Jirah: God is Enough

 I sat down in the row at church feeling heavy.  It was a hard weekend. 
More tears than smiles.

Then the message came, more truth than... well, it was all truth. 

I fought the truth hard, tried to make myself the exception. But the thing I've noticed in my relationship with God, when I wrestle with Him He always wins. But the wrestle is needed, because I refuse to have blind faith. I refuse to just say that "God is good" unless I actually and truly believe it. This morning I doubted and I shared my doubt with God Himself. I worshiped anyway because I know that what is true has not to do just with what I feel. So I searched through the fear and the doubt and proclaimed truth. Or maybe I listened to the truth being sung all around me even if I couldn't say the words myself.

I was driving home reflecting on the truth that was preached. God Provides. Everything, always.

Do I believe that? This past weekend, if I'm going to be honest was really hard especially as a single girl. More tears than smiles.

A country song was playing on the radio Buy Dirt and as I was listening I began to think of a slideshow I would create should I find someone someday (dreaming of a cute little farm-ette with a couple babies - just keeping it real, my friends). Journeying together with someone through the highs and lows of life. Then I stopped right there.

Why wait? 

Why wait to make the slideshow. God provides right now, not just if I was to someday find a man.

I began to think of the photos that would make up this last year, proof that my Jesus provides. This reel was born out of that.

Jehovah Jirah: God Provides, God is enough. 

For me. Right now.

Tonight the tears may flow again. But I am learning to embrace the idea that I can feel both joy and contentment AND sadness and longing at the same time. 

Right in the middle of all those feelings is Jesus - promising to be enough for me. Promising to provide. For me.

In your life right now what is proof that God provides? I challenge you, make this quick reel - just 27 photos. Married, single, somewhere in-between or nowhere close, focus for a few moments on Jirah. 

My Hands

Hands. I took them for granted for a full 30 years.

I need them to pour water, unscrew my toothpaste, grasp my crochet needle and to give a firm handshake.

For six months I woke up with pain shooting through my knuckles and left wrist. I pretended it didn't exist. As I winced slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I told myself that surely it was something weird and would go away soon.

Nope.

After a foot surgery to remove a mass and foot discomfort, my doctor recommended I see a rheumatologist. I balked at the idea. I'm just thirty years old, active, fairly healthy and always had control over my body.

My roommate encouraged me to keep the appointment the doctor had scheduled. The specialist ordered blood work and confirmed my fears - I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. I didn't know what that meant. But a quick google search revealed that I had an auto immune disease. The worst part; I couldn't make it go away. Yes, I'm learning there are ways to manage the pain, address the inflammation, but that's different.

This is the beginning of a journey I wish I didn't have to travel. Sometimes my heart is at peace, other times I'm angry at God. There are days where I love the challenge of tackling this from a functional medicine perspective and other days where I just want the pain to be gone. 

Pouring water, unscrewing my toothpaste, crocheting, now these basic activities aren't without pain. I'm hoping it'll get better. I'm actively working with a doctor. I pray for healing. But I have to be ok with this. I have to learn to trust my Jesus in a whole new way. 

I'm still learning, but I have a patient Teacher.

Today death stings, but it won't always.

I feel such sadness. I feel such joy.

My heart wants to break, my heart wants to sing.

My dad always says "pain and happiness run on parallel tracks and often arrive at the same time." My heart feels this ,and then doesn't know what to feel.

Actually no, my heart knows what to feel but my mind often tries to tell my heart that it can't dwell on joy and pain simultaneously. I try to justify the pain while also avoiding the joy.

Jesus wept fully knowing eternity.

My heart is rooted in truth, that I know for sure. To allow my heart to be sad is not negating truth, but rather its allowing my heart to stay soft in order for the truth to stay firm. If I ignore the pain I allow what is a real emotion to go unaddressed. And in my experience pain left alone builds to bitterness, resentment and doubt. 

My sister put it beautifully.

"Having days to reflect on the pain is important. Taking time to remember the goodness of God in the midst of difficult moments is biblical."

Today I will not wallow, but I will lament. 

I will always remember to never forget. #13years #AHB

Grandpa

It has been a wish of mine for my grandpa to hold my baby in his arms and pray.

I love when my grandpa prays. It's like heaven bends down. His faith shines strong and mine grows.

Now he's with Jesus. No need for prayers.

I lament not hearing his spoken prayers over my life and those that would maybe belong to me. But then I was reminded that those prayers were already spoken. My grandpa prayed in faith. My grandpa prayed for me by name and and for my children, because God already knows their names (or if they'll ever even be).

What hope I have because of faith. Because of heaven. Because of prayers of years past to be fulfilled in years to come.

My heart finds comfort.

I'm sure that Jesus seated my grandpa right next to the heroes of old. Pretty sure he couldn't grow a beard, and he may not have slain a giant or seen walls fall, but my grandpa lived by faith and went to battle every single day on his knees.

Grandpa had the kind of faith that slays sin. The kind of faith that watches walls of bitterness crumble. The kind of faith that carries a man through life and straight into the presence of God.

xoxo, Grandpa, I miss you, but not forever.

New Year, New Goals

We ordered coffee. We plopped our backpacks on the ground. 
We settled in for our first Jessica + Anna Goal Chat. 

(her name isn't Jessica, it's just my nickname)

Jessie, her real name, asked lots of questions.  She pulled out her notebook and began to jot down my theme, dreams and plans or the lack of plan. I had already set goals for the new year and was on-track with systems to keep them. But two things stood out that were too overwhelming for me to tackle on my own.

Education.

Housing.

Formal education or self-education. For the last ten years I've had this question spinning through my brain. Several times I thought I would enroll in classes. I've done some research, but mostly it was overwhelming. I made college accounts and began to talk to people, applied for government aid and about submitted an application. This year was the closest I've been yet. But I just couldn't make the final step jsut yet.

I have wondered if it was just fear of the unknown, not wanting debt, the giving up of my schedule. I've tried to be open and not just pretend that it wasn't myself getting in the way of formal education. But I don't think it is. I will tackle the hard when I know it's my next step. I thrive in the discomfort of the unknown. This is different. 

So we came up with a plan. Formal education may be in my near future. It might not be. But regardless, I'm not standing still. I've got purposeful action steps that will lead me in the direction that I feel God has created me for.

I'm excited.

Mostly excited for more goal sessions with my favorite Jessica.

But also for the unknowns that I know God has a hold of. 

The Day Before 30

A couple of my almost-thirty-and-still-single thoughts.

Live, just live.  Dreams come and dreams go. Desires rage, disappointment comes. Choose to live.

Serving people is valuable, but not at the expense of your identity. Loving Jesus is always valuable, He is your identity.

You'll make mistakes.  Big ones. You'll cry yourself to sleep. Often. Let the tears fall.

At the end of the day, married or single, not a whole lot changes with my purpose.

Love God.  Love people. In that order.

Simple. Beautiful.

(I meant to post this on the day before I turned 30.  But it didn't happen, so here it is now)

Women in the Shadows

She can't spell, and she can't read, but she can cook and sew.  Her frail voice spoke disappointedly as she explained that she'd been pushed through school at a young age because she didn't learn like the other kids. Her tone changed to longing as she shared a desire to learn how to spell big words.
"I'm a fast learner" she declared, "and I'm a good memorizer.  That's the way I know some words.  And Anna, I taught myself how to crochet doilies by looking at the pictures."

My heart broke.

Her voice cracked on the phone.  She was found wandering in the rain and taken to a psychiatric hospital.  She had no where to go, she was alone, desperately longing to hear a familiar voice.  20 years addicted to heroine, now 20+ years clean.  Her eyes were shining several months before as she shared her story of how God rescued her from addiction - but choices have consequences, and we aren't given the opportunity rewind our story.

Tears began to fall.

She has a record, fair or unfair it's hard to tell, but it'll haunt her for the rest of her life.  Two pet dogs provide sanity as she juggles limited funds, insecure housing and constant scrutiny from every landlord, every application.  Her climbing credit score would now plummet due to unforeseen world events, a lengthened eviction and, as some would say, "plain bad luck."  But she's a fighter and won't give up.  A warm home is a luxury this woman is determined to find for herself.

I dry tears and dig deep into my soul.

These women won't give up.  They won't back down.  Sure, they won't make the history books.  They won't be known by anyone but creditors, social workers and beloved pets.  But these women will strive every day of their lives for a better existence.  An existence combined with failure, poor choices, strength, courage and a remarkable drive to never surrender to defeat.

Oh the lessons I can learn from these women living in the shadows.  Lessons I could learn it I take the time to sit down and listen to their stories, to walk alongside of them.  We learn best when we learn from each other.  When we lay aside differences, opinions and pasts, and listen to understand, to connect, to learn.

Some struggle through poor past decisions, a hard childhood, a string of circumstances I don't understand.  But when I open my eyes to see and my ears to hear, I find remarkable women I'm blessed to know.  And I'm lucky to learn from them.