happy halloween?

Too funny not to post. Gotta love this angry dog...

impatient

how long, oh Lord, how long?
how long until you heal?
how long until you redeem?
how long until you return?

my heart is restless and weary,
the perpetual wrestling is taking it's toll
my strength depleted,
my soul dehydrated,
i'm begging for rescue.

so how long, oh Lord, how long?

identity theft

What do you do when you feel like your identity, your self-concept, is melting in your hands? If it comes in the form of a lost relationship, we reach at every loose end, trying to find a way to tie it back together and "fix" it. If it comes in the form of a disease or lost loved one, we comfort ourselves by chalking it up to "God's sovereignty" and completely avoid wrestling with the underlying root of our heart's painful cry.

Yet, a different situation may also arise. What happens when you actually see your flawed self-concept for what it really is, and you realize that it's nothing more than a security blanket you cling to with knuckles white because the reality of living outside that identity is so terrifying? Where do you go from there? While the lies you live in are devastating to your heart, there's some level of comfort in the fact that they haven't been too bad to you for twenty-four years...

Stepping outside of this artificial comfort zone is terrifying. It means a new you, a new Anna. An Anna that lives in the light, an Anna that doesn't cower in fear in the corner. An Anna that wrestles with her story instead of seeing it as repulsive and avoiding it altogether. Even though the new mindset, this new identity, is everything I've always wanted to believe about myself, for some reason I still find it so easy to hold onto to this tattered security blanket of a flawed self-concept.

Instead of seeing myself as permanently marked and repulsively dirty, there is a God who tells me the exact opposite. Isaiah 54 has been my resting place for the past 10 days as I've wrestled with this issue of identity:

"Do not be afraid, you will not suffer shame.
Do not fear disgrace, you will not be humiliated.
You will forget the shame of your youth,
and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood.
For Your Maker is your husband,
the Lord Almighty is his name--
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer,
he is called God of all the earth."

and now, she's comin' into her own

Today marks six months. What a wild ride it's been. Although the pain has transformed to a deep, dull ache, the reality of it all is at times just as overwhelming as in those first few moments of realized betrayal. 

[He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

he drew me out of deep waters,

he rescued me from my powerful enemy,

from my foes, who were too strong for me.

They confronted me in the day of my disaster,

but the Lord was my support.

He brought me into a spacious place;

he rescued me because he delighted in me]

-Psalm 18:16-19

I wouldn't trade the last six months of my life for anything in the world.

restless night

God calls his people on a path that ends not in arrival, but in anticipation.

- Dan Allender, "The Healing Path"

sharing is overrated

selfish (adj.): 

1. characterized by or manifesting concern and care only for oneself

2. concerned chiefly or only with yourself and your advantage to the exclusion of others

One of the first lessons we learn in social skills in the sandbox is sharing. Think about it--all we're ever told as little kids is to "play nice" and "share." The opposite of sharing, selfishness, is abhorred by mothers of 4 year-olds everywhere. Selfishness is a bad thing, and children who don't share must not be raised right (or so the soccer moms accuse). As we get older, sharing moves to issues beyond shovels and sandboxes. How generous are you with your time? Have you booked every ounce of your schedule so that all of your energy is shared with someone or something? How much money have you given to whatever humanitarian aid cause is the latest fad? 

What I can't figure out is why no one ever told me it's okay to be selfish with my heart. Why is it that now, at 24, this is such a huge lesson for me to learn? Too often, I make excuses for my need to take time for myself. Instead of meeting you for coffee, I tell you I'm "tired." Instead of catching a late-night movie, I claim that I "have work to do." When I make these paltry excuses, what I'm really asking for is your approval. I'm begging you to tell me it's okay to take the time to care for myself. I need you to tell me it's okay to be selfish with my heart, because I don't trust myself to do it on my own.