Grace For Me, From me.

"You shouldn't have gone in there.  I told you not to go in there.  She get's angry.  She has a temper."  These were the words that my 8 year old spoke to my five year old daughter after she ran from the kitchen.  She was running because I yelled.  Again.  This was last night.  Those words stabbed me in the heart, knotting me up inside.  I physically cringed at those words.  Is that how they really see me?  Is that how they feel about me?  Do I have a wild temper so commonly that my son's first reaction is to utter those words?  I am trying to change this.  I know I have a temper, but I hadn't realized how prevalent it had been in the last 3 months until those words crossed his little lips.

Remember my last post?  The one about spreading kindness, recognizing the hurt in others?  Well, I am still learning.  Sometimes I stumble, fall.  Sometimes I fail, fall flat on my face.  But I keep trying.

I have the spirit of a ferocious warrior.  Often unyielding.  Harsh.  But I have another piece of me that is also very predominate.  Often I put up a façade of armor, including but not limited to my smile of hidden pain,  my jacket of deception, my boots of anger.  I have my father's temper, though most would never believe that he had one.  I guess he too has mastered the art of armor façade.

I should be clothing myself in love, in the armor of God.  Clothe myself in righteousness and truth.  I hate my temper.  I hate my bitterness.  I earnestly pray for God to  take more of me out and to pour more of Him into me.  I try to combat Satan in my life by praying and reading the Word of God.  Arming myself with the power of the cross, dressed in robes of absolution, fighting FROM victory, not FOR it.  (A lesson I learned, through tears, at church last Sunday.)  But I am me.  I am imperfect and harsh and right now, in this season, I am bearing the weight of grief through anger.  Justified or not, it is a tool that Satan uses against me.  A tool that I will not sharpen any longer.  It is a tool that I am surrendering to God.  I don't want to be sharp and hurtful.

I am trying to learn to be more gentle.  More gentle with my children.  More gentle with myself.  But I wrestle with myself.  In these moments, I know that the "What Would Jesus Do" answer would be to breath, pray and respond in love.  But my human, failing self, the piece that Satan preys on, the part of me that wins more often than I would like to admit, that piece answers with grimace, scolding and anger.  And then the vicious cycle begins.  I answer in anger, I loathe myself, I pray for forgiveness, I ask my kids for forgiveness, they shower me in love, I go back to the kitchen to only respond in anger again an hour later. 

This is a process that I repeat over and over.  It is a trial that God has me repeat over and over again.  It is like the "Friends" Phoebe Buffay song, "Lather, rinse, repeat.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Lather, rinse, repeeeeeeat.  AS NEEDED!"  It is a trial that I will continue to repeat until I have learned my lesson.  When I learn to respond not in anger, but in love, when I surrender, the trial will pass and peace will replace the anger.

Sometimes I justify that anger.  After all, I am a stay at home, home schooling mom, working my tail off, FOR THEM.  Am I justified in my anger in not having 5 minutes of peace?  Even after they are in bed, after the 89 trips back up the stairs in response to all the "Mommy Calls," I collapse, exhausted and unable to formulate words, much less any physical motion, onto the sofa, begging the universe for a little bit of peace, only to find my mind way to busy planning tomorrow and the next day and the next, to be able to even appreciate the quiet that I may just be able to grasp ahold of right this very second if only I was quiet enough to see it!  But in the quiet, thoughts of deception float in, seeding themselves deep in my subconscious.  Memories of "should be's" and "have to be's" creep in and remind me, that no matter how I respond, I will probably just fail again anyways, so why bother?

Facebook and Pinterest shows us what everyone wants you to perceive as "perfection" in their lives.  It gives us impossible standards to live up to.  I see all of these other women home schooling their kids and their Instagram photos show peaceful kids, neatly copying their handwriting assignments on perfectly white paper, in tidy little living rooms, unassisted and think, "Why can't I achieve that?"  I see "pins" of unnaturally neat houses, riddled with children, perfectly framed art on the walls, savory dinners on their tables and think, "What am I doing wrong?"  People post their "perfect" selfies on Facebook and I think, "I wish I could look like that."  On Facebook, there are thousands of photos of couple staring lovingly into each other's eyes and I think, "My marriage is far from perfect."  Look at the cover of any women's magazine and the most predominant image will be of a stick thin model type, in too-tight clothes, perfectly straight hair, cheek bones sky- high and legs for days and I think, "I will NEVER live up to that!"  But what we don't see, what we fail to realize is that these too are facades.  How many selfies did that girl take and deem "un-postable" before she got "just the right shot''?  That perfect-looking living room was a staged shot with white carpet, and really, who has white carpets when they have kids?  That picture-worthy home school family, that little slice of "perfectness" lasted all of about 30 seconds when mom bribed them with cookies after they took that "natural" photo, all the while, the kitchen behind the camera looks like a science fair project gone awry!  That model, maybe she purges to have her body be "cover-ready" and maybe she feels a little bit of shame every time she even THINKS of indulging in a little sweet treat.  That picture perfect couple, maybe their marriage is on the rocks and that photo is their way of projecting to the world that everything is just fine! 

We have these pre-conceived notions drilled into our brains from an early start that we should hide our fears and pain, not to air our dirty laundry.  It is embedded into us what a lady is supposed to dress like, act like, talk like, be like.  You know what, my friend recently said it well, I love Jesus, but just maybe I want to cuss a little!  I can be a lady AND wear jeans to church.  I can homeschool my kids AND long for a 9-4 break every now and then!  I can be attractive AND not be a 00.  I can be a loving wife AND still screw up and be rude everyday when my husband comes home and I am exhausted.  I can have a loving, nurturing home AND have it be a mess with toys askew and dishes running amuck.  I can be an amazing mom AND lose my cool in anger occasionally. 

Why are we so hard on ourselves?  When did it become NOT OKAY for us, as women, as moms, as wives, to stop and breath and take time for ourselves, to fill our cup?  When did everyone else become more important than ourselves?  Just because we are a Christian, a mom, a wife, a daughter, an employee, a friend, a sister, a care-taker, a church member, a youth leader, a basketball coach, a volunteer, a girl-scout leader, whatever it is that you have found that you yourself have become, doesn't mean that we aren't important!!! 

Society is screaming to tell us that we are not smart enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough, not successful enough, not fulfilled enough...buy this, come here, go there, buy that, be this, become that.  We have forgotten what OUR dreams and desires look like.  They are not what everyone else tells us they should be, they are not found in keeping up with the Joneses.  Often times our dreams can be found where our gifts lie.

Part of our calling is to use our God-given gifts.  We all have them.  We need just tune in, recognize them, tap into and use them.  Just because someone else tells you that something in particular isn't your gift, doesn't mean that God hasn't put it on your heart that it IS your gift!!!  We need to stop letting everyone else tell us who we are, who we can be, what we want, or how to get it. 

If I think that God has granted me with the gift of  a voice and I love to sing, but everyone else tells me that my gift is ACTUALLY archery, they are dis-servicing me!  We can find dreams in our passions and gifts.  Even if other people do not see our gifts as gifts, but we feel it, we need to follow that in service to God.  It is not for other people to tell me that my gift is not actually my gift, that I am better suited in another area.  Perhaps you may think it, perhaps you may even tell me that you think I may have ANOTHER gift, but don't tell me that my gift that I feel in my heart is a God-given gift isn't my gift!  If I decide that Archery is my gift and I want to go and start a career in archery, well then that is my decision too.  But I don't need anyone telling me!  We are grown people and we can make that decision on our own. 

After my grandmother passed, so many people told me that I should go to nursing school, that I had missed my calling.  Even her Hospice nurse told me that I could have a great career as a nurse and that he would write me a gleaming letter of recommendation. But guess what?   I flat out told EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM that they were WRONG!  What I did for her was a heart thing.  A God thing.  She cared for me, fed me, bathed me, loved me.  So I felt that it was right to do the same things for her.  God put it on my heart to spend those days caring for her.  It was something my husband did not understand.  It required that I transfer much of my undivided attention away from our kids to her.  It required long days and sometimes all night care, away from home, my husband and kids.  It was often strenuous work, physically and emotionally.  But it was something that I knew I had to do.  Something that I could only EVER do for her.  I can not honestly say that I know that I could ever do it again, for anyone.  It took a toll.  It made her passing easier.  And it made her passing harder.  I had no regrets when she passed.  I knew that I had given her my all.  All my heart.  All my time.  All my love.  But it also gave me a great emptiness and huge chunks of my days after felt unfulfilling, even with my kids when she was gone. 

I could have listened to everyone and said, "Why, yes, I think you are right!  I did miss my calling.  I would be great at it!"  But I know myself well enough to know that they were not right.  Maybe I would have been good at it.  I would have hated it, but maybe I really would have been good at it.  But, I don't want to live a life doing what other people want me to do, living the dreams that they have built for me, singing the songs and dancing the dances that they want me to preform.  I want to do me.  I want to be me.  I want to fill my desires and dreams with the peace of knowing that it is a calling that God wants for me.  Not anyone else.

I also think that our gifts grow and contract and change with our ever changing seasons of life.  Perhaps God had given me the gift of caring for my grandmother when that season in my life called for it.  That gift served a purpose.  I did it and I did it well.   It served me, it served my grandmother, mostly though, it served God because I got to share Jesus and the gospel with her in those days.  I got to pray over her and I solemnly swear that I believe that I prayed her into the presence of the Lord on August 28th when I finally surrendered her to God.  But now, that gift, the gift of care-taking, no longer serves me.  It no longer serves a purpose in my new season of life.  Like the leaves that change on a tree with the season, they eventually fall away, and new growth occurs and new buds sprout, eventually new leaves take their place and begin the changing, shedding process all over again.  Like the leaves, our gifts, too, can change and grow and fall away.  New life can spring forth when we shed those old things, making room for new healthy, robust and evolving growth.

I am not quite sure what my new gift is just yet.  I am still shedding my leaves of the last season.  I don't think I have any noticeable growth yet.  I am preparing for the long, barren winter, shaking the last of those leaves off, readying myself for the harshness that the cold winter months can bring.  But come Spring, you can be sure that my buds will bloom, from the ashes will come beauty, new life with spring forth, new hope will arise and my leaves will be ever present again.  What they will look like, I am unsure, but I know that they will be beautiful.  They will be plentiful.  I know that they will serve a purpose.  I know that my leaves will provide shade from someone else's sweltering heat.  I know that I will draw up nourishment from my roots and life-giving water will course through me, to each new leaf, opening it up to the sky.  Those leaves will also help me collect water, strengthening me, as I strengthen them.  I will reach to the sky, branches lifted high, praising the God who made me.  But even still, those leaves, too, shall pass and another new season will show its self.  It is in these bare seasons that we must not break down, but break free. 

It is in these season changes that it is often the most difficult for us to identify ourselves.  We know who we were, who we want to be, but not who we are now.  When our leaves fall, when we are left with nothing but our bare bones, we must find our strength, discover and be proud of who we are at the core, when we are not able to hide behind our foliage any more, when our facades are stripped.  It is in these times that we need to have a little bit more grace for ourselves.  Gently remind ourselves that we are free and perfect and that sometimes when it seems that we have no gifts left at all, that life its self is gift enough.  That we are enough.  Our very existence is a gift.  If we could grant ourselves a little bit of grace, be like a tree and bend with the wind, rooted in Christ, then even during these season changes, we can stand tall, unshaken yet flexible.

I am learning to have more grace for myself.  God has incredible grace for me, every single day.  Even when I don't deserve it.  Especially when I don't deserve it.  I am working on being more graceful towards others, too.  Forgiving as I am forgiven.  But I am not the most graceful version of myself that I could be.  But I try.  I try to remember that I am in a season of change in my life, that I am not perfect, neither is anyone else.  That only true perfection is in Jesus.  I can't be perfect, but I can be as most like Jesus as I can be.  I can breath and pray and have grace.  I can remember that I am a gift and I was formed with the Perfect Hand of God.  And THAT is enough.

Kindness

A few months back, we challenged our Senior High Youth Group to preform Random Acts of Kindness.  They made "Love Bombs" or little positive notes of encouragement to hand to random people, to leave on cars, to drop in someone's bag, etc.  They paid it forward by pitching in a few dollars to leave at the register of a local café to brighten someone's day when they had their coffee paid for.  They brought in donations to fill a "Thank You" basket for the local fire department.  They served lunch to the homeless.  They have served.  They have prayed.  They have paid it forward.  They have preformed MANY R.A.K.  My purpose here is not to brag.  My purpose here is not to boast.  My purpose here is of sharing a simple message of HOPE.  The message is this:  KINDNESS.  Undeserved, unrestrained, unasked for, simple KINDNESS.

The world would be a much better place if people were only a little kinder.  Kindness can be simple.  It can be heart-warming.  It can be life-changing.  It can be a blessing.  Kindness is not something that requires great time or thought or planning or money.  Kindness can be something so simple that it seems trivial to you, unimportant or unnoticed.  But, it is also something that when we are granted by someone else, can make us open our eyes.  Kindness can open our heart to expanding and releasing the love of Jesus that is innately instilled in each of our hearts.  We can reach the depths of someone else's being by  being kind to a stranger or extending a helping hand.  Kindness grows and extends well beyond the stranger for whom you held the door. 

Imagine this:  You see a stranger headed for the exit door at the mall.  It is a mom with hand loaded with shopping bags and a tantruming toddler.  Now I think lots of people could look past this woman, not see her need at all.  Some people may see her child and think, "She has her hands full.  What a brat that kid is.  Control that thing!"  Some people may even pity her.  But, who would go out of their own way to run ahead and hold the door for her?  Who would catch the mother's eye, walk up and say, "I sympathize, it's okay.  I've been there.  It's okay.  We are all just doing our best, anyways, right?  Have a nice afternoon." 

Or how about this scenario:  The little old man, sitting by himself at the restaurant you are having lunch at.  Who would notice his WWII Veteran hat?  Who would notice him spinning his wedding ring round his finger while sitting alone?  Imagine you pay for his lunch without expecting a thank you in return or expecting to receive gratification or for someone else to "pay it back" to you.  Imagine you walk by and introduce yourself, only to find out that his wife who he met during the war has recently passed away after a marriage that lasted 50 years.  Imagine you ask him if he would like to join your family for lunch?

Sometimes we all feel invisible to the rest of the world.  We are all so caught up in these busy lives of ours, buying the next "best" thing, moving from one place to the next, never really seeing each other.  Never really taking notice of the hurt around us.  Never noticing the needs of people around us.  The rat-race that we have shaped our lives into these days are not conducive to happy, fulfilled, well adjusted people.  We all have our stuff.  We have our pain, we have our needs, we have desires and dreams.  What if we slowed down, just every now and then, even?  What if we sought the sick?  What if we sought the hurting?  What if we sought those who had needs that we just can't see?  We could see our neighbor, our cousin,  a friend, a stranger, ourselves, even.

Haven’t we all been in need at some point in our lives, anyways?  In need of a hug.  In need of a helping hand.  In need of a shoulder to cry on.  In need of a good night’s sleep.  In need of food on the table.  In need of heat in the cold.  In need of a Christmas gift for a child.  In need of help to make rent.  In need of a friend.  In need of water.  In need, in need, in need. 

We all have unfulfilled needs from time to time.  Some have needs greater than others.  But, we all have them.  Instead of criticizing someone for asking for help in their time of need, what if we out stretched our hand and gave what we could.  If all you have to offer is a kind word, positive thought or a prayer, sometimes that is enough.  If you were in need, and we all have been, wouldn’t you want a stranger or a loved one or a friend to reach out to you?  Yes?  No?  Instead, most of us are too consumed with pride to even ask for help.  We hide behind our masks of bravery and “suck it up” and pretend that everything is okay.  Then when we see someone asking for genuine help, we look at them as if they are weak, not good enough.  We assume they are taking advantage of the few kind-hearted people out there who are willing to help.  We assume that they are not working hard enough.  Perhaps some people are taking advantage.  But, imagine...What if they are TRULY in need of your help? 

Would you walk passed your own child seeking a warm place to sleep on the street?  Would you walk passed your own mother sitting on the curb in a parking lot, alone and crying?  Would you walk passed your own beloved grandmother who was grieving alone?  Would you walk passed your own Pastor who had just lost his daughter in war?  Would you walk passed your own friend who's child had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness?  Would you walk passed your own self if your hand was reaching out at the local food bank, asking for food to fill your belly?

I would hope the answer would be "No."  But in reality, we answer "Yes" to this question every day.  Each time we drive passed someone begging for money on the street.  Each time we withhold our precious pennies from the Santa pail at the mall.  Each time we keep our own cans on our own shelves in our own pantry.  Each time we don't pick up the phone to call and check in with the people we know are going through a loss or a divorce.  Every time that we don't hug our child because we think that they are just "over reacting."  Each time we don't hold the door for the people behind us.

Kindness is something that we can extend just by saying hello.  Let's backtrack to the scenario where the mom is trying to leave the mall with her bags and screaming toddler.  Now, imagine that you don't just hold the door for her.  Imagine that once you do that for her, she remember that she is not alone.  Imagine that now when she goes home, she realizes that because she is not alone, she is stronger than her addiction and she doesn't pick up a bottle.  Imagine, instead of that drink that she then sits on the floor with that toddler of hers and they share an afternoon of reading and snuggles.  Instead of hours of screaming, back and forth, that they are now settled in peace with each other, soothing the hurts of one another. 

But, also imagine this.  When you held the door for her, another random stranger saw your simple, random act of kindness.  Then, said stranger decided to pay it forward because of YOUR act.  The stranger then leaves the mall, spots a soldier at dinner and anonymously pays for his dinner.  Then said soldier, pays it forward.  And that person pays it forward.  And them and them.  It spreads like wildfire.  Kindness is consuming the planet!  And soon the entire world is bound up in streams of flowing grace and kindness.  And then maybe there is no more war.  And maybe no one goes to bed hungry.  And no one is cold.  And no one feels alone.  Suddenly, these things don't seem so unattainable to me.  By opening my eyes to kindness, by holding out my hand, by offering my kind word, by saying a prayer, by dropping my change into the donation bucket, I am spreading my kindness like wildfire, one little spark at a time.  I am blessing others.  I am fanning the flame.  I am blessing others and they are blessing others.  And it is growing, flames of kindness are licking at the heels of others, leaping up to their hearts.  And they are blessing others. 

I can be a catalyst for kindness and love.  And sure, I may never bring on world peace by buying someone else's coffee.  But, hey.  Maybe I can help breed a kind of peace and kindness in my little corner of the world that wasn't there before.

So, in this Christmas season, I challenge you.  I challenge you to seek the hurting, seek the lost, seek the needy.  We are ALL hurting and lost and needy.  (This shouldn’t be too hard!!!)  We just don’t like to admit it!  Find one person that you can help.  Whether they ask for it or not, help someone.  Say a prayer for a friend that you know if going through a hard time.  Send a tray of cookies to a struggling single mom.  Help the old woman in the parking lot load her groceries in her car and return her cart.  Help the little boy lost in the store find his mama.  Throw your pocket change into the Santa pail.  Forgo your morning Starbucks and donate that money to a cause you love.  Pay it forward, leave an extra dollar or two at the register for the next person buying their donut.  Send your positive thoughts to victims of mass tragedies.  Thank a soldier for their service.  Ask an older veteran how they are doing.  Drop by to visit your neighbor, recently widowed by her life -long husband.  Tell the cashier at Wal-Mart thank you.  Hug your kid who got her feelings hurt on the bus.  Tell your Pastor that he gave a great sermon. 

Our words are more harmful than beneficial today.  Social media brings out the worst in most people.  Our time is seen better spent on consumerism than genuine relationships.  If we could just get over our pride, swallow our fear of the uncomfortable, and open up our hearts without the fear of rejection or judgement, we might just find that there are still FAR more good people in this world than we realize.  We need only to ask, “What is it that I can do to help you?”  After all, one day, you may need to ask, “Can you help me?”

Finding Me

"Nature heals."  These words keep reverberating in my mind.  I recently went on a 3 day women's backpacking trip with 8 other women to the Shenandoah State Park.  We hiked Mt. Catlett and camped in the forest for 2 glorious nights. 

Saturday, day 2, was a grueling hike, straight up the side of the mountain.  There were several stream crossings, steep inclines and places where I felt my body would fail me.  It was in those moments of fear and self-doubt that I called upon God to give me the power and strength and courage to carry on.  A little after lunch time on Saturday, we reached our peak altitude or about 2,500 feet.  I climbed a mountain!  What??!!  I never dreamed that such strength dwelled in me!  Self-actualization number 1!  I am created to live without fear, to be a pillar of strength, filled with Spirit of the Lord, my God!

On Saturday night, night two, a small group of the women and I sat around 2 tiny tea-light candles and a lavender incense stick.  By the moon light, we talked of our souls.  We talked about our struggles as mamas to babes.  We spoke of our connectedness to the earth and our desires.  We opened our hearts and let life connections flow.  Truly long lost soul sisters, we found grace and understanding.  That circle was a safe place.  The stream water flowed just behind us.  Like that flowing stream, living water, life giving nourishment bubbled up inside of me.  Renewing my spirit. 

Sunday morning we set out down the mountain towards our destination, eyes set on homeward bound vehicles.  Vehicles.  It has dawned on me recently that that is what we truly are.  Vehicles.  The body is a vehicle for the soul.  It carries us through life until we reach our final destination in life.  These bodies of ours are simply a means to an end.   An eternal end.  Carrying us through life, being maintained, using energy to propel us forward.  This vehicle of mine, a temple of Holy dwelling for the Spirit of my God. 

On the hike out Sunday morning, most of the women packed out at their own pace.  Many footsteps separated us.  As our feet fell upon the earth, distances grew.  In those few hours, I was able to pray about all of the hurts I have been clinging to.  I had been feeling justified, holding onto my grief, allowing it to rule me.  Holding it tight, but never really feeling it.  This trip had forced me to face dealing with those emotions.  To really feel them.  They had been there all along.  They were present.  But I had not truly let myself experience the depth that they had run.  I had them, but had not truly felt them.  I had been numb.  I had forgotten my own inner strength, the divine strength that lies within.  Strength that carries us on, even in the face of great sorrow and heart break.

When I packed out, I was alone with my thoughts and feeling.  For the first time, I was forced to face my own inner-demons.  However deep and true and painful they be, there I was, alone to face them in the way I choose.  I had a choice.  I could choose to continue to suppress them, burying them in the forest under mounds of trees and fresh air, in the beauty that was surrounding me.  Or I could acknowledge their presence, feel them and release them into the great unknown.  Surrendering them to God. 

Surrender.

It is a word that keeps finding me.  In books that I pick up.  In a show that I watch.  In the quiet words God speaks to me in the late, quiet hours of the night.  Surrender.  To me, that word always meant giving up control.  I like control.  I like things just so.  My way or no way.  It has gotten me into trouble in childhood, in my marriage and as a mother.  Mostly, it has been something that God keeps urging me to do.  After all, I am a Christian and deep in my heart I already truly know that I am not in control.  It is God who is in control.  He who cares so for each little Sparrow, does he not care more for me?  Creator of the Heavens and the Earth.  Maker of the stars.  Crafter of the womb.  He who is in control of the world is also in control of me.  Surrender.  There is great power in surrender.  It is in surrender that miracles happen.

I choose surrender.  My emotions overwhelmed me.  As I felt each one, I simply acknowledged that it was okay to feel it.  I did not let them control me.  I felt it and I let it pass away.  Surrendering it to God, giving it to the tree tops, releasing it to flow downstream. 

As I let the things go that had been weighing me down, I felt renewed, refreshed, filled.  I began to feel lighter, almost as if I was floating out of the park, feet off the ground.  So I began to marvel at the mystery of God, His undeniable power to heal and to lead us on the paths of righteousness with the souls who can feed us.  So I lifted my spirit and my praises to He who is ALWAYS faithful.  I worshipped the Lord with songs of Surrender and Thanksgiving. 

As my feet carried me forward, heart lifted high, I took notice to little things that otherwise may have gone unnoticed.  As I continued to pray and worship, I stopped to take notice of the flowing water.  With the waters rushing on, strong currents carrying the waters downward, rooted deep within, a small barren tree was holding strong.  I don't think anyone else would have stopped to admire or even notice that tree.  It was not particularly large or beautiful or majestic. But God had me take notice, to teach me something that I long ago forgot.  No matter how small, a tree can be mighty and strong.  When the currents of life are raging, if we dig deep, root ourselves in the strong foundations of the earth, into the love of a God who never leaves us, we can stand strong, unwavering.  Even when we stand alone, naked and bare, vulnerable, we have strong, deep roots that hold us up.  The job of a root is to draw up nourishment from the earth, but also to help hold up only a small piece of the earth.

I take on everyone else's feeling and problems, a bit of an empath, at times.  I sense other's anger and bitterness, sadness and un-fulfillment.  I carry it on my back, feeling he weight of the world.  I feed off of the energy of others, positive or negative.  I feed off of the feeling of insecurities and self-doubt.  Just the same, I can fly high of their feelings of enlightenment and fulfillment, happiness and serenity.  But, I am also a problem fixer.  And when my gift of empathy fails me to fix the problems of others, I can not bare the wounds and scars that accumulate.  But on that day, I realized that it is not my responsibility to hold up the world.  My roots were made, by the care of the Creator, to only hold up my piece of the earth.  To hold up my own being, to nourish my soul, to feed the souls in my marriage and of my children. 

Even a solitary tree, wrought with guilt and shame, hanging on in the gales of swift currents, can be fruitful with strong roots. I have strong root in my God and faith and trust in Jesus.  I have deep root in my family and the ones who love me, hold me up, those present and long after those who have passed.  I have unyielding root in friendships that God has placed in my path, friends and long lost soul sisters who fill my cup.  I have an undeniable root in the earth, created by God to nourish our souls and bodies.  Root.  Also appointed as my trail name...Root.

After we all made it back to the parking lot, we circled up one last time as a powerful group of strong women.  We shared chocolate and once again, we shared our hearts.  It seemed as if almost everyone shared that the solitary hike out was their favorite part of the whole weekend.  Healing was found.  Worship was had.  Meditation was experienced.  Baptism of the waters was received.  Breath of life was felt.  Emotions were released.  Truths were embraced.  Souls were renewed.  Selves were found.

It was a sweet, kind-hearted sister, named Stephanie who spoke these ever true words during that final circle, "Nature heals."  And her words were true.  They rang loud and they rang clear and true.  Nature had healed me.  God had used His marvelous Creation to restore my soul.  In the woods I had found peace.  I found inner strength.  I found hope to carry on in the midst of grief.  I found myself.  I found the me that had been lost, long ago, suppressed deep beneath the layers of built up emotions and pains and lies and experiences and life.  The self-inflicted un-truths that we allow ourselves to believe, they bury our true selves, far beneath the surface, unable to re-surface until we face the pains deep within.

Another souls sister, also named Stephanie, or Web Weaver,  talked of her walk to loving her own "me." This was a concept that was foreign to me.  I am an insecure self-doubter.  It is something that I have since thought long and hard about. I have come to self-actualization number 2.  My highest potential is to embrace the "me" that God has designed.  To be all that He has called me to be.  And THAT takes work!

It is a time consuming work.  It is a work of wonder and self-realization and self-actualization.  It is a work of facing fears and coming to terms with heart aches and vulnerabilities.  It is a work of surrender and finding roots.  It is a work of healing.  It is a work that is necessary.  It is a work that I often neglect, reasoning that my time is better spend on the needs of other people, justifying that we are called to lift others up, to put the needs of other's first, making ourselves last, that in Heaven those who do so will be rewarded.  But I have come to the realization that in order to be well enough, emotionally, physically, spiritually, to put others first, I must first do the messy self work in order to be the best version of me that God created me to be to serve others.  It is okay to fill our own needs.  How can we serve and lift other beings up if we are not even strong enough to hold our selves up?  But also, that when we are even too weak to hold ourselves up, we have a loving, pillar of strength to carry us on.  God. 

We do not need to try to carry on in this life in our own power and strength.  We need divine versions of these things to make it to the finish line of life.  I am secure enough to admit that my power is not enough.  My strength is not enough.  Prayer is strength.  Prayer moves mountains.  Prayer heals.  Prayer opens us up to the miracles of strength and power and healing and security.

We live in a very broken world, a world that will not carry on forever.  Living in such brokenness calls for us to be salt and light.  Be the change.  Be a ray of hope.  Be a beacon of love.  Let your roots expand to help those around you stand upright in rushing currents.  Dig deep.  Surrender.

I still feel the pain of grief, I am gently reminding myself that it is okay.  I still struggle with taking time for myself, I am gently reminding myself that it is okay.  I still am working toward self-acceptance and finding the "new normal" of my life, I am gently reminding myself that it is okay.  But from this trip, I came home on a high.  A spiritual, righteous high, only which I can describe as  a spiritual awakening, a spiritual surrender, found only by rooting myself faithfully in the love of the Father.

So my prayer for each of you, is that you would take the not only well-deserved, but needed time to do the inner works of your own soul, to find your roots, to surrender your life to a greater power and ultimately to find your healing.  Be it in the middles of the woods after climbing a mountain, or in the quiet of your living room after the littles have fallen fast asleep.  Take the time, open your heart, lift your troubles to a greater power than yourself.  Lastly, be willing to accept the miracles that are going to follow!  Love and light.