Dear Girl // Feeling Like a Failure

To the Girl who feels like a Failure-

I am so sorry. So sorry that you feel like you can't juggle life and work and play and keep up with everyone you need to. So sorry you feel used and drained and like you never give enough.

But let me tell you- you are enough. 

You are not your status quo. You are not other people's expectations, or even your own. You are a real, beautiful, wonderful girl living a real, beautiful, wonderful life that sometimes gets chaotic and messy and painful. And that's okay- life is messy. 

If your friends can't understand that, it's okay too. 

Friendships are always evolving as different seasons come around. They're not always going to look the same way as they did when you were 16. Friendship is a beautiful balance of give-and-take, a constant display of grace and forgivingness and unconditional love. They aren't created to be guilt traps, but rather safe places to encourage your soul. 

So when the seasons change, Girl, don't let it get you down. There is no shame in living your life and only being able to send out one text a week instead of twenty, no shame in making a 15 minute phone call where in years past it may have been an hour and a half. 

You're still connecting. Still reaching out. Still investing in your friends.

Take it in stride, girl. Be confident in who you are, and don't feel shamed about the life God has given you. You do your work to the best of your ability, and when you have that extra minute, use it to spill encouragement over to your friends. 

And if that extra minute doesn't come, it does not mean you're a failure. 

Maybe you're like me, Girl. Maybe you're in the middle of classes and swimming in information overload, with whacky schedules and trying to fit everything into your week. 

If you are, I hope you have friends like mine. 

I felt like a failure, too, trying to keep up with all I was learning and all I had to do and I didn't have time for much extra. I'm sure it offended some friends that I wasn't able to respond to texts, wasn't able to pick up the phone and catch up. 

But there were other friends who showed up- in glorious, unconditional ways. 

They sent me letters- long letters, encouraging letters, letters that never said "I hope I hear from you soon" or "I hope things slow down for you". They were letters that had no expectations, no strings attached. They were letters that said, "I'm thinking of you and praying for you, and I want you to know I understand." They were letters that said, "You can do this!"  They sent me texts knowing full well that I may not be able to respond until two days later, but they never let the time lapse put a question on our friendship. They prayed for me and understood- because these busy seasons don't last forever, and they weren't going to go anywhere in the meantime. 

Those friends, Girl- those friends are treasures. 

You are an amazing person, an amazing friend. Don't let pressure of expectations force you to pull away and hide. You have a beautiful heart to offer, encouraging words to share. Don't let past words pull you down or make you feel like you can't measure up to what others expect of you. 

You shine, Girl. You go out there and shine. 

Be that unconditional friend, that one who gives grace. The one who sends the "I'm thinking of you and wanted you to know that I care" texts, and if that person doesn't respond right away- give the benefit of the doubt. Life happens to everyone, but it doesn't mean that they don't care about you anymore. Be faithful, Girl, and just keep loving- loving others, and loving yourself. 

Give both your friends- and yourself- some grace. 

You both are awesome, with your own unique quirks and personalities and schedules. You may be different- different seasons, different schedules, different emotions- but that is not a bad thing:

That's what makes friendships beautiful. 

The Prayer Journey // Fasting in Hunger for More

// Read Part One HERE //

In the journey of prayer, what takes you from simply saying words, to engaging with your whole heart? What kindles the fire in your soul, a yearning for the Kingdom that won't be satisfied until you see the restoration? 

What changes a struggling five minute prayer into hours spent before the throne, not wanting your time interceding to come to an end? 

Last week, I shared how important dedication is. In anything, if you want to master something you have to be dedicated in learning and investing time to that skill. It's no different with prayer. We can all say how we want to become closer to God, but unless we do something it's not going to change overnight. 

You may want a thriving prayer life- but what are you going to do about it? 

Many people find themselves at this crossroad, some without even knowing it. I didn't know I was there myself, until a couple years ago a friend of ours challenged my younger brother to spending 90 days seeking God like he never had before. He suggested fasting from all media, getting rid of smart phones, purging books and music. For a family who has pretty high standards when it comes to media, it didn't seem like too hard of a challenge- until he also asked that my brother would fast once a week and spend at least 30 minutes praying every morning. 

30 minutes. 

I joined in simply because I wanted to support my brother on his journey deeper to the Father's heart. I had no personal motives other than to help him stay accountable- and I had no clue the impact it would have in my own life. 

Fasting was an incredibly difficult thing to do for me. If I don't eat, my blood sugar drops, I get lightheaded, and my reaction time slows considerably. And now here I was, about to fast every week for the next 90 days. The first few weeks were torture- I'd barely make it to 4pm before I would end up eating. I wanted to give up, but it's amazing having accountability. If my brother could do this, I could too. As each week went by, I learned when my body would need to have a sip of juice in order to keep going and at what times I needed to be in prayer in order to keep focused. 

It was a journey, crying out for more of God and less of me. 

But that was only the fasting part- prayer was an even bigger mountain to climb. 

During our weekly fast day, we were supposed to take 30-60 minutes to pray in the afternoon. I will never forget my first few weeks of fasting. I'd go into my room in the afternoon to pray, sit on my floor and not know where to start. I'd read Scripture, listen to worship music, and pray...and then look in horror to see that it had only been 15 minutes. I was frustrated at how time dragged by and how I just couldn't seem to keep my attention. 

Yet I was determined- I would learn to enter in. 

I tried many things and slowly found what worked best for me. I'd listen to worship music and let that begin to direct my prayers. I'd write my prayers out in my journal so that I'd stay focused on every word. I'd read Scripture and pray the verses back to Him, changing it to make it personal. Soon, 15 minutes stretched to 30 and then into 50. Eventually it wasn't a chore or something I didn't know what to do with. While before it seemed void of emotion, now I was overwhelmed with who God was and who I was not. I would cry before the Lord over the things I was facing that week that burdened me, I would cry in repentance and in longing of heart. I would laugh with joy as a lyric or a verse would come, almost in response to what I was praying about. And, at times I would just be still before Him- soaking in His presence without a word. 

I began to lose track of time. 

Instead of feeling like I had too much time to fill, I began to feel like I didn't have enough. Soon I'd hear the family call for dinner and feel like I'd barely had time to pray. It was more than a beautiful change, it was the blossoming of a rich and vibrant relationship with the Creator of the Universe in a way I had never experienced before. 

If you do something with all your strength, your heart and emotions will follow. 

Somehow the 90 days went from dragging by to being over in a second. My brother and I had found a treasure we didn't know was missing from our lives, and we decided to take it beyond the 90 days- and I haven't stopped since. Each week, my prayer and fasting day is the one I look forward to the most. My soul craves it just as much as it craves the sabbath. It's my day to quiet my soul before the Lord, to intercede for people I know, to seek guidance for my week. It's one thing to pray every day, but it's another to fast in total dedication to seeking the Father's will. 

Whenever people tell me how they want to develop a deeper prayer life, I always suggest this same challenge. Yes, it starts out hard. Yes, it takes work and dedication. 

But be prepared to go deeper into the heart of God like you never have before. 

The Prayer Journey // A New Perspective

I feel so vulnerable writing this, inviting you into a part of my life I cherish so dearly. However, I've been asked so often about how I pray- specifically, my "prayer day"- that I thought I'd write a series of posts in hopes that it may inspire you and challenge you to take initiative in being intentional in drawing near to God through prayer.  

This isn't a formula, a guideline, or something you need to strictly adhere to. This is just my life, and what I do. It's not perfect, and please don't feel the need to imitate what I do. Glean ideas and apply them to how it can work for your life. Make it yours, however it works for you.

Before I get into any practicalities, I want to start this first post by clearing up a few misconceptions people have about prayer:

Prayer is not about getting what you want, immediately when you want it.

In our self-centered worlds today, we forget that the world does not revolve around us. It's not about getting things we want, or having God act the way we want Him to. 

I must decrease, He must increase. 

Prayer is not about aligning God's will to ours, but rather asking for our will to be aligned to His. When we have the proper perspective, we open the chambers of Heaven and are able to come into the presence of the King with hearts that are truly open to seeking His will. It's not about things, not about situations- it's about communing with the King of the Universe in a holy, precious, and set-apart way. 

Think of how our prayers would look like in a family setting. What parents want a child who only comes to them when that child wants something? Although those parents are happy to meet that child's needs, they want to hear from that child more than that. They want to hear the child's heart, to know what's going on in his/her life, what he/she is struggling with and what makes his/her heart rejoice. The parents want to be known as more than just "provider"- they want to build a relationship into every area of that child's life. 

Wouldn't the Creator of the Universe, the Father of All, want the same? 

For many people, prayer can seem like an empty ritual that they can't seem to enter into. They hear about how beautiful it can be, how powerful it is, yet they can't seem to engage in it themselves. It feels awkward and void of emotion. For many years, prayer seemed that way to me as well. It wasn't until someone challenged my brother to take prayer to the next level, regardless of what you feel like, that I began to truly enter into prayer in a way I never had before. 

If you want something glorious, it all takes discipline. 

Saints aren't born in seconds, and you don't become an olympic medalist by running your first race. In the same way, prayer warriors aren't formed after just one attempt. It takes discipline, faith, perseverance. Just like in any relationship, you don't become close to someone by only spending five minutes with them once a week. 

Prayer is an invitation to a beautiful journey into the heart of God. 

Instead of viewing prayer as something you know you should do, choose to see it as an invitation. A privilege. A great and holy honor. 

When you begin to see things that way, your self-centered world begins to shift as you realize it's not about us. 

It's all about Him. 

----

Pssst.... Just because I'm someone who really loves practical application, I didn't want to end this post without a little personal challenge to you. Do a word search on the word "prayer" and "pray" in Scripture, just to give you some Biblical context and inspiration as you head into this new journey. Write down some of the prayers you find, make them personal, and use them yourself! It's great to read biographies of other Believers who had strong prayer lives, but it's a beautiful thing to find the prayer warriors in Scripture as well! 

i will engage // yelling at the devil

It's the season of miracles. 

I suppose you need the darkness in order to see the light, but right now I'm not ready for it.

I'm not ready for more spots. More cancer. 

I'm not ready, so I hide. I go to work, take my classes, try to get over this never-ending cold I have while working out how to rearrange everything into a feasible schedule. I don't let my emotions engage. I take the news in survival mode, where things are statistics and solutions.

It's not that I don't care- I care too much. 

As siblings, we all have this bond. We have the same blood in our veins. When one of us hurts, we all hurt- each in our own way. Some of us hide. Some of us run. Some of us talk, some of us stay silent. We all process it differently, all share it differently...but we all hurt.

I don't want to hide- I want to engage. 

After a long week of classes and being sick myself, I drove home from work today feeling so unconnected. I think back to the last time there was spots on his brain, and no emotion was almost as bad as feeling so much. How can I engage? Stay sane? A song came over the radio, and I sat there in traffic feeling numb.

I am not ready to live without him. 

Words seemed trapped in my mouth, words I wanted to say but wasn't sure if it would be acceptable. If they would be appropriate. If this was how I needed to engage. I tried twice, but they didn't come out.

I took a deep breath, and forced my mouth open:

I yelled at the devil. 

I shook my fist in traffic and shouted-

You cannot take him. 

As soon as the words were out, the tears came. The wall I built around my soul to stop the pain came crumbling down in a flood. I blinked hard to see the slow moving cars surrounding me.

If God wants to take him, it's His right, but I refuse to sit by and let anything else steal him away. Refuse to see anything except the complete restoration and redemption in his life. I refuse to just stand by and pray simple prayers.

I will war.

There in traffic, I shouted out my prayers while the broken dam of tears found their release. I yelled out prayers for him, for my other brothers, for things that have weighed heavy on my heart this week but I've stuffed them aside in my mode to survive. I shouted out for redemption and restoration, for the ability to engage and to awaken my soul to war.

My voice shakes- but I yell out praise for the times he had clear scans. For the time we've had to breathe.

I won't be silent. Cannot be silent.

I will be the watchman for the restoration of my brothers. 

The enemy is defeated. 

A Letter // To The Ladies Who Bought My Coffee

To the ladies who bought my coffee today and gave me a flower- 

It seems like such a small thing to do, but it meant the world to me. 

You don't know anything about me. You didn't know that I just spent the past four hours in language class, staring at a computer screen until my back ached and my eyes strained. You didn't know how stressed I felt, feeling like I signed my days away for the next six weeks and not a clue how I'd fit in the multitude of other things I need to get done. You didn't know how my lungs ached to breathe without coughing after days with no apparent cause. You didn't know how I felt about today- humdrum and missing the disappearing holiday week, one that's supposed to be joyous and filled with light and hope. 

You didn't know anything about me- but it didn't stop you. 

One of you put your hand right over the scanner and didn't ask me- you told me- that today you're paying for my coffee. Your friend, holding a bouquet of red carnations, chose one from her diminishing bundle and handed one to me with a smile. 

You didn't know that the last time someone bought me flowers was almost a year ago next week.

It was just a single stem, but it felt like God's grace. I clutched it and smiled, fingers tracing the delicate unfolding petals. You didn't know that I always buy flowers for others, but never for myself. 

I gave you hugs because even though coffee and flowers seem so small and insignificant in the whole scheme of life, nothing could have been more significant today to bless my heart and soul. You only asked that in return, I would text someone to let them know I loved them. 

This is what love does. It goes to the stranger and crosses the bridge to make a friend. It sees the soul and touches it with encouragement. It reaches out when there's no reason to and no reward at all. 

It buys coffee and passes out flowers in a bustling coffee shop in my small downtown. 

From the bottom of my heart- thank you. Thank you for your smiles. Thank you for your joy. Thank you for buying my coffee. Thank you for choosing that flower from your bouquet with me in mind. Thank you for lighting up my day with a brilliant ray of sunshine, a most certain hug from God. Thank you for rekindling hope in my heart- that miracles occur even still today. Thank you for listening to the call, for being willing to give of your own time and money and resources to bless the life of complete strangers. 

Thank you. 

I put my flower in a vase and my mom put hers in there, too. I set it on my desk, overflowing with textbooks and laptop, pencils and notebooks. Because tomorrow, when I wake up and start the day with another round of lessons and a lengthly list to cram in around it of things to do, I need to see this as a reminder. 

God delights to give good things. 

Thank you for letting Him use you to remind me today. 

The Seclusion of Schedules // Being Intentional

It had been over two years since we'd last seen each other. 

We grew up together. We met back in first grade at a co-op, both shy and sharing secrets along with snacks. We trekked through nature walks and science projects and somehow survived gym. There's been moves and relocating for both our families. Graduations. Ministry projects. Growing and changing and sanctification. We'd send letters across the miles and still kept up our friendship. Lately, it's been harder. Jobs, classes, world-traveling...the letters got more scarce, but we always said, "We'll have to get together soon. Someday soon." 

It was always meant with sincere intentions. To spend time sharing hearts across the table instead of across a page or a text. What's a couple hour drive? Doable in a weekend, certainly. 

Yet someday never comes unless you put a date to it. 

While I was away on another world-traveling adventure last month, I'd get emails from her. "I keep thinking we need to get together when you get back," she'd say. Of course I agreed. I was always saying I'd come out to her end of town every time summer came around, but things always came up once it did. I determined that this time I'd make it happen- maybe I should try this fall and not wait for summer. Stop saying someday. 

I sent her a text a few weeks later to let her know I got back safely. "I'd love to get together- any ideas of what would work for you?" I ask. I imagine going back and forth with different dates and times, trying to find an option that would work best for both of us- and I dreaded it.

Sometimes the scheduling wrings us so dry that we can't even enjoy the company. It seems so impersonal, so unfeeling. Shuffling around things trying to fit someone in around the other million things you need to do. 

Something is wrong when we start to schedule people in like we do doctors' appointments. When we let our crazy thrust of productivity dictate the amount of time we spend pouring into others without a deadline. 

But her response surprised me. 

"This Monday at 10:30- we can meet in the middle."

Just like that. She made it a priority. There was no hemming and hawing, no trying to pick out the perfect date or location. We didn't have any Pinterest plans or fancy outfits. We even didn't have a perfect time schedule- we both had to leave by 1 for previously scheduled engagements we had. I drove my mud-covered car with less than a half tank of gas and a lip and chin still hot with hives from an allergic reaction that morning. 

We both showed up- imperfections and all. 

We spent the two hours we had catching up on life- what we've been doing, what God's been teaching us. We hashed out hope and faith and the power of the Holy Spirit. We came to the unanimous consensus that no matter what any author says, it will always be complicated dealing with guy friends. We shared quotes and Scriptures and laughed with excitement when we realized we'd both seen the same YouTube video. We encouraged each other and we both knew we weren't alone on this journey.

When we step back from our schedules, we realize we're not in seclusion. 

The time went by quickly, and with empty bowls on the table we realized it was time to go. As we got up to leave, we gave each other a hug and I whispered in her ear- 

Thank you. 

Thank you for being intentional. For surprising me with lunch. For remembering to take a picture. For listening and for sharing and for being open and beautiful. 

Thank you for taking the time for me. 

I walked away feeling so special and cared for, but more than that, I walked away so challenged to be intentional. 

I'm a dreamer and a visionary. I think of big fancy plans and want to throw the perfect outing and get-together. 

Yet sometimes that hinders me from just grabbing an average cup of coffee for two hours with a not-so-average girl spur-of-the-moment on a Thursday afternoon.

I hate that. I hate that fear of imperfection keeps me from reaching beyond the seclusion of my schedule. I hate that I put things off until it'll be perfect; that I put it off until I think I can craft an atmosphere that will bless people the most...when really all we want is just to be heard and encouraged- biscotti, background music, or not. 

I have another friend I haven't seen in over two years. Now that I've moved, she practically lives down the street from me. We keep saying we'll get together. There really are no excuses other than the elusive someday.

So tonight I map out the middle for both of us, send her an email and give two dates. This week. Not something five months out in advance. I want her to know that I make time for her now, that she's important. 

That's she's far worth the sacrifice of my measly schedule. 

Perfection ruins intentionality. 

I refuse to ruin opportunities anymore. 

The Best of Grace

I could blame it on a post-wedding slump, but this week has been heavy. 

Heavy, trying to navigate a new normal with someone missing. From dancing at your brother's wedding on a joy high to the quiet silence between empty walls. 

I've felt sluggish and altogether not at the top of my game. I've forgotten things on my to-do list, took wrong turns more than once in an attempt to navigate new roads, and burned bread in the oven. I've pardoned lousy workouts at the gym with "A bad workout is better than no workout" as if it was all the validation I needed.

I could blame it on the slump, blame it on an aching body, blame it on my overwhelmed mind, blame it on exercised-induced asthma so bad that I'm constantly coughing stuff up on the treadmill in an attempt to breathe. I can make legitimate excuses for mediocre. I can reason out an explanation for taking things easy and not pushing as hard as I can. 

Yet, I'll never be able to explain away the act of trampling grace. 

To do things half-heartedly and blame the less-than-best results on other issues is using grace as a trampoline net. Grace is not something to take advantage of- just because you know it will catch you doesn't mean you're to jump on into it anytime you'd like. It's a truth that goes beyond the gym, beyond my half-attempted workouts this week, to every area of my life. 

Grace is there when I truly make a mistake while I'm doing my best attempt. 

It's not my excuse to slip into a lazy schedule or take time out from my priorities that need my attention. It's not my excuse to run half of my miles just because I'm feeling tired that morning and don't feel the enthusiasm. It's not my excuse to have my head in the clouds and let everything else chaotically slip on by because I'm overwhelmed. 

It takes discipline. 

Discipline to run as fast and far as I can, even if I'm the only one constantly clearing my throat in a crowded gym. Discipline to be alert and quick. Discipline to get things done efficiently. 

If I'm disciplined, and I make a mistake? If even after running as fast and far as I can, I'm still short of my goal?

I'll take grace then. 

But not until I've done my best. 

Here's to throwing excuses out the window and giving it all I've got this week.