Mary Graham

Trusty Chucks Blog

Seasonal Closet Clean-Out

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Fall re-energizes me.

I start cleaning the baseboards after ignoring them all summer. I organize shelves. I empty kitchen cabinets I’ve been avoiding. But my favorite part to do in the fall (and every season change, actually) is to clean out my closet. I love paring down my wardrobe again and again. The older I get, the less I find myself needing a closet full of clothes. Plus, I don’t have to get dressed for the classroom or office every day so my closet has slowly moved from business casual to verrrry casual the past few years.

But even still, I can find a good amount of clothes to get rid of every season.

(Did you see the funky birds and floral wallpaper in my closet? That’s the original wallpaper my grandma put up in 1970 and even though we updated the closet organization systems, I couldn’t bring myself to take that wallpaper down. Side note: How hardcore is my grandma for wallpapering her closet? That’s some serious wallpaper dedication.)

Nothing brings me more joy than getting rid of things and when it comes to my closet, it’s no exception. I do this a few times a year and have a pretty good system for knowing what to keep and what not to keep. Ready to clean out your closet (or closets? and drawers? and guest bedroom? and coat closet?), let me help:

-Begin by trying everything on. I know, I know. That’s going to take some time. But you need to know right now on this very day what fits and what doesn’t. Be honest with yourself about how you look in each piece and if it really fits you.

-If it doesn’t fit, get rid of it. This won’t be popular advice, but if it doesn’t fit, you should get rid of it. I’m not talking about the jeans you have for “fat” days and the jeans you have for “skinny” days. I’m talking about the wrong-sized clothes. I’m talking about the dream jeans you haven’t worn in five years. I’m talking about the work blazer you love but you can’t button. As someone who lost a significant amount of weight and finally fit into all those clothes I’d been carting around to each place I lived, there’s a good chance you won’t want to wear them when you can fit them. Styles change and when you lose weight, you want to buy new clothes–trust me–just get rid of them now and you’ll feel so much better. (Also, if you’re holding on to some low-rise jeans you wore when you were twenty and child-less, please stop carrying around the emotional baggage of fitting into them again. It’s not healthy and it’s also pretty unreasonable. Be kind to yourself, get rid of them.)

-Fix it immediately or throw it away. As you clean out your closet, you might find a pile of clothes you love but they need work done to them: hemmed, a button sewn back on, a stain scrubbed out, etc. Immediately act on the pile (fix the button or take the pants to the tailor) or get rid of them. Good intentions are great, but if you’re honest with yourself and know they won’t be addressed in the near future, get rid of them.

-Don’t keep it if you don’t love it. Of the clothes you tried on, are there any that fit but don’t actually make you feel amazing? Just because it fits doesn’t mean your body needs to wear it. If you’re making room in your closet for lots of clothes that are just okay, but you don’t really love, please remove them. We’re adults and we deserve to have clothes that fit us well and that we feel great in. Stop wearing something just because you have it if it doesn’t make you feel like your best self.

-Stuff you love but don’t wear? I always have a pile of clothes I still love and they fit so I can’t let them go yet. But I don’t really ever wear them either. To make myself feel better, I take that pile and hang them up in our laundry room closet. I stick a tag to one piece that has the date marked on it and if I can go six months without needing or wearing them, I feel okay getting rid of them. I don’t know if that’s a healthy way to get rid of clothes or not, but sometimes I tell myself I’ll wear something and then I don’t so this is like baby-stepping them out of the house.

-Start a seasonal wardrobe. If you find yourself with piles of clothes you only wear during certain seasons, pack them up and store them when they’re out of season. Then when winter or summer rolls around again, it feels like you just got a whole new wardrobe without the cost. The majority of my clothes transition well to every season so I don’t do this, but I will pack up all my big, bulky sweaters in the summer to make my closet feel lighter.

-Don’t just focus on clothes. Go through your shoes, purses, bags, jewelry–go through it all to find what you don’t need anymore. I carry the same purse for years or until it falls apart so you know what I figured out after ten years of hoarding purses? THAT I NEED TO STOP BUYING PURSES. Hash tag slow learner. Also, I like buying jewelry, especially necklaces, but I hardly ever wear them. Let’s stop doing that, Mary Graham.

-Donate your clothes or share with friends. I have a group of friends who go through my clothes when I’m done with them. The laundry basket full of castoffs makes its rounds, and then when it returns to me, I donate the leftovers to a local thrift store that supports the homeless community in neighborhood.

-Think before you buy again. This isn’t just a post to encourage you to get rid of some things, but to remind you that just because you got rid of something doesn’t mean you need to replace it with something new. You probably had too many clothes to begin with. Begin to get used to a new normal with less stuff and give your closet permission to not be overflowing. After a few seasons of cleaning out my closet, I noticed I was in the habit of buying cheap, trendy shirts I’d wear a few times and then lose interest in. Now I ask myself if I’m buying something because I think it’s cute for the moment or it would be a good long-term purchase for my closet. Normally the answer isn’t what I want it to be so I leave the store empty-handed.

What about you? What’s a trick or suggestion you have for cleaning out our closets? How do you know what to keep and what to get rid of? Do you have any really old jeans you need to confess to?

 

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They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

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It’s October again, and I found myself sitting in southern Indiana in the wood-paneled building surrounded by addicts and alcoholics just like last year.

This time I was there for an AA meeting and not weekly visitation for my husband. We had the girls in tow. The four of us walked in together, and we would be leaving together as well.

The old timers hugged Chris, checked in on him, teased him. A friend admitted he’d slipped and was starting the sobriety count again. People grabbed waters and coffees, and as the meeting began, the girls put their headphones on and turned up their tablets.

AA meetings aren’t for little girls.

There’s a rhythm to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, just like any other meeting you’d attend. There’s an opening script, a call for restarts, a time for sharing milestones. They begin with 24 hours. Anyone starting over? Anyone been sober for 24 hours? And they work their way up.

Chris stood up at the one year call-out and declared his one year of sobriety. His sponsor said some words, and Chris got his one-year coin.

I thought I would cry when this happened, but I didn’t.

The moment passed, and the meeting opened to comments and questions. As the conversation warmed up, a guy spoke up about his fears as he begins to work through step four.

In AA, step four is when the alcoholic makes “a searching and fearless moral inventory of” themselves. This normally involves a lot of time and paper: the recovering alcoholic writes out all his or her moral failings, all the decisions alcohol played a part in, and all the areas of his or her life affected by alcohol.

For an alcoholic, this step is long, exhausting, hard, and painful. Alcohol helped them forget things, but there are still millions of things they can’t forget and until they confess them, they’ll continue to be weighed down by them.

And so the alcoholic writes them down. All of them. As many as he or she can remember.

When you’re done with step four, you move to step five which is “admit to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”

You have to confess all the shit you’ve done. The shit no one else knows about. The secret shit you’d like to forget. The lies. The stealing. The hurting of others. The deceit. The cheating. The wrecks. The manipulation. The destruction. The things you swore you wouldn’t tell anyone. The things you only did because you thought no one would ever know.

Everything.

Now you can see why someone was anxious and worried about step four. Not drinking is hard. Not drinking while you write down and then say out loud all the very worst things–pages and pages–that you’ve done is hard multiplied by one hundred.

Alcoholics who are trying to do the work know you can’t skim or gloss over this part, because it comes back up and you drink again. You have to get it all out, get it all on paper, and then say it all out loud to move on.

You don’t get the benefits of hard work (in this case: sobriety) unless you actually do the hard work.

Here’s why I’m telling you this: because we’re all carrying things that are destroying us. We might not be driven to drink or to numb with drugs, but we’re all weighed down with secrets and regret and shame and it is one-hundred percent impacting our actions, relationships, families, and conversations.

We don’t get the benefits of hard work (in this case: intimacy, healthy marriages, wisdom, authentic friendship, peace, joy, contentment) unless we do the hard work.

Everybody wants the results but nobody wants to do the work.

One guy joined the conversation to encourage the speaker through his step four wrestling, and then he said when he was working on steps four and five, it destroyed him because he just knew when he said his stuff out loud that “they’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.”

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

If that’s not the most honest and truthful reason people lie, I don’t know what is.

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

I can’t get that out of my head. I can’t get that out of my heart. I can’t make it stop echoing in my ears.

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

That’s it, friends. That’s why we lie and hide and deceive and manipulate and cover up and scheme and destroy. Because if people knew the real us, they’d hate us just as much as we hate ourselves. So we keep digging bigger holes and we keep creating more faces for more people. We keep doing things we would never own up to because we hate who we are and we for sure don’t need other people to hate us too.

But the secret is when alcoholics confess to their sponsors, no one hates them. No one is shocked. No one is even impressed. Because sponsors are alcoholics too. Because sponsors have done their own horrible things. Because sponsors have already done their own hard work. Because sponsors understand the power of saying it out loud and then letting it go.

AA isn’t a religious organization, but if you’re not seeing Jesus in this madness, you’re not paying attention.

AA demands community, honesty, confession, grace, forgiveness, and a changed life. Sometimes the alcoholic has to start over fifty times before he or she gets it right, but each time, AA is there with open arms and a bunch of broken, beautiful people who want to walk with you.

Jesus demands community, honesty, confession, grace, forgiveness, and a changed life. Sometimes Jesus followers have to start over fifty times a day before he or she gets it right, but each time, Jesus is there with open arms and a bunch of other broken, beautiful people who want to walk with you.

The truth is we’re all weighed down by something. We get to wake up every day and continue to carry it which we know will lead to our self-destruction, or we can start the hard work of admitting, asking for forgiveness, and living a better life.

They say after recovering alcoholics complete step five, you can see them almost float out of the room. I don’t think humans can fly, but I think the closest we’ve ever come is when an addict stops carrying the traumas and scars and shame that has controlled them for so long. You can’t describe or imagine that first feeling of freedom after being in bondage for so, so long.

They just float out of the room.

We can do that too. We can float–unashamed and untethered–all we have to do is start the work.

 

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We’re still here.

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I kept a notebook last fall and winter.

Every text, card, gift, meal, word, or message I received, all in a pink paisley notebook. I kept it because I write everything down. I kept it because it helped on nights when I couldn’t sleep and I was overwhelmed with sadness. I kept it because I didn’t want to forget the kindness. I kept it because I wanted to learn how to do what these people were so good at doing for me.

I kept it so one day I could say thank you.

‘One day’ came last weekend.

Going through the small pink notebook for the first time since the spring felt cathartic. Already my memories were fuzzy of who did what and how often people showed up at just the right moment to love us in a season of pain and transition.

It was a rag-tag group of people keeping us alive last year. People who love Jesus. People who decidedly do not love Jesus. People who fed us. People who texted me inappropriate memes religiously. People who prayed for us. People who said all the curse words for us. People who cried with us. People who helped buy us groceries. People who loved on our kids. People who said nothing but gave really good hugs.

I was reminded again and again as I turned the pages of the notebook that God can use people–all people–whether they are fans of Him or not. He is present and active in all our lives, and we just need the eyes to see it.

The beginning of my thank-you to these people was a cookout last weekend at our house. Once it was all said and done, over 100 people were on the list, over 100 people had shown up for us when we were too tired to show up for ourselves. It was overwhelming to realize.

But I wanted to feed them all.

I don’t know the words to express my gratitude, but I do know how to buy food for lots of people and make batches and batches of chocolate chip cookies.

So I started there.

And the people came.

Even with sports and weddings and traveling, our favorite people trekked to the country to jump on a trampoline, slide down an inflatable, stand around a bonfire, play cornhole, throw the football, roast smores, and eat hot dogs covered in mustard and jalapenos.

We celebrated the one-year anniversary of Chris’ sobriety. We celebrated the goodness of a God who sends His people to love on others. We laughed and joked. We cried a little. We talked about the past year, and we filled people in on what’s ahead. We said ‘I love you’ with our eyes, our hearts, and our embraces. We hugged babies and said ‘thank you’ with extra helpings of chips and salsa.

I don’t know if the words exist to adequately express our gratitude, but we tried with bottles of soda and Goldfish crackers.

The most overwhelming part is that invite list just included local people; it didn’t even touch on the people from other places, other parts of the country, other parts of the world who held us up. We were loved by people from every corner as we tried to heal our marriage and each other.

And so this post, this thank you, is for you too.

If you sent me an email, an anonymous card, a message on Instagram–I thought of you last weekend too. I am grateful and humbled by the people who love and support our family. We would not still be here if it weren’t for all of you.

I’ve learned a lot in the past seventeen months. I’ve learned a lot about families and staying silent and loving others well and friendship and encouragement and what I will allow and what I won’t. These past months have shifted and shaped me in profound ways.

I can no longer keep quiet when kids are being hurt by a parent’s actions or inaction.
I will not accept lies to keep people’s secrets.
I can share what I have with those who are hurting because it’s not mine to begin with.
Once you’ve broken, you can see the other broken people easier.
Change hurts.
When we stop blaming others, the real work begins.
God is good even if.
The rebuilding never looks like you think it will.
Sobriety is fragile, and who I let into our lives matters just as much as who Chris does.
One moment at a time is all you should focus on.
You can laugh and cry, break and mend all at the same time.

I’ve learned lessons a million ways recently, but some of them have come from my people on the internet and some have come from my people in the trenches.

So thank you for teaching me things, things I needed to survive.

We’re still here, and it’s thanks to all of you.

 

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Remember this.

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I am a gatherer and a rememberer.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

Notes, journals, calendars, essays, notebooks. I have stories started and stopped, dates and memories saved, ideas and moments scribbled on scrap paper.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

So I can tell you one year ago today, it was picture day at my girls’ school. Ellie wore a teal dress and Harper’s blonde hair was long and parted on the right side. Ellie had archery practice after school and had taken extra clothes to change into.

I started my work day with an email stating my school was closing and, then in the afternoon, I saw two cars fly through the air as they careened into the land that used to hold my grandpa’s gardens.

I picked up Ellie from archery practice at 5:00, put some frozen chicken nuggets in the oven, and told Harper to get ready for soccer practice that started at 6:00.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

By 5:15, I knew something was wrong with Chris, I felt compelled to load the kids up and go to the movie theater he said he was in.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

A year later, I still don’t know what made me go that evening. We had been separated a month, Chris was struggling, and I was focused on keeping the kids safe. I will say the push I felt to find him was of God and not of me. I could feel the chaos slowly creeping in as I made my way from our house into the city, but I couldn’t stop what was in motion.

I look back at the few years and still can’t believe the things that have happened.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

I took a picture of Chris that night in the Burger King parking lot as he talked with a police officer who was going over his options with him: jail or rehab.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

I knew something was shifting in that moment, something big that we couldn’t come back from. We were either done or we were beginning again. At the time, I would have told you this was the final collapse in a long line of tiny pieces being chipped off our marriage.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

I wanted to remember what the final blow felt like so I took a picture.

I am a gatherer and a rememberer.

I don’t gather to write the stories later, at least not consciously. But my brain, without my prompting, starts weaving together ideas and images and words. I’m not even aware it’s happening, that a story is being told inside of me.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

Whether it ever makes its way to the public or not, I am collecting information and threads to help myself understand the world and the people around me. I want truth and realness and clear eyes even if the lessons go no farther than my own heart. I know it would seem to be the opposite, but some of my best, hardest, most prized stories haven’t been shared here,
can’t be shared here,
won’t be shared here.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

I write because this is the one year anniversary of dragging Chris to a detox facility and the beginning of his journey to sobriety, but I write more to say remember, remember this. It is not always good. It is not always easy. It is not always joy.

But I can remember it nonetheless.

Last week, Harper sat on the couch writing in her binder. She plays school often and was making notes on her students with a pink highlighter, her facial expressions working overtime to keep up with her furious note-taking.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

Everything isn’t momentous and breath-taking, sometimes it’s just quiet and ordinary, but I need to stay present and awake for it. Other times, it’s heart-stopping and so life-shifting you can’t help but to burn it in your memory.

A few weeks ago, Chris ended up back at the same Burger King from a year ago. In a new work truck, in a new state of mind, in a new season, in the exact same parking spot from his last visit.

I asked him if it was hard or felt weird. There have been times, almost unexpectedly, when you get pushed back to a moment you’d soon forget and it takes concentrated effort to climb out of it again.

It felt fine, he said.

It didn’t feel bad or hurt, it just felt like a lunch stop during a work day.

Remember this.
Remember this, I whisper to myself.

Time can help or hurt our memories; we get to decide. We can collect the painful parts and set them on our shoulder, look at them often and pick off the scabs they left so we never truly heal. Or we can gather them in our hands, view them from a million angles and with a million different sets of eyes, and then place them back down so they can’t hurt us anymore.

We still carry them, but we get to choose how we wear them.

I am a gatherer and a rememberer.

I don’t know if it’s just how I’m made or something influenced this. I will write it down, take a picture of it, jot down the weather or the feeling. I will rehash it in my mind, give it all the power and attention, and then slowly dismantle the memory so it doesn’t hurt me anymore.

Chris and I went on a date night a few weeks ago. Sushi, Barnes and Noble, and a movie. It’s predictable but comfortable. And it’s what we like: food, books, movies. We don’t have to impress anyone, we just have to be together.

Barnes and Noble’s parking lot butts up against Burger King’s parking lot. I stared at it as we walked back to the car. I wondered if the glass shards were still in their landscaping, if I should go and clean up the mess we made last year. I wondered if workers remembered us, if the security cameras saw our chaos.

And then I got in the car with my husband, clean and sober and quiet, and we drove away from the memory.

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A Fall Adventure with Year-Round Boots

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This post is sponsored by Totes Cirrus but the content and opinions expressed here are my own.

One of the best reasons to live in the Midwest is for the distinct range of seasons. Summers are hot and humid. Falls are cool and crisp. Winters are snowy and frigid, and springs are colorful and hopeful.

Midwest is best, guys.

What’s also great about our seasons is the range we can get with a good pair of rain boots.

Summer morning dew covering the grass as I tend to my garden? Totes Cirrus Rainboots.

Fall apple-picking? Totes Cirrus Rainboots.

Forging a path in the snow to get the mail? Totes Cirrus Rainboots.

Spring thunderstorm? Totes Cirrus Rainboots.

There’s never a time to *not* wear my Totes Cirrus Rainboots, if you haven’t noticed.

Ellie and I wore our new lightweight boots as we picked the last of the summer tomatoes from our garden beds and stomped around trees picking apples for pies and cider.

My grandparents planted apple trees along the perimeter of our land so each fall we get the sweet smell of apples in the air as the temperatures start to drop. There’s nothing better than getting cozy at a bonfire surrounded by apple trees.

I love the durable and versatile styles Totes Cirrus Rainboots come in–both tall and shorter–for kids and adults. And their Everywear™ technology makes them comfortable for all day wear, because they’re 60% lighter than other boots. (And not to call Ellie out, but she’s been wearing her boots non-stop. She has yet to find an outfit or situation where they aren’t appropriate so that’s a pretty great testament to the comfort level of these boots.) Now is a great time to get yourself a pair of these new boots, because Totes Cirrus is offering my readers 25% off with the code CIRRUSLOVE25.

After our walk foraging for fruits and veggies last week, our boots wiped down easily and looked brand new again. These new boots from Totes are perfect for year-round wear, whether it’s actually raining outside or not. No more heavy clunky boots weighing you down, Totes Cirrus Rainboots help you keep a pep in your step as you adventure outside.

Now who’s got a good apple pie recipe?

Photography by Huff Photography

*Disclosure: This is a sponsored post, but all opinions are mine.

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Where’s the fruit?

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Have you ever taken those spiritual assessments at church? They help you identify your God-given strengths so you can use those talents for the good of the Kingdom.

Love kids in the nursery.
Teach a class.
Help organize an event.
Show up early to serve the coffee.
Make hospital visits.

I like tests that tell me something about myself. It’s kinda magical to answer some questions and have an assessment tell you things about yourself. They’re not always 100% accurate, but there is always a good bit of truth in there as well.

No matter what test I take, I always get two results without fail: I have good discernment and I put a high value on truth-telling. (Also, I always get highly organized and good at administrative tasks, but I felt that wasn’t relevant to this story. BUT IF YOU NEED ME TO ORGANIZE SOME SHIT, I’M YOUR GIRL.)

Welcome to my blog where I discern and truth-tell whether people really want me to or not.

Tell the truth and make it slightly uncomfortable for everyone.

GIFTS! *throws confetti in the air*

I’m also good at noticing fake really quick. I can’t stand fake, my fake-radar (fakedar, if you will…) is very sensitive, and I just can’t stomach people who live unauthentic lives.

So it’s hard to admit I’ve been in close relationship with multiple people in the past few years who have been living lives full of lies and deception.

That’s a blow to my pride, and I’ve had to do a lot of reflecting because of it. I’ve had to take my fake-radar in for some tune ups. Apparently, if you’re too close, you can’t see the bullshit.

So I’m doing some re-calibrating and what I keep coming back to is the lesson Jesus shares of The Vine and the Branch in the book of John (this is The Message version):

I am the Real Vine and my Father is the Farmer. He cuts off every branch of me that doesn’t bear grapes. And every branch that is grape-bearing he prunes back so it will bear even more. You are already pruned back by the message I have spoken.

Live in me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me.

I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you’re joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can’t produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown on the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that whatever you ask will be listened to and acted upon. This is how my Father shows who he is–when you produce grapes, when you mature as my disciples.

If we can’t trust our own judgment, if we can’t trust what our eyes see–trust God’s. His promise is if we’re investing in Him, He’ll invest in us.

And if our lives aren’t proving that, THEN WE ARE LYING. Not God. It’s not that He’s not following through, it’s us. We’re not actually doing what we’re saying. We are providing lip service. We are putting on a show. We are deceiving others (and maybe even ourselves).

What my counselor has reminded me time and time again, is the same thing the Bible says: Don’t listen to words, look for action. The power of Jesus tells us we can’t produce the fruit. We are not capable of it. We don’t have that authority.

Only our Creator does.

We are death and until our Living Savior shows up to do the changing and growing, we are just going through the motions.

We are fakes.

So what does fruit look like? What if our sensors are off? What if we’ve been tricked or lied to? What is fruit?

I think fruit looks slightly different on everyone, but the Bible is pretty clear on what life looks like when we are not producing fruit:

It is obvious what kind of life develops out of trying to get your own way all the time: repetitive, loveless, cheap sex; a stinking accumulation of mental and emotional garbage; frenzied and joyless grabs for happiness; trinket gods; magic-show religion; paranoid loneliness; cutthroat competition; all-consuming-yet-never-satisfied wants; a brutal temper; an impotence to love or to be loved; divided homes and divided lives; small-minded and lopsided pursuits; the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into a rival; uncontrolled and uncontrollable addictions; ugly parodies of community. (Galatians 5: 19-20, The Message version)

Unfruitful lives sound chaotic and loud, maddening and lonely.

Fruit tends to be quieter, less demanding of attention.

God likes to show off, but His people shouldn’t. I often imagine fruit is more subtle, more details-and-everyday, more ordinary beauty. I think fruit is seen in reflection and in moments we’re not paying attention. I think often times we don’t see our own fruit.

But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard–things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. (Galatians 5: 22-23, The Message version)

One of the downsides of teaching middle school was I never really got to see those kids become awesome. Sure, they were awesome in that moment and at that age, but middle school is weird and awkward and not (for 99.99999% of us) where we shine the brightest. High school is when students start to bear some fruit; they begin to figure out who they are, who they aren’t, and they are a little more settled about it. They’re not there yet, but they’re on their way.

Middle school teachers miss that part. We don’t get to see the fruit. We just do our best and hope they stop being such weirdos one day.

That’s how fruit works too. Much of it is just doing the daily work God tells us to, doing what we all know will lead to relationship with God and community with His people.

And He brings the fruit while we’re busy doing the assignment.

If our heads are down, focused on the task, the fruit might be noticed by others as they look up from their own work, but we probably won’t see our own often.

I’m cautious of anyone who wants to tell me about all the fruit they’re bearing.

We should be able to see it. Discernment isn’t just a spiritual gift some of us get. Maybe some of us are better at it, but we all have the ability to discern. We are made in His image. If we’re spending time with Him, He’s going to give us His eyes.

Then we’ll see.

Here’s what I’m learning as I re-calibrate: if there is no fruit, don’t ignore it.

No fruit is God’s helpful warning sign for us. No fruit is the fake-radar God installed in us. You can’t feign fruit. It’s not possible.

You didn’t choose me, remember; I chose you, and put you in the world to bear fruit, fruit that won’t spoil. (John 15:16)

If something stinks, it’s not fruit, friends. It’s just not.

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September & October

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Last September and October were a blur.

September was the back-and-forth of sober Chris and drunk Chris. It was accountability and babysitting, it was lies and deceit.

I spent a lot of energy trying to make people understand how bad things had gotten. Friends. Chris. Our families. Chris’ friends.

Addicts make you feel crazy for a number of reasons but manipulation is at the top of the list. Chris was good at manipulating others. He was less good at manipulating me. I was too close to the madness and didn’t buy his lies. But getting those he was deceiving so well to understand I wasn’t just being vengeful or over-reacting felt like madness. I had spent so long feeling crazy. I finally learned I wasn’t and then I had to convince everyone else I wasn’t crazy too.

And when I mean “everyone else,” I mean people we were supposedly doing life with.

Hey Mary, maybe all of this wouldn’t be happening if you weren’t airing your dirty laundry on the internet.

I think Chris is drinking because you’re being too hard on him.

He’s not really that bad, is he?

Don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion?

No. No, I don’t.

Even Chris said this was all my fault, if I would just let him come back home, he’d be able to get better.

Never mind the fact he had been drinking for three years while living here and couldn’t stop. Never mind the fact he was caught this summer and told if he started again he’d have to leave.

I spent last September exhausted in so many ways.

The night we dropped Chris off at the detox facility was horrible and also brought me a deep, deep sigh of relief. I got home late that night but I slept well. Really well. I wasn’t worried about where he was, if he was putting himself in danger, if he was making choices that could hurt himself or others.

He was, for the time being, someone else’s problem.

October brought peace.

After detox, he checked himself into a long-term treatment center. I went with him for paperwork and insurance and because I was his ride. We were there hours that day and we spoke no more than twenty words.

This is your last chance, I said as we drove to rehab.

I know, he said quietly.

There wasn’t much more to say after that.

Fast-forward a year: It’s September again. The weather has teased us with cooler nights and milder days. I’m decorating the house for fall. Starbucks is bringing back their traditional (disgusting) seasonal drinks.

And I’m getting angry all over again.

Chris is sober this time, but it’s like my body can’t shake the feelings from last fall, can’t get out of the survival mode I was in this time twelve months ago.

I can close my eyes and immediately be transported back to the hills of southern Indiana as I drive to the detox facility, the leaves golden yellow and blazing red; I can hear the album I had on repeat last September, the lyrics burned into my memory and heart. I can sense the anxiety and stress and worry in my stomach, in my bones, in my muscle.

I can’t seem to convince myself I’m safe right now. This is the season it all came to a head. This is the season I was alone. This is the season of divorce attorneys and dividing assets and family secrets tumbling out.

I can’t convince my body we’re safe now.

And so I’m just angry. I’m angry at lots of irrational things and some very rational things. I’m angry at myself for not being able to think my way out of this. I’m angry at Chris all over again for what he did to us. I’m angry at a friend who, for months, didn’t ask how we were doing and then hurt my family and kids as she slammed the door on her way out. I’m angry at adults who do the same things over and over again expecting different results.

I’m angry I can’t keep typing that list because I have to keep quiet about so many things.

I used to love fall. I was born in October; my body was made for layers. I love to sleep with as many blankets piled on top of me as possible. I enjoy the sting of cold air in my lungs when I walk outside. I could eat chili for every meal and never tire of it. Fall is the best time to camp, to hike, to sit around a fire with friends. The best time to be alive.

But right now, I’m angry it’s here. It is full of hurt and memories and fresh wounds and betrayal that just seems to keep coming. I want to scream and cry and hide and say I’m sorry and fuck you all at the same time.

Addiction stole fall from me. Grief stole joy from me. Betrayal stole safety from me.

And like all seasons, I know this will pass. I know this current moment is not my life-long reality. I know pain subsides and moments relax and eventually it will be okay again. I’ve lived enough heartache and disappointment to know the rhythms of pain and suffering. I have had enough joyful moments to not forget they exist.

I know I’m allowed to sit in the discomfort of endings and beginnings and feel all the feelings, allow them space, and then let them go.

I know what healing looks like and I know every day, in some small way, the healing starts over again. So I just have to keep doing what I know is right even when it’s hard, even when it doesn’t make sense:
be honest about my life
say things hurt
ask for help
listen
read my Bible
cry and laugh
show up
be patient
make sure my kids are safe and loved
keep my eyes open
keep my heart open
keep my hands open

In The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald writes, “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” Maybe that’s what I need: a full immersion into fall, a fresh October for peace–crisp weather and a good freeze at night that ends the summer growing season so there’s room for new beginnings, new life, new starts.

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When you tell people the Bible is true, part two

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It’s okay to not get everything you read in the Bible.

It’s okay to have questions about the Bible.

It’s okay to say something doesn’t make sense or feels hard about the Bible.

But we only get to do those things if we’re actually reading the Bible. If you’re not in there reading and questioning and sitting with your learning, you’re like a movie critic who tells us his opinion without watching a single movie.

That example seems ridiculous, because we have common sense to know that isn’t how you do your job. But suddenly when we apply that same common sense to the Bible, people get their underpants in a bunch.

Like so, so angry, guys. How dare I tell people to read their Bibles. How dare I say if you pick and choose things from it, you invalidate the whole thing. Just so we’re clear, that’s not my opinion or advice. It’s what the Bible says.

So I was just telling you something I read in the Bible.

Here is what’s hard: I can’t convince you the Bible is God’s inspired Word if you don’t think it is. I can’t quote scripture to tell you how valid the Bible is if you don’t accept it as having the same authority I do.

That really easily ends the argument. We just agree to disagree. I’m giving importance to something you’ve already decided holds no importance. But! But if you claim to be a Jesus follower and you don’t accept the Bible as God’s Word, I get really, really confused.

How do we know God if we aren’t in relationship with Him? How do we know God’s character and will and love without hearing from God in a book He wrote for us? How do we discern what is right and true without a road map?

I don’t think you can.

It’s like saying I’m married, but I don’t actually spend any time with my husband, we don’t live in the same house, and I never hear from him.

It sounds like I’m married in name only, but not actually living as a married person.

And I think that’s where so many of us get stuck. We claim a name, but not the action behind it. Guys, there is a reason Jesus warns us following Him is hard. There is a reason He says most people will not do this because it costs too much. God knows human nature–He created us!–so of course He knows what our tendencies are. Our tendencies for greed and power, for selfishness and laziness, for lust and jealous, for rebellion and hate.

It is not convenient to read your Bible.

It is not always easy to write out a tithe check.

It is not our nature to forgive people who hurt us.

It is not fun to confess sin.

But I believe the promises of the Bible and I live that out through obedience even when it doesn’t look like what the world believes is right. Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”

I do not understand everything I read in the Bible.

I have questions about the Bible.

Sometimes the Bible doesn’t make sense, and it feels hard to follow.

But I am putting my hope in His promises, because it’s a choice I’m making. If you want to make a difference choice, you get to do that. But you can’t pick and choose what you want your Christian faith to look like. You can’t decide the parts of the Bible you want in on and the parts you don’t think are right. He makes that pretty clear. If you want to argue that, go spend some time in scripture and in prayer and take it up with God, not Mary Graham.

Finally, it’s not judging you to say the Bible says you should read God’s Word. I got that argument last weekend. I shared what I read in the Bible, and it was the most judgey thing I’ve ever said and how dare I. But the problem with that argument is I have no idea if you personally read the Bible. The police made me stop peeking in your windows and so I haven’t been checking your habits these past few weeks.

If that hits a nerve with you–when I say read the Bible, I think it’s awesome!–it tells more about your heart and issues than mine.

I tell people I think they should read the Bible because I am only married because of the heart change God did on me the past year and a half. I tell people I think they should read the Bible because the only reason I’m able to share my money and resources with people is because God has reminded me again and again that He always provides and it’s not mine anyway. I tell people I think they should read the Bible because I often experience a peace that passes all understanding and I WANT IT FOR YOU TOO.

I don’t share what’s going on in my heart and mind to shame you. And if you’ve been following me on the internet or you know me in real life and you believe that’s where this comes from, I might suggest we part ways. I found freedom and grace and mercy and hope when I was drowning and to not throw out that lifeline to others is selfish. I get excited to share a small glimpse of what God is doing in my life because not too long ago, EVERYTHING FELT DEAD, and now it’s alive again. And some of the best parts I don’t even share on the internet! Some of the craziest, humbling, powerful stories are not even being shared on social media or my blog because they’re still happening or they’re just too overwhelming to put into words still.

I encourage you to read your Bible, because I can’t imagine living any other way.

I encourage you to read your Bible, because I want you to have what I have.

I encourage you to read your Bible, because it turned (and continues to turn) everything upside down in the most perfect, unexpected way.

And if you hear those things and feel instead I’m judging you, I’d say if I know these things to be true in my life and don’t tell you, isn’t that worse? I know freedom and I want to keep it to myself? I found mercy and I don’t want it for anyone else?

That’s not judging you, that’s called love, friends.

Some resources:
-I am hesitant to share this website because I’m not a fan of Focus on the Family, but this article does a good job of answering the question “How do we know the Bible is true?” then it leads to other questions in a series, but I haven’t read them so just be aware of the source, I guess.

-I found this 2017 National Geographic series really interesting. In it scientists and archeologists agree that Jesus existed, there is too much actual proof to discredit his time on earth. Where the debate heats up is whether or not you believe He is the Son of God. And just like everyone else, you get an opinion on that. I believe He is because I’ve spent lots of time and energy learning as much as I can. I’d love for you to do that too, and then make an informed decision. But to just go by hearsay or go by something you learned as a child and not take your adult-brain to do the work of figuring it out now for yourself feels immature. My kid-brain believed I could become a truck driver and live in the trailer part of the truck, like making myself what would today be referred to as a tiny house. It never crossed my mind that truckers haul freight and the back of my truck would have to be filled with something to deliver if I was going to make a living as a truck driver. So I take the things I learned or thought as a child with a grain of salt, and I like to re-examine them as an adult with better critical thinking skills. You get to do that too.

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When you tell people the Bible is true, part one

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I started a new Bible study last week: She Reads Truth’s Open Your Bible by Raechel Myers and Amanda Bible Williams. I’ve had this study for a few years and tried to start it once before, but it didn’t really grab my attention so I put it down and started something else.

I don’t know what made me try again, but the second go round has been much more engaging for me. God works in mysterious ways indeed.

As I studied some stuff this weekend, I shared some thoughts on my Instagram Stories. One of the first sections in the workbook is about the Bible being true and what is Truth. (For those not familiar with theology talk, little-T truth is not the same as big-T Truth. Big-T Truth refers to God and the Bible.) I commented that someone I follow on Instagram who I respect and believe to be smart has started sharing her thoughts on Christianity. I’m always interested in talk about faith, so my ears perked up a bit when she mentioned this. But then I quickly lost the excitement when this was her statement:

Love is hard. Especially when you think you’re obligated to love everyone. That’s God’s job. Not yours.

Oh man, say what?

So I shared this wise paragraph from the Open Your Bible book I’m working through:

Friends, whatever we read in the rest of this study is meaningless if we don’t believe the Bible is true. The Law given to Moses and fulfilled in Christ, the good news of the gospel, the promises upon which our hope is built–it is either all true or not at all true. Truth isn’t about expedience, and it’s not about comfort. There aren’t degrees of truth. Because the Bible is true, even the parts we don’t understand are good news!

Then I followed it up with my own commentary:

The Bible is really explicit about being all or nothing. We don’t get to pick what we want to believe and ignore the rest. Listen: there are things I don’t understand about God. There are things I don’t get about the Bible. I have questions. But it doesn’t mean I get to discredit them or say they’re not right because my little human brain doesn’t comprehend it. Sometimes obedience is painful. Sometimes obedience is hard. Sometimes obedience isn’t politically correct. Pretending we’re just more “enlightened” than past generations or we’ve suddenly discovered our “personal truths” after centuries of people wrestling with the same questions is so arrogant and dangerous.
God’s design is free will. We get to decide if we want in on his story or not. But we don’t get to pick and choose what parts of the story we agree with. And that’s where people get uncomfortable and make up new rules that suit them better. “It’s either all true or not at all true.” (But don’t take my word for it; dig in and see for yourself why the Lord is good and righteous and true even if we don’t always feel it.)

And now, a few days later, I’m still thinking about some of the responses I got. Of course, there were encouraging ones, ones that agreed with me. But there were also many people who disagreed with this wholeheartedly. (I’m choosing the word “wholeheartedly” but that is a gentler, kinder way of describing some of the reactions.)

Two responses make me write today. Two responses stuck out to me in my interactions with followers. Two responses make me want to clear up some misconceptions.

#1: I can’t believe in a Bible that encourages slavery and rape against women (followed by random Bible verses to support her arguments.)

UMM, WHAT? You think Martin Luther King Jr., a preacher who often carried his Bible as he fought for social justice, fought on a Biblical platform while secretly hoping for and encouraging slavery? You think the millions-strong black church who is leading the charge for social justice in our world right now is just ignoring the parts of the Bible that promote their own mistreatment and abuse?

You think faith leaders like Beth Moore who fight for women’s voices in the church built her life around a text that also just happens to says it’s okay for men to rape her? There are whole denominations who allow women ministers and you think those women preachers are helping to spread a gospel which promotes the idea they are second-class citizens not in control of their own bodies?

I think some good old fashioned critical thinking skills would help with this argument. I’m not even asking you to read the Bible to understand how ridiculous this is. I’m just asking you to think a little bit.

There’s some really basic Bible knowledge that would make those arguments null and void: we have to remember the Old Testament is a history of God’s people. The Israelites (Jewish people, if you’re not tracking with me…) have had a long and twisty journey with God and those Old Testament books are overflowing with history, stories, and rules. If I open a textbook in high school history class, I don’t assume the author of those books is approving of the Holocaust or the genocide in Rwanda because they are giving information about it.

When I read in the Old Testament about people groups who sacrificed babies to their gods, it does not translate to GOD WANTS ME TO SACRIFICE BABIES. That’s a huge, problematic leap. When we take into consideration the time period of these stories, the cultural norms and experiences of the people, and the militaristic society that existed during Bible times, it starts to give you a different lens to understand and process what the Bible is talking about.

Somehow (through Bible illiteracy, actually) we’ve created this whole group of people who want to point out all the horrible things the Bible has in it by taking every single word as literally as possible.

When I teach students in middle school or high school English class about reading literature, we learn a lot about literary devices: metaphor, simile, foreshadowing, analogy, hyperbole, imagery, personification, and symbol to name just a few. We learn to dig deeper than surface level when we read poetry or prose.

GUYS, THE BIBLE IS THE SAME WAY.

Goodness, I’m kinda embarrassed so many people feel free to discredit something they haven’t even read, let alone studied. You get to have your own opinions, but at least be educated about them please.

If we can remember basic-level stuff like the Old Testament is a history of God’s people and His relationship with them, the New Testament is when all the foreshadowing of a coming king actually happens. God sends His Son into the world, and IT CHANGES EVERYTHING.

God’s chosen people are no longer just the Jewish people, but everyone! We’re no longer relying on priests to tell us what God wants, we have the Holy Spirit in us to help guide us and go to God for us. We don’t have to sacrifice animals for forgiveness, because the Ultimate Sacrifice, Jesus, comes and does it once and for all. For every single one of us.

Suddenly the playing field is level, grace is never ending, and we get to live out this new freedom every single day.

We still read the Old Testament, because we learn so much about God’s character and ways. We still read the Old Testament, because human nature has always been sinful and we can see so much of ourselves and our current struggles in people who lived a really long time ago.

We still read the New Testament, because we learn about Jesus and His ministry and how He did life with people. We read the New Testament, because it tells us how to love people well and it offers us hope and peace in times of trouble.

Final little tidbit for today: taking things out of context, not telling the whole story, using words to hurt other people–if someone did that to you in a relationship, we’d call it manipulation. If we do it with God’s word, it’s the same thing. We have to have context before we start spouting scripture. Our culture and news is filled with people doing this–using God’s Word to further their own agenda or power.

This is the exact opposite of the point of the Bible.

What a heartbreaking realization, when discussing why you have to take the Bible as a whole or nothing (because it’s what the Bible says which in turn makes it what God says, not what Mary Graham says), that people can Google a few scriptures, use verses out of context, and believe the Bible is for persecuting and hurting people.

Guys, we have to do better.

Tomorrow: the second response which got me writing.

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Welcome to the Front Room Studio

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A few weeks ago I shared what I’m doing instead of teaching this year, now I want to show you where I’m at instead of the classroom.

Let me introduce you to the Front Room Studio:

Jessi and I have been friends since elementary school, she’s part of the First Thursday group, and we host the Not Terrible podcast together. Last spring when we started whispering about finding a workspace to share, it felt like such a scary, unrealistic dream. But we signed a lease in June and spent July getting it ready so we could be up and running when the kids went back to school.

We record our podcast here. I write and manage social media accounts at the desk with the little pink dog. Jessi manages local comedians from her desk. We have lots of joint projects in the works, but we also have our own things. This is a good home base for us. We get to encourage and support each other while pursuing lots of different business opportunities.

It’s scary and wonderful like all new things are.

We are so excited to show off our new space. We have big dreams of hosting workshops, book clubs, and classes here. Our kids like to hang out here (within reason…and as long as we have internet), and we love inviting people to stop by.

With that said, if you’re local and you’ll be attending the New Palestine fall festival, we’d love for you to stop by our open house after the parade–we’ll show you around the new space, feed you some treats, and Jessi will be singing some songs! Just kidding. She’s going to kill me when she sees this. But I mostly write to make myself laugh, so here we are.

How did this happen? How did this dream of writing and not teaching become a reality? Sometimes I ask myself the same question. It’s not lost on me that one year ago this very day I was preparing for the end of my marriage, refusing to talk to my alcoholic husband, and wondering how we would recover from the chaos he was creating in our lives. Little did I know it would get so much worse. But even littler (go with it…) did I know it would get so, so much better too.

God has been faithful. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over that I get to wake up each morning and come to this office and sit in this desk and write. It still seems like an absolute dream. Please don’t pinch me if I’m dreaming right now. I’m too afraid to wake up.

If you want to come see us at the open house, you can go here for the details. Or if you want to keep up with happenings at the Front Room Studio, you can like our Facebook page to not miss the next event (or get more information about hosting your own event here!).

Pictures by Huff Photography 

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