"If", Brand New, Pure at Heart (& crying at a concert)

 If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken   

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

______

My dear friend David, has spent a decade introducing me to good music. He's responsible for my love of many bands and artists, Brand New being at the top of that list. A few years ago, he bought me The Devil and God Raging Inside of Me. The minute I popped it into my sad little CD player in my old car, I was in love. 

Sowing Seeds leads off this album and is my favorite of all Brand New songs. For years, I thought it was really strange that I so thoroughly resonated with this song. There are certainly many others that could have been obvious choices. This is, after all, an album that sings and screams about the fallen Christian and the battle between good and evil and the loss and breaking of all the "yokes" church and Christianity places on people. (at least that's what I make of it but more creative and knowing minds may hear things differently.) 

Last Thursday, I went to see Brand New at Stage AE here in Pittsburgh. Mid-way through, they played Sowing Seeds. And as the lyrics, taken from a poem by Rudyard Kipling, melodically washed over me, I finally did it. I bore to hear the truth that I've spoken. I watched the things I've given my life to, break. 

And even more, I realized something frightening. Something freeing. 

I not only surrendered to the necessity of that breaking, I decided that for some things, for some people, I may not stoop and build anymore. Not with worn-out tools. Not with false pretenses. Not with fake smiles and empty promises.  I'm too tired to pretend to care about what everyone else wants me to give myself to and to sow seeds I'd rather not see come to fruition in the first place.  I spent years working at a church for Christ's sake - this girl knows how to smile, fake it and tolerate the suckling from the power-tit by those I was supposed to respect. 

A person can fake for so long, they stop realizing what is false and what is true - like being knocked over by a wave and becoming disoriented between what is up and what is down. I think that's been me in a lot of ways. And coming out of disorientation is tricky and blinding and amazing and beathless.

It's a really odd thing, to have been known as a truth-teller, but realizing all along - it wasn't all true. Since I was a tiny child, I really couldn't lie. And for most of my life, I barely even tried to. Later I became someone unafraid to confront and speak words that cut between honesty and deception. But standing at that show last Thursday, I realized that the truth that matters the most, is the very truth I've chosen to ignore. And since I'm still a recovering evangelical, I'll throw this out there too. The heart really can be, more deceitful than all else and beyond cure. (Jeremiah 17:9) 

_____

I have a pretty amazing therapist who confronts my black and white mind every time we meet, as well as my self-depricting humor and my boundary-lessness. When we first started talking about boundaries, I'm not to going to lie (ha!). I literally could not comprehend what the hell she was talking about, mostly because her questions always began with: 

Her: "....Yes. That makes sense. But what do YOU want?"

Me: "UMMMM???!!!!?!??!.... (long pause) Oh, that's not rhetorical? Shit, well. UMM." (insert blank stares and hard blinking while my 8 differing and conflicting personalities via for the "right" answer.) 

I AM learning to listen though, slowly. Because as my therapist explains (over and over), boundaries are mostly created by hearing your own self. And I'm finally listening and trying not to apologize for my truth. The truth that was there all along. The truth that isn't black and white. The truth that gives me the freedom to cry at a concert and see the light and promise to listen and to hear ME - to just, cultivate this garden with salvageable tools and brand new ones I'll acquire along the way. I want to sow desirable seeds that I'll water with joy and not dread and I want to watch those seeds blossom into something, simple maybe, but honest. 

Because I think that, that is what it means to be pure of heart.

Scarlet "A" & Un-sanctified

I was twenty-one when I was first told I had "lost my testimony." A trusted pastor from a neighborhood church heard rumors of an unruly night my friends and I had on the South Side. He made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he implicitly believed the rumors and that those of us caught in these acts of debauchery had lost "our witness." We had lost our testimony and therefore our volunteer roles on the worship team.

Unfortunately, I grew up Baptist. So I knew better than to begin to question my salvation but what I did begin to question, was Myself. And Grace. And God. I began to question the point of choosing right after having chosen wrong. What would be the allure of repentance without the potential of restoration?

Punishment hardly ever works because atonement by good deeds or shunning because of broken covenants, isn't convincing or inspiring. It's isolating.

The Scarlet Letter

I had walked the narrow plank to the alter time and again as a child. I wasn't the kid who needed convinced she was a sinner. (You don't lose your sexual purity as a child - irregardless of where responsibility lies - and maintain the kind of image necessary to belong to the good girl's club.) I wasn't the young adult who needed to learn how to take responsibly for my wrong-doings. It takes a coward to blame a child; it takes a village of assholes to brand a scarlet letter on the heart-broken.

I think a truly conservative thinker could make a decent argument for the "lost testimony"concept and the church discipline incurred by said rumors. Leadership needs to be pure and undefiled, yada yada yada. (Though truth be told, I have yet to find a leader even close to pure or undefiled, but that's a subject for another day.)

I don't know. I get it. But also?

I don't.

...It's not the hugest secret, or maybe it is, that Michael and I are going through a very difficult time. Without getting into the details, I'll just say it's been the most painful season of our lives and quite possibly the most difficult path to discern. And though we are striving and hopeful and doing everything possible to personally grow and fight like hell for our family, life has taught us over and over that even the purest of hopes can disappoint. And hurt people, hurt people.

I've observed recently how people in a current season of "un-struggle" often act in the same spirit as that neighborhood pastor from my early 20's. It's not really the obvious judgment or rumor mongering, it's the demotion and shunning that hurts and isolates - the disallowance of grappling and heartbreak that's astonishing. Like if one area of a person's life is out of control or in crisis for a few months or even a year (*gasp*), somehow the entirety of who they are becomes questionable, regardless of years of positive, selfless or life-giving "testamony."

It must be nice to have a perfect marriage and a perfect life with perfect leaders on top of a grassy green hill. I should know - I used to live there (or so I thought. Or so I wanted to think).

Having believed this place was an empire, I now know illusions when I see them. The fall from grace can be quick. And the vultures don't waste time.

Drawing hard-lines for struggling people takes some balls (perfect ones, I hope...are there such things?!)  But I'm not convinced hard-lines and isolation are the best ways to love people. Jesus asked, especially, to see Peter, post-reserection. Because second (and third and fourth and seventy-seven) chances were important to a perfect Savior. Peter denied Jesus. He messed up in one big area of his life, but he wasn't lost in totality. And the time between dishonor and restoration was a matter of days - not years - and certainly far from a lifetime of distrust and shaming.

Why do we write people off just because they struggle in ways we do not, or in ways we are just afraid to admit? Why is it so easy to proclaim punishment and isolation and time-outs but not invite restoration, hope or forgiveness? It's timeless - the allure and ease of pointing fingers vs. sitting across from a struggling friend and together, as equals, breaking bread. Did we learn nothing from Hester Prynne's life?  Do we take nothing from the teachings of Jesus?

Choking on Change

....and how ninety degrees is a lie

My dad has this saying that he finds pretty funny but I'm fairly certain it contains layers of truth. People (who party) don't stop partying. They just get tired.

I was talking to an old friend recently. We were reminiscing about our "old times;" the parties, the bars, the crowds, the prayers, the booze, the worship, the friendships, the boys, the girls and the energy. All that energy given to exploring ourselves while we were young. We discovered a lot and despite teetering on the edge here and there, we all survived. Somehow. And live to see another day. And tell another story.

But how different is that story, really?

Don't get me wrong, people make different decisions either based on circumstance, religion, reputation, obligation or just pure exhaustion. But if at the depth of our core we are all uniquely bent in certain ways, where does the deep go? Do we trick ourselves into deep's disappearance? Or will what was always there inevitable come out, simply transformed into something more palatable?

I've noticed that all kinds of people, even "the redeemed," try really hard to hide the deep. We force its energy elsewhere and give them face-lifts. We find new ways to get attention and more mature words to express our tantrums. We drink wine instead of shots of tequila; we obsessively rub our kids with coconut oil instead of doing lines of cocaine. We watch porn instead of having affairs; we write blogs instead of going to clubs. We join church groups, the PTA, play softball or take cooking classes to distract us from what lies, just beneath the surface. But the deep is still there. With layers and layers of light piled high on top.

Is this change?

Or is this how we choke on change, harnessed by the demeaning way in which it condemns us for everything we were and the shades of deep we wish we could still be.

I'm reminded of a different conversation I had recently on a Sunday morning. We called it our church and drank a lot of Bloody Mary's and 60 minute IPAs. We talked about evangelicalism and its detrimental view of humanity - that even our best is His worst, being primarily taught the evil of our brokenness. How fundamentally worthless we are in our own right.

I have a different theological view on that, being made in His image and all. But that's for another day. This is really about being human. Christian or Muslim or Agnostic. We're all just, trying. We want to be better. We are moving in small degrees, evolving into the most beautiful version of ourselves. But the process is brutal and isn't graciously done if its mixed with impossible expectations. (Trust me, I know. I grew up Baptist.)

I guess I just don't want to be lied to anymore. And I don't want to ignore reality. My deep is there, despite all of my "changing." Palpable and dark and alluring and full of wonder and poison - shades of shame, intoxicated intelligence - creative expressions that will not be locked away without keys. All any of us can do is be who we are,  a few degrees away from wherever we started.

Ninety degrees is a lie. Maybe we're just tired

(and then we get our second wind!?)

I got 99 problems but an itch ain't one

...PERSPECTIVE IS EVERYTHING

The human body is amazing. I recently had to go to a new doctor because I had several problems, including a bad rash around my neck and a nodule on the left side of my throat. I suspected I was dying but turns out I had a very swollen gland, due to the severe eczeme - all brought on by stress.

In my previous post, I did my best to capture how shitty 2013 was and as a result, my body was screaming for some relief. It reminds me of that Scripture in Luke 19,  Jesus answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”  - (If the people didn't worship, the earth would.) Kind of like if we don't deal with our stresses and anxieties, our stresses and anxieties will deal with us. Something has to give.

When 2013 started taking a turn for the worse, and then the much worse, I had to get a grip on my overwhelming emotions. I had to gain some perspective. At points, I lied to myself to keep me sane for the day. At other points, I anesthetized with wine or food or the escape of a good book. But in the process, I started to gain the ability to take a step back and focus on what's the most important to the least important; things I could change and things I could not.  I learned and am still learning what's really a problem. And I started humoring myself with this song.

"I got 99 problems but an __________ ain't one." I started filling in the blank with whatever the presenting issue was that was not in my control to change and in the grand scheme of problems, not really that big of a deal. Sometimes, I made a slight variation - like, "I got 99 problems but _____________ is only ONE of them." And I'd fill in the blank with an actual problem, but a problem that could be tempered with perspective.

Maybe I'm going crazy or maybe I just like inappropriate rap songs a little too much, but it's helped me stay sane. For instance:

• I got 99 problems but your parenting style ain't one.
• I got 99 problems but my church attendance ain't one.
• I got 99 problems but where I put the Christmas tree ain't one.
• I got 99 problems but an acquaintances gossip ain't one.
• I got 99 problems but Nico jumping off the couch 400 times a day ain't one.

It's also helped me gain the ability to prioritize my world and set boundaries for what I can give my energy toward. For instance:

• I got 99 problems but grieving Allegheny Center Alliance Church is only ONE of them.
• I got 99 problems but the sale of my house is only ONE of them.
• I got 99 problems but a friends' heartache is only ONE of them.
• I got 99 problems but an argument in my marriage is only ONE of them.
• I got 99 problems but what we are doing in life is only ONE of them.

I know that still may seem a bit depressing but perspective has been everything; I'm still smiling and engaging and pushing forward and let's be honest, a little rap makes my world bouncier. :) And....I'm happy to say, after medication, blood tests and a little lecture from my doctor, I have 99 problems but an itch is no longer one. (and I no longer have a giant lump in my throat.) I'm hopeful for the day that I only have 72 problems or 11 problems, but as long as I stay focused on the priorities and let the rest go, the perspective will give me hope. And hope sustains all.

Here's to 2014, a year of perspective and hope!

Randoms (13) - The Why Summer Sucked Edition:

It was a terrible summer. And thus my silence over the past few months. There's been some difficult things we have had to deal with - things to grieve and reflect on - subtle life-changing shifts in perspective, beliefs and goals. It's hard, but I really think I will look back on these few months, maybe even this entire year (and the year before) with a nostalgic grace. One day, this will all make sense. But right now, things are cold and a little grey. With that being said, here are my bleak "randoms," part thirteen - the why summer sucked edition.

• Both of my grandmothers died in the span of seven weeks this summer and as a person untainted previously by death and its grief process, it was a lot to take in. I was very close to my paternal grandmother growing up. She shaped my worldview in ways I didn't quite understand until the day of her memorial service. As I stated when I eulogized her, she gave me my  first sense of true community and the freedom to question rules and authority. I dare say, she was the earliest hipster and reflecting on her life was a beautiful, deeply humbling experience...one that I think of often and continue to feel, grow and learn from.

• We continue to wait, and wait and wait for opportunities for Michael, in a job he cares about and went to school to pursue a career in. I swear to God, it feels like infertility. Millions and millions of sperm (job applications) and nothing. Nothing. For a man who's so intelligent, with a masters degree from a great university, it's almost laughable. Almost. We creatively maneuver our lives around the potential of tomorrow's change all the while find ways to exist and content ourselves in the 'same old.'
  
  {Being grateful is a choice. To count our blessings is something we force ourselves to do because in the end, it will destroy us to focus on what could, or dare I say, should be. So we are thankful for healthy kids, a beautiful house that seems to appreciate in value every week, our own health, Michael's current job with AH-Mazing insurance, renewed contracts for me, and family and friends. So many friends. So many, many lovely relationships.}

• Speaking of relationships...after seventeen years, I have left my church. And I am not worshiping elsewhere. And I do not have intentions of doing so for a while, at least. The reasons are personal and profoundly clear to me and long-in-coming. Even though I believe I'm doing the right thing for myself, and for my family (eventually), I take it as a loss. A divorce. The co-dependent dance I've both made an idol and an identity in is over. I cannot say I'm not relieved. I cannot say I'm not heartbroken. I'm confused. And at the same time, enlightened. This had to happen. I was breaking there anyway.

• It was an old Jewish custom for "creditors" to pardon debt every seven years. They called it Jubilee. (maybe still do?) I was thinking recently about how, for me, I go through my own little "thing" with my faith about every seven years. A breaking and molding, if you will, of what and why I believe what I believe. I guess it's my own version of jubilee.
  
  {An observation I have had, in these jubilee processes, is how intimidated and self-righteous people get when you mention that you're questioning the role of church in 21st century America. Or God's intimate relationship with us as individuals. Or the purpose and impact of prayer. "People be crazy." Either God is personal and involved and therefore has me secure in His loving arms. Or He's not at ALL what we claim He is. If we believe in the indwelling and convicting presence of the Holy Spirit, then why in God's name (literally) do people freak out when someone questions something?  Won't He actively pursue them back to restored faith or discipline them for their transgressions?
  
  Even at my most evangelical, this is why I don't think I've ever felt comfortable with the label Christian. I probably would have chosen to identify myself as a seeker if "seeker" was a category back in the 80's and I wasn't afraid of going to hell. (hell scared the ba-jesus outta me growing up. literally!) I've always been a wrestler with Truth, someone who would have overcome the angel like Jacob - that's how intensely I struggle and choose to romp around with the things of God. If God is real, and almost especially if He is, why are questions so scary or shocking to the worshiping church? The fear(s) and lack of real thought in which Christians exist and operate out of is deadly. Jesus was clear to denounce those who practiced this sort of religion and called them a sons of the devil. Pharisees... people in bondage to a system, not a relationship (even with self). I'm proud to sit across from an agnostic or "unbeliever" on occasion and vulnerably express my deep questions and faith fears because it's not my job to defend God. Or Christianity. It's my job to live and die in a vulnerable, transparent pursuit of love. Love. The Giver of Love doesn't require my life to be a stage. I'm so tired of the pretenses. I can't do it anymore.}

• People respond in different ways, after death - after divorce - after great disappointments, in hard situations - in difficult relationships - in painful circumstances. I look around me, at every one of my family members, and see the hand of grief manifest itself in all sorts of haunting and beautiful and sad ways. Likewise, people respond to those who are grieving and struggling in all sorts of different ways as well.
  
  {I've been noticing that we, Americans/Christians/Cultural Weirdos, are so anti-natural process people. We have an innate need to fix the broken, the situation or the event. I want to scream sometimes, "STOP TRYING TO FIX ME!" Because, chances are you can't. I can't. We are so good at diminishing the natural process people need to go through to become more evolved humans. I think if we stopped trying to fix grief, we'd have healthier people. People are so scared of their own humanity. I know I am at times. But I'd like the opportunity to navigate life, even when it's hard and sad, WHILE being loved and befriended.  We need to stop emotionally c-sectioning what could be a longer, painful but more rewarding, healthier experience. Damn Americans, with our unnecessary medical interventions and unwanted feelings and processes. Why are we so arrogant? Why are we so afraid to feel?}
  
   ________________________________
  
  I'll conclude with this. My life is in transition and my jubilee journey is in process. There are days that I anesthetize my pain and my purpose and there are days I allow the full weight of these few months and years to wash over me in tears and giggles and the occasional throwing of a wine glass. (Though I blame that more on tequila!) I love my friends and family, for their allowance of me to be whatever I am, THAT DAY, without judgement or expectation or a need to fix. I'm also thankful for those who cannot begin to process their own lives so they try to fix mine, because they motivate me to keep walking through this (so I don't end up like them).
  
  I will come through this. Transformed and more fully me. Human. Jubilee - the freedom from debt, obligation and fear.
  
  Until next time...

My Manifesto

...making waves in still waters

Having taken a PurposeQuest International seminar and a semester with the founder and president of that great organization in college, I know this is my purpose. Purpose is something that you eat and breath and just are, outside of a role, social norms or the nature vs. nurture debate. Purpose is something inside each of us that cries out and exists despite any attempt to squash and dismiss. For some, it's organization. For others, it's serving the poor. For me, it's calling out the deep potential within and not allowing the water to settle before calling it out again, and again. My existence makes waves in still waters. 

Unfortunately, this often gives way to uncomfortable controversy, an unsettling baring of the soul that most people try their entire lives to cover. I know the reputation I carry; it's an unfortunate result to intentions that are more about an integrity to the deep-sleeping-beauty inside the hearts and souls of individuals or institutions than the wave itself. Nothing tortures me like wasted potential. Nothing breaks my heart more...

I don't make waves because it's fun for me. I don't call out perceived injustices because it's entertaining. I don't make waves because I ever TRY to make waves. I make waves because I was born to save beautiful things. I was created to cause the storm that produces choppy water and stirred up sediment.  People should never get that comfortable in the ugliness of repressions, deceptions, rejections, fears or hypocrisies. If you've ever found yourself in the midst of my vortex of intensity, I can promise you - I'm just as surprised as you. I don't seek it out. It just happens. Purpose can sometimes be painful. Inescapable. Lonely. 

After several years of wondering and studying and taking personality test after test, I release myself to this truth; I will always dive in. It is more painful for me to silence and sensor self than it is to dive in, make the wave, and thrash around in the shit storm that is often my legacy. Part of this purpose is rescue. Part of this purpose seems mean. Part of this purpose is healing. Part of this purpose produces great freedom. But it's not a system. Oh no, it's not a system. In fact, systems and purpose are often in great conflict with one another. It's the system that I'm often obliged to make waves in. I want to look like Jesus here; cutting through red tape.

I have however at times tried to silence myself, to stifle purpose. But like in labor, when you're exhausted from pushing - it's still more painful not to push than exert the energy to push. There are times, oh yes, that I have not dived in, in the name of "strategy" or "wisdom" or out of "respect" - otherwise known as "fear of being misunderstood" or "fear of financial repercussion" or "fear of personal rejection." Giving into the fear is always more painful than living in purpose. Still, I've been cautioned time and again to get out of the water because one shouldn't "die on every hill." I think this is why "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere" - MLK, is my favorite quote.  It's my beacon of courage; my manifesto. All reformers, on any scale, have thrown caution to the wind. Fear aside, they march up those hills. They'll risk death, every. single. time.

But I don't move earth. I move water. There's no hill to die on here. The biggest mistake I've ever made has had more to do with misjudging the depth of the water, on the deep end. The potential within has been strikingly more shallow than what I judged in the initial dive. I am eternally optimistic. I always believe in love, that there is redemption for all people. I have, at times, assumed that the water is deeper, that the potential is greater. That is why I won't die on a hill. I'll hit my head on a rock, first. 

Metaphor's aside, I'm writing this for me this morning. I need to reclaim something inside myself. The wave needs to be alive in me first. And lately, I've been guilty of calming the movement inside, for fear of being misunderstood or fear of financial repercussion or fear of personal rejection. I'm in the throws of labor and have stopped pushing, hard. For months now, I've been battling depression. A slow leak of energy, joy, peace and passion has seeped out of me and I've faded. Faded into a dull color of myself, wading in a stagnant, shallow pool. There's been a failure to thrive in the waters that has only happened a few other times in my life. It's been hard. I've allowed difficult circumstances and a compromise for ease, stifle my purpose and the essence of me. 

I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror a few weeks ago in the midst of what I consider a grave injustice that 'Lindsay-living-in-purpose' would never cower to, and cold water rushed through me once again. Beautiful currents; dangerous movement. Sediment stirred (not shaken). Purpose asking to be reclaimed. In that moment, I made a promise to myself. That I would dive here, for this cause, over this issue. One last time. Here. And I would not cower to the fears that have held me back from being who I was created to be. The process has begun. And today I push forward. It's critical, for me. Like a tipping point. Because if I continue to walk the path of ease and fear and compromise, the fire that magically burns inside of me, even submerged in water, will go out. Everything that makes me, me - will be morphed. I owe it to myself, my husband, my children, my friends and even the institutions I serve, to be me. Not to cower but to rise up, dive in, be the wave and catalyst for the sake of the potential within. 

Beauty is always worth fighting for. Even if I'm diving alone; I'll get out. 

Tag: I Don't Believe in Censorship 

Randoms (12)

I have to get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. So here are my "randoms," part twelve.

• Yesterday at church, I sang one of my favorite worship songs with 9 women, 8 of us were mothers & daughters. My mom and I haven't sung together (karaoke doesn't really count) since our tiny Baptist church when I was 17. It was an honor. It was a lot of fun. The entire experience was beautiful & redemptive. I love that my mom has become a very close friend. Over the years we have been through our ups and downs. I'm glad we both have persevered through those difficult times & found our voice, a way to speak to one another in truth & love. 
• Nico is potty training & doing quite well. I've been dreading this mothering-must-do for some time now but luckily, he was ready & transitioned quickly. I will say though, this process has found me saying the oddest things. Like, "Don't pee on Thomas the Train. He won't like it." &, "Why is there urine in this mixing bowl?" & my all-time favorite, "Yes, that's right. Poopie is yucky & gross & you can't eat it."
  Mothering Nico has been really awesome lately. Not that he's perfect or even well behaved all the time but he says the funniest things, with hand gestures & facial expressions that are priceless. He loves his trains & trucks & neighborhood doggies. He loves "his" worship music & his shrimp & kale. Sometimes it catches me by surprise how quickly his world is being shaped. His view of self & family & God & church & friendships are rapidly growing & ever-changing. He takes time out of his day to ponder his great world & reflect & discuss his happenings. He's truly thinking. & he's quite bright. There isn't a lot he misses. I find this exciting & terrifying. 
• Selah has grown from being a sweet, go-with-the-flow kinda early toddler to a wild bunny. Sometimes we look at her & joke about the fact that she looks and is acting more feral than human. Her hair is crazy curly & streaked from the sun. Her eyes are a dancing blue - dark shades of deep mixed with water colored specks of mischief. Her eyes probably speak volumes about her personality. This girl is really something. Special. Beautiful. Captivating. Now if I could only figure out how to get her to come when I call her...
• I'm reading a book called Beautiful Outlaw. It's taking me a long time to get through it because every page has challenged me to think, or more accurately, re-think what I already "know" about this Man, this Savior that I believe, seek & follow. The book confronts some of the ways I'm accustom to relating to Jesus but it's not anti-church, necessarily. It comes at a good time for me. Me, who makes too much of institutions & leadership & systems. Will I never stop building idols? 
• I've been making some slow changes lately & it's awkward. From budgets to lifestyle choices to refocusing areas that I've been emotionally loose & practically sloppy in. Knowledge is power. I believe that. But knowledge doesn't always feel powerful in the moment. Knowledge is really only powerful if, in the new sight, changes are made. It does me no good to keep living like I'm blind, once I've seen the light. It does a world of good to know this reality & adjust accordingly. Setting new boundaries is hard & sometimes leads me to more questions than answers. But all things change. I don't want my finances, relationships or goals to go unmeasured or unevaluated. I never want to live in statuesque just because I was afraid. To change.
• I had been entertaining a potential job for the past two months. After lots of time and energy, they decided they needed someone who could be extremely flexible. AKA, someone without children who could be wherever at a moments notice. I'm not bitter. I'm really not. I spent a lot of time thinking & praying and negotiating this potential. And when I pray for a closed door, & it closes, why would I become bitter? I believe it happened the way it was supposed to. Although, I would have been an amazing asset to their organization. I know that. They know that. & in my most raw humanity, I take it as a loss. 
• My courtyard is fully bloomed, sans the sunflowers. I love spring/summer for this very reason. It's not just that it's colorful and smells fresh but it's the season for wonderful, emotionally-sustaining conversations. Surrounded by plants, flowers, friends, tikki torches & wine glasses, I am renewed.

Gotta run. Until next time...