the proof that i leave

With the start of the new year, there have been reflections on the past 365 days and resolutions made. Others have mentioned the word they want 2013 to embody.

I thought about a word for 2013 but honestly I couldn't think of a word. I don't want 2013 to be about just one specific part of my life - be it my health, my relationship with God, or work. I want 2013 to be a year all about everything.

We celebrated the coming of the new year with friends, drinks, and good food. We sat around the dining room table and discussed our hopes for the new year. As I listened to everyone else, it struck me just how big of a year 2013 will likely be.

I've done a lot in my 27 years. The past year has been a year that has changed me and shaped me - all for the better. It has been a year that has reignited my love for social work and foster care. It has been a year that has reminded me how important love is to the world. It has been a year that God has been present in the darkest moments and in the brightest moments.

I have the feeling that 2013 is going to further change my life. I don't know exactly how that will happen or what that means. I just know that 2013 is going to be a major year.

And with it being such a major year, I can't assign just one word to it. But I've found a song that embodies what I want the year to be. A song that embodies what I want my life to be.

I stumbled upon it a few months ago, and it has stuck with me ever since. I hear it in my head randomly and remember the lyrics when things seem tough.  It's the song that I would have written if I were any good at writing lyrics and could put notes to paper.

It's called "I Was Here" by Beyonce.
The words are everything I want my life to be. They're everything I've always wanted my life to be. I may not change the world. And that's okay. But to make even the smallest impact on another life? That's why I'm here. Why I think we're all here.

2013 will be the year I lose weight. 2013 will be the year I write more. 2013 will be the year I love harder and better. 2013 will be the year I lean into and trust God with everything. 2013 will be the year I make a difference, the year I leave my mark, the year I gave my all and did my best. The year I leave the world a little better just because I was here.

What will your 2013 be?
(title from "i was here" by beyonce)

the secret kept within her

Ever since I can remember, I've had a love/hate relationship with food. For whatever reason, I've always loved all the bad foods and hated (or at least not liked nearly as much) the good foods.

My eating has always been picky. And too often, while surviving my years as a teenager and doing my best to not get lost, I turned to food as a way of coping. That coping was often not eating or eating too much.

This relationship with food has continued to be the most difficult part in my weight loss journey to date. Counting calories is overwhelming. And it often feels impossible that so many calories could go into so little food.

Looking back on pictures from the past several years, I can tell where I was in my relationship with food. There were years when I was thinner. And years when I was close to being as big as I was at my highest weight. The years when I was thinner often came from picky eating or barely eating. And the bigger years came from when I ate because I just didn't know what else to do or how else to deal.

It's not something you talk about often. No one really wants to know that someone is struggling with any sort of an eating disorder. After all food is our friend. It's how we survive. We need it to make it through the days. It shouldn't be our enemy.

I struggle - nearly every day - with making the best choices for my body. Most days I lose the battle to eat the best foods I can. Most days I don't get as many servings of vegetables as I should. Most days I don't eat more than two servings of fruit. Most days I load up on more carbohydrates than lean protein.

A lot of it goes back to looking at food for comfort. I'm trying to move away from this perspective because food is not meant for comfort. Yes, it can provide that, but that shouldn't be it's main purpose. Seeing food as comfort leads to, in my case at least, a colossal weight gain.

I think it also goes back to seeing food as something to control. By using food as a means of control, I lose weight. A lot of weight. An unhealthy, impossible to maintain amount of weight. And once I realize I can't maintain it, I tend to swing all the way to the other side and use food as comfort.

This is a cycle I've gone through multiple times. It is also a cycle I refuse to go through again. Before, during those times that I saw food as control, I thought I looked good. But now, years later and pounds later, I see the exhaustion on my face and see how unhealthy my skin looked. I was thin, but I wasn't healthy.

I have dreams of being thin again. Though I never want to be thin like I was in high school. The kind of thin that leads to bags under eyes and a smile that seems to be forced more than natural. I want the natural smile I have now on a smaller face and smaller frame.

And I don't want to just be thin. I want to be fit, strong, lean, and healthy; those things are so much better than thin.

So I am changing my relationship with food and seeing it for what it really is.

And what is it? It's nutrition. It's strength. It empowers me and gives me energy. It fuels me to go another day. And it is something to enjoy. It is not the things I once thought it was.

My hope is that the more I see food in this way the easier it will become to eat lower calorie foods, to choose fruit and vegetables over anything fried, and to steer away from ice cream for breakfast (which was a staple in college).

Food is not the enemy. It is one of the ways I got to a point of needing to lose weight, and it is also a part of my why. But it is also one of the ways I will get to my goal weight. It is how I will accomplish losing at least 100 pounds.

(title from "never good enough" by rachel ferguson)

[PS: To anyone who is suffering or has suffered from an eating disorder of any kind, there is hope. There is always hope. And there is always life after; and that life is pretty great. Praying for all of you who are suffering or have suffered.]

words fall through me

Last night, I had dinner with friends from church while my husband reconnected with friends from high school. We each needed the nights we had. More than that, though, I think we each needed the nights we had away from each other.

It's hard being married. For a million reasons. And one of those reasons, at least for me, is how our lives combine.

My husband and I didn't go to college together. I grew up in Texas, outside of Houston, and he grew up here in Oklahoma, just minutes away from where we live. We met our senior year of college, and almost instantly it was just the two of us - trying out hardest to fit our lives together and finding that it was nearly impossible to cram years of separateness together.

Four years later, we're still trying to figure it out. And last night, after we both got home at the exact same time, we lay in bed and talked about how we make all of it work.

It would be easier, in some ways, to pick up our life here in Oklahoma and move somewhere entirely new to us both. Somewhere that would force both he and I to make new friends. But the easier way is not always the right way, and we know that, for now, we are called to stay in Oklahoma.

We've talked about making effort a lot lately. Effort in our relationship. Effort in friendships. Effort in ourselves. And last night, as he discussed how it was good and strange to reconnect with people I know from a distance but not close up like he does, he spilled words out that echoed my heart.

The hustle and bustle and loneliness and joy of Christmas is over. But there's a whole new year heading our way, and with that new year comes the chance for change and growth. And knowing that my husband wants the growth I so desperately want makes me feel closer to him than ever before.

It's things like this - that I could say are little but really are big - that give me so much hope about 2012. Because 2011 was hard. Maybe not quite as hard as 2010 (in some ways) but so much harder in others. There were dreams lost and realized in 2011. A lot of growth and a lot of tears. Many questions and not enough answers.

And I know we are not the only ones who struggled in 2011. From what I can tell, it's been more of a difficult year for most. But it's almost through. Just a few more days, and we can officially wave goodbye and then hello to all the possibilities that rest in the change of a single number.

My night wasn't filled with realizations last night. Just quiet moments, good food, conversations, and the feeling washing over me that, as much as I might fight it, God has me right where He wants me.

I'm learning to be okay with where I am. To relish it even. It's not perfect, but never again will it be December 28, 2011. Never again will I have the opportunities set in front of me or the time to spend resting on the couch with my husbamd. Never again will I be 26 with a world of possibility in front of me.

I want to enjoy 2012. Even though there might be difficulty and frustration. Even though it won't be perfect. I want to enjoy it and find beauty in every moment. I want to live my life instead of just taking everything day by day. I want to reflect all this wonderment and beauty and all of these little and big moments.

We've talked a lot about the possibilities and what we want from 2012. There's been mention of my writing, of my husband's writing, of intentionally spending our time, and of doing things now instead of waiting for this or that to be better. The talk is good - great even. It binds us together and puts us on the same page. It gives us things to dream about and hope for.

But talk is also just talk. And there needs to be action along with it. The action is, I think, the scariest part. It's an act of faith. There's no time to look down or to worry. I simply have to get out of the boat and then not look down or worry.

This blog is the first step for me. There's accountability that comes with announcing that I've written more than 6,000 words of my new novel. There's accountability that comes with saying I'm going to be positive and happy and trust God even more in 2012.

With this accountability comes the possibility of people mocking me, laughing at my choices, and questioning my decisions. I know to expect and be prepared for all of these things. As scary as those things are, it's worth it, I think, to live life intentionally and to open yourself up to the possibilities.

So here I am. Open to 2012. Ready for what it will bring. Expecting wonderful things. Excited for growth. Thankful to have another life to share the year with.

(title from "falling slowly" by glen hansard)

the light in the middle of it all

We were in the car last night, following time spent with our community group, when I said the words. They were words I had thought and prayed over. Words that I felt the weight of earlier in the day. But I had yet to speak them aloud or to admit the defeat I felt.

I had mentioned how I was struggling. I had previously mentioned how I had felt stuck in everything. But there was more.

"I feel like every door is being slammed in my face."

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Because I knew that he understood. He had been there before, and I had stood by him, helping him and offering whatever support I could.

I went onto to explain that it literally felt like every door. Volunteering. Figuring out what career path I want. Exercise. Being healthy. And more. It was everything.

My statement led to a further discussion. Because we both aren't sure of where we are called to work or to give of our time. Sometimes I think I know but then something (or several somethings) happen, and I am thrown back into not knowing.

He told me that he wants to feel called to climb the corporate ladder but that he doesn't. And I feel the same way. I want to feel called to live a life that is considered normal. Because that is safe and it is easy. It fits into a plan that other people can understand. It follows a timeline that makes sense.

But he doesn't feel called to climb the corporate ladder. And I don't feel called to fit into a mold someone else has created. Admitting those things are, at least to me, just as scary as admitting that I feel like every door is closing in my face.

I still feel that way this morning. There was no miracle overnight. Nothing happened to completely open every door I want to have open.

I know that there is a reason for every door being closed. I know that it is good for me to be broken of my need to plan and think that only my plans are the best. And I also can somewhat grasp the fact that my life is not meant to follow a path that society sees as normal. But that doesn't make it easy.

All of this swirled in my mind this morning as I drove through one of the more affluent historical areas of town. The houses are ones we love and dream of one day owning. They are cared for with pedicured lawns. Inside I imagine there are clean wood floors and walls without cracks running from top to bottom.

Suddenly it hit me. Or maybe it wasn't so suddenly.

My life is not to be measured in the way I want it to be measured. I am not to compare my career and the steps I take with the career and the steps someone else takes. God has a plan, and His plan might not line up with what the world considers as success. But it is His plan, and I have to follow His plan.

Having a realization of any sort is scary but it requires a response. I can respond by being faithful and stepping into His plan. Or I can respond by ignoring the realization and continuing on the path I am creating.

I saw a tweet earlier today that read "God has called YOU. Focus on HIM. Not on what everyone else is doing."

I know my response to both the realization and to the tweet needs to be to listen. And then to focus on Him and on what He is calling me to. It's what I want my response to be. I just don't know how to quiet the sound of culture, the sound of my own mind, the desires of my flesh, the constant comparisons that are hurled toward me.

Maybe it starts with accepting the slammed doors. Or maybe it starts with not worrying. Or maybe it starts with sitting in silence (also something I struggle with doing). Or maybe it is supposed to just start. With no rhyme or reason. No planning. Just a deep breath in through my nose and out of my mouth. Tension released. Eyes closed for a moment. And then a timid step forward. Or maybe it's supposed to be a brave step forward with my eyes open and hands balled at my sides.

The first step is always the hardest. And each time I think I am past the first step, it comes back. There is always a new first step to be taken. Sometimes it's the same new first step over and over again.

I thought through all of this as I drive the thirty minute stretch of I-35 from my house to my office. And just as it happened last night, I felt stuck. With every door slammed in my face. And I found it hard to know what to do. Thoughts of how to start this new life of living for Him and not for me or the world and what my first step would need to be.

My life is so often busy. And so full of stress. I think most people's lives are. And the busyness and stress pulls all of us down. Tears us apart. Makes it almost impossible to do anything but live for the moment and live life in a way that makes sense to others.

I wanted to give into it during that thirty minute drive. To forget everything I had felt earlier. To once again toss aside the notion of living for something so much bigger than my short time of earth. And then I took one deep breath followed by another deep breath and then another. Until finally, my head was clear and my heart rate normal again.

Life is not meant to be lived rushing from one moment to another. It is also not meant to be lived for other people. It's something to enjoy and it's something that should reflect love.

So I am taking the first step. Eyes open. Hands open. Breathing in deeply. Letting go of my expectations and comparisons again. And hoping that there will be no falling back. But knowing that there is a God who loves me enough to support me and push me forward (again) if I do fall back.

(title from "all i have" by mat kearney)

this isn't easy; this isn't clear

Not yet old enough to drive, I sat in the backseat with a friend of mine. It was the first time I had worn all black out of respect and the first time I'd stared loss right in the face. He was someone I knew from the ugly and messy years of junior high school. Ninth grade came, and just as had happened with the start of sixth grade, we went our separate ways. A dividing of friendships into different high schools due to rezoning.

I didn't think of him much. We had shared a few classrooms and maybe some laughs, but there was no deep friendship.

But when I heard that he was gone, I remembered. I remembered sitting in the hallways. I remembered talks by the lockers. I remembered all of it.

You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. -Chuck Palahniuk

We were sophomores in high school. It's a time in life when everything seems that much harder. It's a time in life when no one understands. Many of us would be lying if we said we hadn't ever thought about it. When people are mean and you cry yourself to sleep and spend hours with a tightness in your chest, it's hard not to think about it.

Life would be better for everyone if I weren't here. Will things ever get better? Why is this so hard? I just don't think I can do it anymore. The thoughts go round and round in young minds. Parents and teachers tell you that it gets better. That this will all pass. And you want to believe the, but it is so hard.

He was on the football team. His letter jacket hanging next to a picture of him. The casket was closed. The funeral was held at the church I had attended Vacation Bible School as a child. It was the same church I decided that I believed in Jesus.

We sat in the balcony, near the back. I don't think I cried, but I could be wrong. I remember the lump in my throat and feeling how overwhelming this all was. We watched the remaining members of the football team walk in with their heads down. They wore letterjackets to remember him by. And his mother following. She was inconsolable.

As anyone who has been close to someone that has committed suicide knows, there is no other pain like that felt after the incident. -Peter Greene

That was my first funeral. I didn't understand it all then. I was only a teenager and still caught up in my own world of frustration and anxiety and crying myself to sleep some nights. But I knew that he was gone. I knew it had been his choice. And I knew he left behind so many people grieving for him, wishing he hadn't left, and wondering what his life would have been like.

It's been about 10 years now. I can remember the whisperings in the hall about his death. The details that were shared. The way people were shocked. Even the cruel jokes some high school students told. I remember the conversations I had with friends and the shock I felt that something like this had happened.

Life might not follow the path I thought it would. But that's because it is life. It is always changing and always moving. Even when it feels like there is no hope, there is. Even when you feel like you are alone, you aren't. When it feels like no one understands, remember that somwhere in the big, beautiful and messy world there is someone who does understand.

We are all connected. Our lives intertwine through the internet, mutual friends, and even the movies we watch. There's something bigger than any of us that holds everything together and keeps every heart beating. There is so much to live for. Even when it is dark and seems like the sun will never shine, there is more to live for. Eventually the sun will rise, and you will be blinded by the brightness.

If you're feeling low, don't despair. The sun has a sinking spell every night, but it comes back up every morning. The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain. -Dolly Parton

And that is why I am walking. There are events happening across the country over the course of the next year. One will take place in Oklahoma City on 9/10/11. And I will be there to walk the three to five miles. I will be there to remember those who have been lost, to fight for those who think there is no hope, and to raise awareness of this epidemic. It's time to do something, and while it might not be much for just one person to walk, I know God has huge plans to join many people together and walk for this one cause.

There is the opporunity to donate. I'm hoping to raise $150 at least. But to me the money isn't as important as people joining together for one cause. Understanding of the prevention of suicide is important. Joining together to combat the darkness that plagues so many is important. I'm excited to share this journey with as many as want to walk alongside me (our group is Frontline Youth) or walk in their own cities. All donations will go directly to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Over seven-million dollars has been raised so far. We can end this and remind people that they are loved beyond measure.

(title from "when a heart breaks" by ben rector)

when the skies broke wide

picture found here.

Today, I attended the 8046 conference for work. It began as a chance to escape the confines of my office. An opportunity to meet people and spend a work day engaging and interacting. It ended as so much more.

8046 is the number of children placed into foster care in Oklahoma as of January 2, 2011. It is a number near to my heart. It is a number that represents some of why I do what I do.

The conference was faith-based. An example of what can happen when churches work with state agencies. Insight into the need the state of Oklahoma faces on a daily basis. A few speakers discussed their experiences in foster care while others talked about the need for foster parents and advocates for children. Every message hit me. God whispered (and also yelled) to me that I am where He wants me. He reminded me that this is what I am here for.

It started in child welfare. And then I ran. Burnt out and beat up and with no strength left, I escaped the messiness of social work and entered the position I have now. To say I don't miss the messiness and the stress would be a lie. Because I do. I miss it daily. I long to repair families and search for permanent homes for children.

I've thought about going back. Today made me think of it even more. Because I want to have the direct impact. I want to see my work result in something beautiful and wonderful.

But. There is always a but. It's not where I am being called at this moment.

Right now, I plant the seed. I discuss foster care and adoption with willing listeners. I answer questions and follow others through the process. I desire to stick my hands in the dirt and open my house to displaced children.

Caring for the children who feel unwanted haunts me. It fills up my senses and at times brings me close to tears (and sometimes to tears) as it did today. Anger also fills up my senses and impatience. Because I think I am ready now to take that next step.

God says wait. And while it is a struggle, I wait. I'm not always as patient as I should be. And sometimes I look into starting this path on my own time. I wonder what I can do right now to catapult me into this new adventure. God allows these thoughts, but He also puts a stop to them when He sees fit. He knows what is best. He knows where I am needed now, and He also knows what I need now. He ensures those things are done. The rest will come in time.

We are being led in a very specific direction. I know this to be true. And so does my husband. While we want to run around or search for a shortcut, we do not. We do our best to continue on the path He has laid out.

During the conference, the impact one person can have on a child was discussed. It was also discussed that sometimes we will not see the impact. I know this. I tell others this, but for my own life, I want to see the impact. He reminded me today that this is something I need to release.

One speaker discussed that sometimes we are meant to plant the seed and then even sometimes a tree. But it does not always mean we are meant to sit under the tree or water the seed.

Right now, it seems I am meant to plant seeds and possibly a few trees. These are to be utilized by others, and while I might see it all from a distance, I will not be the one personally tending to them. As hard as it is. And I want to be okay with it.

God has made promises. To me and to others. And He will honor those promises. I simply have to trust.

A second speaker talked about her experience working with abused and neglected children as a pediatrician. Her words spoke truth to me and to the other participants. She reminded me of why I started the journey through child welfare.

But the thing that sticks out to me most? It was her telling of the story of Elijah. Specifically of one verse.  In this story, God stops the rain for three years. He promises Elijah that the rain will come, and He cares for Elijah until it does. Elijah prays for rain and for God's promises. Then, one day, God speaks to Elijah.

"During the third year without rain, the Lord spoke his word to Elijah: "Go and meet King Ahab, and I will soon send rain." 1 King 18:1

And that was when Elijah stopped looking for the rain cloud. He knew God could send it, and he trusted in it. The speaker equated this to her looking for families and individuals to rise up and end child abuse and neglect. She said she knew God had prepared individuals and that she would stop looking for the rain cloud.

God has made me promises. First in August and then in March. And I have spent countless hours searching for and praying for those promises to come true. It is time for me to stop searching and to trust in Him that He will provide for me, just as He did Elijah.

(title from "five candles (you were there)" by jars of clay)

light a fire in the cold

picture found here.

Every morning, on my way to work, I pass several billboards proclaiming the millions of dollars one can win by buying a $1 lottery ticket. I struggle with whether or not it is okay for me to want to play to lottery and to want to win just a fraction of the millions available.

I wouldn't spend the money on frivolous things like DVDs or clothes or shoes. I wouldn't even spend all the money on myself. But still, I'm not sure if it's okay for me to want things like money. Money won't fix all the problems of the world. But I know it would help.

If I had the money, I would fix our house and then sell our house. We'd purchase a much bigger house - one that could house children in foster care and children we'd adopt from Ethiopia and China. The house could house people who needed a little help getting back on their feet. We could even purchase a second house meant just for individuals needing assistance to get them out of a desparate situation or off the streets.

I would send money to Africa and help build orphanages for the 53 million orphaned children. I would go to Africa as well and experience life there so I would know what help the country really needed - not just the ideas I hear on the radio. I'd give money away to those who needed it. I'd start as many non-profits as I could to reach as many people as I could. I'd fulfill some of my lifelong dreams which include opening a group home for girls and helping others recover from things like anorexia and bullimia. I'd take the money and spend it on hope amd love.

I would hold onto just enough to meet our own needs and then the rest would be given to others. That's what I long to do, what my heart is striving for. But I do wonder if my heart would be able to remain that pure if $200,000 or $20,000,000 were to be deposited into my bank accounty.

Money won't fix everything, and sometimes, money causes more problems than it fixes. But I like to dream about the things we could do, the people we could help, the lives we could change with extra dollars floating in our checking account.

If you won the lottery, what would you do with the money? Months ago (and especially years ago), I would have bought a new wardrobe and a new car and lots of gadgets. I do still struggle with wanting some of those things. I think I always will. But I wouldn't be able to spend it all on those sorts of things - not with the knowledge of just how far thousands and millions could go.

I don't think it's wrong to own things. We own more than we need to. I also don't think it's wrong to spend money on things for yourself. I am just at a point where all of those things, which were once so important to me, hold no value.

I am especially struck with this now that Christmas is near and Black Friday is looming. I looked through the ad for Target and saw nothing that excited me. I've seen the sales many stores are offering, and while I wanted as much as I could get last year, I want nothing now - at least not anything that the stores are selling.

I guess you could say my priorities have changed. It's funny how that happens, how God knocks sense into you about what is important even when you spend years ignoring His words about the things of this world are nothing compared to the things of Him.

(title from "hope" by alli rogers)