on fear and worry and the rage-inducing insanity of 2020

Confession time.  

Despite my faith - that God is good (ALL THE TIME) and that He is sovereign and in total control (even when circumstances seem out of control) - I have really been struggling the past few months...struggling with fear and helplessness and worry and anger. Actually, anger is too tame of a word. I have been full of rage. Like drive my car into another car, punch someone in the face rage. (It's not good.)

I started out scared. In the beginning, when we didn't know much about COVID, I was afraid. I was worried. But as time went on, and it became clear that we were lied to and made to feel afraid for a very specific agenda, I began to feel angry. Angry about lost freedoms, about people judging anyone who dared ask questions, about the complete misinformation from the media, about the attack on the economy, about the out and out lies from leadership. Two weeks of staying home turned in to two months turned into nearly half the year (with no end in sight!) Our state is one of the most locked-down in the country, despite these facts: we are the 5th largest state with one of the lowest populations per capita, we've had low COVID numbers and the cases we have had were primarily isolated to one small pocket of the state. But did our leaders focus restrictions to those areas? Nope, we were all locked down. Did we open up when deaths and hospitalizations declined? Nope. Angry. Frustrated. Helpless. Then came protests and looting and rioting. And I felt afraid again. Confused. Then came the attacks on police officers. Worried. Angry. Heartsick. More power plays from our politicians, more misrepresentation of numbers to support lockdown because it fits one party's agenda. (I'm no math genius but when you increase testing numbers from 40,000-50,000 to nearly 400,000 in a state where it is a KNOWN FACT based on antibody testing that there is some herd immunity, then OF COURSE you can show evidence of a spike in cases - even if hospitalizations and deaths do not track with those increases.). Angry. Helpless. Afraid of our quick slide in the direction of socialism. Learning how many people actually think they want socialism. Even more afraid. More enraged. So so so angry. Angry at the voters who elected our leadership. Angry at the people thanking our leaders for keeping them safe. Angry at the uninformed masses that cannot comprehend the unavoidable and inherent evil and danger in socialism.

But what of my faith? I have trusted God with the very life of my dearest love and watched Him do miracles - over and over, big and small. We celebrated the anniversary of one of those big miracles yesterday. Why isn't my faith bigger? Why can't I trust Him with all this?

I know I'm not alone. My counselor told me that many are struggling with the same things right now. [Yes, I sometimes see an amazing counselor. Yes, I have phone counseling now because of the whole pandemic mess. Yes, I recommend it for everyone. Find someone that shares your beliefs. It can be life-saving.]

My counselor talked about how, as a world, we are going through a major life disruption. It's frustrating and scary. Disruptions to structure and routine lead to anxiety. There's no end in sight, no timeline, no guarantee we will ever return to "normal." She listened to me whine and rage and then she gave me some really great advice. I'm sharing it as a personal reminder (note to self) and in hopes that it might help some of you as well.

1. Don't undermine your feelings. Validate yourself and what you are going through. There are no "bad" emotions. We just get to decide what to do with them. We don't have to beat ourselves up for feeling fear or even anger, but we have to choose how we respond to our feelings - whether we deal with them productively or let them sweep us up and lead us into bad actions, i.e. punching someone or posting angry things on Facebook. It is ok to give yourself permission to not be ok right now. You can be grateful and still feel scared, frustrated, sad, angry. You can trust God and still feel loss, confusion, uncertainty. You don't have to deny reality - life as we know it has been altered in a way most of us are very uncomfortable with. Give yourself permission to feel how you feel.

2. Identify small steps you can take. The world is out of control. (It always has been but it is way more evident to me right now on a very personal level.) Control issues always lead to anxiety (thanks Beth Moore for that timely reminder!). Recognize that this is nobody's preferred way of living. Ask yourself: What can I do that is next best? How can I cope with what is right now? How can I move forward in my small way? Even though I may feel powerless when I look at the big picture, I'm not. I have some control in my small universe - what is that? What are ways I can contribute? Serve? Support? Recognize people?  

One small example: The service industry in our state has taken a beating because our lockdown has been so strict and has lasted so long. So when Kenny and I eat out or do takeout, we try to tip outrageously. We both worked in the service industry and were good tippers to start with but we are trying to go above and beyond right now. I don't say this to be self-congratulating. In light of what people are dealing with, this is super small. But it is something we can do and it makes me feel less powerless given my inability to change the lockdown or the economy here.  

Another thing I've started trying to do is reaching out to people I know and care about and trying to encourage them. Again, it's super small. Sometimes it's a Facebook comment, sometimes it's a note in the mail, sometimes it's a phone call. But it makes me feel like I'm putting goodness out instead of fear, or worry, or rage. (I won't lie, I still put out way too much of that stuff, but I'm trying to add in some good stuff too. I'm a work in progress, people!)

3. Return your focus to your faith. God is not surprised by any of this. He loves us. He knows we're made of dust and we get scared. We worry. We get mad. We don't understand and we fail so often to do what He asked us to do: to LOVE each other. He's not diminished or weakened by my fear or anger. My testimony might be if I'm not constantly returning to Him...but His grace and goodness have never been measured by my ability to showcase them. I WANT to look like love. I WANT to give grace. I WANT to possess peace that passes understanding - and I can!!! He promised that to us - He makes it available!!! And He knows that, despite my failings, I want all that, because He knows my heart. He's endlessly patient with me. Some days I have to return my focus to Him (what feels like) a hundred times. He's always there. He always meets me where I am. He loves me endlessly. He loves you too. More than I can possibly explain. He is our ultimate COUNSELOR and He gives wisdom that saves and heals and transforms. All we have to do is ask. In my case, it usually just means stopping - stop raging or worrying or fearing or ranting...and listen to His voice. Cry out to Him before I cry out (or scream) to others. He is always there. ALWAYS.

This might all just be an exercise for me to calm my heart. I needed a balm to soothe my rage tonight. God always does that. He is always kind to me - humbling me and reminding me that this world is not my home, that He sets up kings and deposes them, that He didn't leave me in charge so I don't need to try and solve the world's problems. (Weird how I always forget that!)

If there is any part of this that encourages you, that's God's grace. Hold on to it. Rest in Him for a minute and let everything else fall away.  

My counselor (the human one) reminded me that this was not the design. We are created for community, for relationship, for closeness. While we can't always have that physically with those we love right now, we can alway have that with our Heavenly Father. And He can - and will - meet all our needs.

I just needed to remind myself.

I love you all and pray for peace.

the difference a year can make

One year ago today we arrived at Mayo.  It was a Friday appointment, the earliest one we could get when I started calling on December 28.  We had spent the day after Christmas in the emergency room only to return in the early morning hours of December 27.  We were miserable and exhausted and scared and confused and frustrated.  We had been given so much conflicting information from doctors who kept upping Kenny's meds and taking a wait and see approach, but all of my middle of the night online searching about his symptoms pointed to the same answer - that the only cure for a failing liver was transplant.

We had driven to Phoenix after work on Thursday night and finally located our tiny Airbnb a little after midnight.  We planned to stay a couple of nights and drive back over the weekend.  Kenny had early appointments for labs and testing then we met with a doctor later in the morning.  We were super impressed with Mayo's facilities and technology (for example, they had Kenny's lab results ready for the doctor to review moments after they took the samples instead of requiring multiple appointments weeks apart).  We were anxious to get answers but I think we both hoped against hope there was some answer besides a liver transplant, which seemed like a huge and scary solution.

When the doctor came in, he greeted us and sat down to review Kenny's labs.  I will never forget the moment he looked Kenny directly in the eye and told him he needed a new liver.  He said we could get evaluated and on the transplant list now, while Kenny was still in relatively good health otherwise or we could wait ten years and the answer would be the same.  Then he said the thing that shook us both to our cores: "But the truth is, I don't think you have ten years."  My brand new husband, who was 37 years old with two young children, didn't have ten years?  It felt like a nightmare.

We went to eat sushi, Kenny's comfort food, while we waited to hear whether we could start the evaluation process immediately.  The amazing doctors at Mayo, particularly the doctor we met with, moved heaven and earth to get more than 25 appointments set for the following Monday through Friday.  We scrambled to make arrangements with work and arranged places to stay and tried to figure out the budget for another week in Phoenix.  Over the next week, Kenny was poked, prodded, scanned and generally harassed to see if he was a good candidate for transplant.  He even had to meet with a  psychiatrist.  I won't go into all the details because this is supposed to be a post, not a novel, but it was a process that was hard and had a lot of lows for us.  What had seemed like a worst-case scenario (transplant) was now our only hope and we were terrified he wouldn't get listed. 

In February, after Kenny was hospitalized for over a week in Las Cruces, we knew we had to make the difficult choice to move him to Phoenix.  He could get treated at Mayo and it would make him a better candidate to be closer to the transplant center.  While it wasn't easy, we were grateful we were able to do it.  We were grateful his work was understanding, grateful my work allowed me to switch to a 4/10s schedule, grateful we had worked hard to pay off credit cards so we could max them all out again, grateful we had added Kenny to my insurance at work so we could even be at Mayo and afford something like this.  So many things to be grateful for...but it was still a hard spring.  We were supposed to be newlyweds and this was not the way we planned on spending the first year of our marriage.

We didn't know the Phoenix area and we didn't know how long he would be there so finding a place was challenging.  The first neighborhood was a little scary but he had wonderful housemates and a great backyard with a big pool (that he never got in because it was too cold - who knew pools in Phoenix aren't heated so they don't really use them in March/April).  My parents generously allowed us to use points from their timeshare so Kenny got to live at a resort for several weeks.  Despite hoping and praying that Kenny's time on the list would be short, we ended up needing a third place and we found a great little vacation rental condo in a beautiful complex near Mayo.  They even allowed us to extend for an additional two months and refunded what we didn't use.  So much to be grateful for. 

Being apart was hard and Kenny had to sacrifice lots of time with the kids.  While it was hard on us too, I was able to make the trip every weekend to see him.  Even though the circumstances were challenging, and I was usually so tired I just wanted to hang out and do nothing, we cherished our weekly mini vacations each weekend.  We were especially blessed with a nice cool spring by Phoenix standards.  We were also able to take the kids and Mary to see Kenny at least once every month he was gone and we were so blessed that their mom and Mary were able to fill in all the schedule gaps left by Kenny's absence.  Mary and the kids drove lots of miles back and forth and we are so grateful for her help during this season.  Divorce and co-parenting is hard and messy but Kenny and KayCee worked so hard to do right by their kids and it was a huge blessing that we were able to get through this challenging season working together.  KayCee took on a lot of extra load while Kenny was in Phoenix and I'm grateful for her grace through it all. 

Finally, at the beginning of April, Kenny made the list.  Foolishly, we thought getting on the list would be the hard part.  However, the hard part was just beginning.  When he was evaluated in January, we were told if he got put on the list immediately, he would be very near the top of the list (i.e., first in line for transplant).  Unfortunately, being in Phoenix allowed Mayo to take over Kenny's care and by April, they had gotten him much healthier.  Transplant (we learned way more about this whole process than anyone ever wants to) is based on a number of factors (location, symptoms, etc.) but a big part of it is your MELD score.  Even though Mayo would never be able to cure him without a transplant, he was doing so much better that his MELD score had dropped and now he wasn't as high on the list.  We felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.  How long could we keep him in Phoenix waiting?  Was God planning on just healing him miraculously without a transplant?  Did we jump the gun moving him?  We agonized over these questions and many more.  We decided we'd take any organ we got - high risk, Hep C, whatever we could get, we'd be grateful and trust God to manage the details.  Kenny put a special ring tone on his phone, Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" and we waited for a call.

On May 11, he finally got one.  He was a backup.  Even though we knew it was a long-shot, we were pretty bummed when it was a no-go, but we were so happy for the person that received the transplanted liver.  Kenny would end up getting 11 calls total  (a Mayo record) and 10 led to crushing disappointment.  Sometimes the organs went to other donors with greater need, so even though we were bummed, we could celebrate another life saved.  Others, however, were deemed "low quality" and were not used for transplant.  Sometimes the organs came from donors on life support who "did not progress" and therefore, the organs were not viable.  These calls were the hardest - it was devastating to us that someone had lost his or her life, had made the choice to be a savior for someone else, and for whatever reason, was unable to do that.  It felt so wasteful in light of our need (and the needs of many, many others). 

Ten times, we got a call and ended up not getting the transplant.  A few times I was with him in Phoenix, several times, I dropped everything and drove there, sometimes leaving work, sometimes leaving in the middle of the night.  My sweet sister even made the trip with me.  More than once Kenny made it all the way to the hospital, checked in, did bloodwork, got scrubbed clean, only to be discharged and sent home.  A couple times they even put him in a fancy heated gown and had him right outside the OR ready to go only to call everything off.  A few times the transplant team kept him overnight at the hospital because even before we knew what was going to happen with the organ we were waiting on, they had another organ lined up as a backup.  So many opportunities and we were grateful for each one...but I really can't express how hard it was to check out of the hospital and go home, or say goodbye again so I could make the drive back to New Mexico alone, after believing with all our hearts that the call had been "the one".

Most of you have heard about the miracle that came for us on July 8, 2019.  Most of you know the details about Kenny soaring through his surgery in 4 hours, getting out of bed and walking two days after the transplant, and getting discharged the Friday after his Monday transplant.  Many of you know how we spent 4 weeks in Phoenix while Kenny recovered and how great he did.  How grateful we were to be home in August.  How he went back to work in November right after his 4 month checkup.  How the doctors at the checkup told him he was a rockstar patient.  How he's on an incredibly low dose of anti-rejection drugs because Carl (the new liver, named after Kenny's real-life transplant mentor) is such a great fit.  Many of you know that hundreds of people helped us financially so that we won't be stuck in the pit of medical debt.  Many of you gave so generously to us and I can't say enough how grateful we will always be for your kindness.  Some of you have seen Kenny and witnessed for yourself what a miracle he is, how healthy he looks.  He has said over and over how good he feels and there is no telling how long he felt bad before he even knew he was sick.  I don't mean to go on and on about this (sorry, too late I suppose) and I don't want the liver transplant to be the whole story of our lives - I know God has bigger plans than that.

I'm not sure why I started writing this other than to stop and acknowledge what a difference a year has made.  There have been many milestones but for whatever reason, the day we heard Kenny needed a new liver to survive the next decade feels like the the start date for me.  To be where we are now, a year later, is nothing short of a miracle.  I know it seems like we throw that word around a lot, but we mean it wholeheartedly, in the most literal sense of the word.  We truly believe our lives have been filled with miracles - big ones and little ones.  Even the fact that we met, fell in love, and married when we did was a miracle.  I think our lives are probably always filled with miracles.  Perhaps we just did a better job of paying attention to them over the last year.

I will end this with a couple thoughts:

1. Is there something you've been putting off?  An apology?  A phone call? A doctor's appointment?  A life decision - big or small?  I'm so grateful we got serious about Kenny's health and went to Mayo when we did.  Can I encourage you right in this moment to do whatever it is you've been debating doing?

2. If you're not an organ donor, can I beg you to become one?  Seriously, I'm not asking, I'm begging.  I hope with all my heart you survive the next year and live a healthy, happy, very long life.  But in the event that you don't, you could literally save a life - more than one, really.  It could end up being the most amazing gift you give your entire life.  I have seen firsthand how hard doctors work to save people before organ donation even becomes an option, the lengths they go to in order to ensure the organs get used and are given to worthy recipients, and finally, the miracle that comes when an organ saves a life.  The way it changes not only the recipient's life, but also the lives of every person that knows and loves that person.  I get that we are all dying.  But when you donate life, you give someone more time with the people they love and you extend your own legacy.  That's a pretty miraculous thing to be a part of.  Here are a few tips on how to become an organ donor but the biggest thing is to let your loved ones know how important it is to you.  https://www.nolo.com/legal-encyclopedia/how-to-become-an-organ-donor.html

3. We would not have made it through this last year (or any of the others, to be honest) if we didn't have our faith.  We believe there is a God in heaven who loves us so much that he gave his only son to save us eternally - not just for the time we spend on this planet.  He is the single most important relationship in our lives.  He loves you, too.  I promise, He does.  He wants to be your best friend and all you have to do is let HIm.  If you don't know Jesus, you can.  This could be the greatest year of your life if you make that single choice.  If you have questions about how or why, Kenny and I would love to talk to you.  Reach out and we will do our best to point you in the right direction and we will pray for you and with you.  

Well...

This started out as a post about what a difference a year can make and has ended up being a novel.  That happens to me a lot.  The post got so long, I had to move from Facebook to this blog - which might inspire me to resurrect this old thing, so stay tuned for more random thoughts.  If I keep up my current pace, I'll post again sometime in 2023. 

If you've stayed with me this far, thank you.  I love you and I pray this is your best year ever.

10 years closer

WRITTEN JULY 1, 2017

Ten years ago today I received an early morning phone call that changed the world forever...for me and for so many others.  My precious friend that shared my name was gone from this earth.  She left behind two beautiful and brilliant boys, an adoring father and a brokenhearted mother who lost her first born child, only daughter and very best friend in the whole world all in the same instant.  She also left behind countless people, myself included, that were forever changed by the intersection of their lives with hers.

***

I've only written about this once before, in my confidential law school admissions essay.  When asked why I wanted to go to law school, there were several reasons that aren't worth getting into today...but one of the reasons was her.  Her death and the horrific circumstances surrounding it were a small part of it but the larger part was how she lived her life...fully, embracing every opportunity, meeting every challenge and always changing and growing and somehow become more beautiful, more enchanting, more alive.  She was so many things to so many people but I will start with how I remember her best - as a girl.

We met in modeling classes when our mothers got to talking because we had the same name, right down to the spelling.  She was there because she was a model and a beauty queen and a gymnast.  I was there because my mom was trying to build my confidence and help me not to be so shy.  (I realize its a little hard to imagine now that I was shy to the point of needing a class but its true.)  She was stunningly beautiful - strangers would regularly approach to say so - but her beauty or poise or talents really didn't define her in her day-to-day life.  The little girl I knew was way more than any of that...she was mischievous and fun, silly and creative, daring and smart and funny and always up for adventure.  She came up with the best schemes and kept everyone around her - especially adults - on their toes.  She was fearless and bold and honest and genuine.  She was brave.  Even as a child, she knew who she was and was comfortable in her own skin.  You could dress her up in ruffles and sequins and put on crowns and makeup but she wasn't the least bit fake, not ever.  She loved the taste of baby lotion and those weird dot candies you pull off the paper to eat.  She loved games and swimming and trampolines.  Sometimes she and my sisters would team up against me.  The three of them were tall, tan and skinny with long blonde hair and could easily pass as triplets.  They had a club, sometimes, called the Fiesties.  The club's main objectives seemed to be coming up with money making schemes (like selling friendship bracelets at the pool) and tormenting me.  But often, it was the two of us.  Underaged and running around the casino at Circus Circus in Vegas.  Cracking open oysters to look for pearls and sneaking into the pool at the resort next door that had the slide in Hawaii.  Days spent in the sun and the water (where she was a natural fish who would bake to a lovely brown while I was awkward and splashing and would blister and peel).  Walking to the neighborhood playground.  Driving (and occasionally crashing) the cart at the racetrack.  That time she was so tired she starting using her bacon as a fork and we all laughed and laughed and laughed.  When she fell in gymnastics and hilariously showed off her bruise.  On stage.  In the Winner's Circle.  Waving from a convertible in the parade.  We made enough memories as kids to last a lifetime.  Looking back, I am especially grateful for that, knowing now how short our time together would be.

I didn't know her as well as an adult.  As often happens, we grew up and went in different directions.  Got busy.  Got sidetracked.  Our families always stayed in touch but I didn't keep in regular contact, something I will always regret.  But there are memories and smiles from the times I saw her - still so lovely and funny and bold and enchanting.  I will remember the moments we spent together forever.  Anyone who knew her - even for a moment - was eternally blessed to have crossed her path.  She was just special.  She was always beautiful and popular and moving from one adventure to another.  Whenever we got the opportunity to catch up, she would keep us rolling with laughter with her hilarious stories.  She was the kind of girl that lit up a room and when her warmth landed on you, it lingered long after she had left.  And even now, ten years after she left this world, that's still true.  Her light remains on those of us who were lucky enough to be touched by it.

***

I try to stay in better contact with her parents and her boys.  When I'm lucky enough to be around them, often they remind me so much of their mom it momentarily stops my heart.  Its beautiful and miraculous to see her live on so strongly through them.  But it doesn't completely remove the sting from losing her.  I still think about her often.  Every time I'm tempted to say something about getting old, I try to stop myself and be grateful for years to "get old" - years that were stolen from her.  When something is beautiful...or funny...or nostalgic, she pops into my head.  When I think about mothers...sisters...friends...I remember hers.  When my life is touched by any kind of loss, she's swept into the current of my sorrow and swirls around my heart and mind.

Her memory doesn't make me sad, though.  The loss of her does - it always will.  But the thought of her life and all it meant, even in its brevity...it inspires me, challenges me, makes me treasure my moments and my people more, reminds me to appreciate our short time here and our precious loved ones.

***

I've heard the pastor, Levi Lusko (who tragically lost is young daughter) talk about how he isn't farther away from her as time passes.  He explains that's because he will spend eternity with her, way longer than her all-too-brief time on earth.  With every day that passes, he is drawing closer to her.  Every time I hear him preach, I think about my friend because I know the same is true for us.  We don't get farther away from her as the months and years pass by - regardless of how it sometimes feels.  The truth is, we are always moving toward eternity...where she is now, more alive than ever.  And so today, I don't mark the anniversary of the day she was stolen from us...I celebrate the knowledge that one day I will see her again...and this day, I'm just ten years closer.

SWJ

a life well-lived

Last Saturday night I had the great privilege of witnessing something spectacular.  On a high school football field in a tiny little town in southern New Mexico, under twilight skies and stadium lights, more than a thousand people* gathered to say goodbye.  They cried together, laughed together and spent a couple hours remembering two young men who used a relatively brief time on earth to make an extraordinary impact.  The event that triggered our gathering was a devastating tragedy, but, somehow, Saturday night was not a melancholy occasion.  On the contrary, it was a celebration.  A tribute to two well-lived lives.  A glimpse into the incredible impact a person can have on the people and the world around him.

One of the young men remembered was my friend.  The other young man was my friend's oldest son.  The people who spoke described loving, charming, honorable men who shared their joy and smiles and fun and many gifts with those around them.  I knew some of the stories...others I heard for the first time.  I'd only met the son once or twice in passing when he was a little boy, but it was clear from all accounts that he was a special guy - wise for his age, fun and funny and smart and hardworking.  Two remarkable people who forever changed the world around them simply by being the best versions of themselves.

***

I have to admit, when I first heard the news of their passing, my first thought was why.  Why would God allow this?  Why did this family have to suffer another loss?  Why do bad things happen to such good people?  Because of my faith, I truly believe to the depths of my soul that everything happens for a reason and that God works all things for good...but when something like this happens...I have to admit that I struggle...because I just don't understand.  And the truth is, I will probably never understand this.  But after Saturday night, my whys are a little different.  Why was I so blessed to get to share in these lives?  Why was God so kind to me to put my friend in my life?  Why did I get the privilege of witnessing this amazing outpouring of love and community?  And while I still don't understand, I'm so incredibly thankful.  Since that night, my heart has been overflowing with gratitude...for the memories I have with my friend...for the fact that his life touched mine...for the beautiful community we share.

When I left the field Saturday night, after hugging friends from a lifetime ago and crying with family and witnessing the very best this world has to offer in the love and faith and community and kindness being poured out in front of all of us, I felt an overwhelming peace and appreciation for the life I've been given.  Growing up in a wonderful community, having a loving family, making friends and memories that have lasted a lifetime...I've been so incredibly blessed.  It got me thinking about the legacy I want to leave when my days on this planet are over.  How do I want to be remembered?

One thing that stood out to me after the service was all of the things that people didn't talk about.  My friend was wildly successful and very generous with benefits that came from those successes - but that's not what people remember about him.  My friend was charming and smart and persuasive (a mover and shaker, if you will) and he had a knack for connecting with all kinds of people - and while that may have drawn people to him, that's not why they loved him.  By all accounts, my friend's son shared many of his father's gifts and talents - but that wasn't what brought hundreds of his peers to the field that night.  It can't really be boiled down into a single word or thought but the thing I heard over and over on Saturday night was how much my friend and his son invested in the people around them.  They poured out their time and love and energy and resources in service to others.  They gave themselves.

"God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another."  1 Peter 4:10 (NLT).

***

I began writing this post with the words: "if I die young..."  I quickly realized, however, there are a few problems with that title.  First, "if" is a bit optimistic.  I think the odds on me eventually passing away are roughly 100%.  Second, if I die "young" is a little naive given my current...maturity.  Still, "if I die rapidly approaching middle age," while more accurate, doesn't really have the same ring to it.  But I digress...  The real question I'm asking myself is: What do I want my life on this earth to mean? 

I want people to know that I loved them - those closest to me and those who barely knew me.  I want everyone that crossed my path to feel like they mattered...that the were special and significant.  I want people to have good memories of me - times I made them laugh or feel valued, moments I encouraged them or strengthened them or made their lives a little bit easier.  I want to have pointed people toward Jesus - not because I was holy (pause for laughter) but because I really tried to rely on Him and did my best to love and forgive and comfort like He loved and forgave and comforted me.  I want people that asked me to pray to know that I really did pray for them.  I know I won't be everyone's cup of tea (heck, some people are just coffee people), but I'd love it if even the people that didn't like me all that much remembered me as kind...or generous...or good for a laugh (with me or at me, whatever the case may be).  I want my family and closest friends - who witnessed my very worst moments - to know, despite my many (MANY) flaws, that I loved them with all my heart and that I appreciated them and that my world was better because they were in it.   

So how do I get there?  What does that mean for today's agenda?  How does that picture of my life compare with my current priorities?  There's not one word about being awesome in my career or living debt-free or reaching my goal weight.  I don't picture my memorial service and imagine someone standing up to say how amazingly buff my arms were or that my 401k was really well funded.  So why am I spending so much of my time and energy and resources on things that I know in my heart are not the things that really matter to me?  More importantly, why am I NOT spending my time and energy and resources on things that I realize do matter:

RELATIONSHIPS.  PEOPLE.  ONE ANOTHER.

"Above all, love one another deeply..."

It's eye-opening and convicting and inspiring for me to realize how out of whack my priorities can get.  Not that being financially responsible or good at my job or healthy are bad goals - they're not bad goals at all.  They just aren't the kind of goals worth spending a life on.  If I'm going to pour out my time and energy and resources (and I am - we all are - one way or another), then I want to pour those precious and limited gifts somewhere they have the potential to make an impact.

***

That's the word that has been stuck in my head since Saturday night: IMPACT.

My friend's life made an impact.  His son's life made an impact.

I know his family and friends will continue making an impact.

So now, his life and the life of his son, are not only my reminder - of the impact he had on me - but also my encouragement and inspiration to do better...to think about what really matters and how I'm spending my one and only life...to prioritize relationships...to give...and serve...and invest...to LOVE...and, hopefully, to make an impact too.

Thank you, my friend.  You've raised the bar for us all.
xoxo

***

*The size of the crowd is significant, but not only for the obvious reasons.  To really grasp its larger implications, you need a little background information.  In about an area of about 150 square miles, there are a handful of communities with a total population of roughly 10,500 people (give or take).  TEN PERCENT of the area's population came out to remember my friend and his son.  That's impact.

my small town family

"...when you see this please pray...something terrible has happened...he and his son are gone..."

I woke up at 3:02 a.m. this morning because I have a very naughty dog and I'm a lousy, undisciplined pet owner.  That part isn't really relevant.  I just happened to notice my phone, lit up with a missed text I had received just after midnight.

"...he and his son are gone..."

***

I grew up in a really small town.  One school.  When I was there, kindergarten through sixth grade was in one building.  When you moved up to seventh grade, you moved up to the high school.  Yep.  Sharing the hallway and lockers and lunch room with the cool and completely terrifying seniors.  My graduating class was a big one - and I think there were only 44 of us (give or take...its been a few years).  Suffice it to say, everyone knows everyone...the kids older than you and the kids younger than you...the loud ones, the quiet ones, the jocks and the nerds and the alternative kids.  In a small school, the labels don't seem to matter as much and you have to wear more than one because there just aren't enough people to fill up all the stereotypes otherwise.  You could be a band geek AND a cheerleader.  Do FFA and drama.  Play football and sing in the choir.  I'm sure its slightly more idyllic in my faded memory than it probably was in reality, but I'm pretty sure that even with its challenges, growing up in a small town is the best kind of growing up there is. 

The greatest thing about growing up in a small town is the community.  There are people, families, that I have known all my life.  People I went to school with all the way through - people I literally grew up with - from kindergarten to graduation.  Rode the bus together.  Little league.  Field trips.  High school sports and clubs and FFA.  Pool parties and rodeos and dates and dances and homecoming and prom.  Celebrating graduation each year whether it was your graduation or not.  And the beautiful thing about this kind of community is that it doesn't end when high school does.  Later, its visiting friends at college, hearing about degrees and jobs, going to weddings, bumping in to parents and getting updates, meeting spouses then kids.  Its wonderfully surreal...watching little boys and girls you chased on the playground and passed notes with and cheered in the bleachers with...now succeeding in careers and having families and building lives for themselves.  It doesn't seem possible but one day, you look around and realize somehow we all grew up to become actual, real-life grown adults (whether we feel like it or not).

Some of us stayed in the community because we realized early the value of a small town life.  Some of us left and came back as fast as we could.  Some of us have moved away but intentionally stay close enough, or visit often enough, to keep connected.

If you're not blessed to come from a small town, I'm really sorry.  There really is nothing like it.  Knowing the same people and their families, sometimes for several generations, creates a community so close-knit its more like one huge extended family.  You share a history...memories and stories and secrets...the same seasons of life...the same passions like high school sports, 4-H and FFA, the big rodeo over 4th of July weekend...the same rivalries with the next small town over...  You tell the same stories about the crazy bus driver or the friendly town cop or the terrifying teacher or that girl with the huge thumb...  You know the same places that make no sense to anyone else...IT and FM and "that" particular mile marker...  You have shared experiences, more rare than you ever knew until you went out into the world and realized not everyone grew up taking 4 hour bus rides to play a basketball game or to cheer for the football team, not everyone has known the joy of searching for an outhouse to go on top of the homecoming bonfire or the pride of wearing an enormous mum all day, that not everyone took classes like meat-cutting and welding or experienced a police escort out of town for big game, that there are people who never spent their lunch hours at a gas station or doing donuts at the fair grounds, never went to parties in the middle of a field or a forest or at the end of a dirt road, never skipped school to lug paint up the hill to refresh your school's letter on the side of mountain...

I could go on and on...

But perhaps the biggest blessing of small town living is the love you have for your community and its members and then, later, your love for all the people they love and bring into the community.  Whether its your classmate's wife, your friend's cousin, your sister's best friend's daughter or your best friend's dad...you love them because, in whatever way, they are connected someone you love.  You're all part of the same little community.  Part of the same family.

So when any one person is lost, we all break a little, we all mourn together and, ultimately...hopefully...we pause and remember how lucky we are to have each other.

***

Last night a man I've known since I was 5 was killed tragically, along with his son.  I remember a laughing little boy with the bluest eyes you can imagine...and then a teenager with his football jersey on, teasing and joking in the hallway...and years later a man telling me about living back in our little community and what his little brother was up to and mourning his mother's tragic and untimely death...  I remember the last time I saw him...old friends laughing about being the "grownups" now and his being on the radio and my ridiculous love life.  He was the kind of guy everyone is proud to know - a good son, a good brother, a good friend.  He was a leader, involved in his community and so incredibly supportive of our alma mater.  He did more with his 39 years than most people do with twice that much time...but...he still leaves behind a thriving business and countless friends and family, including a dad and a brother and a beautiful wife and kids.  As heartbroken as I feel, I cannot even begin to imagine their grief.  There are no words. 

***

And its not just him.  A little over a week ago, the shy and quiet boy who graduated at the top of our class passed away suddenly.  He had a successful business and friends and family and a lovely new bride.  And while his family dealt with the devastation with a grace and peace that was completely miraculous, there still are no words.  But its not just him either.  There was the adorable younger cousin of my best friend.  Amazing dads of  of my dearest friends.  Their lovely mother.  Our high school football coach.  His wife.  That kind boy with the motorcycle.  The quiet guy with the sad eyes.  Her little sister.  Their little brother.  Daughters.  Sons.  Friends.

Each members of our little community...loved...and lost...and mourned...and remembered.

***

I'm not sure there is a point to this rambling, really.  I just tend to find myself typing when my heart hurts and I don't understand.  Sometimes I don't know what to do with the pain so I just ask God to wrap me up in His love and peace and comfort and hold me tight.

But when things happen that are awful and painful and impossible to comprehend or explain...when there are no words...it comforts me to remember the other things...those things that are wonderful and miraculous and beautiful and holy in this world.

And one of those things, for me, is the fact that I get to be a part of my small town family.

So for those of you hurting over the losses today (whether they are a little older or brand new), please know that the rest of us hurt with you.  We lift you up.  We are here if you need us.  Most of all, WE LOVE YOU.

And for those members of our little community that are gone too soon, please know that we remember you and we always will.  We will miss you until we see you again.  We will love the people you left behind to the best of our ability.  Most of all, WE LOVE YOU.

Rest in peace, my friends.

#CapitanTigers

3 years and 40 days (or I AM trumps I should)

March 1 marked three years since I moved to here and basically started my life over again...again.  [If you know me, you know that I tend to do that (start my life over) on a fairly regular basis.]  It has been one of the best decisions I have ever made.  I love being close to my family, I love living in the shadow of the gorgeous Organ Mountains, I love the 300+ days of sunshine and I love the abundance of chips and salsa.

There have been some changes over the past three years...I made new friends, added a dog to my family, started a new job, left that job and started another new job, sold a house, built a house, welcomed a nephew, lost loved ones, grew my hair, cut my hair, dyed my hair...like 10 times.  Still, in some ways, I feel like I haven't made as much progress as I would have liked.  I get frustrated because I'm not moving forward (whatever that means) as fast as I should.

I should be more disciplined by now.  I should be out of debt by now.  I should be over it by now.  I should be at my goal weight by now.  I should be ready to settle down and start a family.  I should have a church home or a small group or some accountability.  I should stay in better touch.  I should keep a cleaner house.  I should teach my dog to stop barking.  I should stick to my budget.  I should eat more veggies and stop giving so much money to those girl scouts.

I should should should...

I get up on time one day and oversleep the other 6.  (Yes, you can oversleep on the weekend...it happens when you set your alarm for something ridiculous like 10 am and still hit snooze and sleep until noon.)

I run regularly for 6 months then take 2 months off.

I look put together on Monday and like I got hit by a train by Friday.

I read my bible and listen to church podcasts in the morning then spend all evening watching crap tv.

I bring my lunch to work all week then blow all the money I saved on Amazon Prime.  (But seriously, I really needed that firepit and firepit cover and marshmallow roasting sticks and food scale and barking collar and approximately 15 books on various topics.)

I have friends that are creating nonprofits and bodybuilding and running successful businesses while raising kids and having their own ministry and writing books and running ultra marathons and I'm trying to finish watching all the episodes of Dawson's Creek and eating frozen burritos for dinner.  For me, an aspirational goal is doing a load of laundry from start to finish (i.e. getting it all the way to the closet in a single day, not a day to wash three days in the dryer and two weeks in a pile on top of the dryer).

***

March 1 also marked the beginning of Lent, Ash Wednesday.  The solemn season leading up to Easter Sunday, when we celebrate the resurrection of Christ, the hope of the world.  A season of fasting and reflection - making sacrifices to focus our hearts on the One who sacrificed everything to save us.

In deciding how I wanted to fix my eyes on Jesus this season, I found myself going back through all my "shoulds" and trying to pick one.  [Ultimately, I did feel very convicted to give up watching t.v. and Netflix and Amazon Prime etc. so the Dawson's Creak marathon has been postponed indefinitely.]
  
But recently in the quiet moments, when I have tried to get really still and listen for the Holy Spirit's prompting, I keep sensing something bigger and more profound that I'm still trying to fully understand.  Something to do with how little it matters that I struggle so much with I should because I'm loved by I AM.

Jesus said in John 14:6: "I AM the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."  God told Moses in Exodus 3:14: "I AM WHO I AM."

He is I AM.  And He loves me.

And because of that, I think He wants me to take a break from my shoulds.

***

That's not to say I don't need to make changes.  I am always going to have improvements to make so that I can be and have and do all I am called to be and have and do.  I'm certainly not throwing away my life-long addiction to personal development (as if I could).  But I am going to try and beat myself up a little less and rest in my Father's love a little more.  Stop regretting the past or fearing the future and enjoying the present because He's here with me.

Most of all, I'm going to focus on laying down all my shoulds at the feet of the great I AM.  Because He cares for me...and meets my needs...and strengthens me...and because I AM is always going to be enough for me.  And I AM trumps I should.

in the mean time

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.  Hebrews 11:1

I haven't had a lot to write about lately.  Part of the problem is just the fact that life just gets busy - adjusting to a new job, training for my first marathon, and now the rapid acceleration of time that occurs every year around the holidays.  It seems like October 31 until January 1 is just a blur every year. 

I have plenty of excuses but the sad truth of it is that I haven't been feeling very close to God lately.  I know He is unchanging.  He never distances Himself from me or shuts me out...which means I'm definitely the problem.  I just haven't been spending as much time seeking Him or listening for His voice lately.  The result is that I don't have as much of the peace and joy that is available in His presence, and I miss out on the revelations He loves to give me if I'm close and quiet enough to hear. 

All this got me thinking that perhaps the hardest part of my journey with God isn't the darkness of the valley or the self-centeredness of the mountaintop but the slow uncertainty of the in between.  

We all love the good times - you get the dream job, you fall in love, your prayer is answered or your circumstances seem to fall in place.  God's presence and goodness are impossible to miss on the mountaintop.  And while no one wishes for the bad times when everything falls apart, there still seems to be a supernatural grace for those dark hours.  His strength is made perfect in our weakness.  It becomes clear that He is our only real comfort.  So even though it's hard and painful, God somehow feels so close and so real that it makes the valley meaningful and worthwhile and bearable.

And yet, the reality is that most of life is spent somewhere in the middle - not the depths of the despair or the heights of ecstasy but the day in and day out of ordinary life.  You go to school or work or the dentist.  You take vacations.  You shuttle around kids and clean house and stay up late watching "Friends" reruns.  You spend time with the same people mostly doing the same things.  You fold laundry and fold laundry and fold laundry.  Eventually, you may even put up the laundry - or you dig it out of a pile and wear it and wash it and fold it again...but I digress.  My point is that a big chunk of life is the mundane of pattern and routine.  Rinse and repeat.  Set your alarm with optimism.  Hit snooze repeatedly with regret. 

Life can start to feel like a whole lot of "meantime" between the big stuff, whether its the good (mountains) or the bad (valleys).  [I've actually heard people refer to it as a "mean time" because so many of us struggle with the waiting, the mundane, the uncertain, the in-between...it feels "mean" to be stuck there.]   

Hopefully, we are always growing and learning.  Hopefully, we soak up every minute up and enjoy all the big and small moments that make up a life.  Hopefully, we learn "the secret of being content in any and every situation" like Paul.  (Philippians 4:12).  But if you're like me, if doesn't feel like much is happening in the meantime you might just feel stuck...and tired...and uninspired...and frustrated.

I think these are the seasons the bible describes as periods of "waiting" or "resting" or "dwelling."  I'm learning that in these "mean times" I need to practice what John 15 refers to as "abiding."  Because even though I often feel all alone in these in-between seasons, God's word makes it clear that I'm actually in really good company.  Abraham had to wait.  Joseph waited.  David waited.  Moses waited.  The Israelites waited over and over and over.  Ruth.  Ester.  Jacob.  Elisha.  Caleb.  Paul.  JESUS.

Nobody's life is all mountains or all valleys - and that is part of God's kindness because we couldn't bear either of those.  We'd either become proud and self-reliant and out of touch with the hurting or we'd be broken under the weight of our own sorrows.  So God gives us the meantime to get to know Him...to discover how much He loves us...to learn how to love the people He loves better...to become more and more like Him.

"Everything God does is relational. He’s bent on turning every circumstance around so that we discover the height, depth, length and breadth of His love." - Graham Cooke

So how can I draw near to God in this mean time?  How can I abide a little better?  

I still have A LOT to learn but there are a few things God's been showing me:

1.  I can rest.  That doesn't mean taking more naps (although I'm convinced sometimes the most spiritual thing I can do for myself and the world around me is to just put myself to bed.)  The rest I'm really talking about is a soul rest.  It's letting go of what I can't control or change or understand.  It's refusing to worry to have something to do.  It's choosing to trust God.  It's accepting who and where I am and remembering that God's love for me has nothing to do with my efforts. 

"The Lord replied, 'My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.'"  Exodus 33:14

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."  Matthew 11:28

2.  I can choose truth over my feelings.  Some things are true whether I feel them or not.  God is sovereign...and good...and loving.  When the world feels out of control, when there seems to be more evil than good, when the future looks bleak and hopeless, I can still choose to believe God's word and trust in His character.  My feelings lie and change and half the time, even I can't understand them. This world and it's opinions are always shifting and morphing at the whim of the mob.  Only God is consistent.  Only His nature does not change.  Only He is eternally trustworthy. 

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."  James 1:17

"God is not human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?"  Numbers 23:19

3.  I can get my focus off myself.  If I'm the center of my universe, life starts to feel really small and pointless and boring and petty.  Let's face it...we are all lovely people but we make terrible universes (just ask someone close to you).  When I shift my focus to loving the people around me and seeking out ways to bless others, I immediately start feeling better and lighter and more hopeful and closer to God.  There are a thousand studies about the benefits of volunteering and doing acts of kindness.  Try it.  I promise you'll like it. 

"Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to the family of faith."  Galatians 6:10 

"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you."  Ephesians 4:32

Before we know it, another mountain or valley will arrive.  How prepared we are and how we respond will depend a great deal on what we have been doing with the mean time.  I don't want to waste another second.

"Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom."  Psalm 90:12