Make it Make You Better.

An account that I follow on Instagram called “We’re Not Really Strangers” posted this photo the other day. (Which, if you haven’t seen their work before, I highly recommend it. But that’s besides the point.)

MAKE IT MAKE YOU BETTER.
(Credit to @werenotreallystrangers on Instagram)

And I’ll tell you what, reading those five words made me stop in my tracks. Because I think sometimes we are told too often to just look for the lesson when something or someone happens to you in life. We’re told to just figure out what the purpose of that experience was and then figuring that out will help us just let it go and move on.

But I think it’s more complicated than that. With things that have been happening in my life lately, I’ve given myself time to just earnestly look at the situations and experiences with those people and I can see all these things that I learned from those situations. I can see the “lessons” that can come from what happened and I can even apply them to my life in more meaningful ways. However, being able to know or see what a relationship or experience can teach you doesn’t make it easier to swallow when the memories come rushing back or you realize how much something really is effecting you. It doesn’t always make it easier to sleep at night or to let go of some of the hurt that they caused you.

So I like the way this post made me think about things.

Make it make you better.

Make the shitty experience or the heartbreak or the lessons make you work to be better. For yourself. Make these hard, gross feelings make you work harder for what it is you want to see in your life. Make the long nights of no sleep worth something. Maybe this means you’re keeping to yourself and letting your confidence on your own grow. Maybe it means making a schedule for yourself that you actually keep so you can meet goals that you want. Maybe it means throwing out the walkie talkie to someone else so you don’t have to feel alone in this new space. Maybe it means holding yourself accountable for your own feelings around the situation. Make it make you better. Don’t let the heartbreak be something that only drags you down. And it’s not because you shouldn’t be feeling all those feelings – you deserve to feel all that you need to and that’s valid. But the thing is, at some point you’ve got to make all those hard emotions work for you and not against you. Make them mold you more into yourself and into who you are wanting to be as your most authentic self.

This is a shorter post, but I had to share some quick thoughts on it.

Because damn, make it make you better feels like exactly the mantra that I needed in my life today. And maybe it’s the kind of mantra you needed to hear on this Monday morning too.

Thanks for joining me where you’re at. Thanks for leaning in a bit. I hope you try to look at the tough things happening in your life and see ways that you can use it to make yourself a little more authentically you.

Don’t be ashamed of being a work in progress. It’s okay if the growing pains get you down some days.

It’s going to be okay.

Talk soon.

Free Hugs

This past Saturday I was able to participate in my second year of Indy Pride. It was another great day, spent outside celebrating my community from 8 a.m. until the festival closed down at 11 that night. Just like last year, it was incredible to me how good it felt to be in this crowd of strangers and be able to just exist exactly as I am without fear of judgement or condemnation or negative reactions because of my sexual orientation.

Amid the rainbows and glitter and music though, there were people walking around with shirts that said “Free Mom Hugs” and “Free Dad Hugs”. I’ve seen them before, and I’ve seen online that people show up to support with these shirts all over the place.

Seeing them felt like a sucker punch this year for some reason.

I got lucky. When I came out, even though there was a period of adjustment to the idea that I am gay, my mom and brothers were all completely supportive of me. I don’t for a second take for granted the fact that I did not have to lose people I love the most because of the way I experience deep, meaningful love.

Even so, seeing these people offering hugs from “dad”, made me incredibly emotional at one point in the day. My dad has not been a part of my life for the last eight years. He did not see me work and graduate with my bachelors degree. He didn’t know what I was going through, the people I hung out with, the stories I lived through. He didn’t see me buy my first house. And then sell that house about two years later. He didn’t see me get my first full time job and then outgrow that job and move myself to Indianapolis. He didn’t help me move into my new apartment with my dog. But more than all the countless memories that he will never be a part of, he does not know that I’m gay. Or if he knows, it’s from hearing it through the grapevine. I have never sat down with him to tell him that I was in love with a woman. That I was in a relationship with an incredible non-binary person and that no, I’m not simply confused and I won’t be marrying a man one day.

For the most part, I’m okay that he isn’t in my life. He made that choice for himself (and for me). I am so incredibly proud of the life that I have built for myself and I am so thankful for my mom and brothers for being so close to me. But when I see those gentlemen at Pride offering hugs from dad, it made me break down for a moment. My heart breaks for all the LGBTQIA + kids whose stories don’t have the ending that mine does with my family. I ache for the kids who are shunned from their families or kicked out of their house or are rejected by the people who are supposed to love them unconditionally.

So I actually went up to these three people who were offering their parent hugs and I told them that I’m so personally appreciative of them showing up for others like they do.

One of the gentlemen in a “dad hugs” shirt said, “You know, we’ve been out here the last three years and I can’t tell you how many people actually come up to us for hugs all day throughout the parade and festival. You always kind of wonder if it matters that we wear the shirts and show up..”

I told him that it matters more than they realize. Even if people are nervous to come up and actually get a hug, I told them that just seeing them brought me a sense of love and calmness just at the thought of being held and supported by someone’s parent, especially if you can’t get it from your own.

Then one of the other women told me about how none of her kids are actually LGBT, but that when her son was in high school a friend of his was outed to his parents and then kicked out. They ended up letting him stay at their house until he found a more permanent place to stay and she told me that from that moment seeing her son’s friend show up looking completely lost because he was being rejected by the people who should love him and want to see him the most, she decided that she wanted to be an advocate for those kids. She said that she knew that her son’s friend wasn’t the only one who was in those situations and she’s found places to volunteer her time throughout the year to be there for these kids. But she said that for her, it just feels important to show up to Pride and offer hugs from mom because she saw how important it was in the moment to have a mom, any mom, care about the kid who showed up on her doorstep not knowing where he could go next.

To the “dad” who said that he wasn’t sure if what they did makes a difference, I want you to know that you really do make a difference. Pride is about celebrating our community, and you are a part of our community as allies in the most important ways. You make us kids without supportive families feel seen in ways that we don’t always get to be. You are a show for support that we may not get to experience in our own lives. So thank you for showing up. Thank you for coming back every year. Your presence matters.

This Pride season, lets try to be there for each other in ways that we sometimes forget to be. We’re all human. All doing the best that we can as works in progress. And celebrating Pride isn’t always easy for everyone.

Know that I love you. Know that you are blessed. Know that it’s okay if a hug from a stranger can feel like healing.

Identity Part 37912:

I grew up Christian. I grew up in the church. I grew up in Sunday school and VBS and youth groups.

I did not grow up gay.

Or rather, I didn’t grow up realizing I was gay. But both of these things are major pieces of the quilt of my identity. And the intersection between the two was and has been exhausting for me for a long time. (I did a general sort of post about this sometime last year.)

Sometimes I wonder if it is strange that I didn’t “realize” that I as gay until I was older. I wonder if I just unwittingly suppressed the idea that I was attracted to women because I knew that the spaces that I existed in just simply did not include LGBTQIA people.

When I first started legitimately questioning my sexuality, I thought there was no way that that was me. I had learned that it was a choice to be homosexual. That those passing thoughts I had were just passing thoughts and nothing more. I proclaimed to be interested in guys, I even dated one for about two years. But when push came to shove, that itching idea in the back of my head that something didn’t feel right about that never really went away. Eventually, those thoughts became very real for me. I realized more and more that I definitely was attracted to women. At first, however, I thought that that was in addition to being attracted to men. In a way, it made it easier for me to wrap my head around because I wasn’t that gay, right?

The thing is, I wasn’t so caught up on the fact that I may be attracted to women. That wasn’t the issue. The issue for me was that I genuinely did not know if accepting that fact about myself would condemn me in the eyes of the church.

When the pastors at my church(s) would bring up homosexuality, I could feel myself shrinking in my seat. I remember one Sunday just going home feeling so personally defeated because of the service I had attended. I know to my family I probably just seemed like I was a being a moody teenager, but in reality I was grappling with the fact that in the same sanctuary that I was used to worshipping God in also made me feel like I was going to hell for even considering the fact that I may be attracted to women.

I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that God, my God that I grew up learning to trust and believe in, would somehow create me, as Their daughter, give me the ability to love like I can but then in turn be against me for the person that I love. I just didn’t agree with the theology that taught that somehow God’s love was limited in any way, especially in this way that in my mind allows me to be closer to Them because I am loving with my whole being.

When I came out to my mom, just under a two years ago, one of the first things she brought up was what that meant for me in the eyes of God. She knew that she loved me for me, but she-coming from the same church that I was raised in- was reasonably concerned about what that meant for my eternity because everything we had understood up until that point kind of pointed to idea that I would be condemned to a life of sin if I affirmed my identity as a lesbian.

This past Sunday, I sat in a church service alone, but surrounded by people who are all there because they 1. love Jesus 2. believe in a God who loves. and loves and loves and loves. and 3. are accepting and affirming of me, a gay Christian woman, being in their midst to worship. And being a part of that congregation that welcomes me with open arms every Sunday brings me joy that I haven’t known in a church in years. Before I started coming to this church, I never thought I would be able to hold my significant others hand in the same room that we worship God in. I didn’t think that I would be comfortable enough to let people know that I was a lesbian in a church because the churches I grew up in were so against the idea that God made me this way for a reason and I am not living in sin because of it.

The thing is, my sexuality and my ability to fall in love with another woman is a gift. The ability to love someone else like that is something that is absolutely of God, just like the love between a straight couple is also of God. They gave us that ability and the capacity to have such incredible feelings and connection with another human being. And the beauty in that is not something that I believe my God would deem a mistake.

I’ve been taking time lately to get myself right with God. By that I mean I’ve been laying down my hands and just saying, Hey, I’m a mess but I’m your mess and I know that you have my best interests at heart here God. Please just be here and help me get out of your way.

I think I might start writing more about what all of this means to me soon. I feel a tug happening in me, pulling me towards some different things that I wasn’t exactly looking for before.

Well, you know how it goes. It’s a work in progress. Just like me. And just like you.

Talk soon.

Here for the moment.

I’m not sure if you guys are aware of this app called TimeHop, but basically you can connect all of your social medias to it and it’ll give you a single collection of what was happening on this day last year, three years ago, etc. And normally I love getting to look back and see where I was and what I was doing a year ago. 

In some cases, it serves as a sort of a marker for me for how far I have come and of the changes that have happened in my life. I get to look back and see that I may have been struggling with someone last year that I’m no longer struggling with or if I’m having a rough day I get to see sweet memories that remind me of all the good things in my life. With some of my older social media accounts, it provides that slightly cringe worthy material showing me how I used to think it necessary to broadcast to the world my every mundane thought and how my friends and I used to think we were the coolest by spending our Friday nights at Steak n Shake and driving around town. 

This morning when I checked the app to see what it was I was up to this time last year, the first thing I saw was a photo of a note that someone I love had left for me to find when I got home that night. This person loves the smell of coffee but is not able to actually drink it because the caffeine does not serve her system well. So that morning a year ago I had made a strong cup of coffee and left it out on the counter, letting the aroma fill the kitchen and living room so that when they got up they would get to enjoy the smell they love so much. 

It was a little thing that I did because I loved them, but they wrote me a note that showed me that my little action that I left as a surprise to them actually meant so much to them. That I had thought about them and knew something that they liked and I used that knowledge to just give them a small act of kindness and love to start their day. This person and I had just barely started to get to know each other. We were’t yet able to see each other’s maps of our lives that were scattered across our skin. But there we were, existing together and doing small things to show the other’s importance to us. 

The little things are my favorite. The surprises that you didn’t see coming of special hot chocolate and Christmas movies watched on our phones. The finding a quarter on the ground right before you go to get groceries at Aldi’s and need that coin to get a cart. The hugs that let you feel safe for a moment. The song that pulls at your heart a little more. 

I’m thankful for that memory app to show me that even when things end, you can look back at all those little moments and realize that they were good and worthwhile. That even when things are hard you can have a little bit of hope for the future. 

Things are hard right now. 

I’m not going to deny myself that fact. But I’m thankful for the little moments today that end up feeling like big things. So I guess that’s what I’m going to cling to today-the photo of a note that meant so much to me. The little reminder that our small acts of love can actually mean the most. The fact that I have been so lucky to have had so many little big moments with someone I loved. The way that memories have a way of showing us truth in things even when that truth is a little darker than we thought at first.

Keep going, bub. This shit is hard. But we’re a work in progress, remember? We can handle being low as long as we keep moving forward. You are enough. We are here for this moment only. What small thing are you going to do to make it count? 

God’s got this. 

Not Yet

A year ago Snapchat had a filter on October 11th, 2017 in honor of National Coming Out Day.

At the time, I was definitely out to myself but not to anyone else in my life.

So I found myself taking a photo of nothing and putting that coming out filter on it with the caption “Not yet.” written on it. I saved it to my photos and forgot about it for the most part. I didn’t know then if I would ever really come out *for real* or if I even was brave enough to.

So here we are in 2018, a full year after I took that photo and told myself that I wasn’t ready for embracing this identity that I knew described me but that I didn’t know how to claim. And it feels crazy to know that just a little over a month after I took that photo, I was dating an incredible person who identifies as a lesbian and was coming out to my family one-by-one.

It seemed like every week I was coming out to a new person or breaking through another barrier that I had built for myself at the time. November of 2018 was a huge month for me. I was learning daily more about myself and what I liked and wanted and NEEDED in my life. It was when I first started to truly claim myself, all of myself, as a gay woman.

It was terrifying.

It was liberating.

It was damn hard.

But today, I am filled with this huge thankfulness of how far I have come in a year. From where I stand now, I can see a little bit of where I want to be going and I can see where I came from.

I am so thankful for finding a shirt that makes me feel like myself.

And learning that a bowtie and jacket is my preference over wearing a dress.

I am so thankful for family who tries hard to love and support me even when they didn’t have any idea that I identified any different than they always knew me.

I am so thankful for new opportunities that will let me grow in ways that I haven’t been able to before.

I am so thankful for having someone in my life through all of this to support me and remind me that it’s okay to feel all the things that I have felt through this past year.

I am so thankful to know, without a doubt, that my God loves me all the more for allowing myself to claim who I am and how they made me. After struggling with Christianity and religion for so long because of not feeling accepted by the church for who I knew that I truly was, even if I wasn’t out yet, it feels incredible to know that I was created to love in this beautiful way and that I am able to feel so much because I claim who I really am as best I can.

My coming out story is one of the lucky ones, I think. My family didn’t try to hide me away or reject what I had just told them when I came out. My coworkers were happy to see that I was happier in my life because I was allowing myself to be seen fully. I know that there are so many other LGBTQIA people who have not been as lucky as I am when it comes to embracing themselves and I hope that as time goes on I can be a light for some of those who do not have the support that I had and currently have.

In honor of National Coming Out Day, I just wanted to give myself the space to think about where I was this time last year.

To think about how “Not yet” was pretty much the anthem for my life in that moment and how far away the possibility of claiming my identity seemed.

It has been one of the biggest “work in progress” seasons in my life so far. It has forced me to choose to radically love myself when no one else might.

So here’s to you, past, future, and current self. Remember that even in this moment you are a work in progress… A person still becoming.

Be gentle. Be well.

Gay. Christian.

Gay. Christian.

This identity terrifies me.

Or, this identity sometimes terrifies me. Even in my reconciliation with God and the reverence that I have for Them through my spirituality and the grace that I know I have been given through Them, my past in the church sometimes catches in my throat. It makes it hard to claim (and fully believe) that I am a beloved child of God’s some days, in spite of knowing that experiencing love the way that I do is not a sin.

I feel so incredibly lucky (read: blessed) to have found a church that I think could become a church home for me. To have a place of worship who doesn’t just accept me for who I am but actively loves me and wants me to know that the God who created me in all my mess is the same one who created me to love the way that I love and is the same one who claims me as their own right now, in this moment.

There’s a story in Acts where Paul is sharing and defending the gospel in Corinth and is met with arguments and push back. He continues to share the message a while longer, but when they become more violent in their protests of the message, Paul basically tells them “Fine! I did what I could, but whatever happens to you guys now is on you. I’m out! Someone else will listen to this message!”

I completely identify with Paul in that moment. It’s the moment of giving up because the valley seems too wide and nothing you do seems to work and my efforts feel futile. In my life, these are the moments that when I look back I see that I was feeling like such a child because I couldn’t see that my work was still worth it.

But God isn’t one to just let us give up, even when we really try to. Especially when we are giving up because whatever is opposing us doesn’t seem to be moving. (I’ve seen that the oppositions in my life have been people, situations, jobs, projects that I want to have happen but no one else is on board, etc.)

In this story of Paul, God steps in before Paul can really throw in the towel.

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“9 One night the Lord spoke to Paul in a vision: “Do not be afraid; keep on speaking, do not be silent. 10 For I am with you, and no one is going to attack and harm you, because I have many people in this city.” Acts 18:9-10

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When I have days that I feel like the things I learned in my past at churches who were far less than affirming of LGBTQIA people, I want to remember what God says to Paul here. I want to remember that I do have a place in the church and that God has never questioned her love for me.

I want to have the courage to continue to speak to those who are in my life who may hold other beliefs when it comes to my soul after death and encourage them to at least consider the possibility of God’s love really being unconditional, that it isn’t a choice for me to be gay but it is my choice to choose to seek God in every aspect of my life. That it IS a choice for me to want an every day relationship with God and to want to seek my truth within Their love for me.

Throughout the whole “coming out” process for me, I never once wanted to just throw in the towel on my faith and love of God. I never wanted to turn my back on this spirituality that I have been blessed to have in my life. But I did absolutely have doubts that I was still going to be loved by God if I embraced this part of my identity. I wasn’t sure if this deep seeded feeling inside me that I didn’t fit the normal “heterosexual” identity meant that I was suddenly someone who was just choosing to sin because I experience love in a way that I was taught from a young age was wrong. I didn’t want to be turned away by the people that I had grown up with in church because they “didn’t approve” of who I am. I was terrified of being hated for being me. (But I guess that’s honestly just part of it-not everyone will like or agree with me and time has made that easier to swallow.)

I was afraid that the people that are in my life who were also religious or spiritual would just shame me and tell me that I was a bad person for loving and accepting this part of me. And to be honest, there have been a couple people who disagree with me on my ideas about what God says about homosexuality in the bible. It has led to uncomfortable situations and conversations that I didn’t come out of feeling affirmed in God. Even friends that I used to have deep conversations about God with now suddenly want(ed) to talk to me about how yes, I can still be loved by God but that that is just God loving me regardless of “choosing to live a purposefully sinful lifestyle”.

And before you ask, I don’t want you to think that all of my experiences with Christianity or people from my old churches have been negative since coming out. I have been able to have incredible conversations with people who are willing to listen and consider things outside of what they have known. I have had conversations that have opened my eyes and let me feel so loved by my people.

But now I have this image of God in Acts telling me that They are with me. That I am not alone in this. That there are so many more people who do fully affirm and accept me and the LGBTQIA people as people of faith who are not living in sin for the way that they love, but are instead living their truth in God by embracing love in the beautiful ways God lets us love. There are so many more people of faith who are kind and compassionate and understand that the way so many of us were raised in faith has had a strong negative impact on the way we see ourselves in God now.  They “have many people in this city” and these are the people that I cling to when I need support.

I am so thankful to have God on my side through all of this. I am so blessed that I am wrapped in Her loving arms and claimed as Their child in Christ.

The way I handle my religion and spirituality is still a work in progress for me. It is still a daily battle of trying to draw closer while not being sure of where I stand. But this love that I have through God is not something that I am willing to compromise.

I am gay.

But I am also a Christian.

And I want to continue to dig into exactly how God wants me to use this passion for Them in my life.

Running, Crawling, Dragging

A little while ago I decided to go through my drafts folder for this blog. There were bits an pieces of post ideas that dated back to when I first started this in 2015, so I was kind of weeding through them and trying to skim for ideas that I can grow upon now.

I came across one piece that was all about the way I tend to be a runner in my life. And I clarified in that draft that I didn’t necessarily mean that I was this top athlete who effortlessly puts miles and miles in every day (even though technically at the time I had just registered for my first half marathon that I completed back in November of 2018). What I was really focusing on at the time was the way that I recognized the reflex to run away from things in my life when they were painful or scary or intimidating. To run from people who may be too close and could possibly hurt me (an idea that took me a long time to work through-some people stay and some leave, but we need these connections regardless) to run from uncomfortable situations that would require me to grow and stretch myself. Even to run from my own dreams, because the ideas of them just seemed simply too daunting to ever follow through with them.

At the time, I was the queen of having goals but never sticking with them. I was an idea person who wasn’t sure how to put in the work to get to where I wanted to be.

But even last summer when I was writing about the way that I was so prone to just running away from things (good things included, mind you) I was beginning to notice a shift in me that asked me to at least pause before I took the first step of running away. I was noticing in myself that I didn’t necessarily want to run anymore.

And now, a full year after I started realizing that I wanted so much more for myself and for my life. Seven months after finally publicly claiming who I am in my entirety (Gay. Christian.) I’m here writing about running again. Because life and God have shown me that it may not be a bad thing that I am a runner. In fact, it may be one of my best qualities. The difference in the runner in me now versus back then is that now my heart wants nothing more than to be running towards something. To be authentically seeking the things that my life needs to be fulfilling. To not run from something, but to run full force into something I love.

This afternoon I went on a run because I took the day off of work for a variety of reasons. My head has been spinning lately with the bad or difficult things that seem to constantly be happening around all of us. So I went on an actual run to try to give my body something to do to distract itself and give my mind some time to think without being able to distract it with my phone or computer or life.

I spent a lot of time thinking about where I was last year. About how at this point then I was not yet committed to figuring out who I wanted to be. About how I was doing all the “right” things in the eyes of others but inwardly I was not at all convinced I was doing what served me best. It felt like each step today on this run was just a reminder that I have continued to move myself closer to where I’m supposed to be through this journey this past year.

Every time my foot hit the pavement it felt like a heavy, gravity filled reminder that this work is not easy. That I didn’t get this far because I was just handed it. That it takes time. So much time that sometimes it feels impossible that I can keep moving. That it takes self love. That it takes patience with yourself because it’s going to get frustrating when you feel so alone or so numb and nothing seems to make sense and nothing feels in your control. I get so impatient in the waiting. I can hear God telling me gently that I need to just trust that things will be okay. That I’m not alone, but still with each footstep and each passing second my heart can’t help but be restless. Those hard moments are the ones where I feel like I have to crawl to keep moving forward. I have to put myself on my hands and knees and make whatever attempt I can at still moving towards the things that give me life. And when that doesn’t work, sometimes I pray that God will just help me drag myself each morning to keep seeking the things that matter most.

I’m thankful to be able to see more clearly myself. To be able to look at something and know that it isn’t good for me or to do something and know that it is life giving for me. I’m thankful that I don’t run from every difficult situation now. I’m thankful that I have it in me to honestly search for the things that I want to run full force into.

Sometimes we have to get up and start running towards something even if we can’t see the end result. Even when we don’t know exactly what the thing we are looking for looks like. We have to run in the direction we feel pulling at us and we have to try to not trip ourselves by looking back too often. Occasionally it’s good to look back because you can see how far you’ve really come, but we can’t set our eyes on things already behind us if we want to reach our goals.

It doesn’t feel like it matters so much how we get to where we are going. I know in this past year as I’ve learned how to carry myself again there were moments that I had to just drag myself through those numb days and pray that the next day would be better. But then there will also be days when I can fall into stride with my shoulders held a little higher than normal. Days where I can feel a little stronger and feel the sun a little more on my skin.

It’s okay if we have to run sometimes. In fact, I’m starting to think that I’m meant to run, always. I’m just trying to find the things worth running towards.

Life. Lines.

I’m seeing them everywhere at the moment. In the backside of leaves that are turned towards the light, in the veins running through the palm of my hands, in the layers of sediment that make up the walls of the Grand Canyon. All I’ve been seeing are these lines pulsing through everything around me that are proof of life and the ways that we are sustained.

Things haven’t felt like they were going ‘my way’ lately. I’ve been feeling a little lost, a little lonely, and maybe even a little bit like I haven’t been in the land of the living.

And every single time I’ve quieted myself enough to listen to what God is trying to tell me, I hear that this situation that I’ve been praying over requires me to wait. Which, for those of you who know me,  is not something that I’m good at doing. There are some things that I’m better at being patient for than others. But I have felt Them leading my attention to these small details lately.

To notice the details in the leaf I picked up on my walk tonight. The way the lines stem from three or four main lines but they branch out in so many different directions to be able to give life to the whole plant. The way they seem to change when you hold them up to the light and you have that fifth grade science class come back to your mind and you wonder about the way such a simple looking thing can perform the seemingly complex process of photosynthesis.

I’ve been wondering about how similar we are to leaves, with the lines of those leafs being called veins just like we have veins running throughout our whole bodies too. Their purpose simply to transport our blood around and make sure we stay functioning and life filled.

And all of these thoughts just kind of led me to think about the ways that God gives us endless lifelines in our lives. They are constantly putting people or situations or puppies on the sidewalk in our way in the exact moments that we need them to. Unfortunately we don’t always see these moments as “God Things” as they happen, but the more I look back in my life, I see how each and every interaction I have seems to be wrapped in reason from God.

When I got home from running around today trying to keep my mind busy, I took some time to just be quiet with God for a little while. This one passage from Hebrews came to mind for some reason so I went and looked it up, and I was surprised by the translation of it when I looked at it in The Message bible.

The version I was thinking of says “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain…” -Hebrews 6:19 (NIV)

But my Message bible put it this way: “It’s an unbreakable spiritual lifeline, reaching past all appearances right to the very presence of God…” 

Yes, you read that right. An UNBREAKABLE SPIRITUAL LIFELINE.

That’s what God’s love is for us, for me. It’s this never ending, ever present, unbreakable lifeline where they always have their hands waiting to catch us if we stumble.

Sometimes I feel like such a small child, saying that it feels unfair that things can happen in the wrong time. More often than not I feel completely unworthy of the kind of grace that I receive from him, day in and day out. Like on days like today when I spent the evening wrestling with them about where I am supposed to place my foot for my next step, and they just tell me to wait. And I go on a walk and end up paying way too much attention to the lines on the leaves that I’m passing by.

And yet in spite of these child like thoughts, they are here, giving me thoughts of love and grace and compassion to get me through the rough moments. They give me time to quiet my heart and feel everything that I need to feel. Somehow the song with just the right words to hold me how I need to be held comes on.

Later on my walk tonight the song “Reckless Love” by Cory Asbury came on, which has these lyrics:

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

I’m thankful for the lifeline reminders in my life. I’m thankful that I can see, in almost everything around me, that God is working through us and for us to give us life. I’m thankful that even a work in progress like me can be given grace for the humanness in me. Because I don’t think I have ever felt quite so human as I do right now.

Tell me something.

I feel anxious that Indy Pride is only a week away. It feels both exciting and kind of sad. But I know it will be a day to remember, without question.

My mind feels fuzzy around the edges lately. Almost like there is a thought or a word on the tip of my tongue at all moments, but the thought is never completed so I’m left with half-hearted attempts at understanding myself.

I’ve been reflecting on the last seven months and it feels like imagining myself as who I was a year ago is an impossibility, something that I couldn’t go back to if I tried. The change in me has been substantial and even through this period of growth and loneliness, I think I’m thankful for this path.

I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

(Even though if I’m being honest I’m not okay and I know it’s okay to not be okay, I’m just trying to not lose myself in it.)

I got my hair cut yesterday and it feels good to have some of that weight gone, even if the feeling only lasts for a minute. It was an act of self care and I’m glad I did it.

Wondering if it really is possible to fit the world in a conversation. (But so far the possibilities for that are either using multiple timelines to keep the conversation going until the whole world is talked out or just never stopping the conversation at all. It’ll be the world of those two people wrapped up in a conversation that doesn’t have to stop.)

I think I’m going to drive to Lake Michigan by myself this weekend. It’s as close as I can get to seeing the ocean right now.

Considering what it means to be both buried and planted. It seems like a matter of perspective. (but here I am, feeling like my roots aren’t even touching the ground).

I ordered a book that will be here next week that I’m really excited about.

Finding a church home wasn’t something that I thought I would be able to do because I didn’t know where to look to find an affirming, welcoming church for people like me. But to know now that I have a place I can go to and be welcomed with open arms and be actively seeking God in a place of worship is the best feeling.

There are officially 18 weeks until my first half marathon of the fall, and even though I may be using it as a crutch to cope with things, being on a schedule for that feels so good.

I don’t know what it would be like to not overthink things. To not analyze every part of a situation, of a word. But I love the way my mind works anyway.

Lauren Sanderson is going to be in Indianapolis in July and I’m really thinking about buying myself a ticket to go see her. I missed her last time she was back in town, and if I can swing it I don’t want to miss out this time, even if I’m going on my own.

Lately I’ve been thinking more about where it is I hope to end up one day. Where it is I want to spend my time. All I can come up with so far is that I’m supposed to see a lot more of this country/world before I find a new place to call home.

My heart is set on seeing the Grand Canyon this summer. I want to feel so insignificant next to something so incredible. I want to get lost in the red stones marking off shifts in the ground. I want to touch the canyon walls and feel its heartbeat.

Maybe I’m too much for anyone else right now.

Maybe that’s okay.

Maybe I’m not supposed to figure these things out right now.

Maybe this was the end.

Or maybe this was just the beginning of how things are supposed to be.

Maybe we both have to work things out on our own first.

Maybe I’m okay with being in this skin right now.

Maybe its okay to be such an incredible mess of a work in progress.

Maybe all of this is going to be okay some day.

Maybe it’s okay that words from the people I love will forever be stamped into my heart.

Maybe my heart is supposed to heal in the waiting.

I’m learning to be okay with not being okay. Leaning into the bad feels just as important as embracing the good. Trying to learn more about myself through it.

Nostalgia of changing season.

It smells like summer now. Driving home tonight I had all the windows rolled down in my car and it finally felt like summer had arrived. That heat that clings to your skin has been in town for the last couple of days and I started my Monday by going on a 5 mile walk where the heat creeped onto me as the sun took its place in the sky. There’s something about spending a weekend mostly outside that feels like forgiveness. As someone who works in an office five days a week, it’s a blessing to be able to give yourself a weekend where you decide to purposely put off housework and just be outside in any way possible. So that heat that left me looking like I just ran through a sprinkler was so completely welcome.

These season changes make me feel more nostalgic than normal (which, to be honest, is kind of impressive because I am an extremely nostalgic person). So when I was driving home and that familiar smell of earth and asphalt and heat felt like a hug from someone you’ve been missing for far too long. For a heart that has been having a rough go of it the last few days, it felt like a coming home because the familiarity of that heat on my skin and the windows down again made me think about all the other times I have felt that same way.

I started thinking about where I was this time last year, and how much has completely changed for me and in me. I remember driving around in the evenings last year, having just moved into my first house all on my own. It was a terrifying but exhilarating feeling. I remember so clearly feeling a little more lost and a little more found driving around in the dying summer heat of the evenings last year.

So even though things are completely different these 365 days later, smelling that thick musk of summer in my lungs felt comfortable. It felt – feels – like I have so much farther to go from here. That even though my work on myself really started last year, I can go so much farther, that my story of figuring things out for myself has really just gotten started.

In a way I think it’s good that I feel a little lost in my own life right now. I think God lets us be lost for a minute so we can catch our breath while we look for the path through the woods again. It makes us slow down and see ourselves and our lives and maybe see a little more clearly where we want to go and who we want by our side. All of this isn’t to say that I’m doing perfectly fine, or even okay right now. But it does mean that it makes the waiting and the faith feel a little more manageable for now. Even when the air is hot like today, it makes it a little easier to breathe in the familiarity of changing seasons.

It’s an extra short post tonight, but I’m still getting  it in. Taking some time to myself for the night before the week gets a hold on me. Lost or not, I’m thankful for the time I’ve been able to spend outside this weekend. I’m thankful for the hard moments, and I’m taking the time that we need for now. It’s a work in progress, I’m not going for perfect here. I’m just doing the best I can.