uncomfortable.

The world feels upside-down right now.
2020 has brought so many people to their limits, and my heart has broken over and over again with every news headline, video, and social media post.

I've found favor in pen-and-paper journaling vs. this blog for the last several months; I adopted an idea I found I-can't-remember-where, of identifying one word for each month of the year, and then making a conscious effort to filter my thoughts, intentions, actions, and reactions through the lens of that word.

For January, it was _breathe_. New year, new starts.. right?
For February, it was _trust_.
For March, _release_. I worked hard at severing those unhealthy relationships, with habits, people, energy that wasn't productive.
April: _STAY_. I explored new personal limits as we entered into the full blown recourse of pandemic life, and admittedly April was the first of these months where I selected the word because we are literally being mandated to stay put at home, so I thought I could capitalize on some introspective time. Instead I on average just ate 7 lunches a day, I'm pretty sure. Oop.
By May, I felt kind of subdued - the kind of insipid state of blah that replaced my usual routines, because let's be honest, "normal" is on hold until further notice. I'd chosen _compassion_ as May's word; the reality of the pandemic started producing desperate people. Being compassionate was my responsibility.

Here we are approaching June 2020. The halfway point of the YEAR. It feels like I'm stuck in a weird fever dream, where an international pandemic has snuffed out thousands of lives and trampled economies, the planet's natural resources are dangerously depleting, people of color are being murdered, rioters are literally burning cities to the ground, and corruption is poisoning the most important political and social seats.

Oh, wait.

Don't we wish this was just a vivid, impossible nightmare?
Here's what I know:

1. It's not. This is real, every bit of it.
2. It is not just okay to not be okay, but right now, in the current climate of life, I can't see an argument against it being a responsibility - perhaps even an obligation - to be NOT OKAY, with what is unfolding around us.

Through a combination of life experience, teachings of my Christian faith, and conversations with other people who have weathered storms far more severe than my own, I've learned an unshakable truth:

Nothing Changes, if Nothing Changes. 
And for change to truly take root,
WE must be uncomfortable enough
to believe that we CAN. DO. BETTER.

Reading the headlines recently has made me uncomfortable.
Watching videos of real violence happening in real communities, makes me uncomfortable.
Listening to reports of healthy people dying in the grip of Covid, makes me uncomfortable.
Knowing that people of color continue to die at the hands of proclaimed protectors, makes me wildly uncomfortable.

And then I remember that that is a GOOD THING. To feel uncomfortable about something is not only one of our hard-wired defense responses to things that might harm us, but also an indicator that we are comprehending, "this thing happening is WRONG."

I'm currently reading The Gift of Fear, by Gavin de Becker, an endeavor I'm indulging via suggestion of Brit & Ashley on the Crime Junkie Podcast. I'm still early on in the book, having just started it this week, but reviews I read in advance suggest that this might be a quintessential read specifically designed for anyone who might have to venture out into the world beyond their front door. So like, ya know.. everyone.

This book immediately points out that our gut instinct is to be trusted. Perhaps I'll give a full Goodreads review later on once I finish it, but I think that's a hefty enough reminder for now.
Trust. Your. Gut.

A personal aside here on learning [the hard way] to trust my under-celebrated little gut:
In August 2019, the bottom dropped out on the most toxic relationship I've ever had, with a pureblood narcissist named.. let's call him... Justin (*spoiler alert*, that's his real name, because people like this don't deserve anonymity, #sorrynotevenclosetosorry). Justin is one of those dashing, charming, says-what-you-wanna-hear, 6'2 walking red flags. We dated for nearly a year, and looking back now, I can with clarity see the the red flags like bookmarks, one for almost every other week starting at around the 5th month with him. I'm talking bouquets of them. An entire garden of them, by the end of it. The jealousy, the manipulation, the guilt-tripping, the facetime calls where I would watch this guy literally sob convincingly over how "terrible he feels" for violating my trust, my boundaries, my standards, how it was 'so not like him,' and that his one true endeavor was to be the man who protects me. It's important to note here that NO, I do not see crying as a sign of weakness, for either gender, but when it's wielded by an adult as a tool of manipulation, that's not strength; that's abuse. Each time the envelope was pushed an inch more. Each time, it got a fraction worse. I was mentally and emotionally depleted by the time the last thread broke. The apex came in August '19, when Justin physically assaulted me, was arrested and then assigned a not-long-enough period of protection order time. I would later find out he'd lie his way right through this with a new woman; I've no idea if the puppy eyes worked on her, but colors like his can't hide in the wash for very long. Again, to be clear, I'm no victim. I almost was, but through lots and lots of guided reassurance from anchors throughout my family, my friends, my church family, my work, and a cold, hard re-set with myself, I decided that sometimes, people just lie. And people can be awful. And those people, more often than not, have lied and been awful to other people looooong before we turn up in line for our serving. Surviving an abusive narcissist with a track record, was a new box I reluctantly created and checked off for myself, and I will be damned if I ever have to draw another box beside that one.

I wouldn't have had to draw a box in the first freakin' place, had I LISTENED. TO. MY. GUT.
I was uncomfortable, more often than I'd care to admit, with this guy, and I ignored it every time. I was uncomfortable every time he rifled through my things, snuck onto my phone behind my back only to find nothing, called me upwards of 40-60 times consecutively if I didn't answer. I was uncomfortable when he started alienating me from my friends and family, without my being able to recognize it. I was uncomfortable with him guilt-tripping me when I would want time for myself, or to do things with friends on my own. I was uncomfortable in every single one of those situations, but the most dangerous part of it, was that I was also uncomfortable confronting it, in the way that would have truly punctuated the end of these things happening. That's the damning part.

I was uncomfortable, and did nothing about it.

Fast forward to now, when he's long gone, good-riddance, and shift focus to the reality that we as a collective human body are facing: unbridled hatred predicated on nothing more than being born with a certain skin color. It's 2020. Racism is alive and thriving, and too many of us behind the front lines, who are still uncomfortable with it, are too dissuaded by the power at the hands of deep-rooted political and social filial piety, to really challenge it. I'm guilty. I'm one of us, who sees awful headlines and shakes her head, but then the buck stops there. I'm uncomfortable, but what am I DOING about it?

It's the same idea, just on a bigger scale.
I stayed silent with the narcissist, despite my gut and actually my entire body physically rejecting the very presence of his energy and person in our atmosphere.
Right now my gut is back again, this time pleading with me not to stay silent about the hate that is driving us into the ground and destroying lives, families, communities. It's begging me to recognize the sheer and blatant injustice in the world around me, and not ignore it because it's uncomfortable to process. It's driving me to take advantage of the voice and privilege I DO have, to stand in the gap for those who are going unheard.

art credit: IG @shirien.creates

Social media is a realm of its own, where most of us can post anything and commentary goes broadly unchecked. However in the midst of the chaos, there are plenty of everyday people who've honed their voices, talents, and platforms, and have chosen to commit them to pursuing the kind of change that only happens when we turn uncomfortable into unacceptable. They're raising standards, and inspiring other people to raise theirs, too.

I've been thinking a lot on what a tangible action step could look like. I recognize that my one voice will not have a catalytic impact, but what I CAN do, is participate in the dialogue. I believe that in order to do that, I must be intentional in learning how I can contribute to widening the table where we bring our differences.. to honor and CELEBRATE them! It means consciously doing my part to stop dismissing a social topic because perhaps it doesn't directly affect me. It means not bending to ANYone who chooses to abuse his or her platform - whatever it may be - to justify hurting other people. It will require me to SPEAK when there is something to be spoken against, even if it's controversial or uncomfortable. 

It means educating myself objectively. Listening more. Seeking counsel. 

Above all, it means being acutely aware of and committed to the ways in which I guard my heart, my head, my home, and my hands (actions). 

My June word, if it's not obvious, is UNCOMFORTABLE. 

I'm making renewed commitments to myself and to the world around and in front of me, to demand I meet my own standards. Consequently, I'll continue as best I can to raise my children to become and be steadfast, honest, and compassionate. Who chase what is JUST, even if they're left running for stretches alone. Who learn and remember that lasting beauty rarely happens without uncomfortable growth. Who refuse to glance away from injustice, whether it's on a scale as big as all human people, or as isolated as one human in their sphere. I want them to be ambassadors of and allies to the pursuit of loving as Christ does: without conditions or stipulations, without regard to color, religion, or socio-economic status. I want them to eagerly stand in the gaps for the marginalized and disenfranchised. I want them to see parents who model this, even if that looks like nights curled up crying into a pillow, praying in run-on sentences, or righteous anger that I'm continuously working to ensure is properly and tactfully directed/expressed. 

I want my children to be confident enough with themselves, to be able to freely be uncomfortable with the things that trigger their gut instincts. I want this even now, for myself. 

My prayer is for the world, for the heart of this world, for the human in this world, and for the actions I can and will take that will shape my piece of this world. We can ALL do a little better. It'll be uncomfortable, but can we try... together? 

xo | cmd 

h e a l t h y s e l f

i mean... okay
cred: ig / nayyirah waheed

I saw this today, and it kind of hit me like a ton of bricks:

(photo credit for this & all the others today: Instagram)

The past several months have been a challenge, on a grating spiritual level. I've been wrestling my deeply-rooted demons, that are exactly as old as I am. They were born with me - part of my human nature, and over the course of my life, have expressed themselves at different times, in different intensities. They're a part of who I am, both good and bad, past and present. I have a hard time saying no when I should, and a propensity for trying to wash out stains I didn't create, for people I shouldn't be touching. I tend to cripple myself.. a lot.

Most recent soapbox opportunity for this: Relationships! (....great).
Where these fickle things are concerned, my track records looks like it's been searching for sunlight on the sea floor for the last decade+. A fun thing I did just recently, was stay voluntarily rooted in one with the most narcissistic person I think I've ever met, let alone dated. The ultra-abridged version says that it was umm... a learning experience, that culminated at a dramatic midnight apex involving assault and cops and 3/4 of a week in jail and the revelation of [his] sidechick in Denver. Really sterling stuff, from a guy with whom I just frankly should've had nothing to do in the first place. It got a lil' messy. And I got OUT. //the end.

Why do I bother with it? Because as I've said many times over, this blog is just as much for my own later recall, as it is for well... anything/anyone else. I want to look back at this entry and be able to feel exactly as grateful on that day, that I do on this one.

And I can say all of it with something of a lighter heart NOW, because 3ish weeks ago when all of this happened, I was met right in the middle of the mess by the small but impassable detail of my closest friends who hedged me into a safe space and waited to ask questions after they were certain I was okay. They helped me put out the immediate fire, and walked in step with me.. figuratively held me by the elbow as I tripped over myself a thousand times in the next week attempting to get walk a straight emotional line on my own without falling apart. When you are physically assaulted by someone, whether you are a man or a woman, your senses go into a tailspin that will settle only when you are truly ready to allow it.

An anecdote to it: In my case, this wasn't "bad," as I would classify other cases. I wasn't hospitalized. I wasn't permanently injured (or worse), but I was still harshly reminded by others after-the-fact that those details still don't matter: what happened is not okay. It's not acceptable (agreed, of course). But that's the part that, if left unaddressed, becomes its own cancerous ivy that chokes the air out of even the idea that this was not, in fact, my fault. He made a choice to cross a line. That is not my fault. What I have been holding myself accountable to, is the fact (to me) that I knew better. I know better. I'm not a teenager with white bread for brain cells. I know better.. than to make excuses for someone else's red flags. That's so far out of my pay grade, and in this context, an absolutely valid case of 'Not my circus, not my monkey.'

So the first two-ish weeks following that had been me just being mean to myself, honestly:

I should've known better. 

I saw this coming. 

Yes, there were red flags. 

No, I am not really all that surprised. 

And a lot of *Sigh, I really just don't even know....... . . . . .   .   .   .       .       .       .

Ya know? 

The dust is settling, almost to stillness now. Of the things that have taken root where fire cleared the brush, the most impressive is the very clear, diamond-cut appreciation for the other relationships in my life. I've had most of them this entire time, but it's one of those situations I can only liken to the sensation of dropping a really heavy lopsided suitcase, that you'd been carrying by a broken handle, in your non-dominant hand. #letitgo

And the internal conversation has changed:

I did know better, but I also figured it out, and got out. 

What happened wasn't my fault. 

Red flags don't make any of that okay. But I AM okay. That's a win.

Ya know what? You're too blessed for this: 

Dust yourself off and try again (name it.... lol)

And a LOT more of *Sigh, I seriously have the best people in my corner. 

ig // postmodernpaul

Whewwww. Yes.

Fast forward to this week: It's Thursday evening and I'm home on the couch with my daughter as she reads one of her books, and I dug into one of mine that's new - a gift:

♥♥♥♥

This book was given to me within the last week, by someone I've loved in varying degrees since I was 18. He became an integral part of my life then, and recently, after nearly 16 years, has dropped back into my orbit, thanks to a universe-wielding God who clearly knows each of the souls that need to surround me. This one walked back into my life as the friend he's been for years, and for reasons unknown, volunteered as tribute to help bear the mess of me being at war with myself after this.. thing.... as I made my way out of the dark black hole where I'd been kind of hanging out for way too long. He's the [type of] person you dismiss from your life when you're young and stupid, and realize 16 years later that you must've done something you clearly don't remember, to merit getting the second chance of having him back. And you catalog that among the other things you've learned the hard way recently... and you're grateful for that thing called grace, that you know you don't deserve. ♥

I didn't make it more than 20 pages into this book without noting a handful of gems already.

this is one of my favorite sentences of the book (so far)

I've never heard of this book, but it's beautiful, and is brined with the passionate intentions of its author: surround the reader with a soul-feeding love: the kind of love that should drive every relationship - both laterally and internally. From what little I've read so far, I can tell this was written around the vulnerable state of the human heart, with space to safely step forward one foot in front of the other, trusting that each step will be met with love, in some form.

And I love it. I've spent the last few days for lack of a better term just... reveling.. in the gratitude that I can't seem to contain. It's a terribly good problem to have, I've found. For the better part of last week, I was in Oklahoma City with one of my wonderful coworkers, downloading best practices to maximize our impact in helping the people we're servicing. Before that, I spent a weekend decompressing, laughing, climbing & hiking in the Red [River Gorge] that could not have been more perfect. I've had lunches with friends, real hugs with people whose smiles reach their eyes, who care without agenda, for my well-being. Late night conversations with family and friends over a glass of wine, remembering to allow myself to feel the light they seem to see in who I am. Celebrating my daughter turning 10, with her cousin who is just one week older. Experiencing the difference between being loved through the lens of manipulation, versus the complete freedom to bring all of my truest self without the anxiety of being chastised, changed, or rejected for it. Recognizing for the first time in far too long, the spark in that happy little weirdo staring back at me in mirrors.

It's a terribly good problem to have. ♥

I found the nugget of advice earlier to write about the thing that frightens me the most. I was reticent to share any of this on a public platform, for fear of brandishing my vulnerability to an audience. For fear of subsequently being cattled into one some pre-defined statistics group of women who make it out of abusive relationships. Of being labeled or discounted somehow. I hesitated for fear that an anonymous audience might have negative feedback. And THEN I realized that that is frankly none of my business.

And so now I'm here, just.. in a stasis of raw contentment that I haven't felt in months - the kind that is too strong to ever be hindered by a single toxic person. One that's not punctuated by round after round of the mind-poisoning that happens when you allow a narcissist [teetering on borderline personality disorder] to take a driver's seat in any area of your life, let alone a relationship. What scares me about that? I'm terrified to think that it could have gone on another six... seven... eight months, and who knows if I would've ever mustered the gumption to leave, despite knowing better? THAT is terrifying. For me, I can speak to it now, for many reasons including but not limited to just knowing that's no longer where I am. It's not how this - how I - am going to turn out. For the record though ladies (&gents!), just umm.. make sure you're on top of those self wellness checks - ya know, the deep heart kind. I know I could've used a few thousand more.

And so I am happy. I'm at peace. I'm content with the course I'm on, debris-littered as it might be in places. And I'm forever grateful for all of the people who've made it a point to walk beside me, love me, hold me accountable, and remind me that while this defines how I'll move forward, it does not define me.

"I would like to talk with you about things I care about that others do not care about because they do not care about me, and hear you care, not because you care about me, but because you care about the things I care about." 

It's a terribly amazing problem to have, this gratitude. ♥

Happy Friday Eve, friends.

xo | cmd 

Panama 2019 Introduction

LOL. Okay soooo.. for those of you who are just landing on this page for the first time:

I'm Cori, and while I can't and won't say I'm a missionary, I am one who goes on missions trips when I can. My church's ladies group recently asked me to put together a video introducing this trip for some of those who might be interested in some more details.

So that video.. is THIS video:


1. I have never, do not, and likely will never... enjoy hearing and watching myself on video. I didn't do much aesthetic prep for this one, so what you see is what you get: no professional make up team or lighting. Literally done in my living room, and this is take #6 I think.

2. Despite the fact that *I FEEL* like I look a little tired here, I can assure you I am BEYOND excited for this trip. Details below:

**********

2015: My first trip to Panama, and my first time meeting the wonderful Vega family. The Vega's are the family who spearhead the Panama missions (MG PANAMA), and who have worked tirelessly since 1995 to share the good news into the mountainous Ngöbe villages. Listen to the video, and visit the MG Panama site for more background on their missions! ♥ The 2015 introduced me to the Ngöbe, and I fell in love within the hour. We shared life, love and the gospel, with a village of beautiful people, and I knew without doubt that I would run headfirst through the door to return, if God should open it again.

2017: .... and He DID. In 2017, alongside the same leader from the 2015 trip, we returned to Panama, to spend a week again with the Vega missions, in a different Ngöbe village. God took it up a notch the second trip around, with us being tasked to build a physical church building for the village. In a week, it went from flat ground to a full completed structure, and on the final night, my best friend and I were able to lead worship for the church's very first service. I will never forget the magnitude and the responsibility of that moment.

2019: Third time's a charm? The adage is a classic, but I wasn't sure it would apply to this trip, until Chris (the again, same strong leader) asked me to lead the women's small group study while we are there. He made clear that this will stretch my boundaries of comfort and ability, but in ways which will grow me. I began immediately praying over this, and today had the opportunity to sit down with one of the women in my church who I most respect and admire. She is the brand of bold I want to be when I grow up, and has not only traveled the road of international missions, but the very specific one I am preparing to walk down, in a leadership role. There is a level of responsibility that comes with this, a new degree of pressure and accountability, and a heart that must, without fail, rely wholly and fearlessly on the results that God has already written into the plan.

If you watched the video, then you know that my biggest prayer right now, for my team, is for preparation not only of our bodies, our resources and our classroom material, but for our hearts and our minds, that we will walk every. single. step of this trip in unbridled faith and flexibility, and that we are willing to step out in boldness when He calls us to, and be authentic vessels through which these people will see the love of Christ as He intended it to be seen: for EVERYone.

trans | Galatians 6:9
"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a
harvest if we do not give up."

We can't wait to share more of this with everyone! ♥xxo | cmd

s u r r e n d e r

image credit: Instagram @morganharpernichols

I needed to sit down and write this out while it's still fresh.

I was driving home from church this morning, overwhelmed by the A-ha! moments I've had, just so far today. It's barely afternoon, and I'm brimming with conviction. But that's how God works. Today's entry is for me. I'm speaking in raw format for myself, so if this maybe resonates for you too, then know I am in your corner, and perhaps we're wearing at least one of the same shoes.

Today's church service, at a glance, was all things routinely slated as it can be: worship, sermon, invitation, communion, fellowship - all the things that comprise a Sunday morning, come and go. If I said that every single Sunday echoed at a core level like today did, I'd be lying. While there is always a powerful point to the message, there is, with varying frequency, one (or more) that I feel were designed to speak directly and specifically into the spaces of my mind and heart that are wary, tired or broken. Today was one of those.

Today was one of the weekends I was scheduled off in the rotation of the worship team. It is just as beautiful to me to lead out through the mic, as it is to be still and be fed. It is just as necessary. Today was a day to be fed. Today was a day to be humbled. To be an active listener. To be an ACTIVE responder. To surrender.

One of the most basic tools we are given as humans, as friends, as families, as Christians - are relationships. We are wired to seek and serve a purpose, and we thrive when we do so, according to our individual gifts. If we are living out our abilities, we will inevitably be doing so among the company of others who share gifts, or who serve in other ways that complete the picture. We are built as relational creatures: in our families, in our friendships and in fellowship. By definition, 'relationships' is a plural entity, meaning that we will find synchrony with other people in the process of building and living out those relationships.

That then, by proxy, means letting go.
To clarify, that does not mean losing yourself. They are not the same thing.

I have lost myself before. I'm sure I'll do it again before my time on earth is over. I've tried to fit the mold that something or someone else has built, and all too late realized that I was never meant to fit into that mold. I have focused on becoming or being the way someone else is. I have tried and failed, tried and failed, tried and failed. But I have also tried and succeeded! The difference comes when I let go. When I surrender myself to the goal at hand, and get out of my own way.

Sounds easy enough right? Well, I suppose it is, in most cases. As a Christian, as a believer, I can vouch though that the real test of faith comes when I am asked to surrender. Why? Because I am very much human, and surrendering the things that keep me "safe," requires a faith that I do not always have.

Not on my own, anyway. What do I mean by this? Well for starters: When I am called to serve. Something as 'simple' as our praise team. It is an area of ministry that must be filled, and in the last year, my church as been blessed with a worship leadership team that has brought us together and sculpted us into a well-oiled machine (with room to grow, always always always!). But the process took faith! It took a determination to be flexible. To adopt new things, and integrate them with old things. To follow. To work together. To accept instruction, constructive criticism. To accept praise. To be patient with technical issues on a Sunday morning. Tuning issues. Tempo issues. It is all of those things.

On a larger scale, surrender comes as a struggle for me where relationships are concerned.

Forgiveness. 

Grace. 

Mercy. 

Humility. 

Guilt. 

Am I the only one who struggles with LETTING GO of some of those things? 

Am I the only one who feels somehow ENTITLED to keep a white-knuckle grip on some of these? 

Am I the only one who feels like they might lost themselves if I give these things up? 

Am I the only one who fears the unknown that lies beyond the surrender of these things? 

I am not the only one. I am surrounded by a church family, comprised of other humans, with other life experiences and wisdoms that sometimes dwarf my own, or in other cases remind me of the beauty that I may have lost sight of through something of my own. Today, a few members of my 'family' spoke into me, through the message (Josh), and in personal anecdotes afterwards (Joyce & Dale), and for them I am so thankful. 

I struggle with surrender. I often equate it with being weak. With failing myself. With the natural fear of the unknown. With the dread of repeating the same mistakes or experiences again. I hold onto what tangible security I feel like I have, and live inside the isolation of fear. I often wonder, "am I the only one who does this?" and "if I let go, I'm going to get hurt again." I worry. I become anxious that I will be caught off guard or otherwise unprepared for something I should've seen coming. I doubt my abilities, my capabilities and my emotional bandwidth. I FEAR THAT I WILL NOT HAVE WHAT IT TAKES. I fear that in letting go, I may just lose myself. 

Cori, the hard and indisputable TRUTH is that there is FREEDOM in surrender. There is LIBERATION in letting go. There is PEACE in the stillness. Think about it. Just THINK, how beautiful it is to plant a seed and literally NOT have to be the one who waters it into full maturity? How freeing it is, to allow your shoulders to breathe OUT from beneath the weight you've made them carry? How triumphant it feels to look back at the transcript of your life so far, and realize that your testimony lies in the FACT that God has literally N E V E R been absent in providing you with what you've needed?! That to forgive yourself for the things you've done wrong, allows you the space to forgive others for what they've done to you? To model service after the way Jesus served, allows you to get OUT of your own way and let God move in the impossible formats that only He can? That to SURRENDER your doubt, means that you don't have to carry it? How many times have you lost sight of this? And have you not suffered EVERY single time because you did?  YOU DID. 

S U R R E N D E R. 

Let go of the control. Let go of the plan I have, and remember that God will bless my efforts tenfold when I let Him in to heal. When I stop trying to do it all on my own, is when I will win. When I finally pause long enough to see that there are outstretched hands from other people - other believers - who have been here before, who are living in service and ready to help me do the same.. that is when I will truly be able to serve with a clear heart. 

I'm human. The idea of blind trust and faith is something that we are all literally born with. We grow out of it as we grow, as we are exposed to the world. As we experience. As we find joy, and live through pain. As we build walls to try and neutralize the stings of rejection, betrayal, loss, disappointment. I cling to my own devices more often than not, and without fail, it leads me further into chaos. 

This isn't a new thing for me. Surrender is something I have always struggled with. I find hope in the fact that I surrounded by other humans who struggle at some level with this, too. I find comfort in knowing that I am loved by a God who gave His son's life so that I would not have to pay the price of death for the things I've done wrong. 

Just as this isn't a new struggle for me, it will not resolve itself overnight. But here I sit, confessing this area of perpetual weakness, on a platform that will give me reference access to anywhere I go, anytime I need to be reminded. And it's here for you too, if you're out there reading this and relating. 

"Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will lift you up." 

- James 4:10

It's okay to let go. In fact, that is what we're called to do. It's part of growth. In order to grow, I have to trust the process. I have to try and fail, and I have to try and succeed. I have to forgive. I have to show mercy, because I have been shown mercy beyond my comprehension, let alone my merit. I have been shown grace and love so unconditional that I am a fool not to show them to the people in my own life. I have scars that should not serve as shackles, but as blocks on which I can build my testimony.

currently listening…. highly recommend! 

This will be a process. It is always a continuous process.
Surrender isn't easy. But it's necessary.
I can do this. We can do this. ♥

xo | cmd

Cousins for Christmas

The past week's been ...... one. of. those. weeks.
My heart's been heavy with the weight of some things I hadn't expected, and it's been an emotional rollercoaster. Everything from my soul to my skin feels tired, strained, and in need of some rest and healing. (Don't worry guys, it's a temporary lament - I'm not going anywhere, just being... human.)

I needed a break in the waves, so it was with a heart insanely full of gratitude that I headed out after church to catch up with my Ate Caridel, in town from Arizona for the holiday. To say that I needed the company of these women (& little women!) is an understatement.

I am.. so, so thankful for these ladies.

♥ ate caridel & maricor

♥♥ my heart was so happy to see them ♥♥

just add frappucino ;) 

pinsan ♥ | [cousin]

ate caridel ♥

Aaaaaaaaaalso, I'm not sure why I'd put off watching Crazy Rich Asians until tonight, but I couldn't have picked better company for a viewing party. I loved it, I love them, and I feel immensely recharged.

We're on the homestretch of 2018. I'm thankful for this season, as it's mixed with both anticipation and exhaustion. It's a strange blend, but 2018 has taught me more in one year than I'd expected or hoped. Today was a much-needed, much-appreciated chance to slow down and be present with some of my favorite humans.

I hope you're taking those moments this Christmas season, too - to slow down.. and just.. be :). ♥

xo | cmd 

And This I Know.

It's been one of those weeks.
2018 is drawing to a close, and Christmas is just around the corner.
My heart feels joyful and heavy all at once.
More to come...

xxo | cmd

, …… hello, again.

Hello, Again. 

You know, this blog used to be one of my most well-maintained interests. It goes without saying that I've been dormant for a long stretch now, but even this - an outlet - needs to rest.

And here I am, after several failed attempts at telling myself it'd be easy enough to just start again - the daily updating and entries. Looking back over a couple of random entries throughout the past couple years, it's clear that on some days, I really didn't have anything to say.

And that should've been ok.
Don't expect daily updates, from here on out.

***************

So let's start again, as the adage goes: "It's never too late to start (again) (over) (new)." 

So, …… hello, again. 

My daughter turns 9 tomorrow. September 1st. I remember 01 Sep 09 like it was yesterday, right down to the color I'd painted my toenails that morning - a nervous task I'd set myself to because I was home alone and strangely sure that I wouldn't safely make it to the hospital on my own accord if I'd tried. My labor and delivery rang in at a whopping 18 total minutes, and a nurse after my delivery complimented my nails; they were a rustic shade of burgundy, by the way. The center of my world shifted that day, embodied in a living 90's glowworm doll - that tiny little burrito over whom I would proceed to cry for the next day, out of both raw joy and the onset of terror that the number of clues I had as to what I was doing equaled zero. And partly, I think, because I was sleepless, caffeine-less and had just expelled a human. Who knows. 

AAANYWAY, I took a picture of Sydni (aforementioned daughter) yesterday, decked out in new club soccer gear, and we shared a joke about photos in general. It's a bit I'd borrowed from the late Mitch Hedberg, a response to that thing people say: "show me a picture of you when you were younger!" The joke goes on to point out that every picture of us is a picture of us when we were younger. ("Show me a picture of you when you are older, and I might be impressed," is the tail end of that - Mitch). For a split second, Sydni had a tough time wrapping her mind around that, but eventually thought it was funny, and rattled off a short list of friends with whom she was immediately going to share it. I mean, it's middle elementary: one of the most competitive, over-saturated markets for unheard joke material. (Go get 'em, kid). 

That was yesterday. Now it's Friday night and I'm coming down off another full week of work, workouts, soccer, life group, birthday preparations. Tomorrow's the actual birthday party, but for tonight, I have the liberty of stretching out on my couch, alone in the stillness of my own home with an acoustic playlist and a laptop at the mercy of this babbling blog. It's 31 August 2018; we're 2/3 through the 3rd quarter of the year. My daughter turns 9 tomorrow, and I am…….. older even now, than I was when I wrote the paragraph preceding this. *sigh. 

Over the past eight months, approximately 839 separate voices convened for a bracket-like tournament in my soul. They were each vying for pole position there, in the driver's seat, wrestling to control my actions, my choices, my words, my priorities. These rival thoughts went head to head, and much like any elimination tourney, there were some easy winners and some underdogs. There were some calls too exhausting for even me to make, the re-matches, the tough losses and the occasional invitation for the cast-offs to return just to stir the pot. Okay, so it's more like a demented hybrid of a legitimate tournament and a reality show, when it comes the thoughts that root and rule me. Human heart versus human mind versus God-governed heart & mind, versus external influences, other people, conflicting advice and learning from experiences. 

One team of thoughts, aptly named APATHY, has a lot of very well-trained players, expertly conditioned to attack me when I'm at my weakest and exploit what they find. Seems contradictory to call them thoughts of apathy, given how aggressively and actively they engaged me, but that's what they created. That's where I lived - in a floating abyss of apathy. Apathy by definition is the absence of interest, enthusiasm and/or concern. 

My relationships were suffering. 

My work was suffering. 

My faith was being strained.
My physical body was exhausted and weak. 

My heart was running on a cobwebbed reserve of muscle memory.

I was re-becoming depressed. (Re-becoming? Sounds good, let's go with it)

And I was there because the things I'd come to compartmentalize and/or attribute to that 'well that's how it/he/she is' junk drawer, eventually poured over all showed up on my doorstep at the same time, demanding my undivided attention. And what's the human response to that? Shutting down. Avoiding the ugliest of the things, the ones that cut the deepest, because what - because we don't want to get hurt. 

The team captain for Team Apathy is Fear. 

Fear temporarily ruled my heart: a wolf hidden under the cloak of self-preservation. I saw that the relationship in my life's foreground: my marriage, was not just falling apart, but should not have happened in the first place. It's not to say he was/is not a good person (on the contrary), but adults are well-versed in the idea that a good person is not inherently the right person. And world, I feared the repercussions of walking away from that. I feared the judgment. I feared that the tug deep in my heart to get out, was somehow misguided. That I'd end up following a siren to my inevitable undoing. I feared the big picture. I feared the conflict this had against the grain of what I believe in, re: marriage. I feared that starting over would wreck me, render me unreachable, unlovable, unacceptable. I became afraid that I couldn't trust anyone again, and that would only aide in warding off anyone who was brave or blind enough to give it a shot. I feared myself: knowing that after trauma like that, I shut down and internalize. I lost sight of why we'd even arrived at that place. 

Team Apathy co-captain: Guilt

By May, I'd found enough gumption to sever that toxic relationship. The signatures on the lines came and went, and in their stead came two competitors: relief & guilt. They less fought than debated, one taking center stage for a while and the other stepping in to contradict. One deep weight had been lifted, dissolved. The cavern it left became prime real estate for guilt to settle in. Guilt that I'd let my family down. My friends. Guilt that I'd both allowed things I hadn't seen but should have into a life involving my daughter, and then the guilt of taking away the good parts that I'd worked so hard to filter just for her. The distraction of the steps involved in that severing had taken a toll on my work - so even my life in the office felt strained. I'd let fear unravel my confidence so evenly across all my endeavors, that I'd adopted the idea that I was just failing to pull my own weight, along with the guilt that was birthed by not doing it. I'd let myself down. In my self-deprecating mind, I'd let God down and there was nothing I could do to undo it. Guilt, guilt. guilt. 

The other players on Team Apathy: Doubt, Resentment, Envy, Lies. 

K, I know none of these things so far sound like apathy - on their own, they aren't, but when they compound and feed off each other, their goal of shutting me down is usually achieved, and everything becomes both overwhelming and bland all at once. Am I the only one?! (I've recently re-discovered, with unending gratitude that the answer is NO, I am not the only one). But seriously - anyone?! Something (or somethingS) happen, and instead of washing the proverbial dirty dishes in the sink, you let them begin to let them pile up, and pile up, and pile up.. and every single time you pass by them, you're reminded of your inadequacy and inability to tackle something that everyone of your (age) (position) (gender) (training) should be able to do in their sleep with a hand tied behind their back. You doubt you're ever going to see the bottom of that sink. You resent every dirty dish that's there, and the person who put it there, whether it was you or not. And you think of someone you know (or even past you!) who has/had no issues at all knocking out a mess just like this one. But there you are, a mountain of mess in different shapes and sizes before you, and that weight is so heavy that you buckle under it, and instead of rolling up your sleeves to stick your hands in dirty water, you turn a blind eye.. just one.more.time. You believe the lie that you can't. You become apathetic. I BECAME APATHETIC.

BUT HERE'S THE *GOOD* NEWS

And WHEW, is it GOOD.

Just as Apathy was a top seed in the battle for my loyalties, there is no competition without a rival. And where Apathy rallied its strongest players, with their deceptive agenda and loveless core, it's adversary had actually already been there waiting to be recognized… again. 

I'll let the sports bracket analogy go - we get the point. But seriously, you guys - GRACE. 

GRACE, by definition as it pertains to my context here (faith): The free and unmerited favor, love for us, through and by God. 

^^ I may have just lost a handful of you, who maybe didn't know before you got to this part that I'm a treacherously broken and self-damaged human whose only hope in this world is to rely on the saving Grace of the God who created the heavens, the earth…….. and little blip-on-the-map me (I'm a Christian). Understanding the depth of faith's true potential is something none of us may ever fully accomplish, but it's a conversation I'm happy to have with you outside of this blog, if you want. It's an entry for another day, but it's been an arduous journey with a feet-dragging, water breaks and black-outs, if I'm being honest. 

Anyway, back to my point here: GRACE. 

Do you ever go through something, and whatever (or whoever) that is, forces you to a place where you - maybe against your pride, even -  become reliant on something or someone else who in reality has been there all along? That's exactly how it is for me. How it's always been. I take the grace I've been given for granted, until my feet are in the fire (usually because my dumb self put them there?), and I reach back desperately and instinctively for an anchor. And it's always, always there. 

Where Apathy umbrella'd fear, guilt, doubt, resentment, envy… they pale next to the legions of Grace: 

Forgiveness

Confidence

Patience

Truth

Love

Hope

Anyone who's ever done something they regret, can tell you what that wave of guilt feels like. How it presses into your core and makes you wish you could wash it off, but you can't. Turn back time, take it back or do it differently. Instead, we fixate on something else - something untouched, unrelated.. safe. For me, I compartmentalize. The junk drawer becomes a junk box, becomes a closet, becomes a storage unit ever-increasing in square footage. All the hurt, guilt, shame - all of that goes into that storage, where it stays and occasionally leaks back out when something happens and I'm forced to stare one of those feelings in the face again to process it. I then either shoulder it or project it onto someone close to me. Or I just shut down all together, become a full-functioning exterior encasing the inner work-in-progress (which is sometimes a quick add-on, remodel, full demolition & rebuild, or something brand new). 

But to really embrace the grace (I'm sorry that's a cheesy rhyme), I have to download the pillars that hold it in place over and in me: 

Forgiveness, of others but seemingly harder sometimes - of myself. Recognizing what I've done and asking forgiveness either from the person(s) I wronged, and then of myself.. is no easy task. Not everyone says yes - and more often than not, it's not other people turning me down. 

Confidence, that the next try will yield at best a completely different turnout.. and at worst, an opportunity to learn and grow. Confidence in the process, and in myself and others to realize that disappointment is part of the natural process, but it doesn't have to be a home. 

Patience. This one's easy to spot, because I'm not at all wired as a patience person (ok, sometimes, but more often… not). It's hard to exercise because I'm conditioned to see results of efforts, usually loooong before God has intended me to see them. 

Truth. I just had a discussion this week through life group, regarding the difference between being Nice and being Loving. While there's an overlap, the clear difference is that to be loving, we have to be willing to speak truth to ourselves and to others, however difficult that might be, or how much the human nature in us wants it to be false. Being nice is catering to the agenda of appeasing everyone, whereas a gentle truth will always carry more weight than a half-hearted compliment. 

Love. Suuuuuch a loaded word, with all of its possible contexts, forms and versions. For me, I view love - real love, as the manifestation of my vertical relationship. When I'm in line with what I've been called to be in Christ, I am confident. I am patient. I feel love, not on a surface level, but in the way that we feel it from good parents - where we want to make them proud and when we do AND when we don't, they speak in truth but still love us exactly the same. For my life, that means loving my daughter unconditionally. Loving hard-to-love people exactly where they are, and keeping a leash on my own agenda. It means forgiving others and myself when I don't want to, and allowing the girl in mirror to breathe deep, and understand that she is not perfect, but she absolutely is worthy. 

Hope, because where are any of us without it? Where do I go, if I don't believe the hope that my daughter will grow into a young woman who values herself and other people? What do I do - what do any of us do, if we lose hope that the end hasn't come yet? We have ALL seen the damage done by people who lose hope. It's not a road I want any of us on, ever. 

***************

End of 2017: 

I'd lost focus, lost sight, misplaced hope. I'd forgotten about grace, and gave into apathy. I became this weird kind of limbo-ey shell and I knew I couldn't stay there. FORTUNATELY, and I cannot stress this enough: I half found (half was found by) a small, yet varied network of people who took the time to pour into me. To pursue me. Gently persistent because they loved me exactly where I was and knew that I needed help. Their words weren't always nice. They weren't unkind, but they weren't spoken out of a feel-good agenda. They were spoken to me by people who loved me enough to say the things I didn't want to hear, see, feel. Eight short months ago, the pot boiled over, and those people who intimidated me with their honest love that I felt I didn't deserve, were the people I needed the most. Not all of them agreed with the life changes I had to make to get back on solid ground, but not once did they stop loving or accepting me. 

To fill the gap: yes, I found solid ground. It's solid, blooming and surrounded by fresh air, water and people who invest into me for my own sake. I've regained my footing and dismissed Apathy and its team of sore losers. My relationships have recovered. I'm back on the field at work. Literally back on the field & in the gym for soccer. Connected with my daughter in a more intentional way than maybe ever, before now. I have room to grow, mountains to climb. But grace will win, every time, even when the outlook is bleak. 

And now that I'm almost two hours older than when I started this entry - if you're still with me here - I hope that if you've gleaned anything from this, it's that it is NOT too late for you to turn the page in your book, take a deep breath, and just… start, again. 

***************

Final thoughts…. 

I had a conversation a few years back with a friend about trying our best to raise kids in a broken world, and she made the comment, 

"I mean, at this point I'm not even worried what he wants to be when he grows up, as long as he's not the bully or the snob." 

Despite other areas where we don't always see eye-to-eye, I couldn't help but want to agree with her on this one. I mean, how true is that? How many parents can identify with that, at its core? Moreover, how many of us became - even if just momentarily - one or both of those, and would be proud to say it?

The bully or the snob? The one who attacks other for his/her own self-gain, or the one who can't be bothered with the perceived menial problems of anyone deemed below whatever threshold dictates worthiness? I know for a fact that I've been both, and that I'm not proud of it. I know that I'm working my hardest to instill a spirit of confidence and humility into my daughter - to equip her to be aware of the world but still compassionate.

So tomorrow, the center of my earthly focus turns 9. She is everything a mother could hope for at this stage: healthy, intelligent, social, energetic, with eyes that light up when she is happy and give away when she isn't but says she is. She wears her heart on her sleeve and isn't afraid to cry when it hurts. She comes back the next day ready to give it right back to the world. 

She is everything I hope to be, when I grow up. And when I do, I'll know that maybe I got it right after all. It's never too late. 

So hello, again. 

xo | cmd