Unstoppable

Being as I seem to have a lot on my mind, I shall continue the blurging (blogging+purging) that is today's fourth ... and counting ... blog post since early this morning.

A sentiment shared at a friend's birthday dinner last night was tweeted and posted on Facebook by a couple people who attended said gathering. I was not there. I have only seen the tweets/posts.

"A man that loves a woman makes her unstoppable."

While I wholeheartedly agree that a man's love can propel a woman towards her destiny and cause her feel to unstoppable, I would like to offer some additional thoughts.

First, let me reiterate that I was not there to hear the full context of this sentence (what came before or after it), but it got me thinking, and I would like to graciously expand on this further--not out of malice or judgment toward's my friend's heart and intention, but out of a place of trying to understand what it stirred in me when I read it. I am someone who loves to dig deep into thoughts, so this is just me doing that, not attempting to discredit a very honoring and loving affirmation.

Love is a very broad word in our English language, and our society in general, and is interpreted and expressed in countless ways. What is love to one person is not love to another.

Let me come at that thought from this perspective: I heard a statement made at my women's group that goes like this...

Love [and pain] are defined by the receiver.

The essential meaning behind these words is that we may think we are giving love to someone but because s/he defines how love is received, it may not look like love at all when it reaches him/her.

This thought process corresponds with the theme behind the book "The Five Love Languages": we all receive love differently, therefore, knowing who we are giving love to is imperative in order to speak their language so they can receive wholly, the way they are "designed" (and I use that term somewhat loosely here, but that's a rabbit trail thought too long for this post) to receive.

Personal Example: I am not an overly affectionate person, but one of my husband's top love languages is physical touch. He could stop every time he walks by me and touch me in some manner--a hug, a kiss, a pat on the bum--all the while thinking he is loving on me, but by the 50th time that day I am not going to be feeling loved on but exasperated.

In comparison, I could keep a spotless home, make awesome meals, and make sure he never runs out of clean underwear and socks and think "BAM! He should feel like the most loved husband in the world!" ... because my top love language is acts of service. But to my husband, my work is akin to ignoring him because physical touch, not service, communicates love to him.

The same understanding is applied to pain, but in reverse: we may not think we are causing pain to someone when we say or do certain things, but because pain is defined by the receiver and not the giver, we may be hurting someone and not even be aware of it.

Here's the catch: I would include that in our world of broken souls and the abundance of life experiences that often inaccurately filters our perspectives, love and pain are often times just as much defined by the giver as the receiver, and then held out to the receiver all wrapped up in the giver's interpretation. Therefore, when a man loves a woman out of his filter and definition, she could very well receive those same actions as being unloved and ignored, quite possibly resulting in her feeling disconnected and discouraged instead of unstoppable.

So, may I add on to the Unstoppable quote in such a manner?...

A man who takes the time to invest in a woman and makes the effort to get to know her deeply, and loves her not only the way she receives love but, more importantly, as Christ loves the church, makes her unstoppable. (And for the record, a woman has the very same ability to make her man unstoppable too.)

Thanks for "listening". Please feel free to leave a comment and know that my heart's intent is not to offend but to unpack thoughts on something I read.

Visiting: Grief

About a month ago a FreedomFriend gave my OtherOne and I some hard-to-come-by, one-on-one time as we sat in three chairs located in the corner of our church during a Sunday morning service. We had been reeling from November's 'day of disconnection' and were labored by so many questions. During this hour, the topic of grief came up (among so many others) and I was told that I didn't know how to grieve. This was not said with any malice or judgment, just a loving challenge to go learn how to grieve the losses of my life. I know his revelation was accurate because my soul does this funny, grumbly, uneasy thing when words touch the soft spots of unhealed wounds.

That was over a month ago, and his words have been left dangling in front of my heart, untouched but not ignored. It's just that every time I think about that word ... grief ... I get a little apprehensive, like I'm standing on the above pathway look straight into a black hole into which I must choose to walk.

I'm on a journey to discover who I am and who I am not; learning the importance of grieving is part of this process. In this, I am reading the hearts of a few people I am particularly drawn to for one or all of these reasons: 1) their transparency, 2) their unique gift of using words to share stories, and 3) their wisdom and ability to make me think.

I found my way to a post written by a favorite Wordie and was gripped by the below passage. She wrote my heart. So instead of trying to say it better, I just borrowed it.

"I guess that's the thing: I don't want to visit the places I left behind. But maybe if I do, the Way to Freedom and grace will be made a little clearer. Maybe. Maybe it doesn't have to be perfect. Maybe if I write about what happened and what was, who I am will be made clear." Amber Louthan, Maybe, December 2, 2011 

Right now, grief feels like the above pathway--dark and foreboding--but maybe ... just maybe ... the process of walking through grief will not be as daunting as the thought of walking into the unknown. Who knows? I may even come out of it calling grief my friend. If health and wholeness are what I'm after, then the tools to get there may be more forgiving than I think standing on this side of doorway.

But how to enter?

"So I got out my journal and I began to write about losses. Less than a paragraph in my heart connected. If Jesus wept, so could I. And weep I did. Loss is a normal part of life ... Grief is the normal way God allows us to purge the pain of loss and keep a healthy balance in our souls." Bob Hamp, Good Grief, December 3, 2011

Journal: that I know how to do. Cry? I've done my fair share even though I wouldn't consider myself a "crier". Weep? Um, yeah ... we're not on as familiar ground with each other. I've wept, truly wept, only a handful of times in my life. I can recall each incident intimately.

But this journey is one of digging, excavating, discovering and purging. Tunnels may be dark, but there's always a point where light leads you out.

Visiting: Reality

"God was putting pressure on this movie set I had built and named "reality". It was crumbling, and I was trying to rebuild it." Bob Hamp, Tearing Down a Stronghold, November 20, 2011

I read this again and my soul immediately squirms, uncomfortable with the resonance these words ring within me, but also wondering (a year later) if this purging of thought lead to something different. Was your matrix deconstructed? Did switching sources redefine reality in such a way that the reality you had built no longer mattered? Did you find a way to devalue that which you had always valued? I connect with this writing (again, a year later) in such a way that I could not connect with it a year ago. And because it stirs my inner pot, I really do ask these questions with a sincere desire to know and learn and understand, not simply with a rhetorical flair. Pondering, again...

I'm in a season of revisiting things: words, perspectives, experiences, thoughts, beliefs. I'm looking for truth where I may have grown comfortable with a lie and both challenging myself and inviting others to challenge my way of thinking in all areas. This is a not quick, fad diet to produce a temporary result. Change is needed, required actually. I've placed hope in new things too many times and have watched myself grow more inward each time that hope dwindles under expiring words and actions.

I can't stay [here], but I'm not sure yet how to get [there]. A harvest has been sown and its fruit is not tasty. I didn't realize how greatly the quality of the seed would impact the fruit of my labor. Sow in ignorance and reap a harvest that leaves you feeling devastated, overwhelmed and questioning everything. 

I have spent years building my own reality and placing a high value on those things and people and experiences that laid my reality's foundation. Could it really be that value is not for me to place? I'm digging for answers now...

Funky, Funky

Man, I'm in a funk. A true, weighty, bonafide funk. I can feel it inside and out, physically, emotionally and spiritually. If I could watch me, I would see it: in the lack of twinkle in my eyes, in the way a smile doesn't quite make it to my lips often enough and in the way laughter seems like a long-lost treasure buried deep beneath.

I'm not writing now so I can send 'negative energy' out into the world or to illicit uplifting comments to make me feel better. Heck, no one will probably even know these words exist because I'm not going to promote them anywhere. This post is just for me because I realize how much I stay away from published words when I don't have something "positive" to write.

It's not that people could look at my life from the outside in and think "her life sucks". I'm not homeless. Actually, I quite like the little abode we live in. It's the one place I've lived in since being married that most fits my tastes for a home. I have food in my pantry and refrigerator, albeit I wish Mr. Budget had more room for much healthier choices. I have a car that gets me everywhere I need to go. I have clothes to wear everyday and a warm bed to sleep in at night. I even have a set of white twinkle lights strewn along my fireplace mantle. Oh, how I really do love twinkle lights. There's something quite magical about them to me.

And yet, here I am writing about funk.

I've thought about this funk a lot lately in my downtime, probably because I both ended last year and began this new year battling sickness. My 10-day head cold in December didn't knock me off my feet, it just added fatigue and fogginess to my everyday schedule. But this flu that came raging in in January did. Yesterday was the first day in nine days that I woke up and felt like Mr. Life-Sucking Fatigue was gone. Seriously. I felt 82-years-old with this bug--a fraile, drained, unhealthy 82.

And this dance with our finances? I'm ready to stop spinning and get off the floor--to sit down and rest. 2012 was another tough year when it comes to our budget, and while God strengthened my courage more days than I can count and deposited hope when circumstances were bleak, I can honestly say that I so want things to turn around now. I'm longing to make a budget instead of just being able to pay a bill when a freelance job comes around. I'm longing to tackle what remains of our debt instead of incur more. I'm longing to thrive and not just survive--to look forward to an upcoming birthday or holiday and not fear the cost associated with it. I'm longing to climb into the boat instead of wading in the water holding onto the life preserver. I know that sounds dramatic, but it's how I feel.

And my marriage? Well, we're in the beginning stages of learning "differently", with a trusted friend and pastor coming alongside to help us see and think differently. But that doesn't mean that the toll of choices and circumstances hasn't been exacted. Blended family. Baggage from previous marriages. Brokenness being uncovered and still in the process of healing. It's all taken its toll. I never dreamed that marriage would be such a battle to survive, but these past five (almost six) years have been more battle than refuge. Marriage is never easy, but I don't think I ever considered how difficult blended marriage would be. Building a life with someone you didn't grow up with takes work and courage and determination, but trying to do that and navigate the rough ocean of exes and kids you only get to influence and not parent and financial struggles ... well, that's a perfect storm that's bound to leave wreckage in its path.

I'm realizing how much a long battle with anything drains the human soul, let alone multiple battles.

2013: i will BEcoME

I will seek God's truth to dethrone the enemy's lies.

I will pursue healing and remember my wounds no more.

I will know and be known, without walls and without fear.

I will learn to live with a heart fully transformed by vulnerability.

I will get to know that little girl again and see the world through her eyes.

I will learn to overcome and not succumb.

I will smile on purpose and laugh without restraint.

I will write not only out of inspiration but more often out of pursuit.

I will read beautiful words every day. 

I will choose connection over isolation.

I will press in instead of shrink away.

I will lay down regret and take hold of redemption.

I will walk in authority and let go of blame.

I will make the choice to forgive when offense wants to tighten its grip.

I will use my words to bless and not to curse, to build and not break down.

I will pray for those I have labeled my "enemies".

I will hold onto hope in the face of adversity and turn towards love when faced with fear.

I will rest each night under a blanket of peace.

... i will BEcoME.

*A special shout out THANK YOU to Mary Jo for her sweet inspiration to emphasize BE right along with ME. I love it! {January 15}