“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”
–Anne Lamott

Seasons & Patty Griffin

My headphone are currently jammed in my ears in a crowded Starbucks in south Florida. The sun lowered just enough to come glaring in the window, causing me to squint my eyes at the exact moment the opening bar of “Rain” by Patty Griffin played in my ears.  And suddenly I’m in Dayton, Ohio, scurrying to get ready for a shift at Bath & Body Works, humming along with Patty as the notes drift from my roommate’s computer speakers to my ears.

There’s nothing that takes me back like music.  And this moment, this memory, I’d relive in a heartbeat… so much so that I almost don’t want to open my eyes again.  It’s bittersweet to have lived a season so precious, so instrumental in my growth as a person, yet have moved on as life does and now feel so removed from the people who were once the most important in my world.

The same thing happens when I hear Ashlee Simpson.  I’m in my best friends little blue Sunfire, driving through the streets of our hometown with the windows down and not a care in the world beyond what we would wear to the football game that weekend.  Or when I hear Dave Barnes’ first album, and I’m back in my college dorm with Rachelle, Katie & Steph, laughing and studying and living in way too small of a space for 4 girls, but loving (mostly) every minute.  The sound of Keith Urban’s voice takes me right back to the season in the first few years after college where I felt the most loved & supported & known, the late night phone conversations and early morning text messages in the cool, gulf breeze.

I could go on and on, listing song after song or artist after artist that is so strongly associated with people or memories or seasons.  And, for a nostalgia junky like myself, it’s so fun to remember.

But as Patty played in my ears tonight and I felt the achey pang of missing those moments, wanting to go back, wishing I had cherished them more, wishing I had done ____ differently, said this or that, valued that person more, etc., it struck me that even now, in this moment, I’m creating the memories I’ll look back on down the road.  I don’t know what songs or artists I’ll associate with this sunshiney state, these beautiful friends who have loved me unbelievably well, these students who have captured my heart, the long drives, the event planning, the sunsets on the water… but I do know that as my time here is nearing an end, I want to slow down and enjoy it more.  To breathe the sea air more intentionally, drink more coffee at my favorite Starbucks, spend more time with my people, snag more hugs from my favorite kiddos, and really be present, even though it would be so easy and natural to disengage.

What a treasure that the Lord created seasons, both the ones on the calendar and the ones of the heart.  Things to anticipate, things to reflect on, each one contributing to nudging us further along on the path God has laid out for us.

Seasons & Patty Griffin

Dear Baby Brother


Today is your 19th birthday.  Tomorrow you’ll drive the same road I drove many, many times to get to the campus I used to call home and move into the same building I visited friends in every single week during that season of life.  I can picture the doors you’ll walk through everyday, the way the first floor lobby of your dorm smells when someone overcooks their ramen, and even feel the effects of eating pizza too many days in a row at Mellers in my stomach as I think about it right now. 

Right now you’re probably tossing and turning in your bed.  I wish I were home, just across the wall from you, so I could barge in like I love to do and tell you all the advice you say you don’t want, but I like to believe you actually love deep down. 

Here are some things that might help you as you start this new adventure:

1.  Go to class.  Seriously.  The temptation to skip class is real, especially when 8am rolls around and you were up til 3 listening to your suitemates singalong to the new Dave Barnes album (or whatever the equivalent of that is for guys), but I promise you you’ll never regret pulling yourself out of bed, downing the breakfast of champions (for me it was often a Diet Mt. Dew & some animal crackers), and getting your butt to class. 

2.  Choose your friends wisely.  Don’t let circumstances you can’t control dictate who you become. Example:  Your roommates may or may not be the best people for you to choose to do life with.  If your roommates turn out to be sketchy, be kind to them, and make friends elsewhere.  Remember, who you hang out with in college will greatly affect who you become as an adult in a few years.  Do you want to be a dirty joke telling, beer chugging, woman objectifying jerk?  (pleas say no) If not, make sure you’re not hanging out with people who think those things are okay in college.  This might actually be more important than going to class, but don’t tell Dad I said that.  

3.  Get involved in something other than football.  I get it, you’re a badass athlete, but unless you’re really planning to play in the NFL as a career, do something else like student government or become an RA or take an art class.  Now is the time to expand your interests, try new things, learn new skills.  The sky is the limit for you, brother bear.

4.  Don’t eat pizza multiple days in a row at Mellers.  No matter how gross the mystery meat of the day looks.  Trust me.  Your tummy will thank you. 

5.  Try to embrace the culture.  I know that a lot of things at a Christian college may seem cheesy and a little bit bizarre, but I can also promise you that the leadership of SBU really have your best interest at heart.  Jump in and don’t be too cool to experience the wonders of welcome week and homecoming and chapel, etc.  You’ll be more well rounded, and you’ll have a lot more fun than you will if you spend all your time hating on it.

6.  Wash your sheets.  Some of my guy friends didn’t wash their sheets the entire school year and that is absolutely disgusting.  Please don’t be that guy.  Nobody likes the smelly kid.  Sissy will send you quarters and reminders if needed.  :)

7.  Stick it out.  There are going to be days you’re going to want to quit and go home and just be around what’s familiar / easy.  I promise you that if you stick it out you’ll be glad you did.  Fight the urge to make excuses to go home too often, or quit after your first year, or not work hard at football & academics.  Your school debt is good debt.  Your classes may be hard, but when you work your butt off to pass them you’ll be so glad you did.  And when you finish and you’re handed your diploma?  I pinky promise you won’t regret having pushed through the hardest of times.

8.  Know that Sissy is always here.  I am so proud of you.  I’m available for homework help, advice, gas/food money, telling you how awesome you are, reassuring you when you’re homesick, making sure you know how much you’re loved, etc. etc. etc. 

You’re about to have the time of your life, Bubba.  I am crazy excited for you, and can’t wait to hear about all your new adventures. 

Sissy loves you more than you know!!

Dear Baby Brother

Hope for the Worst Week

the winds of change and circumstance blow in, and all around us… so we find a foothold that’s familiar, and bless the moments that we feel You nearer.
-Nicole Nordeman

I remember a distinct moment at the beginning of the worst week.  I was lying in my bed at my grandparents house, face in a pillow to keep my eyes from seeing that the walls and windows were naked, their contents having been boxed up and carried out to various cars and dumpsters that littered their yard, tears and snot flowing, heart in my throat, stomach in knots, wondering if life could possibly get any worse.

A day before I had rested my forehead on the cool metal frame of the funeral home door while they closed the lid of my Grandma’s casket, an attempt to keep both feet on the ground as the room spun around me.

A few days later I assumed the same position.  Face down on a bed in the Holiday Inn of Roswell, GA.  The floor around me looked like a crime scene in a Hobby Lobby…. scrapbooking supplies that moments before had been meticulously placed on perfectly designed pages thrown to the floor to make room for all the pain that needed a place to rest.  Time and place escaping me for a brief moment as I sobbed and screamed into my cell phone begging my best friend to make sense of the latest blow to my incredibly fragile heart.

I spent 24 hours in that hotel room, tossing and turning and waiting, before I drove down a highway in total silence for eight hours.  I arrived home highly caffeinated, devastatingly brokenhearted, and completely wrecked by the truth that in the span of one week the two things I held most dear had been ripped away from me in the most unexpected, brutally tragic ways.

I knew it that night as I drifted into a restless sleep in my own bed:  my heart would never be the same.

Last night I opened box after box full of memories.  I spent hours reading every note, every letter, every card.  My middle school yearbook signatures.  High school notes passed in Biology class.  Senior memory books full of well wishes and reminiscing.  Christmas cards, birthday cards, encouraging notes from camps and retreats as a student and as a leader.

And every so often my fingers would run across words from them.  Sweet encouragement from my precious Grandparents who breathed Life over me from my first day on this earth.  Tracing their handwriting with my finger wishing me happy birthdays and merry Christmases, writing of their pride in their granddaughter, and the great love Jesus has for me.

I unsealed sandwich bags to uncover paper that once smelled like you. Tear stained from all the nights I held them close, words scrawled across the page, the perfect blend of encouragement, laughter, and true love…. just like you were.  Words that whispered in my ear, then and now, “no fear, B… no fear”.  And I can’t help but smile and weep remembering all the years we spent “learning how to love”… each other, other people, the Lord….

These days I’m a few years removed from the worst week.  As I held the weight of those memories in my hands, I did two important things.

I cried. I needed to grieve the loss because I still feel it.  There are unanswered questions that may never resolve.  There is regret that may forever accompany those memories.  And there is great sadness because great love is hard to lose.

I laughed.  I laughed at my Grandpa’s illegible handwriting.  I laughed at the inside jokes that fit so effortlessly in the midst of sweet love notes.  I laughed at remembering the silly placement of the switch for the living room ceiling fan in their house, at the plays we put on in your basement as kids, at the picture engrained in my mind of you bundled up frying fish outside in the dead of winter.  I laughed at late night phone call silliness, morning texts, curly hair, cheesy pop songs and 90s references.

And when I was finished?

I folded them up.  Placed them gently back in their boxes.  And closed the lid.

Because life goes on.  God is doing new things.  I cherish what has been, but my hands are open to what will be.  It’s a beautiful, delicate balance, and I refuse to hold so tightly to the beautiful things God once graced my life with and thereby forfeit all the beauty that is still to be.

This season that’s coming?  It’s gonna be a good one.  And how sweet and good is He that He allowed the last season to shape me into exactly who I need to be in this moment so that i can fully embrace the next one?

Praying that each of us look forward to what’s next with the faith that comes from looking back and seeing His hand sustaining us, whether it be through the gut wrenching loss of our worst week, or the wide open spaces of our future.  He is good, y’all.  He is so, so good.


Hope for the Worst Week

20 Things I Learned in my 20s

I turned thirty a couple weeks ago & in the midst of celebrating and feeling so incredibly loved by my people, I’ve tried to be intentional in looking back and remembering all that the Lord has brought me through in my twenties.  There have been moments that I’ve looked back and laughed, accompanied by moments I’ve looked back and cried.  And it seems to me the best stories, the best moments, the things that stick with us no matter how much time has gone by, usually include a little bit of both.  The danger of writing a post like this is the temptation to compare.  I know I read every “in my 20s” post I stumbled upon and measured myself by their experiences and standards, usually ending up discouraged that I hadn’t learned their lessons or perused Paris with my best friend.  I hope if you’re a twenty something that stumbles upon this post you won’t compare yourself to it, but rather find some solidarity where / if it comes.  Our journeys are unique to us, and that’s what makes this decade of learning & growing and beginning to find the person we’re going to be so exciting.


20.  Coffee is a good & faithful friend. 

19.  Every dime of college debt you acquire is worth it.  There is no price tag too high for education (a luxury many will never afford), both in the classroom and out.  The relationships you’ll make in those years are priceless.  The independence you’ll gain under the umbrella of your RA / professors / house mom / friend who mother’s you is more precious than gold.  The memories you’ll make when you stayed out too late and missed class that morning and dated that one guy that you look back on and wonder what on earth you were thinking, laughing with your roommates, living on next to nothing.. there will never be another time in your life that looks quite like this one.  Dave Ramsey can wait.  Take out the loans if you must, work your butt off in the meantime, but don’t miss out on the experience.

18.  Say yes when it’s safe.  In my early twenties my best friend and I lived in a small town and the mall we liked to shop at was a four hour drive away.  Multiple times we would leave our hometown mid-afternoon, shop for a couple hours, drive back home in the wee hours of the morning binging on gas station cappuccino, then get up and go to work the next morning on basically no sleep.  Was it dumb?  Sure!  But there will be no other time in my life I can pull that off.  We had money, freedom, and energy, and those memories of driving down a dark highway at 2am listening to Ashlee Simpson are ones I will never, ever forget.

17.  Read.  Even in college when it feels like the reading never ends.  Read something that gives you life and joy or makes you better even if its just for 5 minutes each day.

16.  “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”  Memorize it and repeat it to yourself each time you’re tempted to involve yourself in other people’s drama. Sometimes the right choice is to leave their crazy alone, and that’s perfectly okay.

15.  Get hooked on a popular TV show.  Have premier parties with your girlfriends when a new season begins.  Text your best friend about it each week while it airs.  Figure out who you love and who you hate and why.  (Is it obvious I’m referring to The Bachelor?) Let someone else’s drama entertain you for an hour or two each week to give you a break from your own.

14.  Practice saying No.  And do it sooner than later.  Let your early twenties be the time when you learn how to protect yourself from overcommitment & people pleasing.  You’ll thank yourself later, I promise.

13.  Do your thing and don’t apologize for it.  Your parents want an attorney but you’d rather be an event planner?  Give your parents a hug, reassure them of your love and respect, and do you.  Your friends want to go out & party every night but you’d rather stay home in your pajamas because Netflix?  Offer to buy everyone a round of ice cream and invite them to join you.  Bottom line?  Don’t get trapped in the pressure of living up to other people’s expectations of who you should be.  You may change your major 10 times or spend an entire month binge watching Gilmore Girls on Netflix every night, and that’s okay.

12.  Choose your people wisely, and listen to them.  On the flip side, sometimes we need people to shake us out of our Netflix induced stupor, or our booze binging college weekends.  Surround yourself with people who love you and are willing to tell you the truth when you need to hear it.  Choose to be around the people who encourage you and fill you up.  And don’t be afraid to let go of friends who consistently bring out the worst in you or treat you poorly.

11.  Do now what you won’t be able to do later.  When I was 22 I visited my girlfriends in Ohio in June.  I loved being with them so much that I went home, quit my job, packed my stuff, and moved there a month later.  I brought with me only what would fit in my car, shopped for furniture with my best friend at Goodwill, and oh sweet baby Jesus was it a growing experience.  I fell flat on my face as I learned how to live 10 hours away from my family and work multiple jobs and try to pay my own bills, etc.  But I grew up in that year and a half, and I wouldn’t trade that experience for the world.  Also, go out for drinks at 10pm on a Monday now, because I swear to you in a few short years you’ll be in pajamas at that time wondering how you ever lived that life.

10.  Don’t neglect your most important people, and tell them often.  I lost three of the most important people in my life in my mid-late twenties.  I would give anything to go back and treasure conversations & moments more.  I would have visited more, argued less, and I certainly would have spoken out loud more that they were the people who made me who I am, that they were priceless people in my life, and that I loved them more than words could say.  I know they all knew I loved them, but now that they’re gone I know I couldn’t have said it enough.  Make time, treasure them, and tell them.  I promise you’ll never regret time spent with those you love, even if you have to sacrifice to get it.

9.  Educate yourself.  There comes a point in your twenties where people expect you to know how to order a good glass of wine or throw a dinner party that isn’t served on paper plates around the television.  Ask questions, pay attention to those who seem to have it figured out, invest in some real tableware, (full disclosure – the dollar tree has some really great plain white plates and bowls that look like they came from Pottery Barn for $1 each. No excuses, y’all), and invite your people over.  Figure out how to cook things people will eat.  Buy wine that compliments your meal.  Ask questions about how to invest your money even if you don’t have extra money yet to invest.  Go get your oil changed and learn how to say no to all the extras.  Empower yourself.  You’ve got this.

8.  Be okay with what’s in front of you.  I landed my dream job right out of college, and it ended up not being such a dream.  (Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do, but it’s not all fun & games).  Some of my friends are still working for the same wages they made BEFORE college, because the jobs they want just aren’t available.  Either way, I promise you the real dream is making the most of what’s in front of you.  Even when you take the next step toward your goal, you’ll still struggle.  You won’t arrive, ever, and the sooner you practice embracing what’s in your hands today and letting that be enough the more content you’ll be.

7.  Choose joy.  Along those lines, you get to choose your demeanor and posture toward the highs & lows of this crazy life.  I see so many women running themselves ragged (I am one of them far too often) trying to accomplish more, be better, look nicer, keep up appearances, constantly comparing ourselves to the perfect girl on that one blog or our living room to that pinterest photo, etc.   It’s so easy to be discouraged when you compare your real life to someone else’s highlights.  Choose joy, anyway.  Don’t waste your twenties trying to measure up.  You have enough to do trying to figure out who YOU are, not how to be someone else.  Laugh at yourself, treasure the best moments, don’t squash your joy because your life doesn’t look like you expected or the life you’re comparing it to.

6.  Treat yo’self.  Buy yourself flowers.  Keep ice cream in your freezer.  Get a nice haircut regularly.  Save up for a vacation, even if it’s just a weekend getaway.

5.  GIVE GIVE GIVE.  You are paving the road for the type of adult you’ll be, and now is the time to start living sacrificially with your money and time.  Find a cause you believe in and throw yourself into supporting it.  Practice tithing to your church.  Buy your friend’s dinner every now and then.  Treat the person behind you at Starbucks to their coffee.  Learn well what it means to pour out your life to serve others.

4.  Stay connected.  I’ve spent the past 10 years working in full time student ministry, and it breaks my heart to hear the statistics of our generation leaving the church in droves.  I know that life after youth ministry takes some getting used to.  I know that the church is failing many of you by feeding you morality more than they feed you Jesus.  I know.  But I can promise you that this life is going to be less full without the protection, encouragement, and accountability of a local body of believers surrounding you.  Dig deep, push through, fight to hope for the Church when everything in you wants to throw up your hands.  Be the solution.  Give grace upon grace upon grace.  Speak words of life instead of complaining.  You are the future of this beautiful, God ordained entity, and this decade of your life is not without consequence.  Stay connected to the church, and to the people who have supported you in your youth.  I promise someday you’ll look back and be incredibly glad you did.

3.  Say thank you.  You didn’t get to your twenties as a well adjusted, intelligent, Jesus lover on your own.  Identify those people who supported you along the way and tell them thank you.  Teachers, youth pastors / leaders, mentors, friend’s parents, older siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts & uncles, etc.  Write it down & send them a letter.  Pick up the phone & tell them.  Do something.  It will encourage them more than you will ever know, but it will also remind you of their wisdom, their love, and the truth that had it not been for their investment you wouldn’t be the person you are.  And somehow in that state of gratitude you’ll find them changing your life all over again.

2.  Be kinder than necessary.  To the waitress.  To your barista.  To the lady who lets you go first at the grocery store.  To your coworker, roommate, family, cable guy, best friend.  Nobody likes a grump.  Be nice.

1.  Love well.  I’ll write a whole blog on this someday, but your twenties are going to be largely defined by love.  You’ll be trying to find it, trying to keep it, trying to avoid it, or trying to heal from it at any given time.  Don’t be afraid to love when it’s time.  Don’t be afraid to grieve when it’s over.  Don’t be afraid to try again when you’re ready.  Don’t be afraid to say no when you’re not feeling it.  Your heart is the most valuable thing you have to give.  Be careful, be accountable to people who love you, and choose wisely.


PS.  You’re going to make it.  I promise.  Xoxo.


20 Things I Learned in my 20s

Daddy’s Girl

The first several years of my life being a Daddy’s girl just came naturally to me.  I was the princess of the family (some things never change, am I right?) and my Dad was as important as oxygen.  Always there, every bedtime, every ball practice, every game, every loose tooth, every major sporting event on TV, etc.

Idyllic?  Hardly.  Perfect?  Not even.
Parents who are on the fast track to divorce don’t make for a peaceful, perfect household.  But even in the midst of what I remember as a chaotic season of life, my Dad never let go of me.  Not when I talked back, not when I got in endless battles with my new step-mom, not when I wished my baby brother could go back to wherever he came from, not when I was selfish and sassy, not even when my sister & I screamed and hit and cried endlessly to the point that it had to be rage inducing to anyone within earshot.

Was he perfect?  Nope.
But he was there.  I didn’t know then what I know now:  A lot of men at his age in his situation (early 30’s and newly divorced) would have used that as a chance to run.  Start over.  Be free.  An every other weekend commitment leaving 26 days a month to focus on yourself.  My Dad didn’t do that, and his decision to keep being my Daddy, not just my father, changed my life.

He kept working hard to help provide for everything we needed.  He drove me around on days where I was not his “legal” responsibility – to school, to practice, to a friends house, to church, appointments, and back home again.  He came up with money above his “legal” responsibility of child support whenever I needed it.  He worried about me… my grades, my friendships, my sicknesses and injuries, my relationships, even when my physical absence in his home could have let him zone out to his TV or be consumed by his new wife & baby boy.

I became a teenager and my quick temper (a gift from my Dad) combined with my new found teenage hormones forced my family to live with an absolute crazy person.  Let’s just say two hot tempered people with similar personalities under the same roof is a recipe for near disaster.  I yelled, he yelled back.  He would get so made spit would be flying out of his mouth as he yelled, and instead of realizing I was pushing him over the edge I would scream into his face “YOU’RE SPITTING ON ME!” and he would scream back “I’M GOING TO DO MORE THAN SPIT IF YOU DON’T SETTLE DOWN!” and it wouldn’t phase me in the slightest.  I pushed him to his breaking point over, and over, and over.  I didn’t care how many times I got the belt, or yelled at, or raised his blood pressure.  I was the definition of spoiled brat and my poor Dad fought with me every time.  Maybe it’s crazy, but there’s a piece of me that looks back and laughs at so many of those tense, borderline unsafe moments, because what my Dad COULD HAVE done is ignore me in all my teenage angst.  He could have walked away, refused to engage, and created distance between us.  But he fought me time after time, and maybe fighting isn’t the best way to deal with an irrational teenager, but it did say to me something that has never left me:  I’d rather fight with you day after day than leave you.  You make me angry and I’d like to beat the teenager out of you sometimes, but you’re worth the fight.

Thankfully I grew out of (most of) my irrational & angry teenage years, and adulthood has looked something like this:

College, round one – Dad packed me up & moved me in, then let me come back home a week later when I realized I just wasn’t ready to be on my own yet.

College, round two – Dad packed me up & paid for my car so I could go away to my dream school.  He drove 8 hours round trip to pick me up for Thanksgiving when my car needed work.  He also paid for the work on my car because I was a poor college student.

Big Move, round one – I moved to Ohio (10 hours away) on a whim.  Dad packed me up, loaded our cars, and followed me the whole way there.  Moved me in and drove away, letting me grow up even though his preference would be that I’d live in our hometown forever.

New Adult Job, round one – Dad celebrating new opportunities with me, supporting me moving back to our home state, helping me grieve the loss of my Grandpa even as he grieved the loss of his Dad.

New Adult Job, round two – Moving cross country this time, all the way to southwest Florida.  I left home at 2am and Dad watched me leave the driveway with my tiny little Ford Escort (the one he basically paid for, even though I swore I could afford it), totally loaded down with basically everything I owned.  I drove 20 hours straight to Florida, non-stop, all by myself, no cruise control, the only window I could see out of was my windshield and drivers window.  And my Dad?  He stayed awake the entire time from when I left til when I arrived safely, following me on a map the entire way, calling me every couple hours to check in.

The common denominator?  My sweet Dad has participated in every significant life event.  He’s never been a spectator of my life, always an active part of it.  He’s there to pack me up or send me off.  He’s there to answer questions or pay my car payment when I was an irresponsible college student.  He’s the first person I call when my car does something strange or the Cardinals win or lose or I’m bored driving to or from work.  He’s the first and last face I see when I come home for visits and the one who knows my favorite meals and the one who makes the best breakfasts.  If I have a problem?  It isn’t just mine, my Dad enters into it with me to help me solve it.  If I call him?  He answers.  (To this day, I can only think of 3 reasons I’ve ever had a phone call go to voicemail – 1.  His phone is on silent or in the truck while he watches my brother play sports.  2.  He’s in the bathroom.  3. He didn’t hear it.  (bless his hard of hearing heart)) He even answers when he’s working or golfing or mid-meal or mid-tv show.  My Dad is generous with his time, and that’s probably my favorite thing about him.  I never have to wonder if he’s going to be available when I need him.  He always has been, and I have no reason to believe he won’t always be.

The running joke in our family is that I’m Dad’s favorite.  I may or may not have started the rumor, but my siblings have picked it up and believe it, so that’s all that matters now.  Whether or not that’s true, (I choose to believe it is ;), the truth remains that my Dad is MY favorite, and I am so, so grateful for the strongest, bravest, smartest, most kind, generous, Dad in the whole world.

I love you, Daddy!

**This is the first in a series about my family.  Somebody hold me accountable to that!  I have so many words about each family member that I need to get out so that they will forever know how much of a FAN I am of each of them!**


Daddy’s Girl

You can find me in the club

We’re taught from a young age that it is better to be “in” than “out”.  Accepted is better than rejected.  Chosen first better than chosen last.

If the cool kids had a club?  I wanted in on it.
If there was anything musical going on?  Let me at it.
If the neighbor kids were playing a game?  Please Lord don’t let me get picked last.
Running the dreaded “mile” in elementary school PE?  Identify the slowest girl & be faster than her.

As we grow up we begin to realize that there are still “clubs”, they just become a little less obvious.  There’s the “Thin Enough” club, where all you need to do to belong is wear less than a size 6 and talk about how fat you are so everyone still sees you as humble.  There’s the Mom club, God bless them, driving their mini-van like a badge of honor, keeping their babies safe & healthy and trying to salvage some sense of a social life in the midst of diapers and homework and soccer practices.  There’s the Married Club, where the men talk about how “smokin hot” their wife is and the women write Facebook statuses about their perfect little family.  It gets harder to remember once you’re part of this club how to be friends with people who aren’t in this club, so let’s just go ahead and call the Married Club the V.I.P lounge.

I realize there are a lot of other clubs that you may notice – the Star Hostess Club, the Beautiful Home club, the Perfectly Put Together Club, the Well Traveled Club, The Best Dressed Club, etc.  The list really could go on and on.  But those three?  They’re the ones that I find myself dying to be “in” when the truth is, I’m as “out” as it gets.

Single & childless at 29?  That’s a club I didn’t choose.  A constant struggle with body image and comparison?  Didn’t choose that one either.

So what do we do?  Where is God in the midst of seasons of life that are not what we expected them to be?  If God can do anything, why doesn’t he answer the years and years of prayers begging him for membership in the thin married momma club?

Sweet friends, from one who is “out” in areas she desperately wants to be “in”,  the sweetest thing I’ve learned is that these areas of vulnerability is that the Lord works most powerfully in me when I allow myself to be honest & transparent about the fact that they hurt. 

 It hurts every time a friend gets engaged.  It hurts so badly I literally use the HIDE button on Facebook so that I don’t have to look at all their happy updates & congratulations well wishes.  Their happiness is wonderful, but it is also a reminder that I am still “out”, and it’s painful.  It hurts watching my friends begin to have babies & post pregnancy updates & flood my social media feeds with their sweet little angels.  My heart could burst with happiness for them, but it’s bittersweet knowing that I’m 29, single, and staring the end of baby-making years in the face.  It’s bittersweet to be the honorary “aunt” & resident babysitter of my friends kids when my heart longs to be the Mommy who needs a break and a night out and a sweet friend who will come love my babies so I can get away.  Oh y’all, I get so much joy from loving those babies, but it simultaneously reminds me that I am “out”, and it breaks my heart.

It took me til 29 to be open & honest about these hurts.  (& I’ll be honest, writing a public blog about my deepest insecurities?  I’ll let you guess how my heart feels about that one.)  Yet in the midst of this season of brutal honesty, the Lord has been near.  I’ve yelled and asked him why he took away relationships that could have been the key to the future I had planned for myself.  Why He allowed my heart to be drug through the mud and broken so badly that it took years to begin to recognize life in it again.  Why He surrounded me by people who are all “in” the clubs I want to be “in”, and asked me to love them sacrificially.  It almost feels like a cruel joke.

Yet I am certain He hears me and is near to me as I am brokenhearted. (Ps. 34:18)
I am certain He is good, and has plans for my life that are greater than I could imagine.  (Jer. 29:11)
I am certain He honors those who wait in hope.  (Acts 11:13-16)
I am certain He is faithful when we find ourselves thrust into seasons we didn’t choose, because He orchestrated them in His goodness & faithfulness for the working out of HIS GLORY and MY GOOD.  Ruth didn’t choose to be a widow.  Joseph didn’t choose to be sold by his brothers.  Jonah didn’t choose to be swallowed by a whale.  Countless men & women didn’t choose leprosy, a disease that left them very much “out” in a way you & I will never understand.  And yet the Lord saw each and every one of them, He sees you, and He sees me.  He redeems the dirty, broken pieces of our lives that leave us insecure and hurting.  Maybe not in our timing, maybe not in our lifetime, but His promise is true, and we can hold tight to it when everything else seems to be falling apart.

“That’s why I don’t think there’s any comparison between the present hard times and the coming good times. The created world itself can hardly wait for what’s coming next. Everything in creation is being more or less held back. God reins it in until both creation and all the creatures are ready and can be released at the same moment into the glorious times ahead. Meanwhile, the joyful anticipation deepens.” Romans 8:18-21 (MSG)

Hold on, friends.  Good times are coming.  Joyfully anticipate the day when “all that is sad will become untrue“. (Tolkien)

It’s coming.
Rescue.  Redemption. Nothing broken.
Nothing missing.
Completely whole.
Perfectly accepted.
Totally, completely, once and for all “IN”.

You can find me in the club