Faithinflipflops

Living simply, loving deeply!

Growing Through Failure

My favorite place in the world is the beach. I love everything about it. The smell of sand mixed with suntan lotion, the sound of waves crashing to shore with kids playing in the background. I love the feel of the hot sun beating on my skin and the cold shock of the water when I first dive in. I love the beach in the fall, winter, and spring as well.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at the beach. I usually take a cheap raft and swim out the buoy and then hop on the raft and float back into shore. This particular day, I kept slipping off as I tried to get on the raft. I guess I had blown it up too much. I think I tried about 5 times before successfully getting on the stupid raft. There were a lot of people on the beach on this particular day. It was a Saturday and hot. As I was trying to get on, I was afraid I would end up losing my bathing suit and end up on YouTube or someone’s SnapChat. I was flailing trying to get on. I was failing. Kind of how I felt life has been lately.

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Me and my 2 dollar raft.

As I floated on Lake Erie I thought of something that happened early on in ministry. I had to interim Senior Pastor after my boss left ministry under difficult circumstances. I was young and female. One day someone came into my office and proceeded for an hour to tell me everything I was doing wrong. I sat there and listened. They finally said, “I know you’re trying your hardest but your preaching sucks and it’s just not good enough.” I stood up. I was crying (which made me mad at myself). I cry when I am mad. I said, “I am sorry they picked me and not you. Why anyone would want to do this with the church hurting so badly, is beyond me. If my best isn’t good enough for you, maybe you should go somewhere else.”

For years when I would preach all I would hear is in my head was “you suck”. It was on repeat in my head. This person ended up apologizing to me about 7 years ago.

Once I got on the raft, I thought about the past 6 months. I have felt like I can do nothing right. I heard this person saying, “Heidi, you’re trying your hardest but your best simply isn’t good enough.” It has been a hard season. It has been a busy season. People are walking through such tough stuff. There has been a lot of loss.

I started working on my Masters in July of 2016. It is a two-year program. It has been a transformative experience for me. I have discovered so much about myself.  I was supposed to finish at the end of June. With the craziness of life, I had to withdraw from the very last class with two weeks left. I was doing well but I could not finish my final project with my schedule and mental capacity. I would sit at my table and my mind would go blank or I would cry. I will finish in December, six months later than I was supposed to.

This was a tough decision for me. I am goal oriented and driven. I feel like I failed. And the whole world watched. Kind of like my attempt to get on the raft.

The irony? My Capstone Project is on finishing well.

I have chosen to live my life pretty wide open through my writing and social media. If you are going to live an honest life, you cannot just highlight when things are going well.

How do I handle setbacks?

Do I feel sorry for myself? Do I try to hide it? Or do I face it?

I will finish. Once I made my decision, I knew it was the right one. It was best for me, it was best for the church and for the people around me. I will be able to give my project the time and attention it needs.

My graduation gift to myself was to go to the Indians/Yankees game. I had to purchase tickets before I knew this would happen. Going to the game was a reminder that I didn’t finish when I was supposed to. A reminder that I failed. But on the bright side, my Cleveland Indians beat the Yankees and there were fireworks afterward set to rock music. It was the perfect summer night; baseball, fireworks, music, and dollar hot dogs.

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Sitting in the bleachers at Progressive Field (aka The Jake)

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Beautiful night for baseball.

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Watching fireworks.

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Watching fireworks.

In the midst of all this, I had my 30th Class reunion that somehow I ended up helping plan. It was a blast but it did cause me to be introspective. Introspection has been my companion these past 6 months. Am I where I thought I would be at 48? Am I where I want to be? What do I want my legacy to be? Have I made a difference? Am I still making a difference?

Here is what I learned from all of this.

  1. Life is good, even when it is hard.
  2. You only fail if you refuse to get up.
  3. It is okay to admit when you have reached your limit.
  4. People are important. I would choose this path over and over again.
  5. We are not defined by our biggest failure in life, nor are we defined by our biggest success.
  6. Following Jesus is still the best decision I have ever made. So glad He pursued me.
  7. I will continue to grow. If I am not growing, I am dying.

I have a sabbatical coming up in a few weeks in which I will be able to slow down, catch my breath, and ponder all these things.

Life is good, even when it is hard.

 

 

 

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The Pink Flamingo and the Cross

Back in early April I was sitting at Lakeview Park. It had been a particularly hard day. The weather matched the day; grey and dreary. At that point it seemed like spring was never coming. As I sat there I was reminded of an incident from my childhood that I would remember again on Mother’s Day.

I was about seven or eight years old. I really wanted a Three Musketeer Bar. Those were my favorite. And there is a particular way you eat them…you eat all the chocolate off of it, then roll the fluffy, whipped nougat into a ball. It is heaven! Well, my mom, being the terrible mom she was, would not let me have one before dinner. So I ran away (don’t mess with a girl and her chocolate). I packed my suitcase with underwear, toothpaste, and a toothbrush (the irony is not lost on me on what I packed).

My mom let me go.

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I stormed out of the house and began marching down Exchange Street. I was going to Youngstown to live with my great Aunt Betty. When I visited her, she had Santa Claus come in July and I got a Baby Alive. Who wouldn’t want to live in a place in which Santa comes in the summer?

I got to the end of the street…the corner of South and Exchange and I sat on my suitcase. I was in a pickle. I knew I was not allowed to cross the street by myself yet. Even in my running away, I was responsible. For the most part, I have always been responsible. In the past I took on the responsibility of taking care of my dad in his last years (and would do it again). I have taken on the self-imposed responsibility of making sure our family stays close and the nieces know what it means to be a Strickler.

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Even in my wildness and thirst for adventure, I am responsible. 

(And sometimes I get tired of the responsibility).

The Sunday before this time at the beach, I was in my office at the church. Friends had given me this really cool gift…a pink flamingo umbrella that doubled as a cane. It. is. awesome. I set the pink flamingo on my chair. It came down like a hammer on my ceramic Jesus and broke His cross. This ceramic Jesus was given to me by Evelyn Thornton, a dear lady from when I served at a church in Virginia. She made it and painted it for me. Her hands were arthritic and I knew the cost it took for her to do this for me. Her husband gave me another one of my prized possessions that I will blog about at another time. They have since gone to be with Jesus.

 

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A picture is worth a 1,000 words

When I saw that the cross had been broken by the flamingo and it just looming over ceramic Jesus, the irony was not lost on me. And God used it to speak to me. I actually dropped to my knees and just stared wtih tears streaming down my face (and took a picure of course). It so summed up the spiritual battle I feel like I am in.

I have been tired of being responsible. And sacrificing.

It’s like I am at a fork in the road…choose fun, wild, and myself (the pink flamingo) or choose the Cross. I know they are not mutually exclusive but sometimes the seriousness of life is overwhelming. I think I am a good balance of serious and fun. I have dubbed myself the pastor of fun at the church I serve at. Life is meant to be fun, but it can also be incredibly hard.

A good friend of mine had a dream last fall. In the dream, he was on the platform of our church. I was there with him.  In the back of the church he saw a darkness. And in the dream I was attacked and knocked down. He couldn’t help me because someone had jumped on the stage and was physically holding him back. Around the same time, my boss had a dream as well. I believe in God and the supernatural. I believe what my friend saw was a warning from God that we were in a battle, our staff was in a battle. And I was under attack.

There is a battle raging. I do not want to choose the Cross because of fear but because of love. Sometimes there is an incredible loneliness that overwhelms me. This is new for me. I have put to death a toxic friendship of 20 years. All part of a deep work God is doing. No baggage into the next season. It still hurts my heart.

But I know life comes from death. 

After all, the Cross, an instrument of death, brought me new life.

This difficult season is bringing new life.

A month ago, I went to scout out Cherry Street Mission for our summer internship program. It is an amazing homeless shelter (it is so much more than that). The executive director’s wife is a very good friend of mine. I talked with him about the season I am in and the loss I feel. He said something that has resonated with me. In the church world, when we say that God adds to us we think addition. One good thing added on top of the other.  But he believes that God moves more in a linear fashion. When He is going to add something to us or give us something, God has to take something away to make room. And sometimes what He takes away is a good thing. And there is pain.

Loss comes with addition.

In the end, when this battle is all said and done, I will choose Jesus. I am thankful that I have friends who will pray for me in the midst of it. Who want to fight for me. And I am thankful that I get to pray for others as they are in the midst of the battle. The dream my friend had didn’t scare me. It gave me peace that God knows where I am and that He is fighting for me and with me. And He has put people in my life to do the same.

I eventually got up off my suitcase and walked back home. I eventually got my Three Musketeer Bar. After dinner.

 

Mother’s Day: A Story of Grief & Hope

I haven’t written much lately Actually, I have written a ton lately but all academic. All for school. I have entered the last six-weeks of a two-year program of working on my Masters in Strategic Leadership. It has been brutal. I have missed writing for pleasure. A lot. I have still maintained my journal but it is not the same. Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and I realized I have not written much about my mom. And I have been thinking about her a lot. So school work will have to wait.

A couple of months back I went for a long run with my dog, Thompson, on Kipton Bike Trail. Thompson did well for 3.25 miles but the last 3, not so much. I decided to stop and get ice cream on the way home to medicate treat myself after a long, frustrating run.

 

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Thompson & me after our long run. He doesn’t look happy.

 

The lady at the ice cream place asked me if I was Heidi Strickler. I was freaked out a bit until I realized she had my debit card. She went on to ask if I was the Heidi Strickler from Vermilion. I answered “yes”. She responded with “I know your mom and dad. I used to hang out with them.” She used the present tense. My mom has been gone 31 years and my dad 9.  I proceeded to tell her both my parents were gone. She asked about an uncle and other family members. I had to watch her expression as I told her each family member she asked about had died. I think I relived five family deaths in the span of three minutes. That moment has stayed with me. It has made me think a lot about my mom.

 

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My mom & me. This was taken about 6 weeks before she died.

 

I asked the lady if I could ask her a question. I never knew my mom as an adult and there are so many questions I have. I asked her what my mom was like. I only knew her as a mom — a mom who did not cook well, a mom who loved to play bingo, a mom who made sure we had a hot breakfast and who loved the Cleveland Indians, a mom who made sure we played outside as much as possible, a mom who instilled in us a love of reading, and a mom who would hang out the American flag on the first day of school saying that was the real Mother’s Day (she was stuck with three kids who were all born within five years of each other all summer long). She made sure our birthdays were special. One year (it was after she had her second stroke) she bought me a really cool comforter for my birthday. That night as I turned off my light to go to bed, I saw this big, glowing thing on my bed. Freaked me out. Unbeknownst to my mom, she had bought me a glow-in-the-dark comforter. I am one who must have complete dark in order to sleep. I did not get much sleep that night. We laughed a lot about that comforter.

My mom had her first stroke when I was in the 6th grade. It was a mild one. She had her second one my freshman year. It left her in the hospital for two months. She never fully recovered. She passed away suddenly the summer before my senior year. I was just 17. I just have so many questions.

She married my dad, who was 20 years older than her. I always wanted to ask her about that. My dad was an alcoholic. I always wondered why she stayed. I wondered what her childhood was like, where she and my dad got married, did she want to be something more than a housewife? She lost her father when she was 11. My dad lost his mom when he was 15. I have questions about menopause now that I am approaching the age. I also have some other, private questions.

I couldn’t ask my grandma. She died 15 months after my mom of Lou Gehrig’s Disease. Her speech was the first to go.

Mother’s Day is tomorrow. Some years are tougher than others. It can be sad because I also don’t have any children. To be honest, I never remember wanting to have kids. I am good with them and love them and am the best aunt ever but to have some of my own is not something I ever envisioned for myself. I thought I would get married someday but life was always so busy and so full. When I turned 44 I remember waking up one day and wondering “How did I get to be 44 and not married?” I wasn’t sad or lamenting the fact…just wondering how life led me here. I have had an amazing life and have gotten to see and do some pretty incredible things. Life has always been busy but the kind of busy in which I still have time to appreciate and enjoy life.

Today was graduation day for me. I opted not to go to graduation for many reasons. The primary reason is it is in California and we still have 6 weeks left of our last class which is working on our Capstone. I want to be able to take a vacation when this is done with no school work hanging over my head. I have to admit, though, I was a bit sad seeing the pictures of my classmates.

It made me think again of my mom. She never saw me graduate from high school or college or now with my Masters.

I went to the cemetery to put flowers on her grave. I always leave there thankful. Thankful for where I come from. Thankful for who my parents were. Thankful for the memories it invokes. Thankful for my five sisters and brothers. Growing up was not easy but it forged me into the woman I am today. Mother’s Day is about women. And I am thankful that I have grown up to be a strong, independent, caring woman who loves Jesus and her family. I am thankful that I live in a society in which women can be educated.

 

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There were beads on the headstone. I have no idea who put them there or what they mean… 🙂

 

I remember my dad telling me that I did not have to get married to be complete (he didn’t say it in those exact words…he was Archie Bunker after all) and that I could be anything I wanted to be. My mom and I never got to have those kinds of conversations.

And this Mother’s Day, I grieve over that.

But I am thankful that I do not grieve as someone who does not have hope. I have hope because life does not end at the grave. Because of Jesus, death has just become the doorway to eternal life. And one day, I will be able to have the conversations with my mom.

Continuing to Grow: The Scandal of Grace & Love

I am sitting at my kitchen table doing homework while the snow falls listening to John Mayer. Three classes and a Capstone project are all that stands in the way of me completing my Masters in Strategic Leadership. It has been a challenging chapter in my life. It has spurred incredible growth in me, personally and professionally.

My pace of life these past two months have been insane, even for me. Every year I ask God what He wants to do in my life this year. There were two words/phrases that came to mind and three Scriptures. The words were ‘No” and “Slow Down”. It must be opposite month because these first fifteen days of January have been the exact opposite. Saying “yes” and going at warp speed. Most of it is the nature of ministry. Saturday I began to take back some control.

 

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This painting hangs in my office. Every stroke meant something. I have things hidden in the painting. This is my reminder for the year. Writing & painting help me process.

 

Jeremiah 2:25 says in the Message, “Slow down. Take a deep breath. What’s the hurry? Why wear yourself out? Just what are you after anyway? But you say, “I can’t help it. I’m addicted to alien gods. I can’t quit.”

Eugene Peterson says busyness is a form of laziness. I agree. I also think it is a self-imposed form of self-importance.

My other Scripture us found in Titus 2:11 -14. It says “For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say “no” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in this present age…”

I am saying no to things and slowing down to experience what the Apostle Paul prays in Ephesians 3. The length, the depth, the height and width of God’s love. I have been praying this Scripture over my family, my inner circle of friends, and my Church. I am making sacred space so I can grow in the knowledge of God’s love.

My pace will still be hectic but I know what this means to me.

God has used working on my Masters to bring about a total renovation of my heart and life. IT has been extremely painful but oh so needed. It all culminated in the craziest forty-eight, most freeing hours of my life. God unexpectedly dealt with the shame and guilt of some serious sin in my life from years ago. Once everything had been stripped away from me, the things I used to alleviate and run away from the pain (drinking before Jesus, food, sex, work, busyness, shopping…did I mention that the challenge for this year is to not buy one article of clothing. Not one!), God could work. He used a precious friend to deal with it. Actually, back in the fall, another situation began to crack open the wall of shame I had built. The conversations we have had over the past 24 hours on God’s grace, love, and forgiveness will mark me the rest of my life. We are two sin torn, battle-weary broads whom God has tremendously loved and forgiven. We cannot grow and heal alone. We need community. We need people.

While I was cleaning today, I thought about how my whole life I have been moving towards healing and wholeness. I have been doing a lot of reading on integrated living while working on my Capstone project, which basically means there is no compartmentalized living. I am on the outside who I am on the inside. They match. I’m not hiding anything. These past six months, God has been integrating those things that I have done (good and bad) and the things that have been done to me (good and bad) into my life. Dealing with them, helping bring sense to them and forgiveness where needed. I have not run from the hardness of it all. I have embraced it through gritted teeth. These past 48 hours have pushed me over the cliff into the amazing ocean that is God’s grace and love.

There is worship song I have been listening to called Scandal of Grace. The lyrics say:

Too much to make sense of it all
I know that your love breaks my fall
The scandal of grace, you died in my place
So my soul will live

I worked at a pizza place for years. It was the real deal…homemade crust which you had to roll out with a rolling pin and you could twirl the dough in the air. You would have to work the flour into the dough ball in order to roll it. You did it slowly because you could put too much in and ruin it. That is what integrated living is for me. God kneading the stuff of life into the fiber of who I am. Romans 8:28 says that God works all things together for good for those who love him and are called according to his purpse. He works ALL things, the good, the bad and the ugly. He causes them to work for our good. It does not mean that every thing that has happened to me is good but if I give God a chance, it could work out for my good. I do a whole teaching on this in most of the studies I lead. I cannot erase the things I have done or the things that have been done to me. I can give them to God and allow Him to bring sense to it.

This year, 2018, I am going to live free. I am going to slow down, say “no” so that I can experience the overwhelming, reckless love of God. And I am not going to buy one article of clothing.

 

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Showing how to roll out pizza dough.

 

 

 

You Can’t Always Get What You Want (But sometimes you get what you need)

2017 is winding down. I can honestly say I will be relieved to see this year go. It was a hard year. A transformative year. A painful year. A year in which I finally allowed myself to feel every painful feeling even when it was suffocating. A year that saw a breaking in me that is still taking place. Through it all, God was faithful, walking me through every moment. As painful as it has been, I don’t think I would trade this year for anything. I just do not want to repeat it.

Last week I climbed a steep cliff. On the spur of the moment. I was hiking through the woods with my niece and a friend. It was snowing and beautiful. And icy. My friend told me that I could not climb the cliff. It kind of made me mad. So up I went. I had to claw the mud and make holes for my knees. I crawled between trees. It was cold and muddy and wet. Very symbolic on how I feel I have gotten through this past year. I have had to claw my way through the dirt of life, the mud of my past to get to the summit. The view once I got to the top was breathtaking. I forgot about my wet gloves, cold hands and muddy knees. It was exhilarating (until I found a dead carcass). Anything worth having is worth fighting for. I just get tired of the fight sometimes.

 

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Made it to the top! 

 

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The view from the top. This was not taken in black and white.

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This was a carcass of an animal I stumbled upon. Kind of freaked me out.

 

 

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Beautiful winter day on the Vermilion River

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Love this picture and grateful for who I get to do ministry with. I have great people in my life. 

 

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It is much steeper than it looks.

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My niece Kennedy & me.

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It was a day of hearts. Todd made a snow ball into the heart and I peed in the shape of a heart in the woods (yes I took a picture, and no one was around to see).

 

 

Today is my spiritual birthday. Thirty-two years ago I made the decision to follow Jesus Christ. I was fifteen years old. I did not grow up in church. I knew nothing of the Bible. God and Jesus were swear words to me. On Christmas Day of that year, I remember laying in bed praying to God, “If you are real, you need to show yourself to me because I cannot do this anymore.” I was not suicidal but I was headed down a path that was making me miserable. I knew I was headed for a big crash if something did not change. Four days later I was at a friends house who had become a Christian the summer before. As I poured out my heart and troubles, she handed me a Bible and said, “I don’t know what to tell you but this has helped me. Why don’t you read it.” She left me in her bedroom. She went and watched MTV. I had no idea what to read or what it was even about. I opened to the Gospel of John and read it in one sitting. I knew none of the fancy theological terms but I did know these four things when I had finished reading; 1. God was real, 2. I had really screwed up, 3. The decisions I was making were not my mom or my dad’s fault or the way I was brought up…they were my fault, and 4. God somehow was real and had provided forgiveness and a way out.

I called my friend back into the room and asked her what I needed to do. She didn’t know. She said, “I think you pray.” So I did. I know it was not eloquent and probably had some swear words interspersed in it but it was real and raw and heartfelt. I immediately felt a lightness and knew something radically had changed inside of me. That night completely changed the trajectory of my life. 

Here I am 32 years later. Two days away from this year ending and a new one beginning. Twelve days away from turning another year older.

And I feel more like the 15-year-old Heidi tonight than the soon to be 48-year-old Heidi.

I have never been more unsure of myself and what the future holds. 

These past 32 years have been full of heartbreak, loss, failure, tears, and anguish…

But they have also been full of joy, laughter, hope, adventure, and success.

I sometimes wonder what would have happened if that night never had happened. Who would I be today? Where would I be today?

I have been doing a lot of questioning lately. Not about God. He is more real to me than anything or anyone else in my life. Time and experience has proven Him real and true over and over again. What I have been questioning are the consequences of my decisions. The decisions I have made, the good ones and the bad ones. They all have consequences. Did the bad ones thwart God’s plan for my life? Can you negate the consequences to the negative ones? How can I lay to rest the “what ifs” and simply acknowledge some things have died due to my decisions? I don’t know. I so wish I did. The struggle is so very real. Sometimes I think I am too introspective. I feel and think things too deeply. I do know the sum of all my choices has led me here. To this moment. To who I am today.  To who God has molded me to be despite my interference and attempts of self-sabotage. And for the most part, I like who I am (with the exception of the past month…I’ve been a little difficult to be around).

There are things I still want that I don’t know if they are in the cards for me. And I’m a little resentful. And a lot sad. Intensely sad.

I think it was the Rolling Stones that sang, “You can’t always get what you want”.  They go on to sing, “But you might find you get what you need”. I acknowledge and am thankful that I have always gotten what I have needed. God is so good and so kind to me. More than I deserve.

The more I follow Jesus, the more I understand how messy and complicated life is. We want things to be black and white, nice and tidy. Life is simply not that way. Following Jesus is not easy.

I am a big Dr. Who fan, which surprises even me because Sci-fi is not my thing. This Christmas was the final episode with the current doctor (I won’t even try to explain it because it is complicated but this one has been my favorite and I cried. A lot.). Basically, he was dying. In the episode before the Christmas one that sets up the finale, he has this speech in which he explains why he does what he does and lives the way he lives (saving the universe), “Life isn’t about winning. It is not because it is fun — God knows it’s not because it’s easy;  it’s not because it works because it hardly ever does. I do what I do because it’s right because it’s decent and because above all, it’s kind”.

As another year comes to an end (2017) and I close the door on the 47th year of my life and celebrate another year of following Jesus, I am learning to live in the tension. I follow Jesus not because it’s easy, or it’s fun or because it works the way I think it should. I follow Jesus because it’s right. And it makes me decent. And it makes me kind like He is. I understand I can’t always get what I want. I don’t know what this year holds. Life is hard, beautiful, messy, full of wonder, joy, pain, tears, and laughter. All at the same time. In the words of Cold Play “Life has a beautiful, crazy design.” (And I do crazy well).

I simply choose to live. And follow Jesus. Like I did thirty-two years ago.

Lessons from Journaling ’17

I have always loved to journal. I do not do it every day but often. I do it to process good things, bad things, and decisions that need to be made. I started journaling when I was 11. Back then I called it writing in my diary 😉 I still have my very first one. I wrote about it in Living Sensibly I just finished my current journal. This year has been one of the hardest of my life. But one of the best. I have grown so much through the tough times. As hard as it has been, I would not trade it for anything. God has worked in areas that I thought were too far gone to ever be healed. He has walked me through the darkest night of my soul. I am still not completely out but I am emerging more whole (though crazy Heidi is grasping for one last chance to rule). I have always run from pain and heartache. Not this time. I felt so very strongly that if I ran this time, I would spend the rest of my life maintaining. And that would be death to me. So onward I went. I apologize to those who have been around me these past few months. 😉 I read through my journal from this year. As I read it, I jotted lessons I learned throughout the year. And here they are:

  1. My cancer scare at the beginning of the year taught me that I want to be an example of how to face tough stuff. I want Jesus to be seen in me, not just talked about. 
  2. What could my life look like completely surrendered to Jesus?
  3. And you can grow up and still retain your child-like faith.
  4. Strive to be fully functioning, not high functioning.
  5. Stop believing everything I think and feel.
  6. Am I the person I have always wanted to be? (This is everything)
  7. Life cannot be balanced. It is fluid. Time is not a pie.
  8. Do I really have to be in control all the time?
  9. People matter. Their stories matter.
  10. It’s exhausting always trying to do and be better.
  11. You don’t have to remember every thought and epiphany…for that moment, that moment alone it is what your spirit needed. Don’t try to capture every little thing. Enjoy the moment.
  12. As a church, we are to have one arm around our community and one arm around the world.
  13. My pace of life is not the same as others and that is okay. I will probably never slow down.
  14. While my assignment may change, my calling remains the same.
  15. I really do walk with God (8/6/17, 12/1/17).
  16. Everything I am for His Kingdom’s cause — even my pain and insecurity.
  17. God cannot bless who you pretend to be.
  18. Humility proceeds breakthrough.
  19. My tribe has been vital to me this year. 
  20. There really is beauty in the brokenness.
  21. The best way to point people to Jesus is to live it. Word matter but words can be cheap when not backed up with a life that demonstrates the power, love, and goodness of God.
  22. He is expanding my community to communicate (8/17/17).
  23. Don’t tap out.
  24. In the darkest of nights and deepest pits of hell, there is always glimpses of goodness and light if we look.
  25. It’s okay to admit you’re tired.
  26. It’s okay to admit you need help.
  27. It has been a year of Holy discomfort/growing pains — faith doesn’t grow in a vacuum but in the arena of life. 
  28. No one can keep you from being “all in” except you.
  29. Grace is not neat and tidy. It is loud and messy and uncomfortable. 
  30. I cannot be concerned with what my faith looks like but what it actually is.
  31. You can minister out of brokenness, but you cannot minister out of nothingness.
  32. Thompson is the best dog ever. ❤ 
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    All my journals I have. There are some I have lost probably on purpose 😉

     

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    My new journal!

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    This one is from 9/11/01. Pivotal time in my life

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    These five are from 2014 through now. These represent the biggest spiritual growth season of my life. I am amazed at what God has done in 3 years.

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    My very first one. 1981.

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    This is my favorite. My trip to Israel is in these pages.

My closing prayer of my journal:

Jesus, I am so grateful for Your presence in my life. Thank you for Your faithfulness demonstrated to me in these pages. You have been better to me than I deserve. I am so glad Your faithfulness and character is not dependent on me. May I always strive to bring honor and glory to You. Thank you for the adventures and here’s to many more! Where you lead, I will follow.

The Tale of a Veteran, His Daughter, and Her Whiskey Dog

Today is Veteran’s Day. My dad was a veteran of World War II. One of his brothers told me at my dad’s funeral that my dad left for the army a young man and came back an old one. He also struggled with alcohol the rest of his life. Two months before he passed away, I was up late. My dad had a vivid flashback to 60 years prior when he was under attack in a pasture somewhere in Italy. He came rushing out of his room like a young man (he only got around with a walker at this point). He thought I was a German. He was in his 80s and it was as real to him as if it had just happened. Veterans pay a price to protect us that lasts a lifetime. I have blogged about my dad and his service in Lessons from the Greatest Generation and Veteran’s Day: WWII in Pictures.

I have been thinking about my dad a lot lately. I recently got a new dog, Thompson. My dad would have absolutely loved him. He is actually named after my dad’s favorite whiskey, Old Thompson. There are things this dog does that makes me think of my dad daily. Thompson is a rescue dog. I was not looking for a new dog. At all. My family has this belief that you don’t find the dog, the dog finds you. I had lost my last rescue dog, Woodstock back in June. I had decided not to get a new one for awhile. I am not even quite certain on how I came to get Thompson. The past ten days have been a blur.  I feel like somehow I was manipulated by my good friend, Todd, who was looking for a playmate for his dog Captain. Anyway, I decided to look online at dogs, too. Just one time. And I saw Thompson’s picture on the Erie County Humane Society’s page. I just knew I needed to see him. I thought you could only see them by appointment but my friend called. He informed me that he and his sister would be there in two minutes to get me. The rest is history. As soon as I met him, I knew he was mine. He’s a pointer mix mixed with some other kind of hound. I cannot believe I got a hound!!!  My dad was a hunter and we always had beagles, walkers, blue ticks, or some sort of hunting dog growing up.

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Todd & Captain. His plan backfired. Thompson is great with people but struggles with other dogs, I am working on it 🙂

 

It was a family endeavor to name Thompson. There was a family group text that had over 200 texts in it. There were good names mentioned; Kluber (Indians pitcher), Jethro (NCIS), Champ (family song), Clarence (Clemons from the E Street Band), Sipe (for Brian Sipe), Tait (Joe Tait)…can you see our love of Cleveland sports? Thompson was suggested by my sister, Nancy. And it fit. His eyes are the exact color of the whiskey. And he reminds me so much of my dad. I received a text that said this, “Thompson is not ordinary, sounds distinguished, masculine, would remind you of dad, its origin is well known to those who should know, it’s not about a specific time, but in honor and memory of someone who was good and bad but we love ’em just the same…just like you’ll love this little guy. Each time you call the name, it will make you smile as it will the rest of your siblings, and we’ll laugh, cry and remember…forever. It’s a no-brainer.” We, Stricklers, take naming our dogs very seriously. We are a family of dog lovers.

This afternoon, I went on a hike with Thompson. A friend had suggested Edison Creek Metro Park and it was perfect. Halfway through the hike (before we got lost…we ended up hiking at least 6 to 8 miles), I realized we were in the woods by Smokey and Frailey Road. My dad grew up there (in the Ogontz). He would have me take him for rides often and would point out his homestead, his one-room school house, and his old stomping grounds. I realized I was in the very woods he hunted in as a kid and a teenager. I was so overwhelmed and felt so connected to where I had come from. I was with my hound, in the very woods my dad hunted in.

I am so grateful for where I come from. Growing up was not easy. It was messy. It left some scars. But it made me who I am today. There is a song that has been the song of my heart this week. It’s called Reckless Love. I have listened to it over and over again. While I was in the woods, the lyrics came to mind and they became my prayer of thanksgiving. I was overwhelmed with how good and kind God has been to me over the years. He knew the family I needed to be born into, the difficulties I needed to overcome to make me who I am today. God’s reckless, raging love has so captured me. His vastness, goodness, and love overwhelmed me in the woods today.

Before I spoke a word
You were singing over me
You have been so, so
Good to me
Before I took a breath
You breathed Your life in me
You have been so, so
Kind to me

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights ’til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine
I couldn’t earn it
I don’t deserve it
Still You give yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

I am thankful for my dad. Thankful for his service to our country and the price that he paid. I am thankful for my dog whom God has used to teach me some lessons and to bring me so much joy. I am thankful for my friend, Todd, whom God used to bring me Thompson. Most importantly, I am thankful for the reckless, raging love of God that has pursued me, protected me and looked out for me throughout the years.

Dark Night of the Soul Part 2: My Journey to Physical Fitness

Tomorrow is a year since I embarked on my physical fitness journey. Since August 24, 2016, I have lost 65 pounds, gone from a size 16/18 to a size 4/6. I have a resting heart rate of 57. I am off blood pressure medicine and a whole host of other health benefits. I can run nine miles without stopping. I am actually training for a half-marathon that I will be running in the fall. I did it by completely changing the way I eat. I have cut out all processed sugar and grains. My doctor is the one who suggested this way of living to me. Sounds harder than it really is. I have never felt nor looked as healthy as I do now. I wrote about my struggle with losing weight and the “why” in a previous blog.

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August 24, 2016, through August 24, 2017

 

Yet these past couple of weeks have been the hardest of the whole journey. I don’t know why…scratch that….yes, yes, I do. God has gotten to the very heart of my stuff. And it has been painful. I have had the choice of facing it or ignoring it. There have been numerous times, especially these past few weeks, that I have wanted to ignore my stuff, put hands over my ears, tightly shut my eyes, and pretend everything was okay. l recently blogged about this difficult part of my journey in the Dark Night of the Soul.

I am daily amazed at the response I have received from that blog. It is my most viewed blog ever, times 600. My dark night of the soul resonated with so many people. The texts, e-mails, phone calls, and messages have been overwhelming and humbling. When I wrote it, I was simply processing where I was. But my honesty gave others permission to be honest. And that is where healing begins, in the acknowledgment of who we are and where we are.  I knew that as the responses poured in, that I would need to do a follow-up blog. I have gone back and re-read it numerous times, trying to understand the impact. This is the follow-up. It is not coincidental that it coincides with the anniversary of taking control of my physical health. This decision to becoming physically fit was birthed spiritually.

I wish I could say that I have come through the night…I am still walking through it but I am beginning to hear the birds chirp and know that dawn will soon be here.

But back to my choice on whether to face it or ignore it.

Deep down, I know I won’t ignore or pretend. Not this time. I can’t go around this mountain one more time. I can’t. I won’t.

I will not accept this as normal. I will not coast through the rest of my life saying, “Well this is how it has always been and will always be.” When you stop growing and transforming, you start dying.

I want to be the best version of me I can be.

I want to fulfill all the good works God has for me (Ephesians 2:10).

I want my life to express the wonderful grace of God (Acts 20:22)

The only way to overcome in a HEALTHY way, in a way that promotes healthy growth, is to face it. As painful as it is.

It is so important to me that the way that I LIVE first and foremost demonstrates the wonderful grace of God. I am not striving for perfection or to please people but I genuinely want to live the abundant life Jesus offers and wring out every purpose and plan He has for me. I want to do it authentically. Who I am on the inside needs to match the person everyone sees. That is called integrated living. Integrity is living out your beliefs. And I want my life to be an invitation to others to see how good God really is.

Last Monday night, I was hosting a family night. I started family nights a few years back. Normally we get together on a Sunday night and eat and play cards and celebrate birthdays. I always get an ice-cream cake from Dairy Queen and get sparkling grape juice. Everyone gets a glass and we have to say why we are glad the person we are celebrating was born. My family moans and groans about it but I know they secretly love it. Why wait until someone is dead to let them know why they are important to you? Once everyone is done, we lift our glasses and toast to them. I say something to the effect, “May this year be their best yet, full of love, happiness, joy and God’s blessings”. This particular one, we were celebrating my sister’s 50th and my goddaughter’s 28th. Sidenote: The best family night we ever had was last August when my god-daughter and husband used the toast and cake to announce they were expecting their first baby. So this year, having baby Luke with us, was absolutely perfect!!!

 

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Baby Luke with his parents!

And the family that comes is not all blood family. It says in the Bible that God puts the lonely in families. I love the family God has created for me over the years. (And how many boyfriends have my nieces brought to family night? 😉 That’s how you know it may be serious. Once, one of my nieces brought a boyfriend and they broke up not long after family night. We are loud, obnoxious and a little overwhelming and we all hate to lose. It has been known to happen that when someone wins, they run up and down my street barefoot in the middle of winter…not mentioning any names Mckinley. 🙂

 

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Family Night Pic

 

 

During family night on Monday, I commented on how my house is a little tacky as I was plugging in my palm tree. 😉 My house is decorated with flip-flops, palm trees, and pink flamingos on the outside as well as the inside. My niece, McKinley, said “Your house is perfect. The inside looks exactly like you would expect it to look based on the outside.” I don’t know if she was saying I was tacky or what 😉 …but God really used that comment to drive a point home.  That comment demonstrates authentic living to me…the inside of my life, my inner life matching the outside.

 

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My beautiful niece, McKinley and me.

 

 

So striving to be the authentic person I long to be, here are some things I have learned about myself in this year-long journey towards physical fitness:

  1. I can do anything I set my mind to do. I am stronger and way more powerful than I ever thought I was.
  2. Eating healthy is expensive. I have had to completely re-adjust my budget. Real food should not be more expensive than processed food. Poor nutrition and obesity will continue to be higher among poverty-stricken populations. This should not be.
  3. I don’t need Ben and Jerry’s or Romp’s or Reese Cups to deal with my emotions. I can now eat all those things without feeling guilty…I just choose not to do so as often.
  4. Counting calories gives food control over me. It makes me fixate on something that has bound me for years. I broke that. In this past year, I have not counted one single calorie or fat gram or carb. NOT ONE. And it is glorious.
  5. The worst reason to exercise is to lose weight. You exercise to strengthen your heart, build endurance, handle stress, etc. Once I really understood that exercise became my friend. I actually love going to the gym and running now (thanks, Vinnie – my NSNG guru).
  6. My self-esteem is not as strong as I thought it was. The insecure, 15-year-old teenager is still inside me. There’s some positive to that but a lot of negative as well.
  7. Jesus is not enough. (Shocking statement from a follower of Jesus but hear me out). Jesus never meant for us to live this life alone.I started experiencing true freedom when I found a tribe to confess my real thoughts, my real fears, my real struggles, my real sins, and my real wins.

    There are seasons we need to learn to trust God but isolation is never His intent. The world Jesus walked in – discipleship, growth, and life happened in community. When I went to Israel a few years back, I learned the importance of having a “haverim” which is a group of friends. In the Jewish world, it is a group you learned, studied, and lived life with. Our culture teaches that we mainly encounter God through solitary times of prayer and study. Jesus seems to imply in Scripture that His presence is most often felt in a community.

    I strongly believe that community is a spiritual discipline we neglect. We need friends.

    I read a book that having a “haverim” is like having a training partner. They help you train harder than you thought you could, go faster than you thought possible, and go further than you thought you could ever go. They also make it more fun.

    We need each other. (The night my last blog came out, I went to dinner with three friends and that night was so healing and cathartic to me…just as much as writing that blog was so thanks, Liz, Tonya, and Carey. And thanks to Cristi who has continually been real with me and allowed me to be real).

  1. Eating real food is actually enjoyable.
  2. I love clothes. I love shopping.
  3. The SAD (standard American diet) is killing us as a nation. White sugar will one day be identified as the nicotine of our generation. Our health care system is not collapsing from the Affordable Health Care Act but from the weight of our obesity.
  4. Though I am a size 4/6 now, I still see fat Heidi in the mirror.
  5. Being overweight was a protection for me. When I finally lost the weight and had more confidence and the boy still did not ask me out, I thought, “The problem must be me. There’s something inherently wrong with me. I am not enough. I will never be enough.” I completely spiraled out of control emotionally.  (How’s that for honesty?) And honestly, that is the crux of my issue. Dealing with my addiction to food stripped away my coping mechanism. It made me deal with the stuff. The painful stuff. Due to circumstances that happened when I was younger, I never felt like I was enough. I never felt like I mattered or was worth fighting for. And you know what? I really didn’t like the boy that much, I just wanted to be asked, to be validated. (Seriously, he dodged a bullet!) It reminded me of how crazy I could be and that there was still much in me that needs to die and be healed.
  6. I want to get married. Up until three years ago, I was happy and content being single. I don’t know what changed but something has. I have come to understand that it is not a sign of weakness to desire it. Marriage is a good thing (I have not always felt that way).
  7. I love Brussel sprouts. And hamburgers. And dark chocolate.
  8. There are other areas of my life that need to be addressed as I continue to follow Jesus (hear that financial fitness…we are coming after you next! 😉 )
  9. I love Jesus so much more than I did a year ago and am so grateful for His presence in my life. He has been there every step of the way, guiding and protecting me; especially from myself and my own self-destructive ways. In Him, I am truly finding who I am.

It is important to me that those who have followed this journey of mine, especially since that last blog, understand that as I have dealt with all this crap, I have never stopped living. I have never stopped loving and serving people. I have never blamed God. We so often want to take a time-out while we “re-group”. Life is too short to take a time-out. Serve God, serve people, live life with your limp. With your stuff. Healing comes along the way.

I am not through this darkness yet. I am still wrestling. But I am still going to Niger, Africa in November. I am still calling that homebound lady from our church that needs to know she is not forgotten. I am still helping plan a huge church/family celebration this weekend for our church. I am still praying for people and sending encouraging cards. I am still serving my community. I am still having family night.

I am still living. With tears streaming down my face sometimes. Limping. But I am still living. And following Jesus.

Dark Night of the Soul

I know most of the time I come across as positive and that everything is always going well. After all my blog is named “Faith In Flip Flops”! What’s happier than summer and flip flops?  This is not Sunny and Happy Heidi. This is raw. This is real. This is me. I do not know if I will actually publish this or not on my blog. I am transparent but this is even deeply personal for me.

I was up all night crying. I rarely do that. I can count on one hand the times I have done that (the death of my mom, my dad, and my brother are three of them). I cry easily when it comes to things that move and inspire me, but not from pain and anguish. I hate the empty feeling that envelopes me when I am all cried out. So I avoid at all costs.

Last night was triggered by a discovery that is quite personal and not really important to the story. The trigger is just what re-awakened a part of me that has been lying dormant in me for years, the broken part – the part of me that is so full of pain, hurt, anguish, and anger that it makes it difficult to breathe. It is the part of me that drove me to party in high school before I encountered Jesus. It is the part of me that drives me to find comfort in food, spending, and every other self-sabotaging behavior that helps me keep the pain at bay…to keep it from crashing over me like a tsunami.

Last night was a dark night of my soul. It came so suddenly and unexpectedly.

 

All I want to do is withdraw from people and life and lick my wounds.

I have been on this journey to wholeness my whole life. And as God has peeled off layer after layer, He has brought me peace and comfort. But He has never brought me healing.

This past year has been a journey of overcoming self-destructive behavior, especially in regards to food and how I treat my body. The attacks have intensified this summer. Our church is currently in the midst of a month long season of prayer and fasting. My last time of an extended time of prayer and fasting (a complete food fast for 40 days back in 1999) led to one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I haven’t really fasted consistently since. I know what it brings to the surface. And it ain’t pretty.

I feel so broken and helpless. And crazy.

While showering this morning, I had a moment of clarity. This broken part of me cannot be healed. God can comfort and bring insight, but the pain, hurt, and anguish is real and has had a real impact on my life.

Sidenote: I come from a denomination whose theology believes in healing. I believe in healing. It is a gift of the Spirit. But the reality is no one gets out of here alive and no one gets through life unscathed. When God heals it is for His name sake and out of compassion. This me-centered Gospel Western Christianity has embraced is frustrating and does not work in most parts of the world.

Back to the shower…the realization that this part of me cannot be undone, or healed, or erased. It has to be faced. I thought of Jacob from the Bible who wrestled with God. I read the story again this morning.

Jacob’s name means deceiver. He was a deceiver. His whole life he had consistently made poor choices and done some shady things. He betrayed his twin brother Esau. The story finds Jacob having to face his brother in the morning. This is the first time in years encountering him since he betrayed and screwed Esau over (with the help of his mother).

Jacob truly thought his brother could kill him the next day and rightfully so. He sent everyone and everything else ahead and he stayed in camp by himself for the night. And wrestled with God. All night long. Jacob would not give up.  When God saw this (Jacob’s tenacity) and that He could not win (God couldn’t win? What an amazing thought)…He gave up. Scripture says God had to say to Jacob, “Let me go”. Jacob insisted on a blessing before letting God go. Before God blessed him, He asked Jacob “What is your name”. Jacob had to say “Jacob”. Basically, Jacob stood before God, dripping sweat, bloody, hip hurt, scared, and tired and he confessed, “I am a deceiver”. He didn’t hide it from God. He was honest and raw. God changes his name from Jacob to Israel, from deceiver to one who fought with God and man and won. How do you beat God?

But God also marked him. He touched his hip. Jacob had a limp from that day forward. So he would remember. The pain was a reminder that the deceiving part of him died that night…that dark night of his soul.

Everyone knew Jacob’s deceptive ways.

Jacob could have blamed the way he grew up. He grew up in a dysfunctional home. His dad favored his brother, Esau, because he was a hunter and a manly man. His mom favored Jacob and pitted the two against each other. But he didn’t play the blame game. He was a deceiver because he chose to be. And God brought Jacob to the end of himself so he could rename him.

I will always walk with a bit of a limp – with pain and anguish that sometimes gushes out. But I take responsibility for the wrong ways in which I have tried to cover and appease the pain. The sinful ways. The ways that have left me empty and hurt and even more broken.

God has always been in the business of changing names. He changed

  •             Abram to Abraham
  •             Jacob to Israel
  •             Saul to Paul
  •             Simon to Peter (John 1:42)

All had broken, less than stellar pasts.

What would God change my name to? Am I ready to have my name changed?

I don’t know where I go from here but I am completely undone. The pain and hurt still come crashing over me in waves. I have to trust as every wave that is crashing over me, it is cleansing and taking the parts out of me that need to go. Following Jesus isn’t easy, safe, pretty, or graceful.

 

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The waves crashing over the break wall at the mouth of the Vermilion River. Depicts how the waves of pain and anguish feel.

It is actually, at times, heart-wrenching, hard as a hell, and ugly. My ugly cry last night was not for weak of heart. My puffy eyes this morning are not attractive. Nor is my mood.

But it is worth it. I want the tenacity of Jacob or as my friend, Cristi texted me today, I want to be fierce, strong, and brave. I want to wrestle with God and win. Pain will mark that journey. No way around it.

I want to be like Peter and come to the conclusion he did, “Where else would I go? Jesus, you alone have the words of life?”

I may not know where to go but I do know the starting place even as frustrated, angry, and hurt as I am and that is to the foot of the Cross. I take my hurt, my broken pieces, and thoughts there. I find it ironic that I am leading our congregation in communion this Sunday morning.

I feel so ugly and insecure and trying to hide all of that at the same time as trying to fix it myself leads to self-destructive behavior. I want to be free. I want to be enough. I want to be valued. I want to be fought for. (How’s that for real?).

God has brought me full circle. It is 20 years since I graduated from College and went into ministry. For the most part, I have enjoyed every moment. It has been hard and messy but amazing and fruitful at the same time. I would choose it over and over again though it has cost me a lot.

Eighteen years ago, after a dark season, instead of admitting I was broken and wounded, I indulged in self-destructive behavior. I don’t want to do that again.

I have spent most of the day in the sanctuary of our church, setting up for Sunday, preparing for communion, and writing. I am reminded how much I need a tribe of people around me. I am thankful for Pastor Jim and my friend Cristi who have allowed me to be incredibly raw and real. I haven’t been fired yet. And especially Cristi, who gets my inappropriate way of talking about things. I am an open person but in my life, I have never experienced a friendship in which I can confess my sins, fears, and insecurities and not feel judged. Or have it used against me. That is what James was talking about in Scripture when he admonished us to confess our sins one to another so we can be healed. I am also thankful for another unexpected friend that has helped me through this season in ways in which they have no idea. Their impact has been immeasurable. I hope I can someday repay the favor.

Texting Pastor Jim I eventually said this, “God is good but He is definitely not safe”.  (From a quote from my favorite book by C.S. Lewis). He responded “No He is not safe and we are not either. I wore a T-shirt yesterday that said “Pursue peace – Prepare for war” words to live by”. He went on to say, “You are that kind of dangerous also. Don’t be surprised or over reflective of your weakness. Rely on your strength…it is what makes you dangerous”

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I now understand why King David wrote so many Psalms. He wrote himself off the ledge. I write myself off the ledge. Even in the midst of this, God is good and He is worth it all. And I am grateful He allowed waterproof mascara and foundation to be invented.

Whack-A-Mole Living

This blog has been about six months in the making. It began percolating last fall. The Women’s Bible study I teach fueled it further. The tipping point was a couple of weeks ago.

A couple of weeks ago I was having lunch with a good friend. We were talking about some serious stuff…struggles, sins, victories…it was an incredibly real and raw conversation. She, too, is getting her physical health under control. She said what I have thought, said, and written many times over the past nine months, “It seems as I get one area of my life under control, three other areas that need attention pop up.”

I call this Whack-a-Mole freedom. You know the game at a carnival or Dave and Busters where you have a mallet and you have to hit the mole in the head? And once you hit one mole, two more pop up and pretty soon those stupid moles are popping up everywhere! And by the time the game is over, you are exhausted.

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Everybody is fighitng some “mole” in their life. This game frustrates me. I am not coordinated enough

That is exactly how many of us view following Jesus. This is how I have felt for years. We are constantly trying to fix ourselves, to make ourselves presentable to God and to the world.

It is similar to pulling weeds. We pull one out and notice five more that need to be pulled instead of focusing on the beautiful rose bush that is in full bloom with vibrant reds and a fragrance no perfume could ever match. We focus on our stuff instead of the really beautiful work Jesus is doing in and through us as we simply follow Him.

 

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My mom’s rose bush. It is over 30 years old and survived many weeds and transplants. Still blooming beautifully.

 

We try to be better, to do better, look better and it is simply EXHAUSTING.

I have been discouraged, exhausted, frustrated, and angry all in the name of trying to be and do better. And we Christians know how to spiritualize it. We call it becoming holy. Or constantly remind ourselves that we are Jesus’ representatives in the world. The pressure can be overwhelming.

But when do we enjoy Jesus? And the abundant life He called us too? When do we live with joy and peace? When do we stop worrying whether we are good enough? One of my favorite books, How People Grow by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend says, “Imagine that: Doing good, enjoying good, and not even thinking that we were “good”. Instead of being concerned with “Am I good enough?” we just lived and experienced life?” God simply wanted us to live life, not worry about whether we were good enough. Not worry about whether we were enough. I am tired of not being enough. Sin screwed that up for us, but Jesus fixed it. That’s the beauty of the cross.

I am not saying we do not have to continue to grow. I am the most introspective person you will meet. One of my life mottos is, “If you are not growing, you are dying.” I am on a quest to be physically and financially fit by 50. I have to address some demons in my closet. But I’m not doing it for someone else…to get their acceptance, respect, affection. I am doing it because I want to live this life fully, with joy and peace. And these areas will hinder me.  Jesus shows us how to live like that. Free. Unhindered. Arms wide open. Soaking up and enjoying every moment.

When do we stop trying to fix ourselves?

When do we stop trying harder?

When do we stop always looking at what’s wrong with us and start looking at what’s right with us?

When do we stop looking at the weeds and gaze at the beautiful rose?

 

What if I simply enjoyed my relationship with Jesus?

What if I stopped worrying about whether I was good enough and just accept Jesus’ love, acceptance, and forgiveness?

What if I simply relaxed and stopped trying to improve every part of my life, every second of the day?

What if I simply learned to appreciate and love who God has made me to be?

Weeds need to be pulled. Moles need to be whacked on the head. I get it. But we don’t have to go looking for them. When they come our way, God will show us. And we deal with it. And in the meantime, we simply enjoy our relationship with Jesus and His people. Jesus really did mean it when He said that He came to give us abundant life.

I have realized that I will never, ever have it all together here on Earth. No one will. Striving for perfection kills. I am 47 years old. I love Jesus. I have made some horrific mistakes and committed some heinous sins. I am tired of trying to whack the guilt down. I am tired of trying to fix myself. I am tired of thinking that I am too much. I am tired of toning down my personality and who God made me. I am forgiven and I choose and am choosing to enjoy my relationship with Jesus and the people in my life. I am choosing not to punish myself by closing myself off to certain areas of life because I feel like I don’t deserve it.

I choose freedom. I choose life. I choose love. I choose Jesus. I choose to follow Him wherever He leads.

 

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