me 2.0

I just stumbled upon the beginnings of a blog post that's been collecting dust in my drafts folder since January. I am the queen of unfinished ideas and unpublished posts. Sigh...

Anyway.

Back in January I attended Dream Year Weekend here in Nashville. I was wrestling through my own feelings of dreamlessness, and didn't know how to reconcile that with all the amazing stuff I was hearing at Dream Year. I had some candid conversations with a few key friends to help me sort through my own heart thoughts.

Segments of one of those conversations (a text convo at that!) have been sitting in my dusty draft blog post folder all this time.

It is amazing to see the truth and strength of the words spoken to me almost a year ago, and how they have taken shape in my life over the course of this year.

The cliff-notes version of my friend's wisdom:

• You don't need to find a new vision.
• Your vision, purpose, and passion are the core of who you are. You are all about influencing people to change for the better and to pursue Christ. That is your heart, and that hasn't changed.
• Your ministry in Africa was the vehicle and tool you used to express that and live that out for 13 years.
• Now you need to discover a different vehicle and tool to express it. But your heartbeat hasn't changed.
• That's why you've continued to be an influence through your blog, your relationships, & your Twitter interactions. That is simply who you are, no matter what.
• As you look forward into the future, the vehicle for living that out and expressing it will need to change. But the essence of who you are and what your passions are won't.
• Let's work on discovering a new vehicle...

That was a whole lotta wisdom and a whole lotta truth. In a text conversation. That my friend probably doesn't even remember having.

You know what I titled the draft post I had those bullet-points saved in?

"Me 2.0"

And a year later, I find myself finally realizing and embracing that.

Me 2.0.

I've begun recognizing ways that my passions and heart can continue to be lived out, even though my ministry in Africa closed. Even though it looks totally different than anything I'd ever anticipated.

So as I sit here thinking through all this, and finally turning this dusty draft into a real, live post... all I keep thinking is this:

You really never know how impactful your words can be in someone's life. Even a simple text message can make a world of difference.

So, today...

Speak into your loved ones' situation. In person, on the phone, in an email, via text... whatever. Just speak life into their heart.

They need it even more than you'll ever know.

i'm sorry

When my husband confessed to his affair, my world began crumbling out from under my feet. Actually, the crumbling started almost two years before, when the infidelity and incessant lying began. With each piece that shattered, I withdrew into myself a little bit more.

When all this started, and all I had was a gut feeling and doubts and stories that didn't seem to line up, we were the leaders of a non-profit organization. I didn't know how to deal with what I feared might be going on, and I certainly didn't know who I could talk to.

So this quiet girl grew even quieter.

Then doubts gave way to undeniable proof...

And then the bombshell was dropped that he was done. With me. With ministry. With all of it.

And he walked away.

And while it didn't seem like it was even possible, I withdrew even more.

In the past few years, I have fought through divorce, depression, chronic health issues, the closing of our ministry, the loss of my home, the seeming loss of me... And while I am ashamed to admit it, I haven't had the energy, strength, time, or resolve to pour into my friendships. Not like I used to. Not like I'd want to.

I simply haven't had it in me. Leaning into people seems to demand more of me than I've had left.

So emails and Facebook messages have gone unanswered. Calls have been unreturned.

In a lot of ways, I fell off the face of the earth when it fell out from under me.

And in the process of that, I know I've hurt some people. Some people I care deeply about. People who mean very much to me. People who infused me with strength through their emails and texts and voicemails, even if I didn't know how to reach out and respond.

My lack of communication has communicated that I don't care, and that's the farthest thing from the truth.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for any way I may have disregarded, dismissed, or ignored your gestures of love and friendship.

I'm sorry for not speaking up, even if it were only to say that I have no words.

Please forgive me.

Anything YOU want to get off your chest?

a thousand deafening decibles

I don't have words for so much of what I'm dealing with and attempting to process through. I know some will misinterpret my silence on certain things to mean a lack of feeling or caring (I know, because some already have). And to that all I can say is... Usually the hardest, most deeply-felt things, are those I simply cannot talk about. Do with that what you will.

I went to South Africa last month for a couple weeks. I was there for our final week of ministry. I packed up my home. I said heart-wrenching goodbyes.

And in between all of those things, the greatest heartache I've ever known steadily grew.

Even now, I can't even just think about that time in Africa without tears overflowing down my face. It's just too hard. It's just too much.

I don't think I will ever be able to explain to a solitary soul all the layers of hard that were in those two weeks. Or anything that's taken place since then.

It makes my breath catch painfully in my throat. It feels as though someone is sitting on my chest. I can hear my heart pouding in my own ears.

Breaking hearts are anything but quiet. Under the surface at least...

Every shatter, every crack, piercingly resounds, echoing over and over again.

So know that for every second of my silence, there are a thousand deafening decibles resonating from my broken heart.

And because it's trapped inside, it reverberates around the hollow shell of me.

It's crazy-making.

And I wish I could deaden the sound...

The sound that only I can hear.

hope again

I'm sure you're familiar with this story. But bear with me for a moment... Mary and Martha's brother was sick, and they sent word to Jesus to let Him know.

"When He heard this, Jesus said, 'This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it.' Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. Yet when He heard that Lazarus was sick, He stayed where He was two more days... On His arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb..."

Jesus had told his disciples that "this sickness will not end in death". And yet... Lazarus died.

We have the benefit of knowing how the story progressed from there---that Lazarus would be raised from the dead---but no one there did.

All they knew was that Lazarus died. And that Jesus could've healed him---that He even implied He would---and yet He didn't...

In those moments, I'm sure it was impossible for them to imagine that "will not end in death" could possibly still be true. Lazarus was dead, for crying out loud.

But even still, Jesus' words were truth. And everyone eventually saw them come to pass when Lazarus was resurrected.

Smack in the middle of the story though, while they were all grieving the death of their friend, Jesus spoke some words that make me stop breathing for a moment:

"For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe..."

He was talking about the fact that He hadn't been there to heal Lazarus before he died. "I am glad I was not there..." Wha? He's glad His friend died? He's glad his sisters' hearts broke in grief? He's glad??!!

"For your sake... so that you may believe... it is for God's glory..."

Often what God does and allows in my life does not make sense to me. Yet His promise is that it's for my good and His glory. Even when it doesn't seem like it.

Even when death has already sunk its teeth in. Hard.

In those moments, He still says "I am glad... for your sake." And while that pains my heart in so many ways as I think about my life right now, I want to believe there is pure love in that statement.

I'm no longer hoping that I'll be spared from the agonizing pain of my journey. I'm not asking to be saved from the fiery furnace... because I'm already in it. I've been in it for a long time.

I want to believe that it "won't end in death" even though death is already here.

I want to believe that He loves making beauty from ashes, life out of brokenness, and a new beginning where there is nothing but finality.

I want to somehow find hope again.

Not in rescue, but in resurrection.

the greatest regret of my life

Those months of being emotionally beaten and battered changed me. They turned me into someone I despise. Someone who is gripped by far too much fear.

I became scared to death of sudden changes in my relationships. I doubt people's intentions, trustworthiness, and loyalty. I fear that those I love and hold close are going to leave or replace me. I don't believe that I'm worth loving, even when others say I am.

Those four months left me indelibly scarred.

And in those fleeting moments when I am completely honest with myself, I am forced to admit:

I wish I'd loved myself enough to get out.

Somewhere in that four month period, I should have made the choice to leave.

But I was too afraid.

Afraid of the people who wouldn't understand my decision. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of not being the good, Godly wife. Afraid to stand up for me.

And while I knew what I would have told anyone else in my position, I couldn't bring myself to make that same decision for me.

So I stayed in a situation that was harmful and unhealthy. I allowed him to continue his cruel and intentional abuse of my heart.

I sacrificed me for the sake of us.

An us that didn't even exist anymore. An us that he'd walked away from a long time ago. An us that was an ideal rather than a reality.

While I ultimately desired restoration in my marriage, I shouldn't have clung to that hope at the detriment of my own heart.

Because it just about ruined me.

My greatest regret is that I didn't value myself enough to leave.

And yet I can't help but wonder...

If I were back in that position right now, knowing what I do, would I be able to make the hard choice to get out?

I honestly don't know...

Abuse (of any kind) is manipulative, controlling, and strangely "comfortable" like that.

And that leaves me feeling sick inside.