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."

2014 reflections.

"And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good" - John Steinbeck

2014 was a really beautiful, changing, messy, struggling, loving kind of year. Half the time I was basking in the moments of pure joy and happiness and the other half the time I was battling expectations and impossible perfection. All of which led to a pursuit of peacefulness in knowing my freedom and appreciation for the people, opportunities, and moments that are given to me each day to make up my life.

As I am thinking about the new year, and all of the unexpected things it has already brought, I am also reflecting and celebrating all that the previous year held. The truth is, my highlight reel is pretty big and overwhelming in the amount of moments I was keenly aware of love. I'm celebrating these little, big moments now, so I can remind myself each time my mind gets busy as a way to say, "quiet down little mind, rest in truth, be patient", which I know will probably happen about 15 times a day (and those will just be the ones I am aware of). For all that 2015 will hold, I hope to pursue and know love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Happy 2015! Enjoy some highlights from 2014!

Dates with Momma

Dancing with Justin

NYC with Kerri & Erica

Literacy Nights

Dustin's Graduation

Painting & Life Conversations

New Team

Students

Old Friends

New Friends

x.

Letters.

One of my favorite bloggers, Today's Letters, does a letter writing series that I adore. Her husband also writes (swoon). I don't know if it is because letters may very well be my love language or if those two just write so beautifully that I can't help it, but I repeat reading them over and over. I appreciate their honesty and window into life. They've been inspiring my writing for a while and some say imitation is the best flattery, so I stole their idea and format for today's letter.


Dear Momma, thank you for our long chat, which I enjoyed through the sunshine in my new backyard. I cherish those life moments with you. Dear J, I love the way that music ignites you. My favorite way to observe you is when you are singing your heart out. Dear fear of the unknown, you've been creeping in a lot lately through all of my transitions this year. I'm getting braver. Dear God, thank you for the brutal dose of truth that reminds me I'm not in control. Dear Daddy, you didn't even know I picked Saturday's race because of you. I'm sure glad you're a survivor. Dear new room, you don't quite feel like mine yet, but I'm looking forward to spending some candlelit nights with you, featuring a quieter mind, cup of tea, a pen, and my journal. Dear love, thank you for holding my hand, calmly waiting for my thoughts to be articulated, and letting me cry when I need to.

Apples + Courage

Student Affairs professionals are gifted with experiencing community with our students. Sometimes I think they, more than others, are able to see the best in me and the flaws I wish I could perfect. As I have grown in my role, I have become increasingly aware that they watch. They watch how I interact with others, which decisions I challenge them on, how I dedicate my personal time, who and how I date, and the ways in which I live my values.

Last week, a student chose me to be honored in a ceremony called, Apple Polishing. The students who participate in this program are able to select one staff member they feel has impacted them or assisted them in their growth. Honestly, I was pleasantly surprised when my student, Sidney, chose me to be her guest. I had only begun working with her this semester and I questioned what experience she could have had with me that warranted such an honor.

As she began her speech about why she selected me, she confessed to reading my blog before we had even really met. Then she quoted lines from a post that had been meaningful for her and created connection for us. She described that it had been my courage that resonated with her, the courage she read in that post and the courage she had observed in me over the last couple of months. I felt so surprised and it was so touching that I almost didn't know how to respond so I cried, couldn't help it, and generously thanked her.

I keep thinking about that moment last week and how courageous she was to share why she connected to what I had written. My experiences this last school year have taught me that it is the ordinary moments of life that require the most courage. It is in those moments that I think we are called to be vulnerable, passionate, loving, forgiving, inspired, and aware of our fears - our most true self. It is the ordinary moments that I have come to appreciate the most because they generate my truest, most honest, happiest heart.

Thank you, Sidney, for watching and for valuing a piece of myself that I shared, without even knowing. I cherish this apple.