the rubble of my days: a personal post

For months, I have debated sharing this post as I have walked through the deep waters of grief. I do not write this to divulge my issues for the sake of divulging. Nor do I write to give away any specific details. That would be disrespectful to my family. I write to share because everyone is in the midst of their own story, joyous or sad.

I have spent a lot of time on blogs and Instagram (my favorite social media avenues). These have connected me to some very beautiful individuals who have been brave in their vulnerability and revealed pieces of their heart and lives - not to seek attention or dump their mess on others. Quite simply, they share because how could they not? They share because they know this is what we as humans were designed to do - to connect ourselves with others - community. They share because they know someone is out there, someone experiencing the same doubts and pain, struggling to grasp how valuable and significant they are through the suffering. This kind of vulnerability sparks a deep passion and encouragement in me. The world needs more people like this. They don't sugarcoat their pain and loss. They don't hide their raw emotions and thoughts. More importantly, they don't believe their pain has the final say, but imperfectly trust, then fail, and then surrender in trust again to Jesus Christ, believing that He will not ever waste their grief, their tears, the moans that go up into the night.

I don't like hiding behind social media etiquette or posting only life's highlights on Facebook or any social medium. If I am going to remain connected to friends from different seasons of my life, I need to be genuine about it or just not do it at all. I am untrue to myself and to others when I am only sharing life's happier edits. Two of my best friends, who shall not remain nameless - Elena and Elizabeth - have taught me (probably unaware that they were doing so, hehe!) this kind of honesty. Their transparency and truthfulness is beautiful. I've desired those qualities my entire life and it is pain that is finally giving me the strength to become that. 

As in all things, there is discernment. There is no need to drag every little mess out for all eyes to see. That isn't required. It's the attitude of our heart through our pain that counts for something. It is in our nature to want to hide and to feel shame. But here I am, claiming to believe in Christ as my Savior and, yet, am I willing to trust that He has declared me cleansed, righteous, holy, set apart? There is no shame in our stories, though they overflow with the sin of our humanity. When the life of Christ becomes your identity, your life, suddenly your story is no longer shameful. It is a story to be told, a story of redemption, of purpose, and significance although it is paralleled with great suffering and loss. It's a raw, true-to-life story and, yet, there emerges a sacred theme in it because suddenly it's not just merely about your life, but His Life merging with you and making all things new. He's not here to fix us or give us a happily-ever-after. He's here to give something more fulfilling - an abiding hope and life that will never allow us to walk alone again, and declares us as ones who are loved, cleansed, and without shame. In this life, He is making all things work for only good.

To quote author Shauna Niequiest, "Celebration when your plan is working? Anyone can do that. But when you realize that the story of your life could be told a thousand different ways, that you could tell it over and over as a tragedy, but you choose to call it an epic, that's when you start to learn what celebration is. When what you see in front of you is so far outside of what you dreamed, but you have the belief, the boldness, the courage to call it beautiful instead of calling it wrong, that's celebration."

Thus, I am compelled to share the current chapter of my life.

So, this is where I am.

I have been grieving.

My parents of 27 married years divorced this past year.

My grieving has been long and it has been hard. There is no end of it in sight. I have no assurance that things will be better any time soon, nor do I want any human reassurances that things will be okay. If this was not burdensome enough, I must watch (from afar, now that I reside in NM) as each member of my family grieves this in their own way. Stress, loss, and emotional trauma have taken their toll on me. Monthly, weekly, even daily emotional breakdowns are my new "normal." My physical health has been significantly effected. Obsessive, anxiety-filled, unhealthy, almost irrational urges to clean, organize, and to purge overtakes me. I frequently feel confused, lost, and uncertain about everything pertaining to life, both in daily matters and in life goals. I experience emotional triggers whenever I see, hear, or read specific things that align with or relate to specific memories. I wrestle with bitterness. I doubt God. I don't consistently trust His heart for me through this loss. My faith fails in the ebb and flow of my breaking heart. In my head, I live in the past and I fear the future. And (this is most difficult for me to confess) I do not want to talk or see some of the people I knew during my life in Arizona. This has nothing personal to do against them. It is my struggle. It is part of my ongoing battle with wanting to rebuild my life and remake my self - something very unlike the life I knew and the me that was before. This is unrealistic and, yet, it is the result of a very real "identity crisis" occurring within me right now.
To be honest, I am unable to invest in the friendships of many who I have known. I deeply love each person who has made up my life in the past 4 years and more, but I am unable to be present for them. Along with the difficulty of living in different states, I am now faced with the weakness of my emotional state and it startles me every day. I love people. I love community. I want to hear from my friends. I think of them all very often. But I am tired. Even a simple phone call is a huge task for me. In my grief, I've learned about the need to simplify my life. Because my loss is still so fresh, I hardly know how to practically apply this, but I am learning ever so slowly. I long for the day when I can be part of community again, in a physical sense. I long for the day when I can do life without this heaviness, this stress that accumulates in my body. But this is not the season for those things; now, I must learn to rest.

I don't blame my parents. I thank them for their efforts in being honest with me and my siblings through this season. Although it doesn't mend anything, just knowing the state of my parents' hearts and being fully aware of where they stand on every matter helps me to be patient and to understand. Most often, in situations like this, it is too easy to judge and to lay blame. I would be lying if I said I didn't judge or blame them at certain points along the way. But the peace has come and now, I know, every person is fighting their own battles and we cannot make conclusions about their heart and intentions when we have yet to take the time to know them and to listen with much, much patience.There are always two sides to the same story. Just because one side or the other may look more "sinful" or "disagreeable" doesn't make either person less "deserving" of love. Both individuals need patience, gentleness, and compassion.

 I love my father and mother deeply, more than I've ever known that I could love two people. Yet, I fail in exhibiting perfect, long-suffering love that both their hearts need so often. The Christian cliches, the genuine but false hopes of reconciliation, spiritual tips and advice, prophetic words or visions, or the myriad of things often found in Christian communities haven't brought comfort or aid.  Just as fresh flowers, diet advice, and promises of recovery do not take away the pain of a cancer patient, nor make him/her well again, so also nothing has proven to be of particular comfort or help to "fix us." Overly positive, victorious Christian statements and attitudes have, in certain situations, been more damaging. Not because they are untrue, but because it does not lift us who suffer from our present reality. It holds little power to capture trust, but most often will ignite bitterness and a sense of doubt towards God's heart. The ones who truly bring healing balm are the gentle ones, the patient listeners, the individuals who will "weep with those who weep" and allow the sufferer to express any emotion or thought that they are processing through. I know this now. Suffering taught this to me. Sometimes, there is no other way this humility and learning can be acquired except through your own fire.

Experiencing your parents' divorce at any age is traumatic. But, I speak only from what I know. There seems to be a certain devastation that comes from being an adult and watching your parents' marriage crumble away, even after praying the hardest and longest you've ever prayed in your life for God to restore it. In 20+ years of marriage, a life history was established. Beliefs, values, and traditions were laid down at the center of the family structure. Memories are attached to both parents being together. A large investment was made from all members of the family into the permanent vision of their togetherness. A security was well-founded in the unit of husband and wife, something that was expected to always remain. No family is ever perfect, but the permanence of mom and dad as a unit is a comfort and security that my siblings and I have always known and rested in. They shaped us, taught us, loved us, supported us...always together. They, as a unit, were part of my identity. They were my childhood. Being an adult and having the foundation of your child taken away is a loss not too unlike the physical loss of a loved one. Except, in this case, there is no burial, no ceremony, no sense of closure. It doesn't  make that previous life a lie or a false reality. But it certainly can strip the meaning, purpose, and core identity of an individual. An adult cannot be expected to handle it any better than a child. A loss is a loss and it always delivers some level of trauma. And I've just loss something very dear.

Now, that was just another life. I cannot return to it and I will never know it again on this earth.

 Some days, I do not recognize myself. I, honestly, fear myself changing because I think the loss will be too great, too fatal, just as I lost a certain aspect of my childhood in the unexpected life change of my parents' divorce. In this very insecure state, I have required daily affirmation and daily remembrance. Daily affirmation of who I am in Christ - the identity piece - the new name He calls me by. Daily remembrance of what He has done to give me Life and who God the Father is through Christ His Son. Very fundamental, extremely basic, and yet these are the only truths that I am able to entrust myself to in this season.

My life has been one of consistent solitude since moving to New Mexico with my husband. I prefer it this way for now because it is opening up new eyes for me to see, to understand, to feel, and to be receptive to the Holy Spirit's work in my heart. In the midst of this, there are three tangible things that comfort me in my affliction: music, essential oils, and my husband at my side, holding my hand. Never have I known a more undeserved and sweeter blessing than this - an enduring husband who imperfectly expresses the heart of the Lord towards me. Amazing grace. In this, I am learning something similar to what John Lynch, elder/author at Open Door Fellowship, recently wrote:

"God, if He is whom He claims to be, does not stop all pain or loss-but instead, wonderfully discloses channels of receptivity we did not previously know existed. Like new capillaries formed in training at high altitude, the capacity to receive love increases. And that, just that, somehow becomes more than enough...Or at least so I'm told. I'm still new to this chapter."

Some days, I am comforted that this is just a season of life. Changes come and go. There is time for everything under the sun. Other days, most days, I want nothing to do with this chapter of life. That's okay. Christ will see me through to the other side of this, not because it's dependent on me having perfect faith or maintaining perfect growth or maturity, but because it has, is, and always will be about Him doing the impossible, the unthinkable: Christ in me, on my worst day, cherishing me, present with me, being my ever abiding and Living Hope imparted into the very fabric of my being.


"The best life, the greatest life is not the pristine life, the fully satiated life, the fixed life, the neatly ordered life. The best life is the real one - with God receiving glory as you trust Him, enjoy Him and others, amidst the beauty and the rubble."
[John Lynch]

Looking at Tears

A friend of mine shared this fascinating link on Facebook of a microscopic study done on different types of tears. In the words of the author, "Like a drop of ocean water each tiny tear drop carries a microcosm of human experience." I love the explanation in this post about the scientific "why" behind the types of tears we produce. There is a divine work of art behind all creative things and it helps me to find that sacred purpose again, that the Ruler of all things is truly in control.

These photos moved me as I am a lover of beautiful and sad things. I am drawn to the tears of grief, which look empty, filled with cracks and confused patterns. There are no distinct shapes in that one. I also like the tears of release, which looks like two continents disconnecting, floating away from each other. The tears of change and tears of ending and beginning are remarkable because they look like the landscape of a countryside, which is so representative of the changing seasons.

 From all the ones presented in the link above, which ones most struck you? And, why?

Tears of Grief

Tears of Release

Tears of Change

Tears of Ending and Beginning

When Our Responses Fail: Finding Hope When We Blame God [Part 1]

I was reflecting recently on the Christian's response to God during harsh trials. There are some real-life stories I have read and known about Christian brothers and sisters who have experienced traumatic sufferings and losses. While I don't know their inner heart and thoughts, some responses I have seen of them have included smiling heavenward, praising God, entrusting everything to Him, quoting well known Bible verses and quotations by famous Christian "giants" in the faith. They appear to not question at all. Their response is one of strength, unflinching in the face of a living nightmare. They model Christianity perfected. They make the rest of us envious of their humility, trust, and endurance. We never hear a sour word from their lips, only praise and gratitude. As some say, "Father knows best", right?

This post is not for those who can trust God with their loss.

This post is for those who are questioning God's heart towards them and everything surrounding their painful circumstance.

  I have a memory of a conservation I had with the Lord when I was young, probably a preteen. I often chatted away to Him all my silly thoughts when I was a girl. This occasion was no different. I remember thinking about pain and trials (probably in relation to the end times or something extreme, haha!) and I out-right promised God that I would always be faithful to Him come what may (did I mention I frequently suffer from the Peter-syndrome?). I look back now and see that my Father was smiling, understanding my well-intended promise but probably feeling a pang in His heart that the promise of His little girl would not be kept.

Then came life's storms. For a time of my life, I was rebellious, wanting Christ, but not depending on Him for anything. Then, He softened me heart and I threw myself on Him with a full trust, taking everything to Him, seeking Him on every area of my life. It was sweet. It was the relationship I had always wanted with Him. Things were looking up-hill! Life would always be filled with the joy that I knew then....or, so I thought.

Then, the foundations of my life were shaken. Things that were permanent and certain were ripped from under me. Imagine the winds of a hurricane, ripping apart everything and everyone you once knew. It was that kind of force.

My initial reaction was firm. I knew God had been aware of this devastation long before it came. I knew Him and His character. Things were bad, but He was going to take care of me and everyone that I loved. What does one do after a hurricane? You look around and, if you and everyone you love is still alive, you are inexpressibly thankful! That was the same joy and gratitude I experienced. I had everyone I loved still with me. We could make it through the loss because at least we were together.
Once again, I threw myself into trusting God even when everything was uncertain. All the promises of His Word seemed clearly meant for this situation. I was holding onto them with all my might! I kept my eyes in His Word. I reminded Him of His promises. I gave Him all my heart, all my tears, all my prayers, desires for restoration that I thought were in-line with His will. For a long season, I hovered in this state. Waiting, fasting, praying. He would answer. He would come. Not just for a quick-fix moment, but a permanent restoration would take place in the physical circumstances. I assumed it would be a very slow process, but very certain.

The silence that proceeded this season was profound. There I was, still in the aftermath, doing my part to piece things together, believing that God was going to honor my daily efforts to "patch things up" by restoring the whole circumstance and the relationships and people's heart involved. I poured my heart into planting His Word into this situation. I invested all that I was into assembling pieces of the foundation again. I put my true needs and wants last. Everything and everyone was priority. Not that I did these things perfectly. I didn't always love with enduring patience and compassion. I struggled mightily to serve. I expressed and repented of all my failings to Him during this time. And I kept trudging, trudging, trudging. When God did bless me with personal gifts during this season (always gifts not related to the devastating situation I faced at home), I almost didn't want them. Or, I wasn't sure if it was okay to receive them. They brought immense happiness, but never erased the pain of the present circumstance.

Little by little, the wreckage drifted from me. The flood-waters were taking the pieces of aftermath from me, things that I thought I was a part of to piece back together. And all those parts deteriorated until everything I was certain of was gone. The only thing that became certain to me was the uncertainty of life, of people I loved, of my own life, good decisions, bad decisions, etc.

It wasn't until the very tail-end of the storm, when the last of the wreckage was taken, that I put aside the work, the gifts, and the Bible and sat down to confront God.

It was the first time I had ever felt anger and despair in their most raw form. I blamed Him for everything, even the choices of people. Yes, I freely confessed, that I was grieved and angry at the people for their choices, but inevitably, Who permitted them to make their own decisions and not correct them in the act? God. I don't like beating around the bush. Anyone who knows me well is aware that I emerge from my quiet, laid-back shell with a vengeance when someone or something challenges a very deep place in my heart. I had no qualms confronting God with my militant rage. 

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 No doubt some might think these words irreverent very much like what Job's three friends thought when words of bitterness and anguish fell from his lips. It can be enough to make one feel guilty about expressing true emotions. It can lead to comparing ourselves to others who have undergone similar trials and seem to come out pure, not jaded. It can lead to increased bitterness in our hearts, believing that somehow those others are the "favored" saints and we are the ones rejected because we our response to pain was less than perfect.  

So, how does one find a grounded hope and encouragement in the seasons when we feel nothing but bitterness towards our Lord? Is there any hope for those of us whose faith has failed? Is God disgusted with our lack of faith? Does He even care? 

 In Christ, we who fail most grievously find the deepest hope. We find our hope in two main areas:

1. In my darkest moments, I have become aware that the Lord desires an honest heart, not feigned submission or lip-service. We often think He is too holy and above our passionate human emotions, that it is dishonoring to Him to speak back to our Creator because our hearts are bruised and bleeding. I was appalled to be shown that modern Christianity taught me that lie about Him. God teaches me that I can bring everything to Him, even the most raw and ugly parts of myself that are questioning Him. The first step, on our part, is allowing that vulnerability to be expressed in our prayers and cries to Him. While ranting and raving may have come easily to me, there are many I know who are too timid to "yell" at God, to express their distrust, disappointment, and bitterness towards Him. It doesn't feel right to some, but it is something that becomes more natural once released. This can be compared to the marriage between husband and wife. Honesty and communication will only ever benefit such an intimate relationship, even when that honesty means sharing with your spouse that you struggle loving them and trusting their decisions. With a human being, there is always the risk of offending, hurting, and losing their trust in that process of being honest. But that is a risk worth taking when you truly love your spouse who is "one flesh" with you. Both members are to enter into one another's hearts. That is the design of marriage. It is the perfecting of love which casts out all fear. With our Father, there is absolutely no risk involved. The relationship is always safe because He is always faithful to listen and to take what we have to give. He doesn't turn away in the way that our spouse may need to when we reveal our hearts. Our spouse may not understand at first, may need much time to process. God already understands us intimately and is not shocked by what He sees or knows. There is no veil between us and our Lord. He desires to hear everything we have to say to Him.

2. The "silence" of our Lord to our prayers is an invitation for us to trust in Him, who He is, not merely for what He can do. It is not a wrong to desire that God come down and do what we know He can do. But, more often than not, the Lord must restrain Himself. Miracles and gifts have never and will never foster lasting faith. Secure circumstances and restored relationships will not foster faith either. It seems like it would, but we don't know our own hearts. In his book, Disappointment with God: Three Questions No One Asks Aloud, Philip Yancey takes the reader through the entire Scripture to learn why God is often "silent" in our sufferings. He leads readers through the entire history of the Israelites and their face to face encounters with the Lord and His miracles, but they ended up being the most rebellious and wayward group of people because of it. It is easy to think we would respond better than them; however, it takes maturing humility to accept that we would not. There is a very significant reason to why the Lord restrains Himself from fixing or repairing situations in our lives. Yancey, in his books, points out how many times Jesus, even when he was on earth, was divinely restrained from "doing" something about the present issues of that day. He gives the example in Luke 13 when Jesus looks down from a high hill and cries out, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!" About this passage, Yancey states, "That wail of grief over Jerusalem has about it a quality almost like shyness. Jesus, who could destroy Jerusalem with a word, who could call down legions of angels to force subjection, instead looks over the city and weeps. God holds back; he hides himself; he weeps. Why? Because he desires what power can never win. He is a king who wants not subservience, but love. Thus, rather than moving down Jerusalem, Rome, and every other worldly power, he chose the slow, hard way of Incarnation, love, and death. A conquest from within....Jesus Christ never forced anyone to believe in him. He preferred to act by appeal, drawing people out of themselves and toward him."

This is something I am still searching through and seeking to understand. God would not have me dependent upon the answers to my prayers, nor upon the restored circumstances. He knows the only way He will have my full heart and full love is when I become significantly aware of only Him and His particularly love for me through the anguish. Without a doubt, He chooses us as His most valuable treasure, our hearts are His greatest desire. He will not demand, manipulate, or pay us for it. He desires that we freely choose Him above everything else. The most astounding part is that He is perfectly patient with us to come to that point. He gives an astonishing definition to the word long-suffering. This is what I hope to focus on in my Part 2 post...

to love life

The Wailin Jennys are playing gently in the background and I sit, unmotivated, in front of my weekly to-do-list. Doctor appointments, business projects and research, phone calls. Just a few of the thing that loom before me this week. I love the fresh start of another Monday, but there are moments when all the days blur into one another and I feel overwhelmed. Some days, I sense an internal juggling act going on inside me that hinders the outward juggle I must do with daily tasks and obligations. I'm still glancing behind, at all that I've walked through these past 3.5 years. I'm still sifting through the purpose of a lot of the grief, a lot of my own investments that I thought were going to pay off. But life is calling me forward. There are things to be done, but sometimes it's hard enough to do when it hurts so deeply to just be. It's enough to strip me of any self-motivation. Then, I stumbled across these words and feel a sense of freedom...

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I find value for my own life when I reflect upon the value that Christ has declared to me about who He has made to be. 

This is how one learns to love life again.

Seasons of Healing: 5 daily health habits

In my pursuit of a holistic lifestyle, I have often failed in one crucial area. My emotional health. I can link almost every physical ailment I have ever been through to my emotional state. While I have been aware of how these two areas or directly linked to one another, I am not very intentional about tending to my own needs. I can discuss natural health all day from all my research and findings, but genuinely living it out is usually another story. However, in those times when I've considered what my body needed, I have experienced a great deal of support and renewal. This post is a summary of those important building blocks which I have been greatly supportive to my emotional and physical well-being. Through my personal season of healing and grieving, I have found these habits to be grounding. I intend to formulate specific posts on this subject of the physical side to emotional healing in future posts. Much can also be said about diet, but I want to purely focus on five simple daily health habits for those who are walking through loss, grief, and seeking healing on a physical level. 

1. Essential oils. There's an in-depth science behind the use of essential oils for mental and emotional support. To put it simply, the tiny molecules of essential oils are able to reach and stimulate the limbic system of our brain, which is our emotional control center. It is the area of the brain that's related to regulating stress levels and hormonal imbalance and crucial body functions, such as digestion and heart rate. For this reason alone, essential oils play a significant part in our physiological and psychological well-being. There are many types of essential oils that are of great emotional benefit, but my favorites to use are: Lavender, Frankincense, and the blends by Young Living titled Joy (Bergamot, Ylang Ylang, Rosewood, Lemon, Mandarin, Jasmine, Roman Chamomile, Palmarose, Rose) and White Angelica (Bergamot, Myrrh, Geranium, Sandalwood, Rosewood, Spruce, Hyssop, Melissa, Rose) have been. I use Young Living's cold air diffuser to disperse the ingredients of the essential oils into the air [never use heat essential oils!] and it's one of the most uplifting and therapeutic ways to begin my day. I've written an entire post on the benefits of diffusing essential oils which you can read here. For physical application of these oils, I place a couple drops on my wrists, behind ears, bottoms of my feet, and neck. In this way, I can breathe in the oils all day long even when I am out and about. I immediately receive a sense of calm and the feeling of being established and focused when I use these oils consistently, whether I have been dealing with stress, anxiety, and depression.

2. Magnesium and foot baths. As with essential oils, there is a whole science behind magnesium and its benefits for the body. It's one of those minerals that, sadly, many are deficient in because of the nutrient-deficient food here in America. Magnesium is a cofactor in more than 300 biochemical reactions in the body and it is needed in order for Calcium and Vitamin D to work properly in our bodies. Magnesium deficiency is directly linked to hormonal imbalances, depression, and mood swings. It's something I am want to more seriously incorporate into my routine, but for the moment I have experienced its benefits from using Magnesium Chloride bath flakes by Ancient Minerals, which I purchased through Amazon (I also use Epsom Salts, which contain Magnesium Chloride and has a different function in our body). I have used these flakes for foot baths and have added dried lavender or lavender essential oils to enhance the relaxing benefits. I have also found some relief from making a spray from these bath flakes. I have noticed it does significantly relax and calm me when I do 20+ sprays of it on myself throughout the day. An additional way to increase magnesium intake is to take it in a drink with the Natural Calm supplement from Natural Vitality.

3. Tea. Not just any tea, but teas that are mineral rich and known for supporting the body through stress. I try to find pre-made herbal tea blends at natural health stores that contain these key herbs: Oatstraw, damiana, raspberry, lemon balm, spearmint, peppermint, lemongrass, nettle, rosebuds and petals, rosehips, catnip, chamomile, and hibiscus. Then, I will create a quart or more of these herbs as an herbal infusion, which basically means I allow it to steep overnight in hot water on my counter-top. In the morning, I strain off the herbs and then refrigerate it to drink later. Allowing the herbs to step overnight brings out all the nutrients and minerals of the plants. Another favorite tea of mine is Tulsi, which my in-laws introduced me to a couple years ago. I adore this tea. It is also known as Holy Basil. I purchase the Organic India Tulsi brand through Vitacost, Amazon, or my local natural health shop, but I know there are other good organic brands available. I enjoy making a quart of Tulsi Rose or Tulsi Raspberry Peach ice tea by allowing several bags to steep in hot water for an hour or more. Then, once the tea has cooled, I place it in the fridge for awhile and drink later.

An herbal infusion.

4. Yoga. Or anything that gets me stretching. Yoga and Pilates are especially beneficial for seasons of high-stress or depression because it is rejuvenating as well as relaxing. This form of exercise is easy on our adrenal glands, which are heavily-taxed during stress. Running and more strenuous forms of exercise are not a good idea when our adrenal glands have been exhausted. Thus, yoga and pilates are the perfect option. Personally, I've never enjoyed vigorous forms of exercises, except for hardcore swimming. But since public pools are saturated with chlorine (which is damaging to our endocrine glands!), this hippie is sticking to her yoga mat!

5. Sunlight and leaving the city. So simple, but it's not always easy to incorporate these two into my routine. I don't even have to go in-depth about these two health habits. The good of them are without question! I grew up in the "valley of the sun" [aka Phoenix, AZ] and have, for most of my life, despised it. However, I realized I disliked it in Phoenix because it was always directly related to the unbearable heat. Since being in a new state and city, I have come to enjoy the sun because it doesn't always bring heat here. Now, I relate it to warmth, a carefree spirit, and the freshness of a new day. I want the sun all the time. Early morning sun is particularly good, but just being outside for an hour each day does wonders! There is nothing that can be compared to a soft breeze, early morning sun rays, and the texture of tree trunks and grass. Nature has always been our free gift, our natural antidepressant.

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healing through the dark

I slowly rise to begin my day.
Nothing about this act of waking up feels new or refreshing as it should.
The sun has made its descent. I know it is afternoon by the deeper glow of the light pouring through the ebony blanket draped across the bedroom window to keep the early morning light out. But one cannot keep the light out. It finds its way in. Isn't that the beauty of it?



I rise only to find that I want to lay down again.
The sun will set in a few hours anyway.
The night time seems to be all that I know.

8 months ago I was awakening to the fresh hope of being a newlywed and all that the world had to offer.
Until I married, I hadn't really experienced slowness in my days. My heart has been on GO for some years now - striving, serving, giving, surviving. I knew I was looking forward to becoming a hermit once I married so that I could "catch up" on all my drained resources, as well as settle into the simple bliss of being with the man I adore. But I hadn't expected this. This grief. This emptiness from all that has passed. It has been a disillusionment that caught me by surprise. I question my faith, not because I do not believe in Christ my Lord and Savior, but because I am wondering how does my Maker meet me and care for me where I am at? How do I trust Him to meet me where I am at? I never experienced this before and I am walking out the grief of things I have witnessed, experienced, and lost in the past several years.

In the midst of the miraculous fairytale that has been my relationship with my dear husband, I have also tasted some of the most bitter days of my life - the loss of my family as a unit. Or, at least, the loss of them as a unit that I desired and dreamed of. Family will always be family, regardless of where we travel in this life, but the harmonious, trusting, safe, and intimate togetherness that I dreamed of for my family to know and to live has crumpled underneath the weight of this harsh reality: Irreconcilable differences.

In the midst of the pain I am experiencing from the choices of some of my loved ones, I also feel the sting of my own naive, dreaming self. Perhaps, the disappointment is my own fault, I think. Why does dreaming in this life have to hurt so darn much?
I don't dream for them anymore. 
I hardly know how to rightly dream for myself. 

All I know at the moment is that I need to rest. 
I want to wake up and feel the freshness of an entire day ahead of me, one in which I can see the sun rise and set. I want the motivation that comes from valuing the sacredness of this life. I want to thrive, not merely survive.

So, I am learning how to entrust my healing to Him who has given me everything. I am learning that grief is not something you merely recover from, but it is something that walks with you as you mature into who you truly are in Christ. I am learning what creative outlets are beneficial for me during this process. And, perhaps most significantly, I am learning that Love is truly patient. I am learning to extend the patience to myself and to those surrounding me. This is divine grace in the nitty-gritty. This is healing through the darkness that hangs over our earthly paths, clutching near the tender hope that the sun will rise again.

Perhaps one of the most refreshing discoveries for me has been the world of blogging. I find myself built up and strengthened from those who are walking through their own unique paths of grieving and healing. It grants me a sense of relief to know that others are like myself, walking through their own story of loss and heartache.

The Right Question to Ask on Your Hard Days...and the Answer ~ Ann Voskamp

One Year: Redeeming Grief ~ The Cottage at 341 South

A Severe Mercy ~ Eat Live Make

Way of Grief ~ Eat Live Make 

Meghan, blogger of Eat Live Make, puts it well when she writes, 

"I think I have grieved the loss of a life that I imagined for myself. The loss of the life that I imagined for the people around me....I have also learned how to rest. I have learned the beauty of silence and have also learned how to not over-commit myself. These are the graces I am seeing from the pain and grief I went through. And I know that God can and will redeem anything and everything in His time. I am always waiting for His redemption."