying fits that lasted hours, requiring perseverance, a lot of faith, and unrelenting love. Her husband had to travel for work so I went over to assist in an effort of support and to help her not lose her mind. I LOVE babies, happy or throwing a fit for hours, so I felt up for the job. We could see the relief that he needed, mainly sleep and food, but he resisted, struggling through, fighting off our love and comfort, searching for something while missing the fact that we were offering all that he needed. So we kept pursuing him that night, giving patience while he fought us, providing what he needed even when he turned it down, wrapping him in love, until he finally surrendered to peace and comfort.

The memory of my friendship with her in that moment with her little guy makes me smile and think, of course, because it is how my relationship with God can look at times. He provides, calls me higher, deeper into His plan, and I gear up for battle, determined to create my own plan and turning away from Him and all that he is providing for me, failing to see that everything I need (and probably asked for) is being given to me.

Moving back to Tampa was not in my plan but the doors opened and I felt the call to return. It has been the best move and hardest move for many reasons. In the fall, I had this sudden awareness that the plan that was unfolding looked nothing like I thought it would, unfamiliar in a familiar place, and I got to work battling to fulfill my own expectations. It was tumultuous and exhausting, resting no where in my faith or identity. Still I fought, much like my friend's little one did that night, and so He pursued me with a greater amount of love, a brutal but needed mirror, a lot of forgiveness, and comfort to remain.

God used it, is using it, to teach me a lot about love. Falling in love can be quite easy - the thrill of the newness can be exhilarating but the great stuff happens in the remaining. I fell in love with God a long time ago but remaining, choosing over and over again to be faithful, to find humility in my moments of discomfort, staying when other things entice me or seem easier, is where I lose my way at times. I'm thankful in those moments that He pursues us more, allowing our hearts to better seen, and faithfully staying with us in it, through it, and after it.

I am learning a lot about how I walk out that love for Him and other people, when I choose to respond to my immediate emotions, rather than from the truth and joy that is within me. Real love is remaining - in community, kindness, forgiveness, grace, contentment, gratitude, and choosing to stay in the remaining when I could give up or throw up barriers. I don't always know how to walk out love in that way, and there will be moments when my fear threatens those spaces, but I surrender to that He does, knowing I will be taught, be given people that will walk out that out with me by asking the question again, when I need them to, in order to share what is really in my heart. I will be made brave in those moments.

"The foundation of bravery is about pursuing love.. its takes bravery to choose 

to continuously walk out that love, come what may."