My soul could use a lift this week. I get ahead of myself too often with the to-do’s and the stress and the striving. I set expectations for all of my achievements to feel like they’re significant successes, but what I think it actually simplifies to is just busyness. I have exhausted myself by my own busyness.

In honest reflection, I experience loneliness more than some people might, so I fill the void of it with the things that make me feel like I contribute something into the world. I’m good at staying busy. While I long for community, I settle for taking on tasks in my day-to-day. But I think the side effect of the busyness at times is a fogginess of what is true.

You’d think I’d love social media as a means to connect to a world I feel isolated from. But the reality is, it plays into the envy of what I’m not, what I don’t have, or who I’m not with. Every time I think I’m good to handle scrolling, I’m confronted with the fact I’m not. Because seeing people get to experience the things I long for with the people I’ve been missing stings so bad I couldn’t breathe through my own tears even this week. Social media always tends to shine a light on my own emotional immaturity in exhausting ways.

I’ve learned I have a tendency to withdraw when I hit those emotional plateaus. I withhold information about myself that I freely share when I’m in a healthy space, until I can’t hold it anymore and it spews out sideways. The last two days have been spew days for innocent bystanders caught in my wake. Consider this my public apology to the women in the Central parking lot.

I’ve been feeling a tension coming on as the transition into the fall school year is coming. I fear another isolating winter is ahead of me. I miss so many of my family members, now spread out into multiple states across the country with the inability to make future plans to see them. The boys will have a new schedule for daycare that I can’t help and will put a strain on my ability to work productively, regularly. I’ve taken my son to the doctor for unscheduled visits multiple times in the span of 3 days and my mind can only think in deductibles and money lost from not working. I feel shame that my mind goes to that before it goes to gratitude that he’s healthy.

There are too many bridges I’m trying to cross before I get to them. And what comes out in conversation is that my soul feels strained right now. I feel the stress and also the ridiculousness of it. Fifteen minutes ago I was sighing heavily at spilled milk on every cushion and cover on my armchair. Before that I had a headache from my kids arguing over a toy. An hour ago it was a missing invoice I needed to record for work. It’s laughable at how much I sweat the small stuff. If only I could laugh right now and not take myself so seriously!

So I’m not sure if it’s a matter of my mental busyness taking on too many things at once that adds to what I’m experiencing or a failure to yield to the Holy Spirit more readily. Or both. But I know I’ve steered myself off course and lost hold of the truth instead of clinging to it.

I found encouragement in these words penned by Alicia Britt Chole in her book Anonymous: Jesus’ Hidden Years and Yours:

When tempted in the layer of appetite, Jesus did not deny the existence of his natural longings and feelings. He did, however, intentionally upgrade the authority of his will by empowering it with God’s Word.
Feelings were designed to follow, not lead. So when God’s will and Word take the driver’s seat in our lives, our feelings and desires are free to follow cleanly without regrets in safe boundaries.

Alicia Britt Chole

Perhaps stillness tempers feelings in ways that busyness does not. Maybe my relentless striving actually erodes away at opportunities to be approachable and present in my relationships. To actively listen. To allow my soul to rest. And it’s realizations at times like these that I’m extra grateful Jesus shows us how to do life with people. How to replace busyness with steadfastness.

Take care & take heart,

Often times the way we view ourselves does not reflect the way others see us. Some people prefer it that way, to keep their cards closer to their chest. It’s easier to not expose our whole selves because it’s less of a heartache if trust gets broken. Some people choose to portray a false version of themselves out of fear of rejection of their true self. There are countless versions of ourselves we can offer to the world in an effort to make friends.

In the last few years, I’ve questioned if who I am was truly created for friends and for community. I know what the Bible has to say about it. I know what the mental health studies report. I understand the lie that’s at the root of my thinking. It doesn’t change the ache in my soul that I’ve battled for a significant part of my life.

Part of the wrestling for me is feeling like I consistently overshare myself with friends. What seems wholly authentic and true to me, I share. In the best of times, it draws out meaningful conversation that offers growth. In the disappointing moments, I’m received with silence without an explanation. In typical conversations, there is unbalanced vulnerability.

And if I can just release this frustration here: I am exhausted from hearing about how friends forgot to respond to me. It’s been such a pattern in my life, that I come to expect a 2-week turn around time from hearing back after I reach out. I’ve heard all of the reasoning as to why. I have grace for life that happens. I’ve been in my own darkest hours, I’ve been a new mom, I’ve moved multiple times, I’ve been a working mom with two kids and a husband that works incredibly hard at coaching. I can understand and empathize. But I believe you get around to what’s important to you. And I’ve gotten to a point where my spirit has felt so disheartened for so long that I am giving myself the grace to stop striving so hard to hold onto half-hearted friendships.

Ask me who my best friend is, and the answer will never change. My mom. Ask me who I feel gets me the most and my dad is the automatic response. There was a period of time where I felt like I was defective for this, that I’m supposed to have friends my age, in my own walk of life. But the truth is, I sense more wholeness in these friendships than I do anywhere else on earth. The beautiful thing I’ve also worked out being friends with my parents, the people that unconditionally love me, is that even they can’t fully satisfy my longing for friendship. But Jesus can.

And it’s in their friendship, of showing me that my longing for more is a heavenly thing, that I can lean into Jesus’s presence and trust it. Often times when I find myself writing, it’s because I’ve had a heartache of a week. That’s no less real now. The week has been challenging, exposing, raw, and messy. It’s also been full of opportunity to try again, to get out of my own way, for growth and redemption. I find myself longing for my promised eternity in heaven, without any of this. I’ve been trying to cut through the noise of my own thoughts and reflect on what Jesus is trying to say to me.

What I think he wants me to keep believing is that he is the truest friend. My truest friend. When I feel like I’m too much or never enough, he asks if he can steady my soul. When I want to pack up my feelings and never share them with another human ever again, he asks me to keep unfolding them before him. In my all of my unhealthy and unhelpful thoughts, he shows me what’s not from him. Jesus then replaces my stress with his truth.

Often times I believe the Lord shows me things through my three-year-old. Next to Griffin’s bedside one Sunday night was a crown he had made at church. I asked him to tell me about it, thinking we’d talk about the stickers that covered the rim. Instead he declared, “Jesus is the King! And, and the King is our friend!” I hope I never get over the fact that the King of the entire universe has declared himself my friend. On days when it can seem like I’m the kid that’s picked last for the team, Jesus has chosen me first.

I don’t want to write my life off as a constant disappointment, or that I’ll keep believing I’m the odd man out. That’s a lie from the enemy. But what I do want to proclaim is even if, and even when I don’t experience the reciprocity my heart fully longs for, it won’t rattle me. It won’t change the friend I choose to be to others. My identity won’t get tangled up in the amount of people I can call on when I need the encouragement. I believe Jesus will go before me and provide the community he calls me to be apart of if I put in the work. I’m grateful that I can trust him. I’m indebted to his grace.

The song below has been manna for this season of life. It has vindicated my downcast spirit on countless days and spun the message of truth in my heart that Jesus is the truest friend. Our truest friend.

Take care & take heart,

Names | Elevation Worship & Maverick City Music feat. Tiffany Hudson
[Verse 1]
You are the medicine
The only cure for everything I feel within
Redeeming what was lost and all that could have been
Oh, this is a healing kind of love

[Verse 2]
You are the truest friend
Staying through the night when I was at my end
Comforting my heart till it was light again
Oh, this is a faithful kind of love
Yes, it is

[Chorus]
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace
Immanuel, God with us, You're here with me
Wonderful Counselor
The government is resting on Your shoulders

[Verse 3]
You are the final word
You alone decide when every page will turn
So I will trust Your timing, I will rest secure
Oh, this is a steady kind of love
Oh-oh-oh-oh, You are

My account of the last year could easily be lost in the millions that could be told. There are books to be filled on the events that rocked the world in 2020 and beyond. I don’t claim to signify that my experience holds any weight by comparison to the year we can’t forget. What I do know is I was under a dark, dismal cloud for months that took more out of my soul than I should’ve allowed. It caused a restlessness inside of me that I couldn’t get under control and a defensive spirit to follow my every thought like a shadow. Until grace weaved its way into my story six months ago.

As I had hoped for the holidays to return us to normalcy, the world around me started to shut down again as case counts rose. Thanksgiving for my family was spent in an aunt’s garage with masks and heated blankets. Given the circumstances, it couldn’t have been sweeter, but I missed the familiarity of being with our immediate family. I longed for closeness with my friends that felt on days as if it would never come. And while not every day felt heavy, changing holiday plans was the catalyst for the deviating disappointments that created a negative narrative in my mind.

The recurring messages that slowly crept into my thoughts during the long winter months were that I was always somewhere between too much or never enough for people. That I had made decisions in my life that were actually mistakes and that’s how I got myself into each mess I found myself in. That I wasn’t worth getting to know or people that did get to know me would get tired of me, it’d only be a matter of time. That reciprocity didn’t exist in relationships. That I had lost my creativity, my value, and my significance and that’s why it seemed like I was failing in my parenting, my job, my marriage, my friendships – you name it, I had the reverse of a Midas touch on it.

Through the hard moments of clinging to my 11 month old in the emergency room with his blood staining my crewneck one Sunday morning, to going 12 days without hot water during the coldest temperatures of the winter, to nights when I went to bed wondering if I had what it took to be a bearable wife that stretched to anxious mornings of fearing I was the worst parent no matter what happened that day. I ran on little sleep and on most days, even smaller faith. Life reached an incredible low when I truly believed that I had nothing to look forward to because something was bound to go wrong no matter what I did.

In light of all of my wariness, the amazing thing I can’t get over is that I made it through every single day of those six months, solely on the grace of God. There were people and moments that carried me through what I felt were some of the darkest months of my entire life. He gave me favor with people during that time that provided the hope I was desperate for. Family traveled hours just to step into our chaotic world on all the right weekends. Meals were brought when I couldn’t think past the next 5 minutes, let alone what to make for dinner. Showers were provided for us when we didn’t have warm enough water. A friend would call me to give a pep talk or to make me laugh when she knew I needed the levity. A neighbor would help me finish shoveling the driveway. These minor moments then have major meaning to me now.

It took months for me to see that my circumstances didn’t stop Jesus from wading into my worry, my shame, my hurt, and all of my striving for control. It took several walks around the block and hours of tearful conversation one Wednesday night in April with my parents for me to recognize the gravity of what my thoughts had done to my life. All of my internal wrestling took on external despair in my world and I had finally collapsed under the weight of my own undoing. What the Holy Spirit started to impress on me was that I had let the enemy reign in my mind and he was vying to destroy my heart. For the first time since before I could even remember, breakthrough was happening at the core of who I was becoming.

From that weekend home and for the next several weeks, I began to experience redemption in relationships that had nothing to do with any of my own efforts. Gratitude came as easy as breathing. The amount of encouragement that came my way felt unwarranted. The thoughtfulness of people astounded me and uplifted me higher than I thought I could go. The best way I know how to describe the immense amount of joy I was experiencing was as if I was thirsty and was drinking from a fire hydrant of absolute grace. It was as if I couldn’t keep up trying to reciprocate the goodwill I was receiving. In quiet moments as I collected thoughts for myself on paper, it occurred to me that this was the closest I have ever experienced to wholeness in my entire life. This was the nearest I have ever been to feeling fully known and fully understood in all of my life, not just by people on earth, but by my Father in heaven.

As I realized this, emotion crashed over me because I was convinced that I would never experience what it felt to be whole on this side of heaven. I didn’t believe I was favored by God enough to feel fully seen for who I am, flaws and all and to believe I’m accepted during my lifetime. And for 3 weeks, he let me experience his fullness. His grace. His truth. I wasn’t sinless, but I was finding out what it meant to be made new. To have exposure to full on transformation and not just minor tweaking in my life. How amazing it was that he showed his character to me when I least expected it and certainly had not earned it.

Like I had expected, the elation that came easy eventually dwindled. In a matter of weeks, several of my dearest family members announced they would be moving across several states by summer, all in different directions. Both of my little boys started to act out more strongly than they had been. I fell behind with work again and found myself frustrated with communication gaps. The favor I had held with several friends faded. Things I tried to accomplish started to go sideways. And so quickly, I found myself wrapping my identity back up in all of the things I tried to hold so tightly together. On the outside, while I have been trying to control my image in the eyes of the small audience that watches my life unfold, I realize that all of my efforts are meaningless without inviting Jesus into my introspection.

Because the truth is, his desire for my life is to be whole. I just misunderstood wholeness for what it really is: Jesus’s grace working its way through my thoughts, actions, and identity to where I joyfully surrender the lie that life is up to me. When I live out of the grace of what the cross meant for my life, wholeness is possible. Unity with the Holy Spirit can be my reality and gratitude starts leaping off the pages of my story!

There’s no real way to summarize the work progress that I’m in, but what I can say is that I am listening on a deeper level when the Lord says to take every thought captive. I am singing with greater grit and conviction when the song says that I will be content in every circumstance because He’s always enough. I have a longing to fully know Jesus in the way I experienced him wholly knowing the intricacies of me.

Tomorrow when I wake up, I may have to fight the anxiety of not knowing if the world wants to know me. I may have to fight the lie that I’m a bad parent because my child keeps repeating the same behavior. I may have to grow character by applying myself to a task I don’t feel like doing.

The unknown will always be there. The dark days may threaten to steal my joy again. But like they say, doubt is easy. It’s the faith that takes effort. And I’ll be ready to put in my very best work.

Take care & take heart,