Tag: Life

“Dear Insecurity”

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You might have noticed that I’ve been quiet lately. At first, it was the result of a very busy season. In recent months, however, it oddly enough came from attending a writing conference, an event that I thought would inspire me. Suddenly, I mingled with a group of hundreds of accomplished writers, all of whom seemed to have stronger degrees and qualifications, published works, and great networks of connection and support. This strengthened a feeling that had already been growing in me–that anything important I had to say had already been said, and that others could say it far better than I.

Above all, the writers I met  had more confidence, a quality that has long eluded me. I could go into all the reasons for this, primarily, I believe, a product of my upbringing, but we all have our own stories. Lately, it has struck me how much insecurity dominates my life and relationships, and I’ve been thinking more about how to overcome it. Perhaps, as singers Brandy Clark and Brandi Carlisle suggest, it’s time I said goodbye. 

Dear insecurity–oh, we meet again

Don’t try to flirt with me, you’re not really my friend

But you take up half this bed, livin’ rent-free in my head

I was asked recently what it means to be alive and open, and my answer was to bring full awareness and focus to the present movement and the details, surroundings and people in front of you, secure. Yet I often feel far behind or ahead of the present moment–beyond that, I feel detached, as if not being IN the present fully will protect me somehow. Once again, I can trace this back to my upbringing. At what point though, will I realize that I’m safe and accepted? Am I willing to open myself to all that the present might offer? 

It’s easy to regret the past and begrudge certain conditions within it, and yet, I’ve learned that one of the best ways to gain confidence is to go through hard experiences. I can’t remember where I read the article, so please forgive me for not quoting it, but new research shows that people who can draw on their experiences, remembering that they had the strength to meet specific challenges, are those who develop the greatest emotional resilience. Those who talk to themselves about the way they showed up positively in the past are those who can walk into a room with confidence, ready to meet a new one.

In her teaching entitled “Rewrite Your Narrative”, author Sarah Blondin, states: 

“If we are not what we have done, not what our parents or others told us we were, not the things the world placed on us, who are we? We have inherited a pattern, a sound, and yet some part of us wants to live as if it were not beseiged…outside the box of this pattern and dance to the rhythm of its own heart. Can you hear a string being plucked, longing to make a song with you?”

I hear the string being plucked–in fact a whole melody, and I know that the One who loves me beyond my comprehension and has always sung His song over me. Although I thought I had done this work decades ago, I realize that once more I must direct my thoughts continually toward what is true, noble, pure, and praiseworthy, as the Apostle Paul encourages in Philippians 4:8. I must go deeper, rooting myself in Truth. The Psalmist, David, tells us that those who meditate on the Word of God day and night are “…like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither; and in whatever he does, he prospers” (Psalm 1:3, NASB).

*Photo credits to LOVE DOES (lovedoes.org)

Places…

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It’s hard to believe that it’s been seventeen years this month since I came to the beautiful mountain town where I live. A teaching job brought me to this gorgeous land of enchanting mountains, wandering trails, captivating wildflowers, melodious streams, and above all, a unique people. After living here for several years, I left once so that I could find a place where I could afford to buy a home, only to return two years later to the place that truly felt like home. 

    Unlike the students that I teach, I didn’t have the opportunity to grow up spending my winters skiing these stunning peaks, camping in the stark Utah deserts during the springs, or passing the summers wandering the mountains and rafting the rivers and biking the trails. I grew up in cities of both the midwest and Colorado’s Front Range. Once I reached Colorado’s Western Slope for college and became acquainted with its small-town mountain life, I knew I was home. For me, this is a FOUND PLACE–one I journeyed to and made a life in, like many others.

    As a former history major, I’ve often been fascinated by the theme that people shape places, and places shape people. I see it in the beautiful sun-etched lines, tanned wrinkles, toned bodies, and large smiles of the people here. I see it in my former students who wander far, have a passion for travel and adventure and the outdoors, who live in other places for a time, but who often find their way back home. The FOUNDATIONAL PLACES that gave them roots also provided them with wings.

    For me, when I see the big rivers and lakes of the midwest, the colors of the hardwoods in the fall, or walk or drive through a cornfield like those of Iowa where my grandparents once farmed, sweet memories wash over me and take me back to the innocence of childhood. Fog reminds me of driving through the bluffs on the way to my other grandmother’s home in southwestern Wisconsin, which sat on a hill where there was a small orchard. My siblings and I would walk through a screened in back porch where my grandfather was usually smoking his pipe to find my grandmother at work in the kitchen. 

    Places that have stretched, shaped and enlightened us can also be NOSTALGIC PLACES. I lived in Puerto Rico for a short time on a couple different occasions, and then taught English and served as a missionary in the Dominican Republic for a little over a year. Years later, I spent a summer in Costa Rica. These experiences gave me a great love for Latin America and its people, the Spanish language, and the ocean. They were also some of the most refining years of my life, for I was being reshaped by different places and people, but stretched in ways that redefined me. 

    And then there are places of IMAGINING AND WONDERING, places that call a deep longing within us that we often can’t quite name or identify. I’ve also been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to travel to Spain on a few occasions and cannot begin to express how much I love this country. I’ve only ever been for several days at a time with a group of students, but each time, it has felt as if I’m made to be there. Its deep layers of history, the beauty of its people and architecture and geography, the amazing food and the gorgeous language–they’re all so captivating. Returning there this summer with students nourished my soul in ways I can hardly express.

    We all have those places that captivate and inspire us. Perhaps it’s home–perhaps it’s somewhere new, but may we let ourselves be continually shaped by the beauty around us, and may we all find ways to contribute to that beauty. As the great author Wendell Berry says, “I am always surprised, whenever I look back on times I have known to be worrisome or troublesome or hard, to discover that I have never been out of the presence of peace and beauty, for here I have been always in the world itself.”

    Stepping Up…(From the Night of the Buffalo)

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    For the past several years, since before my twenty-ninth birthday,  I’ve woken up each morning feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. More accurately, as if that buffalo hit me. Yes…a buffalo, though technically, it was a North-American bison. In opening my eyes to face a new day, in the blink of an eye, I can see the night my dog and I collided with him. The car lights shining on a dark night on the Colorado highway failed to warn us of his shadow standing in the road. We certainly woke him up from a nap, but he crawled off the car and stumbled back into the road behind us to stand again. That buffalo took several years to make me feel the impact of its collision, but I definitely feel it now. I’m lucky: we collided, but nothing shattered, no one died. There’s no question we were protected. It’s really a miracle, but indeed, a miracle that changed everything. Leif Enger wrote, “People fear miracles because they fear being changed-though ignoring them will change you also.” Had I known it was coming, I’m sure I would have been afraid. Now, I pray it has changed me, molded me, transformed me. Now, I fear most ignoring the miraculous in it all.

     

    In his powerful Superpower poem, Steve Gross wrote, “it takes practice…to get beyond the whole half-full, half-empty question, and just be grateful for the glass.” I  hope I’ll practice, hope I’ll cultivate that gratitude for the glass I’ve been given. Though I’ve yet to meet another who has shared the experience of hitting a buffalo, I’m definitely not the only one to battle illness, or to spend her life fighting the gravity of life and the depravity of man. As I get moving, get stretching, and receive  the warmth of a hot shower each day, I can feel my broken back begin to hold itself upright again. My muscles and joints begin to move more easily, the head clears, and for the rest of the day, I have the ability to move and walk and live well. Many would give anything just to have two legs that can walk.  I may have to work pretty hard at making this body functional, but if I do, it functions. Many would give anything to have a body responsive to their cues and efforts.  Sure, there’s pain, but I’ve been provided with so many tools, so many gifts, so many friends who love and support me. Mostly, it’s easy to get discouraged when encountering the ways pain has changed me, and resisting the limits it has placed on my life. Again, the choice is presented each day. Albert Einstein once prompted us to choose well: “There are two ways in which you can live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle, or as if everything is a miracle.” I can be grateful and work hard, or I can let pain filter my existence and illness the condition that defines me.  Will I choose to awaken to limitation, or to live unlimited? All I must do to maintain a sense of wonder is receive the mercies offered anew every morning.

     

    Most days, with the difficulty of just putting one foot in front of another, it does seem simplest to quit: to stop trying so hard and just let it all take its natural course. If I make that choice, things quickly degenerate. My body can’t get enough of the drug of rest.  If I am to live in hope, I must cling to God’s promises. There is no experience wasted and no downward spiral that can separate us from the His love, even those that are self-generated. ALL is being worked for good. The good work that He began, He will complete. Author Roy Lessin affirms this so well, expounding on the reality of God’s Kingdom. It’s  a wonderful point:

    “Everything in this world is moving in a downward direction-our bodies are a little older than they were yesterday; the parts in our cars have more wear than they had yesterday; even the earth is aging like a worn garment. In God’s kingdom, things are just the opposite for us. Everything moves in an upward direction-we go from faith to faith, from glory to glory, and from strength to strength. Our characters are being conformed to the image of Jesus, our spiritual lives mature, our love for the Lord deepens, and He becomes more precious with time. Today you can confidently say, ‘It is well with my soul…and it will be even better tomorrow.”

    This is the hope of our journey in stepping Heavenward, in stepping up.