faith – Page 2

He is gracious even in our suffering.

It’s just more layers, I said as I stood against the wall watching the kids play. The more I learn and heal, the more things I see to address.

Yep, my friend agreed. We just keep finding more junk the longer we pay attention.

At some point, I stopped thinking one day I’d just get to healthy; I’ve resigned myself to the fact there is always more work to do. What’s good about this realization is God is patient and kind about it.

A few months ago, I was driving my car and out of nowhere, two things that had been floating in my head forever came crashing together and made total sense. A shockingly easy connection I had never had until that moment.

Before I would have told myself I was dumb and naïve to not see the answer to something really obvious, but I’ve been blindsided and shocked enough to learn God doesn’t always let us know everything at the same time out of mercy and love, not control and pain.

He is gracious even in our suffering.

When Chris told me he had been secretly drinking for years, it took months to process and see the extent of what was happening, what I needed to do in response, and how to survive. If I had known the full story sitting in that counselor’s office on a rainy Wednesday evening in the spring of 2017, I would have called my divorce attorney that night and not looked back. God knew what I could handle in that moment, what He wanted to wait on, and what I would do with the knowledge when the time was right.

He allowed things to happen at a slower pace than I would have liked, but I can see now, from my view in the spring of 2019, He was doling out only what I could survive, only what was necessary for that moment, and nothing more.

He is gracious even in our suffering.

I don’t think any wife has emergency plans ready for when her husband surprises her with a hidden addiction. I know I didn’t. So God gave me the summer of 2017, new eyes, and a healthy dose of counseling and learning, to understand when I needed to take action. He gave me tools and people and told me when I needed to move.

He is gracious even in our suffering.

God was gracious in my suffering, but He was also gracious in Chris’. I think it is easy to see how God is good afterwards for ourselves, but less easy to see how He cared for those who were hurting us too. I don’t have time to get into that thought completely right now, but let’s just say, God timed my realizations well enough so I didn’t murder my husband. God kept Chris just safe enough to not be murdered in his sleep by his enraged wife.

God is good, friends.

It’s the same way with healing and relationships and growth—God doesn’t sit us down and make a list of all the ways we’re messing up. He gives us a little guidance, leads us to some truth and healing, and then reveals another area we can pay attention to.

The fight to get healthy always causes ripples. But He doesn’t let the ripples drown us, He lets us pay attention to one at a time so we don’t give up. (This is not the same as saying “He never gives us more than we can handle.” That is complete BS. He gives us more than we can handle all the time. That’s the point. None of us feel like we can handle what we’re going through; it’s why He wants us to rely on Him first. Then He’ll lead us home.)

When my marriage fell apart, God placed people and situations and places in my path to aid in the healing of my heart and my relationship. Once it was on a steadier ground, He said let’s use these lessons in other areas too. So He started changing my friendships, got rid of the ones that were hurting me more than helping me, and realigned the ones He kept for me.

When those things settled, He brought my attention to some other family dynamics that were needing attention. Then He gave me the patience and energy to see some things clearer.

Growing is just ripples; you take care of one small wave and then it gives you the endurance and wisdom to tackle the next one. As someone who wants to get as much done as quickly as possible (efficiency is my love language), this is a hard lesson I like to learn again and again.

His time, not mine.

Sometimes we need the healing and the wisdom from one healed area of our lives to be able to turn our attention to another. Sometimes we need the endurance and peace we gathered in one relationship struggle to move away from something else.

It’s not possible to work on better boundaries in your marriage without it spilling out into other relationships. It’s not possible to work toward healthy reactions without it impacting all the people you react to.

A somewhat vague story: My ultimate fear is betrayal. I trust people just enough to be in relationship with them, but not enough to feel safe. I was burned often and early so my defense mechanism is to keep my cards close to my heart and only give you what won’t hurt me. The reality is, I married someone who has betrayed me many, many times. Weeding through those wounds and scars, some of them present long before I met Chris Graham has been a large part of the last few years of my counseling. When I became aware—when I could truly see with fresh eyes—the way most of my close relationships were with people who often lied to me, it changed everything. At first it changed my marriage. Then in changed my family relationships. And then it came for my friendships.

I said no more lying in my marriage, and Chris said he needs help to be better.

I said no more lying in my family and lots of conversations stopped because people didn’t know what to talk about.

I said no more lying to my best friend and she said you’re not worth telling the truth to and she left.

He is gracious even in our suffering.

I’ve lost a lot in the past two years. Things that hurt. Things I didn’t expect. Things that felt like more betrayal and lies.

But when I say He is gracious even in our suffering, I am adamant He is still kind and loving and merciful. Pain doesn’t last forever. He can heal your broken heart. He can make new relationships and conversations and marriages. I only write about things I know and this, this I know in my bones.

If right now, it feels like too much.

If right now, you can see no end.

If right now, you’ve forgotten His promises.

If right now, you feel like you’re drowning.

Keep going.

He is gracious even in our suffering.

I’m tired of talking about the Enneagram.

In 2017, I read The Road Back to You and suddenly I had language to communicate with my husband and understanding to see why so often we missed each other even though we were living in the same house.

The Enneagram began a lot of healing and growing for me and my marriage.

Full disclosure: Chris did not and still does not care about the Enneagram at all. We didn’t suddenly get on the same page and everything was fine. I learned, I changed, I questioned, I listened, I used the Enneagram to fill some holes. Chris Graham decided it was not for him.

That’s what is so great about the Enneagram: no one else has to know anything about it, it’s for you and only you. You can grow and heal and be better toward people without them being involved at all.

The Enneagram has been around for hundreds of years. Originally when people started learning and studying it, they worked hard to keep it out of the general public’s hands, because they knew it would turn into a parlor game, just another fun social quiz taken at surface level.

Now here we are in 2019 living in the reality so many Enneagram teachers feared. We share Enneagram quizzes on Facebook and talk about our numbers with only some basic knowledge. We use our numbers to excuse behavior and explain why we’re just not good at some things. We’ve decided the Enneagram number summary is who we are, who we will always be, and we get to live proudly out of that summary because the Enneagram says so.

And that, friends, is why I hate talking to people about the Enneagram.

We took this powerful tool, condensed the knowledge to a tweet-length blip, and decided we just get to sit in that summary for the rest of our lives.

It’s who God made us to be!

There’s nothing wrong with me!

I can’t learn or grow or change, because the Enneagram says this is who I am!

Why did you do that hurtful thing to someone you love? Because I’m a One.

Why didn’t you follow through with your commitment? Because I’m a Seven.

Why didn’t you stand up for yourself when someone was taking advantage of you? Because I’m a Nine.

We are living out all the worst fears of the original Enneagram scholars and it makes me so embarrassed and grouchy.

In education, we teach kids how powerful their mindset is to their learning. Learners (of all ages) come to learning one of two ways: with a fixed mindset or a growth mindset. A fixed mindset means you believe your talents and intelligence are fixed traits.

I’m bad at math.

I can’t be patient.

I’ve never been good at relationships.

Talent is something you’re born with and you cannot learn new skills or knowledge, success is a trait you have or a trait you do not have and effort is not required.

Students who come into our classrooms with this mindset (something they often learn from their home and parents) struggle more in school, often say they can’t learn something when a challenge arises, and take on a victim mentality when they interact with the world.

The opposite of this is the growth mindset. A growth mindset, according to Stanford University researcher Carol Dweck who coined the terms, is when a learner accepts that knowledge and intelligence is not fixed, that we can always learn new things, and to grow in our skill set we just need time and experience. People (kids and adults) who believe they can get smarter or better at things, invest the time and energy into doing them.

I don’t have the attention span to read a book so I’m going to try to read 20 minutes a day to change that.

I’ve never been a good cook, but I’m going to make dinner from scratch once a week to start learning new recipes and how to not burn things.

I’m not a good friend, but I want to be so I’m going to be intentional about checking in with people I love.

This carries over to the Enneagram well. The point of the Enneagram is to give you a glimpse into your strengths and weaknesses so you can be more aware of them. Learning about your number should be uncomfortable because it points out your tender spots, but then it gives you the guidance to make them assets instead of wounds. It helps you show up better in the world, it allows you to become a healthier version of yourself so you can love people better, and it lets you address the parts in your heart that are hurting you instead of helping you.

But what many of us have done is we came at the Enneagram with a fixed mindset, learned new language to describe why we are what we are, and then just used it as a weapon or an excuse to keep being the exact same person.

And that, friends, is why I hate talking to people about the Enneagram.

We found the Enneagram to be a fun personality quiz, and we put it in our back pocket to pull out when we needed to justify shitty behavior, victim mentality, and refusals to grow or change.

We also decided that God wasn’t in control.

Instead we decided that the Enneagram was.

In the Bible we read that Jesus healed the blind, made the lame walk, and raised people from the dead, but the Enneagram says we can’t change and many people have come to believe that more than Jesus.

Somewhere along the line, we’ve started worshiping and believing fully in a creation of God instead of the Creator.

Somewhere along the line, we accepted what an online quiz or a few books told us we were instead of what the Good Book says we are.

And that, friends, is why I hate talking to people about the Enneagram.

Our cult following of the Enneagram has stripped God of His healing, His transforming power, His redeeming, and His mercy. God can’t change minds, soften hearts, or heal pain because of our Enneagram number profiles. Because if the Enneagram says we can’t change, what can God do about that?

Here’s an important detail though: the Enneagram doesn’t say we can’t change. The Enneagram is all about growth and change and reflecting more of God’s characteristics and less of ours. The Enneagram, if we study it and use it the way it was intended, will draw us closer to God, His heart, His mission, and His people.

But that sounds like too much work and too much energy and too much dying to self, so the majority of us will stay stuck in our fixed mindset knowledge of the Enneagram:

This is who I am.

This is why I do what I do.

This is why I’m a victim of my life.

This is why I can’t learn new things.

This is why I am stuck.

This is why everyone is always out to get me.

This is why I’m not good at this or that.

This is why jealousy rules my life.

This is why I’m constantly unsatisfied.

This is why what I have will never be good enough.

The Enneagram will always have a sweet spot in my heart. God used it to begin some really powerful shifts in my marriage and in my relationships at just the right time. He used it to point out some sin and strongholds that were trapping me and making me miserable. He gave me some really wise friends who helped me learn and grow with the Enneagram.

But I’m done talking about the Enneagram with people who only use it as a weapon against themselves and against me.

Start a conversation about why you can’t do something because your Enneagram number says you can’t? We’re done here.

Tell me something about myself you know because you know my Enneagram number but not one single thing God is currently doing in my life? We’re done here.

Excuse bad behavior or sin with a reminder about your Enneagram number? We’re done here.

Pretend to know why I’m doing something solely based on my Enneagram number without a conversation with me? We’re done here.

Enneagram teacher Ian Morgan Cron said once that we should learn about the Enneagram and our number and then stop talking about it. True growth and healing is done inside ourselves with God, not in making sure everyone knows our number and we know everyone else’s. We don’t need to know anyone else’s Enneagram number to be better to them. We don’t need to know anyone else’s number to make sure we’re showing them our healthiest and safest self.

If we’re growth mindset-ing the Enneagram, we’ll be talking about how God is using the knowledge to make us better in relationship; we’ll be talking about how He’s healing our wounds and scars to use it for His glory. We’ll be talking about how He’s teaching us new ways to see the world, His people, and His creation. If we’re coming at the Enneagram with a growth mindset and Jesus, we see ourselves as constant works-in-progress, children of a King who can make us into anything He wants, and people who are better when we ask for help.

And if you’re not ready to talk about how God is using knowledge of the Enneagram to make you more like Him, I’m out.

The slime shirt & gross pride

Ellie got a slime and squishie t-shirt for her birthday.

When Ellie opened it, she screamed and began planning her outfit for school on Monday.

I’m not sure how my mom found it besides just typing Ellie’s two favorite things into an Amazon search bar and the shirt popped up. She clicked “buy” immediately. That shirt was made for my daughter.

Slime and squishie shirt with pink leggings?
Slime and squishie shirt with Pusheen scarf and Harry Potter earrings?
Slime and squishie shirt with jeans and tall boots?

The possibilities were endless.

Monday came and she wore that shirt with pride. She might have carried a squishie or two as an accessory. She needed proof she was all in on this slime and squishie craze.

Does your kid love slime and squishies right now? Is it as confusing for you as it is for me? Don’t get me wrong, I love to watch a slime video on Instagram. I think it’s calming and soothing, and I can’t pass one up if it shows up in my feed. But I don’t have the desire to spend all my money and time with slime and squishies. (Just a warning: Ellie had a slime birthday party last month and I’m sharing pictures and slime recipes next week. So maybe I’m as invested as my kid. Who knows.)

Back to the shirt: She loved it. She wore it to school on Monday.

By Thursday, it ended up in her dresser drawer again so she pulled it out to wear it. (I’m a machine when it comes to laundry. I’m not bragging. It’s a sickness. Please help.)

When I saw she wanted to wear it again a few days after she first wore it, I told her she needed to pick something else to wear.

Why? she asked.

Because you already wore it this week. Find something else to wear.

But I love this shirt, she said. I want to wear it again!

As we’re going back in forth, I’m processing through why I don’t want her to wear it again. Why I’m telling her no. Why I want my kid who got a new shirt she loves to not wear it.

I can recall with crystal clarity tracking my daily outfits in high school. In my green journal, I’d list the date and what I wore to school that day. It would have been social suicide to wear the same outfit too close together. It implied you didn’t have an overflowing closet of cool clothes to wear. It implied you didn’t have lots of money. It implied you weren’t worthy enough to be at the cool table, with the cool kids, invited to the cool parties.

I wish I was exaggerating with this memory, but I’m not. Even as someone who wore track pants (we called them windbreakers in the 90s, thank you very much) and hoodies to school every day, I made sure I didn’t wear the same gray hoodie or pair of side-zip pants too often.

I didn’t want people to think I was poor.

It was an actual thing we talked about at school.

The weird thing was we weren’t poor. I had plenty of clothes, plenty of food, plenty of resources, plenty of parent attention even though I didn’t want it.

But I didn’t want to seem poor by wearing my clothes too close together. I was afraid of what it would imply.

And suddenly, twenty years later, I’m standing in the hallway of my larger-than-necessary house, trying to convince my daughter of the same horrible storyline I bought into.

What was I supposed to say? Don’t wear that shirt you love because I don’t want people at your school to think we’re poor? Don’t wear that new shirt you’re excited about because what if someone remembers you wore it on Monday?

What is wrong with me?

I don’t normally care at all what people think. Sometimes I have to remind myself to ask what other people think; it never crosses my mind to worry about what others think about my story, my clothes, my house.

What is happening right now then?

Oh, wait, is this what gross pride feels like?

Sick.

All of this went through my mind in a few seconds as I waded through my reasons, trying to find an answer for Ellie’s why. Why couldn’t she wear her favorite shirt again?

Because your mom is too full of pride and sin, that’s why.

You know, wear the shirt, I said quickly. What earrings do you think would look good with it?

Inside my head I wanted to scream wear it every day! Wear it until it falls apart! Wear it until you outgrow it and then keep wearing it anyway!

I was ashamed of myself. Ashamed I was going to train my daughter to not wear the clothes she wanted to because of how it might look to someone else. Ashamed I was going to take away some of her joy because she wore that shirt a few days ago.

Last night at bedtime, Ellie was arguing with me about something as Harper stood in the doorway listening.

Can you just go to bed and stop arguing with me about everything? I asked exasperated.

Sorry, she said in a not-sorry-tone.

Don’t say sorry for things you’re not actually sorry about, I said to her.

Okay, you’re right, I’m not sorry about arguing with you, she said.

I rolled my eyes, laughed out of exhaustion, kissed her good night, told her I loved her, and shut the light out.

I wouldn’t say I’m thankful for a demanding, questioning daughter, but she is pushing me to think about my choices, my words, my ways of doing things whether I want her to or not. In a way, I’m arguing with myself. She’s saying the things out loud I’d say in my head after a conversation. She’s asking questions I’d talk through with my counselor to peel back layers of because I said so to what lies underneath.

Because I said so is still an acceptable answer for my children sometimes. I’m not giving that parenting card up. Don’t you worry about that.

But I like the pushing for answers. I like the asking why when something I do doesn’t make sense. Sometimes I just need to explain things so she learns. And sometimes she needs to ask why so I learn instead.

*DISCLOSURE: affiliate links used
*Photography by Huff Photography

It is well with my soul.

For all the sharing I do about addiction, you think I’d be more accepting about the story God has given me.

But I am not.

It is well with my soul.

For all the talking I do about alcoholism and drug abuse, you think I’d be resigned to my life taking so many unexpected turns in relationship to them.

But I am not.

It is well with my soul.

Writing about our marriage struggles and the addiction that almost ruined everything, it would seem like I have made peace with it, with the struggle, with the journey.

I have not.

It is well with my soul.

The more time I have to reflect on how we got here, what lead to the breakdown, what pointed Chris to alcohol and avoidance, what set me up for a relationship with so many warning signs, the more I know this story was not on accident. The more I understand I was prepared for this fight well before I even laid eyes on Chris Graham. The more I know our stories were meant to crash into each other, were made for convergence.

It is well with my soul.

I wrestle with this realization often. Sometimes it makes me mad I was given this challenge, this mountain to climb. Other times, I’m grateful God gave me what I needed, when I needed it, and that His provision has sustained me for every single moment.

It is well with my soul.

I don’t have enough time or words or space on the internet to begin to explain the bits and pieces God has used to bring Chris and I this far. Searching for the beginning and the middle and the place we’re at right now feels overwhelming in both good and not-so-good ways.

I don’t believe God wishes suffering on us, but I do believe He can use all our suffering for His good.

I don’t believe God brought me to ruin for His pleasure, but I do believe He can show me the mercy in it all falling down.

It is well with my soul.

Does time bring more peace to the painful parts of our stories? I can see the beauty and healing in the last few years of my life, but would I do it all over again if I had the choice?

I don’t know yet. I need more time.

It is well with my soul.

Sometimes I’m thankful for the mess, because it brought beauty.
Sometimes I’m angry about the destruction, because it’s still tender and healing.

It is well with my soul.

One moment, I can be full of gratitude for the correction and loving attention my God gave me. The very next moment, I can be annoyed and questioning: Really, that was how it had to happen? You couldn’t have done it differently?

It is well with my soul.

When I talk or write about addiction, it often gets lost that this isn’t what I would have chosen. Yes, I’ve always loved writing. Yes, I’ve been telling stories and crafting prose for decades, both on the internet and off, but this is not the way I would have wanted people to know me, find me, or be drawn to me.

I would have picked a different story to tell you.

It is well with my soul.

I can find gratefulness and be unappreciative all at the same time.

My attitude isn’t unique or special. We humans often want other people’s stories, other people’s lives, other people’s outcomes. The grass is always greener.

It is well with my soul.

I don’t need your reminders about how gracious our God is. I don’t need your comments about how full of love and kindness He is.

I know it.
I see it.
I live it.

But I also need to tell you, I’m sometimes grumpy about my lot, my journey, my reality. I’m not telling you because I think you’re jealous, but because the internet always makes things seem shinier and prettier than they are.

My identity is not solely someone-married-to-an-alcoholic like it’s the only story I have or the only thorn. Also, I sometimes get mad at God for giving me this platform then asking me to write about such hard, ugly parts of myself and my marriage.

It is well with my soul.

I still wrestle with God–still question His plan–when I’m pushed to share what He’s teaching me, what He’s building in me, and what’s He’s ruining. Will I ever feel completely comfortable in this path He’s laid out for me?

It is well with my soul.

Sometimes it’s a praise.
Sometimes it’s a plea.

It is well with my soul when it feels hard, and it is well with my soul when it feels joyful. If I trust my God to keep His promises, I have to obediently walk in the way He’s leading me even if it feels scary or dangerous. Even when it doesn’t match up with my plans.

It is well with my soul.

There will always be a part of me that wishes I could never again write about addiction or alcohol or drug abuse or betrayal on the internet. There will always be a part of me that fights this purpose He’s given me. There will always be a part that wants this to all go away.

I know ignoring God, ignoring His prompts, ignoring His leading will never end well for me. So I write out of obedience. So I share out of trust that He’s going to take my weak words and actions and turn them to power and beauty for Him.

But I need you to know I don’t always do this willingly.
Maybe one day?

It is well with my soul even when I doubt.

It is well with my soul even when I forget what He’s done.

It is well with my soul even when it feels scary.

It is well with my soul even though I can’t see very far ahead.

It is well with my soul even if this isn’t the attention I want.

It is well with my soul even when I wish it were different.

It is well with my soul even if.

It is well with my soul.

Let’s Get Excited

Somewhere in 2015, I started getting excited for church. I started anticipating the worship, the teaching, the togetherness.

For someone who has been attending church her whole life, this was unexpected. For someone who doesn’t care much about being around large groups of people, this was surprising. For someone who can’t actually sing well at all, this was a little confusing.

We will be glad and rejoice in you.
Song of Solomon 1:4

In 2015 I decided to finally spend time in my Bible with my God every day. I was still teaching middle school at the time, so this meant my morning started at 5:30. It wasn’t ever easy, but I just said I was done making excuses and started doing it.

I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God.
Isaiah 61:10

I think when you start intentionally spending time in the Word, you have abstract, lofty ideas about what will happen:
I’m going to be more patient.
I’ll be more in tune with God’s plan.
My day will go better.
I’ll feel more grounded and peaceful.

Those are good and true. You probably will. But not all the time. You still have bad days, times that try your patience, moments where you have no clue what God is planning, and situations that feel the opposite of peaceful.

What I didn’t see coming was how He would transform my Sunday morning attitude.

I’ve thrown myself headlong into your arms–
I’m singing at the top of my lungs,
I’m so full of answered prayers.
Psalm 13:5-6

My church didn’t change. New, exciting people didn’t start attending. The worship team didn’t add a crazy new instrument or my favorite song to the rotation. Our minister didn’t suddenly begin teaching a sermon series I felt was important.

Not a single thing at my church changed.

Just my heart.
Just my thoughts.
Just my attitude.

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and a steadfast spirit within me.
Psalm 51:10

God used my pursuit of Him to give me a new point of view for the corporate worship I was involving myself in. Slowly over the course of a few months in 2015, He set my heart on fire for attending church.

I’m not going to say it wasn’t weird. I like church enough. I learn. I connect. I grow. I tithe. I serve. I worship. But somewhere in the moments of reading His Word, learning more about His heart, and submitting, He gave me different eyes to see a place I’d been looking at for almost two decades.

My mouth will speak in praise of the Lord. Let every creature praise his holy name for ever and ever.
Psalm 145:21

He took my routine and made it exciting.
He took my attendance and made it full of anticipation.
He took my drive in and made it brim with joyful expectancy.

I was getting to hear about my God. I was getting to worship with fellow believers. I was getting to take communion with my husband. I was getting to take our girls to their classes to learn. I was getting to give part of God’s money back to Him. I was getting to walk into a church building unafraid of persecution.

All of it became a gift and less of an obligation.
Church attendance became a celebration instead of a chore.

And nothing about my church had changed. It was my heart. It was God doing a work in me. It was the Holy Spirit helping a little more of Jesus come through and a little less of Mary.

We thank you, God, we thank you–
your Name is our favorite word;
your mighty works are all we talk about.
Psalm 75:1

I often hear from people who wish they had a better church. They wish their preacher was more eloquent. They wish the music was different. They want deeper relationships and less fake interactions.

I think we all want that. We all desire to attend a place that feels alive, safe, and full of growth.

So we leave our church and try a new one.

But then the next church doesn’t meet the standards either. The new place still has some challenging bits, some things we don’t like, some things we don’t agree with.

So we leave again.

And we never really find what we’re looking for.

I think the answer might not be a new church. I think the answer might be our hearts. I think the answer might be we’re making demands, but not doing anything in obedience first.

I think the answer might start with us instead of the church we attend.

(Yes, sometimes we have to leave a church. Abuse, major theology differences, sin, and other big issues can’t be overlooked and shouldn’t. This is not a call to stay at sick, dangerous places. )

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty;
the whole earth is full of his glory.
Isaiah 6:3

But what if before we left, we did some internal work first? What if we started showing up every day and getting in God’s Word instead of just Sunday mornings with the preacher? What if we began to sit with God alone in prayer and learning before we sat down in a pew once a week?

I didn’t expect my heart to long for corporate worship and teaching. I’m an introvert to the core and don’t often long for the company of others. But God started shifting things, started taking out pieces of my selfish heart, and inserting new parts that reflected His. He began to ready me for praise and offering during the quiet morning hours when I was days away from a Sunday service.

I love that I can learn about God through His Word, but at the exact same time, He can be such a surprising mystery to me. I know His promises, but He’s also full of wonder and miracle.

God–you’re my God!
I can’t get enough of you!
I’ve worked up such hunger and thirst for God,
traveling across dry and weary deserts.
Psalm 63:1

I love that the shock and awe of serving a God who can still astonish and amaze me after thirty seven years will never wear off. I love that over four years into spending daily time with God, my excitement and expectancy for church hasn’t dulled. I still feel a little thrill when I walk into church every Sunday.

Are you excited for church on Sunday? Are you excited to praise and worship and learn? If you’re not, I know a great way to get there, and it has nothing to do with finding a new church.

considering others

I was in no mood to help anyone.

Chris and I had been separated for less than a week, and I was in a pretty good funk. I had every reason to be sad and depressed, but my friend who knew better than to let me isolate, called and asked me to come support hurting kids.

Some kids were dead, a school was hurting, and I knew the students who were mourning. Could I come and talk to kids if they needed someone?

Sure.

I’m glad I went. I didn’t do anything amazing, just showed up where kids were hurting and made myself available if they needed me. Some kids smiled at me from across the room, content to know I was there and I loved them. Others came up to say hi and just chat about the school year. Sometimes you don’t have to talk about the pain to take care of the pain.

When things are bad, when things feel too heavy and painful, it’s easy to disconnect from people. The excuses, the energy, the embarrassment–whatever the emotion, we can find justification to stay away.

But what I’ve learned through experience (experience I’ve fought against tooth and nail) is when my tendency is to isolate, I should be doing the exact opposite. When everything in my nature says
stay home
I need a break
I’m too tired
too broken
too needy
I have nothing left to give
It’s more of a tool of the devil to isolate me instead of a restful escape from the world for a minute.

As an introvert, I can claim the need for a break often. But isolation can also be a great way to mask struggles or depression.

Hebrews 10:24 says, “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.” In the Greek, “consider” means to thoroughly consider something; to think through from the top to the bottom; to think hard about something; or to deeply ponder a matter. When we consider someone in that manner, we are so concerned with another’s welfare we are moved to action.

When I’m working hard to stay away and throw myself a pity party, I have friends who consider me in prayer, in conversation, in text messages, and refuse to allow me to become easy prey for the devil’s lies and tricks. (The devil loves a disconnected, isolated Jesus follower.)

I only know about these mythical encouraging people, because I’ve been the recipient of their goodness. God has used people from all parts of my life to shake me out of my stupor and refocus my attention on someone other than myself.

Here’s what I’m working on right now: I want to be that for others; I want to know when God puts someone on my heart or brings them up during my quiet time, it’s not just my mind wandering. I want to realize God is prompting me, and I need to act on it.

There was a week last fall where I was pretty low. A family member’s cancer diagnosis and a rough end to an unhealthy friendship had knocked me down pretty hard. I was sad, and I couldn’t see my way out of it right away.

In the midst of this hard week, I learned of a suicide at our church, a high school kid who had taken his own life. Suddenly my sadness didn’t feel so important as I showed up to a night of worship and support for hurting kids.

My friend didn’t know I was struggling through that week–she didn’t know what was happening in my life or in my heart–but she felt prompted to ask me to come support kids, and even though I felt like I couldn’t support myself, I went because I knew I should.

I might have cried more that night than the kids who lost their friend. But I knew staying home and focusing on myself was the opposite of what I was supposed to do. A friend had considered me, I knew it wasn’t by happenstance, and I obediently showed up.

When we take time to consider others, we often gain perspective on our own hurting. It is easy to pay lots of attention to my pain because I have a front row seat to the sadness. But when we consider others in light of whatever we’re stuck in, our attention gets turned outward which is always better for us and those around us.

In isolation, my problems are worse than everyone else’s.
In isolation, I cannot see past myself to the pain of others.

But when we consider others, when we look for ways to think hard or deeply ponder someone beside ourselves, we are often moved to action. We become less self-focused and more others-focused.

It’s an odd thing to say when we consider others, we reap benefits too, but it’s true. It’s like God is saying, Carry others and I’ll carry you.

Then we all become a little lighter.

our dramatic rescue

We baptized Ellie on Sunday.

Chris, Ellie, and I waded into the warm water as the band played Joy to the World and our friends and family gathered around.

I held her hand as she walked toward the edge so her daddy could pray over her, over her life, over her heart, over her choice to follow Jesus.

I started crying as we descended the very first step into the pool, and I didn’t stop until we were on our way out of the water, dripping and cold.

One thing that has weighed heavy on my heart for the past three years is what impact our marriage and home life was leaving on our girls. I’d like to pretend they never noticed the anger or tension, but I know that’s not true. I know because I noticed it as a child and, of course, my kids notice too.

They are smart and perceptive and sensitive.

At the beginning of 2015, I decided to finally take my early morning quiet time serious. No matter how tired I was. No matter how cold it was outside the covers. No matter what my day looked like. Obedience is often doing things you have lots of really good excuses for then just shutting up about them.

So I shut up about wanting to be in the Word every day and just did it. I did it when my kids were small and needy. I did it when I worked 45-50 hours a week teaching and then stayed up late writing. I did it when sleep didn’t just sound good, but was needed. Hindsight tells me this was within months of when Chris started drinking in secret. When people say His timing is always perfect, I could give you one hundred stories to back up that cliche. God knew what He was doing, what He was building my foundation for, what He was softening me for.

I know without a doubt God was working on Ellie during those mornings too. She’d stumble into my office or the family room, climb onto my lap or snuggle under a blanket as I finished up my reading, my journaling, my praying. She’d sit quietly as I wrapped up. I wonder often what God was planting in her during those moments when I wasn’t paying attention.

That God used the past few years–the heartache and the healing–to light my daughter’s heart on fire for Him wrecks me in a million ways. Elliott Quinn making it through 2016 and 2017 still wanting Jesus humbles and overwhelms me.

Ending 2018, a year of rebuilding and redeeming, by baptizing my girl is a touchstone, an altar of remembrance to God’s faithfulness in our lives.

At various times in the Old Testament, God’s people set up a simple altar of remembrance at a place where God did an especially powerful miracle, at a place where God dramatically rescued His people, at a place where God taught them an important lesson. These altars of remembrance–constructed of simple, local stones–would serve to remind future generations of God’s past faithfulness in order to give them strength to continue trusting the LORD in their present trials. (source)

December 16, 2018 was an altar-building day for me. If my life, if Chris’ life, if my daughter’s life, isn’t God doing a dramatic rescue, I don’t know what is.

As we waded into the warm water to baptize our daughter, our dramatic rescue altar was being built by the hands surrounding us as we prayed, by the hands clapping as she came up out of the water. Our dramatic rescue altar was showing up in the eyes of everyone who gathered around the pool, every whispered prayer and plea from our community who held us up as we crawled through destruction looking for shelter.

I’ve been gathering stones for this moment for a very long time. I just didn’t know it. In the morning quiet time. In the prayers over my daughter at bedtime. In the obedient action when it felt too painful. In the forgiving. In the cries for mercy. God was filling my pockets with stones I would use to one day make an altar of remembrance. He was filling me for Sunday. He was steadying me with promises. He was showing up with faithfulness when I couldn’t see outside of the fog.

I poured out all those stones on Sunday morning. All the gathering and fortifying He’d been doing suddenly made sense; the only way to praise Him was to give my daughter to Him and build an altar for His powerful miracle.

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God might not be for your marriage

He was angry.

“Why would God let my marriage fail?” he asked me through frustration and tears, “This isn’t fair.”

It was hard to hear.
It was heartbreaking to witness.
It was absolutely not the truth.

I understand the sentiment. If God is in control, everything is His doing, everything is His fault, everything is His plan.

But that’s a very loose, inaccurate understanding of Scripture. It also disregards the free will aspect of our lives.

God didn’t make your marriage fail.
God didn’t let your child get sick.
God didn’t allow your parent to die too soon.
God didn’t punish you by giving you a sick baby.

But as humans we need someone to blame, and it’s easy to blame someone who can’t really argue, someone we only have a basic, general idea of.

What I said to my friend who pleaded to know why God allowed his marriage to fail is this:

God doesn’t allow your marriage to fail. God is for your marriage. But your marriage is made up of two people, two flawed, broken people and if one of those people doesn’t want to stay in the marriage, God is not in the business of bullying. He doesn’t just wave a magic wand and set things right.

He could, but historically (meaning what He’s done in the Bible) that’s not how He works.

Because as any parent knows, when you swoop in and fix everything, your kids don’t learn the lesson. God created us with free will and the ability to be in or out. We are not puppets moved about at His whim with strings and jerky movements. We decide how we want to live, what we want to worship, what we want to be or not be.

And if you’re in a marriage with someone who doesn’t want to be anything but selfish, you can’t change that.

I often cringe when people use the lazy, pithy statement that “God is for marriage” like it’s the end all, be all to any marriage question.

Like it’s easy and simple.

People aren’t simple and neither is God. Marriage isn’t simple and neither is God.

Yes, God is for marriage. But He’s for healthy marriage. He’s for God-honoring marriage. He’s for healthy families, and He’s for healthy relationships.

The idea God is for any and every marriage just because you got married in a church and you claim the name of Christ is a stretch. For some reason, the Church has championed this slogan of “God is for marriage” and then disregarded the fact that God is for marriage but He’s ultimately for people.

The longer we spend in God’s Word, the less likely we should be to use generic slogans like
God is for marriage.
Why did God let my marriage fail.
God hates divorce.
Staying married means you took your vows seriously.

Because if a short sentence could save a marriage, we’d see a lot less divorce. If only we could remind people not to get divorced, they surely wouldn’t file for divorce.

Please.

Last year I was meeting with a divorce lawyer to file for divorce from my husband. My health and safety were at risk if I stayed married. My children were at risk of growing up in a family with fighting, unhealth, mistrust, and addiction.

I take my wedding vows seriously right now in 2018, and I took them just as seriously in 2017 as I began to move forward with a divorce.

But I was married to someone who couldn’t and wouldn’t live by the vows we swore to in a church in an Indianapolis suburb in the fall of 2006. I could not control his actions, his addictions, his behaviors, and his wounds.

It was not my responsibility.

It was not my job.

It was not my calling.

God loves marriage. God is for marriage. God blesses marriage. But He does not do that in the context of unhealth, violence, manipulation, abuse, mental illness, lying, co-dependency, addiction, and cheating. In those moments, He’s not concerned about your marriage, He’s concerned about you as an individual.

My marriage does not trump my health. My marriage does not trump my children’s health. It’s all or nothing. And if we’re all unhealthy, something has to change. We can do that together, or we can do it individually, but God does not call me or you or anyone to continue to live years and decades and lifetimes in an unhealthy marriage. Because it’s not just contained to the two people married, but it impacts children and extended families and friends.

An unhealthy marriage is like a bomb going off and hitting every single bystander within a five mile radius as it limps along.

God loves marriage just like He loves people: with grace and forgiveness and new starts and humility and servanthood. But if your marriage isn’t full of those things, He’s probably not a big fan of your marriage, because it sounds like your marriage is full of sin. And God hates sin.

So technically, He could hate your marriage.

Can He fix it? Absolutely.

Will He fix it when one or more parties has a hard, stubborn, proud heart? Probably not.

Will He fix it if you claim Him in name but never action? Probably not.

Can He fix it? Absolutely.

But He’s going to start by fixing the two people in it on their own and if you’re not willing to do the work as an individual, He’s probably not going to do the part you’re pleading for. Because your answer always starts with you. Your heart. Your baggage. Your lies. Your deceit. Your selfishness. Your sin. Your issues.

God doesn’t let your marriage fail. He’s actually really clear on how to do marriage well. He gives us plenty of advice and counsel on how to do marriage successfully. But then we bring our human selves to the union and things get a million times harder.

While it breaks our hearts, we also can’t demand God jump in and fix something that has been broken and unattended for all the moments leading up to the end. We can’t be mad at a God who tells us how to do things correctly and when we ignore them, call for backup with huge demands when *shockingly* things didn’t go our way. Obedience starts at the altar and starts again at the beginning of every day. And it takes two obedient spouses to make it successful; one hard-working husband or wife can’t drag a damaged marriage into the light.

The hard part about this world we live in is until Jesus comes back, we will live with divorce and broken families. God’s not happy about it. He doesn’t enjoy it, but He’s probably not surprised by it either. This is fallen Eden, and the more reminders we get, the more eager we should be for His return.

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Where’s the fruit?

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.

Our life and marriage right now.

Yesterday after work Chris was supposed to stop at the grocery store and pick up my online order. I reminded him right before he got off work, and as he headed that way, he asked for instructions. He’d never picked up the groceries before.

I told him to pull into the assigned spot, call the number on the sign, and tell them the order is under “Mary Ritter.”

It’s not so much that I go incognito when I’m out in the world, but that my account with this store is so old that when I originally signed up, I wasn’t yet married. So even though I’ve officially gone by Graham for almost twelve years, when I go to the grocery, I’m still a Ritter.

A few minutes later Chris called to tell me the store didn’t have any record of my grocery order. They couldn’t find it in their system at all.

I immediately went to my email confirmation to make sure I sent him to the right store. Depending on my plans for the day, I might place the order at a different location, and I worried I’d made a mistake.

After a quick check, I came back on the phone.

“Did you tell them it’s under ‘Mary Ritter’?” I asked slowly.

“No,” he said.

“Did you even read the text I sent you?”

“Not all of it,” he responded.

“Goodbye,” I said through gritted teeth.

Later over dinner I sarcastically congratulated him on the grocery pickup.

“I got the groceries. Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he replied.

That’s the main problem right now: everything small doesn’t feel small anymore. After years of making excuses in my head, after years of ignoring small things that didn’t feel right, I can’t do it anymore. For those unfamiliar with trauma and healing, it’s called a trigger. A situation or memory or reaction that recalls the original issue and takes you back to the chaos or heartache or pain instantly.

Chris forgetting a conversation or important detail we discussed. Triggered.

Chris driving too fast or making a silly decision while driving. Triggered.

Chris sleeping in too late. Is he hungover? Triggered.

Chris making an impulsive decision. Triggered.

What I never expected in recovery was how many behaviors, words, or moments would send me right back to angry or suspicious. What should just be small mistakes everyone makes, feels more important and under more scrutiny.

My husband has been sober almost eleven months. He attends AA meetings regularly, he sees his addiction counselor every week, he does an AA-related devotional every morning. He takes his medicine for depression as well as a pill that would make him violently ill if he took a drink of alcohol. Even being around rubbing alcohol or certain household cleaners makes him nauseous.

I know he is not drinking. But convincing my brain to believe it after all the years of lying is still hard. This anger ebbs and flows. I’m not triggered as often as I was eight months ago or even two months ago. But it still happens, I still get mad, and Chris still gets defensive.

We’re working on it. Communicating well is the only way it gets better. Chris leaving the room or getting mad about it makes it worse. Lashing out with too many emotions is how I make it worse. Chris wants to ignore things and I want to address everything. We’re working on meeting in the middle, where I let some things go unsaid and he says more things than he wants to.

Change is hard, but we know the end result will be a healthier marriage.

In February, Ellie turned nine.

The night before her birthday, I laid in bed with her and asked her about her best and worst moments at eight.

Her best moments were riding all the adult rides at Kings Island the prior summer and holding a giant python at school the week before. Worst moments were crashing her bike at the campground, busting her knee badly, and having to ride back to us hurt. Also worst: the headache she got after the fifth ride on The Beast at Kings Island. Major eight year old stuff.

What she didn’t mention—and I held my breath for it each time I asked—was Daddy or our separation or seeing him that night in the parking lot so lost and broken or visiting him in rehab. Those didn’t even cross her mind. I feel like I barely survived 2017, and Ellie’s take-away was a bike crash and a headache.

When they tell you kids are resilient, it’s true. But they have to have the skills and support and environment to rebound. For my children, that was counseling, being allowed to ask any question they wanted, and constantly being told they were safe, loved, and none of it was their fault.

Occasionally addiction and rehab and Daddy not being around last fall comes up, but the majority of the time it doesn’t. If I happen to have an alcoholic beverage while on vacation or with girlfriends, I talk to the girls about moderation and why I can have a drink and why Daddy can’t. As they get older, this will come up more often and I might choose to not drink. We’ll address that when it’s time.

I’m still in counseling but slowing down. I go once a month at this point and I think my counselor really wants to tell me I’m done for now but I keep showing up anyway. I won’t let her break up with me. She reminds me her goal is to eventually work herself out of a job and this is the best outcome of seeking therapy. Plus, she says with a smile, there will always be someone to take my place.

Saying I’m nearing the end of counseling doesn’t mean all is right in my world. But it does mean I’ve learned the necessary skills to handle stress and problems and drama with healthy coping mechanisms I didn’t have when I started. I can identify healthy relationships and establish boundaries for unhealthy ones. There’s still a lot of work to do (always), but I’m better equipped to handle it. Plus, I can go back to counseling when necessary and probably will need to at some point.

Chris and I have not been to counseling together. I’ll share more about that tomorrow.

Last week we had date night after a few months without. We went to dinner, the bookstore, and saw a movie. It was an average date night, nothing extra special or romantic. But it was good. It felt safe and comfortable after a long time of not feeling that way. When so much hard stuff has happened, even when you try to get over it, you’re still dragging it around wherever you go. It just becomes part of your story, a part of what you carry. It never really goes away. But what you do while you’re carrying it can make all the difference. You can keep carrying it so it weighs you down and makes you angry and bitter, or you can carry it around, pay it the attention and love it needs, and it becomes this lighter part instead.

We’re still working hard to make what we’re carrying lighter. We’ve still got a way to go, but it’s getting easier every day.

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Love podcasts? May I suggest you listen to the Not Terrible Podcast? My friend Jess and I co-host a weekly show where we discuss hard stories with hope and humor. I’d love for you to listen and subscribe.

Love podcasts? May I suggest you listen to the Not Terrible Podcast? My friend Jess and I co-host a weekly show where we discuss hard stories with hope and humor. I’d love for you to listen and subscribe.

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