How To Do Wrong Well....

Sometimes I worry that my blog posts are too depressing!

I guess the reason that they seem to be that way is that when I first entered this journey of not feeling myself I thought I was all alone. I REALLY believed that doing the "right" things (what was right in my mind) would fix everything. And when it didn't I felt more alone and like I was somehow not only failing myself, but failing my friends and family, and failing God.

So I write a lot about what I have gone through and am going through because my guess is....and the response to my posts affirms it...there are more people out there that feel that way.

It is just so easy for us to see people and assume that things are great when on the inside things are not.

And I have found that when the people around me believe that I am doing great, I will start to believe it too and slowly my life turns into this fake mess.

I'm not a fan of fake.
I'm too tired for it and my brain doesn't function fast enough to keep up with it.

I have so many great things in my life.

A husband that loves me.

Four daughters that are healthy and love me.

I have friends not just here in Wisconsin, but in Texas, Minnesota, and even South Dakota that love me.

I have this group of teens that I get to spend a lot of time with that, even though they tease me about my cooking and my driving...they love me too.

But I guess I am starting to see that it can be great on the inside of me even when things are not so great on the outside.

I can look back and see that this was and still is a long, painful journey. If I had not had people in my life speaking truth to me, loving the real me, encouraging me, and calling me out when needed, I am not sure the outcome would have been the same.

So to be frank with you, I screw up. I screw up a lot.

Some of it you can see...like when I burn dinner or stump my toe and let out a swear word.

Some of it you don't...like all of the swear words that come out in my head, or when I am jealous of the guy I work with because he never seems to screw up as bad as I do and can make a "natural" pond look natural.

Some of it is hidden even more...like the struggles I have with pride, and fear, and wanting people to like me.

I do a lot of wrong. And I am pretty sure that I will continue to do a lot of wrong.

But what I want, is to do "wrong" well.

I know it sounds crazy!!  Right??!!  But screwing up is a part of my life, and one that isn't really going anywhere this side of heaven. So I want to do it well.

First is, I want my wrong out in the light. I have seen and know personally the dangers of keeping our wrongs in the dark. And I know that if it is out in the light the darkness can never overcome it.

Second, I want my wrong to show who Jesus is. The Bible tells me that through my weaknesses His power is most revealed. I have a lot of opportunity for Him to reveal His power :)

Third, I want to share it and encourage others to do the same. I might strive to come across all put together and such, but what does that accomplish? Usually at the most I just make someone else feel like they are less than because they can't keep it together.

So let's just get this out in the open...none of us can. Keeping it together is about as unreal as I can get. And it is not my purpose.

My purpose is to be broken and messy so that His power can be seen.
My purpose is to be poured out to others so that His love is known.

How many years I have spend stressing and working not so you could see Him through me, but so you could see me.

And I'm just done with it.

Now I want to do it.... wrong...broken...shattered...well, so you and I both, can see Him.

As for me...I see Him. I know He is here and I am closer to Him in my mess than I ever was in my togetherness.

So while I will continue to strive to make better choices and reflect Jesus more in the good parts of me, I will not shy away from my messes.

His grace is sufficient for me. His power works best in my weakness. So I am glad to boast about my weaknesses so that the power of Christ can work through me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Love,
Your messy friend Kristi

When God Closes a Door Sometimes He Locks It

It was locked.

And it was stuffy.

The kind of stuffy that makes you feel like you might not be able to pull in a breath of enough fresh air to fill the intense longing of your lungs. But you do.

But there isn’t much relief in the successful breath because you know you will have to soon breathe again.

And relief is something that doesn’t seem to be in abundance in the stuffy room

This is how I have felt the last few years.

I believe that numerous things brought me to that point, but that’s for another day.

Today I want to talk about that room. That horrible, stuffy room.

I was in a time of my life where I felt very lost, confused, afraid, and lonely. I really struggled with knowing who I was. I felt unworthy, unlovable, incapable, and overwhelmed with just trying to get through each day.

During this time, we had several stressful events occur in our family such as a major move, a change of direction in the way our family functioned, and two daughters leave home for college. 

Not only was I struggling, but several of my children were deeply embattled in struggles of their own.

All of this going on around me seemed to make my room even stuffier.

But on the outside…oh how good I looked.

Everyone was amazed at the faithfulness and bravery I showed in some of our life changes. They said they found it inspiring and amazing.

On the inside I was a muddy, mucky, crumbling mess. Just taking each step forward not necessarily because I wanted to, but because it was what the Creator asked of me.

I didn’t go down without a fight. I fought, and I fought hard. I knew how to fight it, and I did.

I started with the door…trying to get out of that horrible space.

I pushed and pulled on that freaking door until my hands and fingers cramped. I knocked, banged and yelled until I lost my voice and was absolutely convinced that no one would open it for me. I manipulated what I believed to be the lock and handle until I was afraid it would break off in my hand.

I pushed on every inch of wall from floor to ceiling trying to find an escape.

Then I became resigned. Resigned to the fact that most likely I was never going to leave this room. 

So I started to figure out how I was going to make it work for me. Was there a way I could jazz it up a bit to help make it more tolerable?

I tried many different things.

I started with trying to be around people a lot. And I mean a really, REALLY lot. I thought that having someone to talk to would be good. And it was…for a time.

Then I started to work. I got to the point where I couldn’t sit still for more than 10 minutes. I had to be working or going. This helped for a pretty good while, but then I found myself overwhelmed with all of it and I felt like that almost did me in.

Then I withdrew from people. I figured I was in such a yucky space that they would probably be better off not having me around.

All the while I was still trying to fight through this with my faith. I really thought that this would “fix” everything quickly. I spent hours studying, reading and crying out in prayer.

Sometimes it would help a little, but not in the way I expected. But…I know my Creator. And I trust Him, so I kept fighting.

One morning after what felt like the millionth night of no sleep, I started to feel desperate.

Desperate that I would have to work this hard to breath for the rest of my life.

Desperate that I would have to continue under the weight of the loneliness I felt while trapped in this stupid room.

Now, keep in mind that on the outside I could still look pretty “together” and “good.”

But I wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

Eventually I reached a point that I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff and I had a choice. Keep fighting with the understanding that I could be in this stuffy, awful room a really long time, or give up and step off the cliff.

In that choice I KNEW that my Creator was asking me to keep fighting and to trust Him…even if it meant I would live the rest of my life in that room.

I was exhausted, broken into a thousand pieces, desperate yet resigned, hurting, and just really, really tired of fighting.

But my Creator God has told me that in him I will find peace.

In Him I will find joy.

In Him I will find safety.

He also told me that no matter what it looks like on the outside, if I give it to Him, He will use it in a way that is good for me….but it is going to be His kind of good that He sees fit, not necessarily mine.

What He didn’t tell me is that I would find an unlocked door or an open window.

I chose to not step off the cliff, though every inch of my being wanted to. And you know what??!! 

Nothing.

Nothing really changed in the way I felt, I was still hurting and tired. But I trusted that whenever and however this ended, if it even ended this side of Heaven, ….if I stayed fighting to go down and stay on the path He sat before me, even if I sometimes screwed up…. it would be good.

And that is where I have been for what feels like a really, REALLY long time.

But the other day something happened.

I had a day that felt “normal.” Then a few days later I had another one.

It has been so long that I didn’t even recognize it at first.

I began to not have to work so hard to breath. Sleep started to come a little easier.

I had an easier time being around people and also being away from them.

I could step away from working for a bit and I was okay.

Last month I found myself feeling excited about Christmas again for the first time in a really long time.

I’m not sure if the door to my room is unlocked or not yet. I don’t really try and open it much any more.

Not because I don’t want out…I very much want out and want to leave the room.

But I have found that being in here has strengthened my trust in my Creator God and to be honest, in looking back I think I could tell you that staying in this locked room has been worth it.

What I am beginning to learn is that the peace and joy that God offers me can still be found while I am locked in this room hurting, broken and sad. My peace comes from Him, not from my room, or the stuffy air, or even the fresh air, or the open door.

And one day I have complete faith that I will look up and that door will be open. I am not sure if it opens up and I walk out into the fresh air of the familiar world I was in before I entered this room, or if I will walk out into the heavenly world that is waiting for me after this life.

But I will walk out.

And for now, while I stay in this difficult season of my life, I will count myself blessed.

Not because my circumstances don’t suck sometimes….because they do.

But even when they do suck I have peace, joy, safety, and love.

And I have Him.

I guess I am telling you about all of this because you might be in a similar, stuffy room right now.

You might be frustrated that you are not feeling better.

You might be tempted to stop fighting.

You might be tempted to step off the cliff.

You are not alone. And I encourage you to fight and to focus on Him instead of the room.

I can't tell you that if you do that you will be able to step out of the struggle, but I can tell you that He is in the struggle with you.

And if you focus on Him, you will be able to not just survive, but count yourself blessed.

Why I Don't Mop

Amen. So be it.

These are words that I never thought I would say when it came to being broken.

The definition of break is to cause to separate into pieces as a result of a blow, shock, or strain.

It isn’t natural. 

It’s out of order. 

And it hurts.

Breaking a bone in your arm is painful and results in a period of immobility as you wait for it to heal.

Breaking an object likewise can cause a period of immobility, or worse yet causes uselessness and abandon…you throw it away.

But there is something amazing about breaking things….and that is when an object is broken its contents pour out.

                             

We break piggy banks to get the money we are saving. We break piñatas to have candy shower upon us. We break open Amazon boxes to see what was delivered inside.

Breaking things reveals content.

I was trying to mop my stupid floors the other day and as I was beginning to see an end in sight I bumped up against a small table that holds my coffee supplies and my sugar bowl went flying. It fell onto the wet floor and broke causing sugar to go everywhere as well.

I said "Screw it!" and walked out leaving sugar, broken bowl, mop and dirty mop water in various states of disarray. Then I went shopping! :)

Broken things take the contents of what is inside and they spill out.

Clay pots, or earthen vessels, in the Old Testament were always broken when they came in contact with holy.

They had to be.

Clay vessels are porous, meaning they are full of small holes that allow air and liquid to pass through. Therefore, whenever they encountered something, they would hold on to minute amounts of it, making it impossible to return them to a “normal” state of being.

And when they came in contact with something holy, such as times where they would boil the sacrificial fat in them, they would hold on to that “holy” as well, rendering it unusable for the everyday and normal purpose.

So they broke them.

                          

They could never return back to what they were before.

And that is how it is when we encounter the Holy.

Luke 1:49 tells us “….for he [God] who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.”

When we encounter God, our lives can never go back to being used for everyday purposes, we retain the Holy through His Spirit. We absorb it…He changes who we are.

Why then break it? Why not just stick this newly “holy” pot on a shelf to look at and admire? Why break it?

Because nothing we have is meant to be kept to ourselves.

Not our material possessions.

Not our lives.

Not our stories.

And not our encounter with the Holy.

We are broken because we are holy through Jesus.

And by that will, we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. Hebrews 10:10

We are broken because our weaknesses and our brokenness are meant to be shared.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

2 Corinthians 12:9

And we are broken because what has been poured into us needs to be poured out.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

And we are no longer suitable for everyday use.

We have something that must be shared.

Hope.

Love.

Joy.

Peace.

And the most radical display of grace imaginable.

And if breaking me is what is needed to share that…

If breaking me is what is needed so that I can absorb more of the Holy One…

Then break me.

You see, my three-week trip did not go as planned. Without getting into many details, some things happened that left me feeling lonely, wounded, rejected, and angry. 

I was so angry with God and felt so betrayed by Him. 

But on my final day of driving, I remembered a similar feeling that I had 2 1/2 years ago as I drove away from Texas. 

I remembered the hurt and anger. I remembered a year and a half of incredibly difficult days. Sometimes so much so that my heart physically hurt.

But then I remembered something else. I remembered a change in my relationship with a God that I adore. 

I remember a new hunger and thirst for Him that had not been there before. 

And as strange as it sounds, it is with that original brokenness that I found out what freedom in Christ felt like.

It is in that brokenness that I experienced a newfound amazement of God's grace.

It is in that brokenness that I experienced the one thing that I now know. 

Because out of the gazillion things in this world that I do not know about, there is one thing that I do.

He is worth it. 

So break me. 

I am clay in the potter's hands. 

A potter that I trust.

Amen. So Be It. 

Going Back

I am a week into a three week a road trip.

I am blessed to have the opportunity to take a little time to spend with my family as well as some time by myself.

Today has been a day by myself. Eight hours in the car driving in beautiful weather.

It was neat to drive through the snow covered ground of South Dakota gradually moving into the fields of Iowa where the snow was spotty, followed by Nebraska. 

The snow was pretty much absent in Nebraska revealing the brown grass. But once in Kansas everything started to green up...and warm up!

There was a 50* climb in temperature as I headed south and west.

There was also a gradual change from the unfamiliar to the familiar.

The accents started to change in the gas stations.
The gas stations themselves began to change. Gone were the Holiday and Kwik Trip's replaced by Love's and Casey's General Store.

Waysides were replaced by rest areas and Caribou by Starbucks.

              
                        

The trees still draped in snow changed to Bradford pear trees with the little white flowers on them already...you know, the ones that look beautiful but they actually stink?!

And then my heart started to hurt.

I thought about the spring days that I spent watching my girls try to climb the stinky white pear tree.

I remembered always going to Love's to get an ice-cold diet coke.
The accents brought back memories of people that I enjoy.
And seeing Chick-fil-A brought back the taste of their incredible sauce. :)

I was surprised at how quickly I was flooded with emotions and the longing to go back. It was kinda overwhelming and I barely made it to my hotel room before the tears started to flow.

And then I sat here on the bed for a while just trying to figure out how I could run from what I am feeling...and I couldn't come up with anything.

I can't blare my music because I would disturb the other people in the hotel. 
I can't ride around because I just spent 8 hours in the car and really am not wanting to hop back in.

So I sit here...and I write. Because, if I can't run from it, I am going need to think through it, and the best way I do that is by writing. 

So right now I hold on to this....

Isaiah 43:18-19...."Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?  I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."

I hold to this promise and I hold to His grace.

...and I watch Michigan play Notre Dame in the Frozen Four :)

The Thunder Rolls

I hate the way that the only time I write lately is when I am struggling with something, but...here I am again.

I wrote that first sentence about a month ago but I just couldn't bring myself to finish writing. I am going to try again, because I think writing helps me process through all of the feelings and thoughts that I have.

When I began writing this a month ago I was ready to quit. To be honest I was still ready to quit this time last week.

I love being here.
I love working with teens (honestly I get to be a part of the lives of some of the best, bravest, smartest, most incredible teens on the planet).

But I am tired.

I find it difficult to sleep at night and I think that magnifies everything. My patience seems to be softer than normal and my heart harder.  My acts of kindness more quiet and my mouth more loud.

I have been having trouble finding the energy physically, emotionally, and spiritually to fight through each day.

Last week, especially, I was just at the end of what I felt I could handle.

I was doing what we are told to do. I was praying, reading my Bible, and asking others for help. Nothing seemed to work and last week I was really just ready to choose "easy" over "right."

Ready to choose my definition of "good" as opposed to God's.

Then I was thrown a life preserver.

It first came in the form of a phone conversation with a friend. I really wasn't a good conversationalist, but just hearing her voice and her words were like fresh water being poured into a dry soul.

Then it was followed by a visit from a family that I love very much. I wasn't great company while they were here, but their acts of service towards my family and the time they spent just being with me was like additional water being poured in.

Then I read Luke 8, especially verses 22-25...

 22 One day Jesus said to his disciples, “Let’s cross to the other side of the lake.” So they got into a boat and started out. 23 As they sailed across, Jesus settled down for a nap. But soon a fierce storm came down on the lake. The boat was filling with water, and they were in real danger.

24 The disciples went and woke him up, shouting, “Master, Master, we’re going to drown!”

When Jesus woke up, he rebuked the wind and the raging waves. Suddenly the storm stopped and all was calm. 25 Then he asked them, “Where is your faith?”

The disciples were terrified and amazed. “Who is this man?” they asked each other. “When he gives a command, even the wind and waves obey him!”

...and something started to bother me.

When something I read starts to bother me I have a hard time just turning it off or moving past it, so it kept nagging at me.

You see, I couldn't understand why Jesus would essentially scold the disciples for waking him up due to the storm. So I read it in the other gospels to see if maybe I was misunderstanding, but I wasn't.

Jesus reprimanded his disciples for their lack of faith.

Why this bothered me so much is that in the stories of miracles before and after that Jesus praised people's faith when they called out to him for help.

Why did He not in this instance?

As I tell you frequently, I am not a Bible scholar in any way, shape, or form, but this is what I think.

His disciples KNEW Him. They knew what He was capable of.
He had healed, and he had taught,
He had loved, and He had disciplined.
He had served, and He had claimed authority.

They KNEW Him.

Maybe, just maybe, He wanted something different from them. Maybe instead of fighting against the storm He wanted them to lie down in the boat with Him and take a nap.

Maybe He wanted them to remember what they KNEW of Him.

REMEMBER
....Who He was
....What He was capable of
....And mostly....what authority He had

And lay down in the middle of the storm and get the rest they needed.

And maybe that is what He wants of me.

He has given me a life preserver in my storm, but I am still in the middle of it.

It seems as of now my only choices are to run away, walk away deliberately being disobedient, or to stay in the storm.

Could it be that staying in the storm requires less fighting and more remembering.

REMEMBERING...

...Who He is.
...What He is capable of.
...What authority He has.

Maybe all of my fighting against the storm is what is tiring me so much, when really what I am being asked to do is to lay down in the boat and rest even while the storm is raging?

Maybe it is less about trying to cling on to my life preserver but more about being willing to let it go?

Those things that I keep doing that I keep thinking are going to calm the storm, such as praying, and reading the Bible, and asking for help...maybe instead of being a way to calm the storm those things are meant to help me remember during the storm so I can rest.

And I want to rest because I am so tired.

So.... if staying in the storm is where I need to be in order to learn how to rest in Him, then I think in the storm is where I am going to stay.

So be it.