Walls.

I'm not good at endings - ending jobs, ending a book I really liked, I didn't even like ending high school. I wish the good things just kept on and on. Maybe this is because new things are hard - new rhythms and routines and ways of being. It's the perfectionist in me that panics a little (a lot) over things that are new and unfamiliar and rather than see them as exciting, my initial gut reaction is to see them as a new way to feel stupid and lose my illusion of control. I'm sorry, it actually hurt to type that, but that's the honest truth. Maybe you know the feeling.

I say all this because I moved out of my apartment last week. I lived there, alone, for seven years, and I’m not trying to be overly weird about it but Aaron will testify that I cried many times (and many more when he wasn't around). I put it off until the very last minute and actually waited for him to start sorting my things because I didn’t even know how or where to begin. Remember the series finale of Friends where they all stood in the apartment and remembered the special things that happened there? I get it now. I stood in my apartment last week and as we took more boxes out I thought about the last seven years inside those four walls.

When it was finally empty, Aaron and I laid on the floor of the living room. “What’s your best memory in this apartment?” he asked. I started crying.

“It’s not that any really good things happened here,” I said. “It’s the person I became here.”

I was 25 when I moved into that little apartment. When I first walked in with my mom, I remember feeling disappointed. The carpets were dingy and gross from the previous tenant, the counter tops and cupboards all had a sticky layer of grime on them, and, unlike my last place, it didn't have a washer or dryer. It was also smaller – a definite downgrade, while other people my age were buying whole houses. On top of it all, I was so lonely without anyone to talk to or come home to at the end of the day. After living with my sister for two years and living at home prior to that, I was alone for the first time in my life. 

I quit my job shortly after moving in and that left me even more lonely and then also very broke. I struggled to pay my bills. I borrowed from my parents. I gave my own plasma to pay for groceries a couple of times. Even when I finally got a steady job, I was upset that it wasn’t my dream job.  I hated myself those first couple of years. I constantly wanted to go back to when I was 15 and start everything over from there. I fantasized about what life would be like if I could do that – if I could erase so much of who I was. I felt abandoned and forgotten by a God I said I loved and I railed against him. I didn’t see how my life would get any better than those four walls and my solo-living. Each year I signed a new lease, I felt despair and heartbreak. “Is this going to be forever?” was the only question my heart could ask as I signed my name, year after year, on a document tying me to that 653 square feet for what seemed like another stretch of eternity. 

It wasn't all awful obviously. There were good things in my life too. I don't want to paint a picture too bleak because I wasn't constantly sad. And, of course, the whole point of this is that over the years I learned to love that apartment. Management replaced the carpet and I learned the new rhythm of taking my laundry to my parent's house. Even though I had enough quiet alone time to make all the mothers of small children jealous, I learned to love that too. As we sorted through my stuff and put things in boxes, I told Aaron how important it all was because of the hard work it took me to get there. I told you – I was broke at one point. I had literally no spare change. So as I slowly started making my way back out of the pit, I would buy one “luxury” thing at a time - luxury meaning non-essential. I bought one bar stool at a time because it’s all I could afford. I had mismatched dishes until I was 30. I read a decorating book that changed the way I viewed that space – changed the way I made it my own and I was so thrilled when I completed my gallery wall because I thought it turned out so cute. Aaron said that when he walked into that apartment the first time it felt magical – homey and cozy - and that felt really sweet because I worked hard to make it that way.

I’m 32 now and I turned in my keys a few days ago. More than just the pictures hanging on them and the furniture between them, the walls of that apartment hold so much of me - of my sadness and joy and growing and learning. Of my journey in trusting the Lord - finally and completely. They hold the story of my walk through a lot of wilderness. Those walls are well acquainted with tears. They hold heartbreak and grief. But they also know a lot of laughter. They know love. I fell in love at that apartment over some Facebook messages with my favorite guy. They know prayers – SO MANY PRAYERS. They also know sleepless nights, late night phone calls, the smell of Kenra hairspray, and all the words to the movie, Ever After.

One thing I can say is that I am proud of the woman I am now. Seven years later and I don't even recognize the girl who moved in there. I grew up in that apartment. I feel like I became an adult in that apartment. I worked out my salvation in those four walls. I learned confidence and independence and how to do the hard and holy things of life. I became a woman who knows herself a little better - who knows the Lord a little better. I became a woman who can say that God has been faithful - even in the midst of my doubt and anger and frustration and insistence that he must not see, hear, know, or care. 

Last week as I vacuumed the floors one last time, I prayed for whoever might move into that space. I prayed that they might meet God inside those walls like I did – that they might learn and grow and become more of who God made them to be. And to whoever lives there next, the light bulbs in the ceiling fan in the bedroom slowly come unscrewed when the fan is on so you’ll have to twist them back in often. And you'll have to learn how to shake the key in the front lock so the door will open.  Also, the orange ladybugs. Oh my gosh, the ladybugs. Somehow they are always around even when maintenance sprays for them. It’s a great mystery. I see them nowhere else in my whole life except the window sills of that apartment and it is a wonder of the world as to where they are coming from but they are yours now. Godspeed.

We moved my stuff out of my apartment over the course of about three days and when I spent my first night back at my parent's house I was all of the known emotions at once. I laid in bed feeling homesick and I didn't know why. I told my sister as much and she texted me back, "You had your whole heart in that apartment." It's true. I did.

In an effort to find some peace, I opened my Bible with the old stick-your-finger-in-the-middle-and-open-it method. I landed on Isaiah, so I turned to my favorite chapter and in the quiet of this new temporary space, God spoke over me the words of 43: 18-19,

“Do not call to mind the former things,
Or ponder things of the past.
“Behold, I will do something new,
Now it will spring forth;
Will you not be aware of it?
I will even make a roadway in the wilderness,
Rivers in the desert.

I'm sure someone theologically smarter than me will tell me I'm cherry-picking a verse to make myself feel better but I don't care. It reminded me to not look back because I'm not headed that way. Don't wish parts of your life away, don't dwell on what happened before, don't call to mind former things. Life isn't back there. It's all ahead of you.

I might not be good at endings and maybe you aren't either, but we are called to look forward, not back. I know He'll make rivers in the desert because I've seen him do it in that apartment. He made a roadway through the wilderness. So I'm clinging to that verse as I'm headed into new things - better things - ready to make memories in a new space. Hopefully one without orange ladybugs.

Roots.

A few years ago there was a new space opened downtown, just two blocks from where I work.  It was a space for community – for people to gather and talk and do life together. They had coffee and sold local items and over the noon hour every Wednesday there was a yoga class. I had been to yoga a handful of times in my life prior to being invited to this class so I was mildly interested, but I mostly showed up to support my friend who helped organize it. I didn’t know it then but Wednesdays at noon over the next year would begin to change my whole life.

Isabel Thalken Photography

I was in a hard place and that's just a nicer way to say that my sinful choices left me sad and alone. I was struggling with discontentment and wanting change but doing nothing to go after it. You know this – I’ve told you this over and over again. They are the dark years. In fact, I’ve labeled those journals “The Missed Years” because I really feel like I missed so much life I could have been living. I had headaches almost every day. I constantly wondered if I was going to die for one reason or another – none of them logical, of course. I just had these rolling thoughts about how God must not be giving me what I wanted because I was going to die soon and who needs a husband if you’re going to die, you know? So this was the internal war I battled while on the outside I was “fine.” 

So my friend invited me to go to yoga and after the first class I wasn't sure I wanted to continue. I only had an hour break for lunch and in that little window of time I had to change for class, run over with my mat and my big duffel bag, leave a little early so I could change back to my work clothes, and go back to my desk feeling a little sweaty and really rushed. Needless to say, I didn't know if it was worth the hassle. But I kept going. In fact, I hardly missed a week. I started to realize that despite the rush I always felt good when I left class. I felt like my skin was glowing (and not just from sweat), my body had worked hard and stretched its limits, and my mind felt clearer and more free. I felt like that hour of my life was a safe-haven with no distractions, no thoughts of impending doom, nothing holding me back.

Kelsey was our instructor and let me tell you what she told us. She said we need to root down in order to rise up and that’s what we were doing in our yoga practice - rooting down to who we were and where we were - taking time to be quiet and reflect - so we could rise up and face whatever we needed to out in the world. She always told us to release whatever wasn’t serving us anymore. Do you need to hear that today? Let go of what no longer serves you. Maybe this is a relationship. Maybe this is a job. Maybe this is an extracurricular activity. Maybe it is a pervading thought. Don't take this selfishly in that everything and everyone in your life should serve you. My mom was always quick to remind us, "You're here to serve, not be served." And that's true. But I think we allow things into our lives and let them drop anchor in our hearts - things like anger and bitterness, or we make bad decisions and keep beating ourselves up or we stay in cycles of shame and defeat, or we make commitments that end up running us ragged and then we resent them. I have always felt bad for letting things go but I was reading "Love Does" by Bob Goff and he reminds often that we need more practice letting things go and I agree. You’re free to quit things if you want to quit them. Don’t overwork yourself with things that don’t ultimately matter. My inner soul chaos was shouting for that kind of freedom. And every week when we laid down in savasana and closed our eyes, I felt like I could really connect with where my mind was and what my heart was truly feeling. What thoughts are taking up too much of your brain space? What do you need to get rid of? How can you de-clutter your heart today? 

Isabel Thalken Photography

We're bombarded with information every single day. Our phones are constantly telling us what's going on and what we're missing and what we should be doing instead of what we're actually doing. We're always connected. But that hour each week gave me a reason to disconnect - to unplug and stop worrying. I could release all the inner turmoil I felt. My cramped desk posture was released into long, stretching motions that let me get the most length from my lanky arms and legs. I felt like I had more space in my body and I know that sounds weird but if you’ve ever left a yoga class, you know what I’m talking about – you have more space in all your joints and limbs.

Maybe this is causing some anxiety for some of you. “Isn’t she a Christian? Do Christians do yoga?” I don’t know what the controversy is/was around Christians and yoga but if it’s anything like Christians and dancing used to be, then get your life together and stop worrying about that. Christians have had an awful lot of dumb stuff attached to their legalistic hearts and that will always be a battle but if you think God doesn’t like a joyful noise and dancing, then I guess you haven’t spent too much time in Psalms. I think it’s all about where your heart is at and yoga can be an intentional time of reflection and gratitude and you know what, God calls us to both of those things. Spend your last few minutes of savasana praying if you want to – that’s what I did. I spoke praises to God for the gift of the class, the gift of Kelsey, the gift of being able to even move my body in those kinds of ways because there’s something really beautiful about the balance and strength it takes to complete a yoga practice. 

Isabel Thalken Photography

Kelsey told us all each week, “Your practice is enough,” and for a girl really struggling with some worth issues at the time, gosh, her words were like salve to a wound. Yoga isn't about comparison. It doesn't matter what the person next to you can do or what positions they can hold, and that was like water to my thirsty soul that just constantly compared itself to others in every aspect of life. Yoga gave me something that was mine – my own practice, my own limits. I used to hold myself to all sorts of ridiculous standards and timelines. I felt behind at everything in life and like everyone was moving on without me. They were, to some extent, but my attitude was a big reason for where I found myself. My yoga practice, and being under Kelsey’s graceful instruction, left me understanding gratitude in a new way. My daily headaches were gone. My body felt longer and leaner. My head was more clear – no longer drowning in toxic shame. 

Another thing our teacher used to say was, “Honor where you are,” and that was something I had never considered. I didn’t have to meet anyone else’s expectations or standards. I could listen to my own body and what it could do and be thankful for just that. There were no outside influences. No one pushing me further than I wanted to go. It made my body and my mind feel stronger - confident - and I needed more confidence in this insecure little heart. It didn’t happen overnight. It happened over the course of the next year, slowly but surely. I felt more capable. More alive. I had something that was my own, and maybe that seems silly but for a girl who was giving herself away to everyone at a moment’s notice, this thing that was mine felt really good.

Isabel Thalken Photography

What happened when I came to my mat gradually started to translate to who I was off the mat as well. My gratitude overflowed into other areas of my life. I let go of some things – some relationships, some thoughts that weren’t serving me, and to be honest, they never did in the first place. How often we let negative thoughts invade our space and take over our days. Do you ever make a mistake and automatically think something like, "You idiot," or "You're so dumb." Instead of these phrases, I've tried to catch myself and remind, “You’re not dumb. It was just a mistake.” It sounds kind of ridiculous but, you guys, how often we beat ourselves up for ridiculous reasons and we don’t even realize it. Be gentle with yourself.  Be patient. Yoga taught me that also.

Isabel Thalken Photography

The change in my heart and my life isn't solely because I went to yoga. God was simultaneously chipping away at my hard heart in ways that only became evident over time. Looking back I can see it. I can see how each week, opening my heart to positivity and hope, letting the silence fill my bones, stretching my body and being thankful, taking the time to come to the mat, I can see how my heart changed through all of it. I don't know if this is an endorsement for yoga or for self-care or for unplugging and taking some time to be silent, but I think it's all three. When you allow space for change, for growth, for God to move, be certain that it will come, that he will stir your heart, and you will be changed. 

Root. Rise. 
Show up. Let Go. 
Trust. Liberate.
Be Still. Know.

Kelsey always reminded us of those things so I'm reminding you. It's amazing what can happen when you just take some time to be still.

Dear Grandpa.

Almost three weeks ago, I sat in my grandparent's living room and talked and laughed with my grandpa and gave him a hug and told him I loved him. And then last Friday, I stood in that same living room with my family surrounding him as he drew his very last breath. It's devastatingly strange how life can change so quickly. 

I know that I am fortunate to even know my grandparents. Many people don't have that opportunity. But I have lived my life up to this point with all four of my grandparents, and even had the sweet privilege of knowing five of my eight great grandparents. The blessing of this is not lost on me. The greater gift has been watching them all walk with grace through life's joys and difficulties, loving the Lord and their families well. 

Over the last couple of years I have been reminded often about the brevity of life - maybe this has something to do with living next to a cemetery, or more so watching several families walk through heavy grief of their own. But I just want to plead with you to remember that life is so short. Don't wait to make amends. Don't wait to say the words, "I love you," "I miss you," "I'm sorry," "Forgive me." Don't let your pride or your anger or your fear hold you back from connection and relationship. Use your words to speak life as often as possible. It will all slip by so fast.

My grandpa lived a good long life, but it doesn't change the sadness I have felt. And while my family has hope in seeing him again - knowing he's more alive right now than ever before - I read one time that, "hurting with hope still hurts." This is the truth I've felt this last week. And since I don't know how to process things except to write them down, I'm sharing with you the letter I wrote and read to my grandpa the day before he died. I held his hand and read it to him so that he would know the truth about everything before he went home to Jesus. More than anything I want to share this with you because his testimony is one of faith and if that's not the point of this life, then I don't know what is. 

_____________________________________________

Dear Grandpa,

We found out from the doctors this week that you’re not doing too well. We knew you didn’t feel very good and you kept going to the doctor and they kept telling you they didn’t know what was wrong. I’m a little mad at them for that – for not helping you feel better or finding the cancer sooner. So I’m sorry you have felt sick for so long. I wish there was something we could do but they tell us there is nothing more.

I could tell you didn’t feel well last week when I was over at your house, but you laughed just the same as you always have when you recounted life on the farm where you grew up. You knew exactly what I was talking about when I asked about your childhood home outside of Hickman and you could describe it just as well. I left your house that day thinking that we should have spent more time talking about your childhood – more learning about where you grew up and what your life was like so long ago with all your siblings and your parents. You were growing up during World War II so I imagine your childhood was a bit of a wild ride. We should have spent more time talking about when you met grandma and what your young love was like and what went through your head when you found out she was pregnant. We should have spent more time talking about those kinds of things – the hard things and the ways they forced you to learn and grow. I think we all like to hide those parts of our stories, but I’ve found it’s best if we talk about them a little more often.

There are other things I wish I knew more about now that I’m looking back on all that I’ll miss and all that we won’t be able to ask you anymore. I wish I knew more about your job as a mail carrier – you spent so many years riding the same route. I remember we used to borrow your uniform for a Halloween costume sometimes and you used to tell stories of people on your route leaving you gifts in their mailbox at Christmas. I wish I knew more about the trips you took to Estes Park with my dad and his siblings when he was younger. I just went there for the first time last year and it’s so beautiful. I can see why you liked it so much. I wish I knew more about the things that made you laugh and made you cry and the moments that you were filled with so much joy you could burst.

Grandpa reading to me and my older sister. I was obviously super into it. 

But what I do know is that you have a really good belly laugh. I have always liked when someone – usually one of your kids – says something really funny and you tip your head back and laugh. Mike or my dad could usually make you do that. But oftentimes you were the one making us all laugh with a quick-witted remark. I know you are the reason we throw around single Dutch words as if they’re a regular part of conversation. I know you love a good slice of sweet dessert and a cup of coffee on Sunday afternoons. I always liked coming to your house and sharing that with you because you never made me feel bad for wanting a second slice – you just joined in. You love Husker football and Everybody Loves Raymond and I’m fairly certain you’ve watched that Chevy Chase Christmas Vacation movie more times than anyone else. You love to talk politics and your conservative values have rubbed off on all of us. And I think you’re probably like my dad in that you know more than you ever say, but we have always needed your words and appreciate them more than you may have ever believed.

Grandpa, did you know that I remember walking paper routes with you and grandma in the summer time when my parents had to work? We were walking in the heat of the day in north Lincoln, slinging papers on to doorsteps and I’m glad I have that memory with you – of how you were a hard worker. I remember you working at the polling station at church during each election. It was nice to see you there, serving and setting a good example. I have always known the importance of voting and participating in our country’s elections and I know part of that is because of you. I remember growing up and having Christmas dinner in the basement and opening gifts and Aunt Colleen reading a funny poem or story that she wrote for us. I remember how grandma always made sure we had drumsticks in the basement freezer if we wanted one – but I think that was mostly for you too because she knows all about that sweet tooth of yours.

Grandpa, one thing I’m really thankful for is your decision to take your family to Lincoln Berean Church one Sunday morning so many years ago. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that choice because my dad met my mom in youth group at that very place. I don’t know what led you there, but I know you stayed faithfully for many, many years and I am so thankful for your example. I remember when you were on a video in the main service talking about tithing and how the Lord always provided for you and grandma. I felt really proud of you for that. You showed us all what it means to trust God and if you didn’t do that we wouldn’t be here today – none of your grandkids or your great grandkids. We’re all really lucky to have you, Grandpa. I hope you know that.

I’m also thankful for your example of marriage. Over sixty years with grandma and I’m sure there were hard times and great times and times that made you cry you were laughing so hard. I’ve seen some of those. But as I enter my own marriage I am feeling the weight of its importance. The weight of what it displays to the world – a picture of the gospel. So I’m thankful that even in the hard times, you stayed. You and grandma always stuck by each other and in a world where that is less and less common, I’m just thankful for your steady heart toward hers. I know you weren’t perfect, but you did the best you could to stay obedient and love well. I read one time that life is all about “faithfulness where you are, a day at a time,” and I think you did that really well and displayed that to all of us.

A couple of years ago, when you first got sick, I wrote in my journal that I was kind of sad I wasn’t married or seriously dating anyone yet because I really wanted that person to meet my grandparents. I know that many people don’t have the luxury of having their grandparents in their life like I do, but since you have been such a big part of my life, I really wanted my husband to meet my grandparents and that was starting to look less and less likely as we all got older and I spent another year alone. I had sort of let that dream go, but the thing is, we have a God who is near and who hears our cries. So when Aaron got to come over to your house and meet you a couple of months ago I felt like that was just the sweetness of the Lord in that moment. You asked last night at the hospital if we were going to have the wedding right then and there and I so wish we could have so you could be there to witness it.

I guess what I want you to know the most is that we’re thankful and we love you – all of us. Your whole family. We’re thankful for God’s gift to give you to us as our dad and grandpa. And we’re so proud of you. I don’t know what Heaven is going to be like, but I was sitting outside today on my break at work – the sun was shining down on my skin and there was a cool breeze floating through the air and I was just hoping that that’s the kind of sweet peace we’ll all feel in Heaven. I know it will be more than we could ever imagine – more glory and comfort and peace. I know that when you get to walk through the gates, you’re going to feel at home – more at home than you have ever felt here. We’ll miss you, that’s for certain, but the real truth of it is you have more life ahead of you in eternity than the 87 years you’ll leave behind. And it might feel a bit scary and unknown right now but I am full of faith in knowing that Jesus will take your hand soon and say, “Welcome home” and any of that fear will be impossible to recall.

You are leaving a legacy of faith and a family coming behind you preaching the same gospel you lived every day. So you should be proud, Grandpa. It’s the most important thing you could have ever done on this earth. I know that when you see Jesus, he will tell you the same. That he’s proud of you. That you ran your race well. That you were a good and faithful servant. Thanks for showing us all the way.

We’ll see you soon. We love you.

Never.

If you talk to anyone who has known me over the last ten years (or more!) they would tell you that they’ve heard me say some version of this rehearsed lie:

“Yeah, I’ll get married on the 1st of Never.”

Ha! It’s true. I have proof. This is a text exchange I just had recently with a friend of mine:

Her text actualIy made me laugh because I was already in the middle of writing this post. Clearly I was like a broken record when it came to dating and marriage. I basically told anyone who would listen: “I’m never getting married.” “I’ll probably never have a husband.” "Just waiting to find that blind, deaf guy who wants to date me."  I was constantly reminding myself and others that there was no guarantee this would happen for me - trying to make sure my hopes didn’t get up too high. Maybe you know someone like this. Maybe you are this person, repeating the same stale phrases. But, do you know what I was doing? Self-protecting. Shielding my heart because, you know, Proverbs says to, “Guard your heart,” and they told me to do that a lot growing up in youth group. What would it need protection from more than the devastating heartbreak I felt over being single?

I used to tell myself I wasn’t getting married because I was cushioning the blow to my own self. If I never did get married then at least people wouldn’t feel bad for me, they’d just say, “Well, she always knew she wouldn’t. I guess she was right.” Instead of something like, “I wonder why she’s not married?” “She must really suck for no one to want to date her.” “I can’t believe she’s still alone.” I didn’t want people to pity me and I didn’t want them to talk bad about me - especially my exes. Gosh, how quickly they all moved on with their lives and got married while there I was, still alone, feeling like a loser.

But the problem is, when you tell yourself something for too long, you start to believe it and you start to live it out in different, perhaps subconscious, ways. Like I started to embrace my "single forever" identity.  I convinced myself I wasn't worth dating, which caused me to never seek anyone out, even if I liked them. Then I scoffed at anyone who showed the slightest interest, because, see reason #1, I wasn't worth dating and I knew they'd figure that out soon enough. Super fun and helpful to your emotional well-being, right? I know.

Another way to deal with disappointment in one area of life is to find other areas you can control. Like you can work like crazy to have the perfect house. You can be the perfect friend. You can be the perfect daughter/sister/volunteer/employee because at least you can control that aspect of your life. That’s what I found myself doing. I would grip tightly to control some other area because I knew this one wasn’t happening for me and I felt so useless and rejected. Gosh, this smells an awful lot like pride.

Remember a couple of years ago when the book The Secret was a really big deal? (And by a couple of years, I mean 11 because I just looked it up, and by "a really big deal" I mean I think Oprah latched on to it, so whatever.) I never read it but from what I hear it talks about the law of attraction or “like attracts like.” According to the easiest of Wikipedia searches,

The Secret posits that the law of attraction is a natural law which determines the complete order of the universe and of our personal lives through the process of "like attracts like". The author claims that as we think and feel, a corresponding frequency is sent out into the universe which attracts back to us events and circumstances on that same frequency. For example, if a person thinks angry thoughts and feels angry, the author claims that said person will attract back events and circumstances that cause them to feel more anger. Conversely, if the person thinks and feels positively, they will attract back positive events and circumstances.

In this case, my negative attitude about dating was attracting negativity. It left me sitting in complacency and discontentment and actually embracing my identity as "single" even though I actively hated it. Have you ever heard that phrase, "Your vibe attracts your tribe"? Unhealthy people attract unhealthy people. Negativity attracts negativity. To be clear, I think this whole idea of sending frequencies into the universe leaves a glaring God-sized hole in what ultimately determines the path for your life, but I still believe there is some legitimacy to the thought. When I let go of my assertion that I would never get married, when I focused on other things, got involved in other areas, really focused on obedience to God in different areas of my life – my general attitude about life changed and I stopped focusing on what I didn’t have. And that’s precisely when Aaron walked into my life.

I’m not saying this is a magic bullet. I’m not saying that you’re going to find health, wealth and happiness if you just think positive thoughts as often as possible. If you’re positive every single day, bad, awful, wicked things might still happen in your life. And that is the result of living in a broken world. But I can tell you that positivity and a grateful heart will at least help the level of joy you experience in your day to day. I can tell you that finding other areas of your life to focus on - other ways you can serve and love and give back - will cause you to be less concerned with and have less time for self-protecting.

So if you find yourself saying, "I'm never getting married" or any other "never" phrase in an effort to self-protect, please stop. Even if you're joking. Don't say it. Stop yourself from rehearsing those lines. Focus on a better dream and tell yourself the stuff you WILL do. I will buy a house. I will have a baby. I will join that group. I will start that company. I will start working out. I will get married. I will finish school. I will ____.  That's a much better use of your time. I know it’s hard to hope in the midst of loneliness. I know it’s hard to get your hopes up only to have them come crashing to the ground over and over again. I know that it’s hard to pray for good things when it seems you’ve only been given a double helping of heartbreak. But find people who will hope for you. Find the people who will lift up your prayers when you can’t. 

I just don’t want you to grow weary. I know weary well. But I heard the verse again last week in a sermon I was listening to from Levi Lusko. Do not "grow weary in doing good..."  Don't grow weary in waiting for your dreams. Don’t grow weary. I read a quote from Elisabeth Elliott that said, “God has promised to supply all our needs. What we don’t have now, we don’t need now.” Yowza! I know I always felt like I knew what I needed and I knew how I felt and, “Come on, God! Don’t you think it’s my turn now?” But instead, we need to find some better dreams. Find some truths we can rehearse. Put them on sticky notes in your car, on your bathroom mirror if you need to – tell yourself the things you’re going to do instead the things you will never do. Tell your friends to help you remember.

I want to speak confidently of what I know my God can provide. I want to be sure of his faithfulness and speak it with conviction rather than shrink back in self-protection. I want to believe for certain that whatever comes will be exactly what I need and at the most perfect time. He knows all your dreams and desires and plans and wishes and hopes. He put them there as he carefully fashioned your very heart. So stop doubting and start declaring. Stop doubling down on what you’ll "never" have and start proclaiming the truth that he will provide ALL that you need. Not all that you want, but all that you need and I find that to be much more comforting than someone who gives me all that I want because my wants change by the hour.

I wish I would have shut up about never getting married because here I am about to get married.  And now I feel like my tantrums and cries over singleness were so silly. I know they weren’t – I know God doesn’t feel that way either. But they feel kind of dumb now in light of all that has happened in the last year. So I’m sorry if you heard me at any point in my life say, “I’m never getting married.” It was birthed out of a tightly-held insecurity that maybe I wasn’t worth marrying. And that was something I needed to deal with in my own heart. Maybe you do, too. What are you telling yourself you won’t do and why? What’s the reason for not believing he will provide at exactly the right time? How are you holding yourself back from all that God has for you?

He'll provide all you need. If you don't have it yet - you don't need it yet. Go boldly into the world today believing that truth over any lie.