day twenty-six: find your safe people

We need safe people. Of this I am convinced. We need them like we need our lungs to fill with oxygen, like we need that same breath to escape our lips. Without them we would suffocate beneath the feelings of inadequacy and the fear of judgement and the comparisons and the competitions and the unspoken rivalries.

We need them to cheer fiercely when something happens that is exciting but also scary. We need them to sit beside us and reassure us and reaffirm us and not get upset when we're constantly saying we're sorry. We need them to tell us there's no need to keep apologizing.

We need them to laugh with us -- to laugh hard, but also to tell us that it's okay to cry. To tell us that crying is good. To tell us to listen to those tears when they run down all wild.

We need them to be honoured when we ask a really important and vulnerable favour. We need them to whisper how proud of us they are, and to promise honesty forever. We especially need their honesty because sometimes this world feels flaky and unsure.

We need them to be for us, and we need them to tell us that. And maybe tell us that again, because we may not believe them the first time. We need them to giggle at our awkward moments that make us want to simply fall over with embarrassment. We need them to tell us stories of their own awkward moments so we don't fall over alone.

We need them to listen to our secrets, to hear out our disappointments and our shame and our guilt. And we need them to listen to our dreams -- the seemingly small and the impossibly large. Sometimes we just need them to listen.

We need them to be brave, and to put their hand on our shoulder while they whisper we're brave, too.

We need them. Because we need safe people.

And then, we'll take everything they gave us -- everything we so desperately needed -- and we'll pour it and more all out right back on them. Because the truth of it is: they need safe people, too.

This is day twenty-six. You can find the rest of this series right here.

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day twenty-four: let us both show up today

I'm not afraid of flying -- though I am afraid of roller coasters -- and todays flight felt like a never ending coaster. My stomach kept dropping and I was pushing my cuticles back. I didn't realize what I was doing until I looked down and saw blood forming on the skin where my cuticle used to be. I placed my fingers against the droplets and could feel my heart pounding through my hand.

It wasn't fear of flying or even the strange amount of turbulence for a short fifty minute flight that was making me nervous. It was where I was going, the place my plane was whisking me away to.

I was headed to a bloggers conference and I was terrified.

I've never really gone to a conference as an attendee. My sister and dad run conferences each year and I love them, but I'm used to seeing it be planned and transformed from nothing to something really great. An attendee feels scary. Unsafe. No place to hide behind.

But here I am. With whooshing feelings of inadequacy and un-enoughness, here I am. With a very small and a not very brave yes, here I am. With my smallness evident to all who looks my way, here I am.

Where will you show up today?

This is day twenty-four. You can find the rest of this series right here.

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day twenty-two: may I not let that define me

A customer told me yesterday she believes I'll be working at Starbucks for the rest of my life. She told me she could say this because her daughter is also a barista. Let me just say that a) I don't really think that fact validates her choice of words to me and b) I felt awful for her daughter. I simultaneously almost said something extremely rude and almost punched her, but I ended up not doing either. I'm still trying to decide why. Maybe it's because of my unbelievable self control (it's not) or maybe it's because I was literally in shock (that's more like it).

Remember that you are more post? Where I decided not to let other peoples opinions of me get me down? Well IT DIDN'T LAST VERY LONG.

I so often think that if I write a blog post or tell someone an idea or remind myself of something, that it will click in my brain and it will stay there forever. That is sadly and unfortunately false.

I know even after these thirty-one days are done, I'll still have to tell myself: "You are enough, you are significant, you are loved, you are forgivable." I know this because even during this series I have been having to tell myself these things.

Even during this series I have forgotten.

It's so easy for people's words to define us, even momentarily. I have allowed this woman's words --  a lady I probably will never see again -- to define me. I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. I wondered for a long time if she's right, if this is all I'll ever amount to.

And it is here in which lies my choice.

I may choose to accept her words, her fate for my life. I may choose to believe her. I may choose to settle for her disbelief in me, to stop striving for more, for books and words and art and dreams.

Or I can choose enough. I can choose more. I can choose to use these words as fuel and empowerment and a reason to try harder.

I'm back to the choice of choosing enough, you see. And it's not easy. It's really freaking hard, if we're being honest. But may I choose enough today and may I not allow the opinions of others to define me.

This is day twenty-two. You can find the rest of this series right here.

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day twenty-one: I'll try and stop running away now

I'm an escape artist. And not to brag or anything, but I'm a good one. It took me awhile to realize what I was doing was actually escaping, because I wasn't doing anything that would be considered harmful.

I escaped by watching movies and reading books. 

It began after the initial diagnosis of my mom, when I was exhausted of crying. I turned on a movie and got lost in it. There's a romance in getting lost in someone else's story for awhile.

But then I began to get addicted to it. I knew I could run away for two or more hours, that I could hide from the pain that I felt. And even after my mom started to get better, I still hid. I hid from feeling unenough, hid from feeling without purpose, hid from feeling sad. I turned on a movie, or opened a novel and I ran away.

I'll try and stop running away now.

I'll try and confront when I feel sad or lonely or inadequate.

I'll try and fight for myself, like my friend Sarah tells me.

I'll try and love myself even when I don't think I'm worth loving.

I'll try and believe that Jesus thinks I'm valuable and important.

I'll try and stop running away.

I hope maybe you will too.

This is day twenty-one. You can find the rest of this series right here.

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day twenty: fighting for myself

Today I am welcoming one of my favourite friends to the blog. Meet Sarah Roessner -- a girl with a beautiful heart and a captivating spirit, who has taught me more than I can tell you and has been there for me more times than I can count. Sarah's twenty-three, exceptionally good at cooking and choosing the best restaurants, a self admitted food network junkie and the best listener you'll ever know. She loves Jesus and people. And she believes in hope. I'm honoured and thrilled to welcome her here today!

by Sarah Roessner 

 

 “You don’t stop fighting just because you are losing.”

Jeanette Walls, The Silver Star

People will tell you to fight. People will say it’s hard. People will rarely speak of losing your battles.

Everyday I attempt to feel like I am “enough”. Most days I fail miserably. I sink into this cloud of depravity and self hate. I convince myself no one could possibly love or value me. I sink into that comfortable pain, and I let it linger. I let it stay.

I wrote a short poem about a month ago about the pain I feel and it is entitled, "How I Deal".

“I can only draw you a crudely sketched map of the scars that cover my heart. Sometimes they lay on the surface and promise not to hurt me. They promised. So I let them lie. I let them stay. I let them seep. I let them consume me. They become too powerful and that pain seems to drain every inch of self worth I claim to have. It’s absorbing into me. Like the waters in an unsettling storms, the waves of deep anger seem to crash over me. They promised not to hurt me. They promised. I lay here exhausted from pain, exhausted from myself. Exhausted from the battles I have to fight every night. They promised.”

An allusive trap I get lured into everyday is that I believe what others say about me. I believe what they say is true. Which some would say (those who know me) “Oh that’s great, you’re good at so much..." Which in theory is true.

I can build an empire out of what people think of me.

Words can also devour that kingdom, and bring me to my knees. I have been told I am not smart. I have been told that I am not pretty, that I am weird, that I am less because I am a girl, that I am angry, that I am nothing.

These words can dictate me on a day to day basis. Some of these words I tell myself because that’s what I see. I hate it, but I allow it to take the wheel.

But some days I choose to fight back. On those days I can truly grasp that God created me to be significant in this world, that I am beautiful, that I am smart, that I am capable, that I am a leader, that I am enough. Those days are so blissful and sweet. I want to cradle them forever.

Don’t stop fighting because you’re losing.

I lose about 70 percent of the time; however that doesn’t mean I stop fighting.

I am able to keep fighting because I have a constant reminder of Christ’s blood that poured out because he KNEW I was worth it, He KNEW I was valuable, He KNEW I was good enough. I am able to do this because of my friends, my family, and my boyfriend who constantly remind me of the truths about my identity. I am able because God has blessed me with the ability to be apart of Hashtag Hope Ministries that allows me to tell others of their true and constant value.

There’s a point to all of this and it's to learn to love you.

This is day twenty. You can find the rest of this series right here.

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day nineteen: who you are is enough

“I exist as I am, that is enough,If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content. One world is aware, and by the far the largest to me, and that is myself, And whether I come to my own today or in ten thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness, I can wait.”

Walt Whitman

This is day nineteen. You can find the rest of this series right here.

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day seventeen: may we celebrate you

On this Friday -- the end of the week, the middle of the season, the hopeful beginning of something new growing inside you -- may you rest in the essence of who you are. Not perfect.

Not flawless.

But enough. Adequately inadequate.

May today you draw out the courage that lives within your heart, the bravery that lies deep within your bones, the dreams that have been thread within the lining of your soul. May the truth of the whisper you are made for this sing gently against your lungs.

And on this Friday may we celebrate you for exactly who you are.

What a celebration, indeed.

photo source

This is day seventeen. You can find the rest of this series right here.

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day sixteen: the adequate inadequate

I do most of my praying at night. I've self diagnosed myself with ADHD -- which I know isn't actually true as I can sit and read one book for eight hours straight -- but I don't generally have a very long attention span. I also think a lot. Or maybe my thinking would be better described as daydreaming, which is not a particularly large difference in my opinion.

But at night when I'm gathered beneath a blanket of darkness, I'm less likely to get distracted. Well, slightly less distracted anyways.

I can remember night upon night when I was praying in that bed -- praying, crying, begging God for something I wanted. Time and time again my hopes were dashed. I woke up disappointed. Angry. Sad. Often the things I wanted were replaced by something only God could have ordained. For some reason I forget about those things. I forget about the good stuff. But I vividly remember all the things I didn't receive.

Probably because I'm selfish.

When I woke up miserable and dejected, I felt like God had let me down. I chided myself and whispered that God doesn't let people down. God knows what's best. 

Somehow in my brain, all of this equaled that I wasn't enough for God. It equaled that I had failed. That I didn't quite measure up.

I could list you example after example of things I begged for but didn't happen: pleading with Jesus to give me a best friend who would never be mean, to grant me my favourite part in the school play, to not let her have to go through chemotherapy. Lots in between those, too.

I thought I was inadequate because those prayers felt seemingly unanswered.

I thought I was too inadequate for God. Too much of a disappointment. Too much of an embarrassment. Too much of so much more. Too much and yet not enough all at the same time.

But we're on day sixteen of choosing enough, aren't we?

Perhaps I'll never be the best writer, or the prettiest girl, or the smartest cookie. Perhaps there will always be moments and hours where my un-enoughness is overwhelming in all of the worst ways. And perhaps there has come a day -- this day -- where my inadequacy is a reminder of something greater. 

The reminder that there is a God bigger than me. Bigger than all of this.

And I am small.

I'm adequately inadequate. ‹‹‹ click to tweet

I'm not the best.

I'm not in charge of answering prayers.

I'm not in charge of a checklist of enoughness before I come to God.

I'm not in charge of anything, actually.

But I'm enough -- even in the midst of all of this inadequacy.

And that's enough for Jesus.

This is day sixteen. You can find the rest of this series right here.

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day fifteen: the wednesday collection

Okay. I admit it.

I was tired today.

For anyone who knows me, you know I don't do well when I'm tired. Or hungry. (The reason: I become hangry. A scary, scary thing.) So I went back to three posts that have always resonated deep within me. I think you may feel the same. These are some of my favourite people and writers and people.

This Is Your Courage, Fully Released // Emily Freeman

Make a mess, be a sloppy first draft, scribble in the margin. But don’t turn in someone else’s work. We just want you, fully alive as you. We want the person of Jesus relating with us through the filter of your unique personality. 

We Are Human // Shannan Martin (Flower Patch Farmgirl)

Don't ever apologize that you don't read enough, you aren't consistent or scheduled enough, your vocabulary isn't big enough, your clothes aren't stylish enough, your home isn't clean or pretty enough, or that you always burn the stew. What you are is brave and needy and scared and wild.

When You're Tired of Wearing Masks // Jennifer Dukes Lee

God knows that about me. So—in His relentless grace—He continues to repeat one message into my insecurity-prone heart: “I didn’t ask you to be her. I asked you to be you.”

This is day fifteen. You can find the rest of this series right here.

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day thirteen: you are more

There truly is a possibility of every post somehow finding it's way back to Starbucks (because it's like I LIVE there.) Apologizing in advance. A few weeks back, a lady bought a breakfast sandwich.

I turned to the oven to warm it, because that's considered standard and I'm generally a good girl and do what I'm supposed to. I know, bo-oring.

Anyways, as I'm unwrapping said breakfast sandwich and popping it into the oven and clicking the buttons on to cook it just right, a girl -- young, probably twenty one or so -- yells at me.

"HELLO STARBUCKS BARISTA CAN YOU HEAR ME SHE DOESN'T WANT THAT WARMED UP HELLO STARBUCKS BARISTA"

(All of me wishes I could do a voice over because I think I could imitate that fairly well. Sigh.)

Let me tell you, at this point I was mad. I wasn't feeling well that day so I was already a little irritable.

I turned, slowly, to look at her. My heart was pounding -- and maybe this doesn't seem like a big deal to you -- but I wanted to scream back at her, "I AM MORE THAN A BARISTA!"

(Again. Seriously irritable.) But I didn't, because good girl, remember? Instead I bit my tongue hard, took her order, took her money, and waved a great big adios when she left the store.

I don't love when people yell at me. I'm a pretty big talker and think I'm exceptionally feisty, but in reality I don't love yelling nor confrontation.

But her yelling wasn't what bothered me most. What angered me, was the fact that she called me a barista. And I get it, I am one. But in my head, her telling me that meant that was all she thought of me. It felt like she stuck me in this little barista box with zero potential to be anything else. In reality, that was all she thought of me, because for the ten minutes I was in her life, that's what I was to her.

But I wanted to be more.

When I finished my shift that day and came home to mull over the situation I realized something: I am more.

And you are too.

• You are more than what someone labels you as.
• You are more than your Pinterest board.
• You are more than the number of followers you have.
• You are more than your past.
• You are more than your present.
• You are more than your occupation, your debt, your diploma.
• You are more than _________________________________.  (Fill in the blank with exactly what you're struggling with right now: your marriage, your kids, your longing for a relationship, your weight, your disorder, your diagnosis, your addiction, your fear of never being good enough...)

Even on those days where you feel like nothing, you are more. And this, this is what Jesus thinks of you:

"You are of great worth in My eyes. You are honoured and I love you." Isaiah 43:4 

And somedays it's just so freaking difficult to remember this. Because we hear the customers yelling at us and all we hear is that we have no potential.

But you are of great worth in My eyes. 

Because we see our thighs that will never bear a gap, our number on that stupid scale, our lunch purged from our lips as we quickly flush the toilet, and all we see is that we're not being seen.

But you are honoured. 

Because the world seems so much bigger and brighter than we are and everyone JUST SEEMS SO ENOUGH and what if our lives don't go the way we want them to?

But I love you. 

You are of great worth in My eyes. You are honoured and I love you.

I'm going to memorize this one. Stamp it on my forehead, tattoo it permanently on my very soul.

We are more.

This is day thirteen. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]