This thing called anxiety...

I remember a few years back as a new therapist I had a young client come in for an intake with their parent. On their intake paperwork under the What seems to be the problem section, the child had written, I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I remember thinking thoughts such as, wow that really sucks and I wonder what that feels like?

Fast forward a few years to present day and I find myself periodically entangled in the pain-staking task of trying to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. If you’ve ever tried it, you will find it to be a ridiculous and impossible/irrational task. Some of my colleagues explain it away as something called “compassion fatigue” where you take on too much of the suffering you hear from others as your own. Others have described as Seasonal Affective Disorder where you get depressed with the changing in the seasons and the fact that it stays darker longer.

I listened and agreed with all these scenarios. Ultimately, I knew the cause and it is none of these listed above although possible compounded by those reasons. I’m reminded of the passage in Matthew 14, where bold Peter hurdled the side of a boat in the midst of a windy storm because Jesus called to him to walk out on the water towards Him. Impulsive Peter was doing great…while he kept his eyes on Jesus. The second he looked down and saw the choppy waves and the wind and I suspect he might have thought something like, holy crap, I’m walking on freaking water here, that’s when it happened. He began to sink. Immediately his cry was simply, “Lord save me!” and that’s just what Jesus did while reminding Peter that he was of little faith and had no reason to doubt.

This is where I found myself very recently. I saw the storm, the wind and ultimately the things that are completely out of my control in this life and beyond. I was sinking for a while in intense anxiety and depression.  I reached out to a few people. A wise person told me, “You’re trying to understand things that are incomprehensible.” He reminded me that when we attempt to understand the vastness of a God that is so big, we essentially are trying to shrink and minimize a Creator that is too big for our pitifully small brain to fully comprehend. Aside from trying to understand things too big for my brain, the Matriarch (who is one of the few people I have allowed to help me with my depression) reminded me how anxiety is a daily battle where we have to turn things over to the Lord continually. We get crazy trying to control things that are forever out of our control.

She was right and reminded me of verses that ministered to my soul:

Isaiah 41:10- So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you: I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Psalm 55:22- Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.

2 Timothy 1:7- for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and a sound mind.

I’ve known all these verses literally my entire life. I’ve known since I became a believer that I always needed to focus my eyes on Christ. I also know as a cognitive therapist that irrational thoughts have to be replaced with rational ones or else negative feelings will take over. A portion of my depression has been my being infuriated with the fact that I’ve gone through this scenario before. All this I’ve known and yet my gaze has wavered and I began to sink. The process has been terrifying to say the least. However, all is not lost. I’m finding divine hope again. I am eternally thankful for a God that is there to grab hold of me before I go under. I am thankful for the support and prayers of those around me who have acknowledged and normalized my ridiculous fears and held my hand through the windy storm. The church has fulfilled the ultimate divine task in offering messages and prayers of peace and hope for my life. The matriarch and the coach have literally been my God-given go-to people in the midst of everything. I’m not out of the woods as of yet, but I continually pray and seek God’s presence. My spiritual eyes are undergoing the process of refocusing my gaze on Christ.

I am blessed, thankful and prayerful.

For those that fall into waters of anxiety and depression and just the yuckiness of life- seek out those in your world that can assist you in refocusing your gaze where it belongs. Once you have allowed this visual shift, the God of Peace will manage the rest, He’s pretty much all over it…and has been all along.  

Blessings,

Laura

Inspired by - the Professor

I started a series of thoughts about a year ago in which I mentally isolated certain individuals in my life that had left a profound impact. These were people that contributed to the defining moments that shaped me as an individual and they are also the people that I credit largely for getting me to the position in life in which I find myself today. In continuation of this thought process, I thought that I would turn attention towards a person who taught me more about life, happiness and spiritually than anyone I know…

The Professor:

I’ve known the Professor my entire life…I knew him back before he was officially the professor but even then he was always teaching me something.  One of my earliest memories of him was when I was sitting in the child’s seat of a supermarket basket, my stubby toddler fingers resting on his knobby knuckles that gripped the handle of the cart. That day I asked him a question that every child wants to know and one that every child needs to hear the answer.

Do you love me?

The response was prompt and reassuring.

Yep, love you to pieces.

Following this reply I broke out in giggles, with the image rolling through my brain of my little body being scattered in little pieces.  The Professor didn’t make it a joke (he was rather solemn back then you see), just smiled and continued to assure me that he spoke the truth about his love for me.  That was the day that I learned something about love.

Years went by and the Professor continued to teach me. He was the one that encouraged me to dream big dreams. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time but that conversation was carefully tucked away for a later time to appear. That was the day I learned something about setting high standards and foreseeing a purpose for my life. The Professor is also the one that confronted me with how stubborn I was and he insisted that if I could only make myself teachable and center my stubborn streak in the center of God’s will, then no power on earth will be able to move you. That was a day that I learned about inner strength that comes only from God.

He managed to use frankness and humor just when I needed to hear it the most; I credit the Professor for being the one to stress that laughter and joy was such an important part of living. He retains so much knowledge about life and about the Creator of life and he was always finding ways to correlate life lessons with a heavenly meaning.

As a child I feared and loved him at the same time. As an adolescent I know I frustrated and infuriated him. As an adult I continue to respect and honor him. It wasn’t until I was a young adult, and going through a difficult crisis of spirituality and identity, that I realized things the Professor was teaching me had a purpose…his teachings that were sinking in were having an impact in my life. In that crazy and stressful moment in time…

…I was inspired.  

Inspired by all the late night discussions, all the heated debates, and by all the quiet moments when we just sat and existed in the same place.

I know now that I don’t always have to agree with everything the Professor teaches me, the student after all makes sense of what they learn in their own way.  No matter what my opinion is of what he teaches, I have always managed to glean pieces of the Professor’s wisdom and apply it to my own life. 

Fortunately I still have contact very often with this source of inspiration. He drops in from time to time to entice me to either go fly fishing with him or to run wind sprints down a country road, or to just sit on the steps and chat. He’s not just the Professor, teacher, Biblical scholar and author that everyone else and myself knows him by…

…he also just so happens to be my father.

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The Professor with part of his entourage several years ago.

Inspired by - the Missionary

There are so many people, ideas and events throughout my life that have offered me profound inspiration. These inspiring circumstances came upon me in a wave of enlightenment and left me a changed individual. I thought that I would dedicate a few upcoming posts to some of the things that throughout my lifetime of defining moments, were more than a mere passing thought…they were impressed on me with sincere revelation.

So to begin I will start with an individual whom I came into contact with at a young and vulnerable age.

The Missionary:

For those that are or have been foreign missionaries at some point throughout your life, there was probably a time when you made your way to a local church in the states to process some of your many spiritual travels with some local people. It’s such a familiar scene- the card table set up at the front of the church with the printed, tribal linen cloth spread over as a makeshift table covering. The artifacts and souvenirs scattered around on the table like a bad craft show and the foyer littered with fuzzy photographs of the world traveler awkwardly smiling at the camera with lanky arms draped around the indigenous people. The screen is set up and the slides of pictures are ready to roll before the congregation so they can bear witness that the traveler was actually doing something with the money donated to them.

If the above description has ever been you, know that first of all, you’re not the first missionary to have ever gone through this process when visiting a church to reminisce about your adventures. The congregation probably already has a good idea of what you might have to speak about and show them.

Second of all…in being faithful to your divine calling and “going to the ends of the earth” it could surprise you that you just might impact the most unlikely of persons….even a child perhaps. This is where one of my first inspirations came from….The Missionary.

He and his wife had lived in Brazil for most of the years that I had been alive up to that time…I’m pretty sure I was about 12 years old when I first encountered them. He had come to serve in the church as an interim pastor first and later gave his missionary spiel to the congregation. I had never heard such a personal presentation from an individual that had actually lived there and formed relationships with the indigenous people that he witnessed to.

I remember distinctly sitting in the hardback pew, transfixed on every word that was spoken. In that hour-long presentation I was transported to a world very different than my own comfortable lifestyle…it was a world of rice and beans, of alley-way soccer among the school children and of political red tape in need of cutting whenever there was a discrepancy in foreign documentation.

This was the first time that I ever experienced a spiritual force other than the superficial self-talk that I was used to telling myself. For the first I heard an inner voice telling me that I was going to do something great with my life…something that would have an impact on my world. At the time I was picturing myself picking my way through crowded, unsanitary streets in Rio…nowhere near what I find myself doing today. At that moment in time, with my 12-year-old ears impressed beyond comprehension at the testimony I was hearing…

…I was inspired.

God used that moment and went on with that initial spark of inspiration to begin a work in me that has spiraled beyond all that I pictured myself one day doing. When at the time I originally believed my calling was foreign mission work, the Creator prodded me in directions that I never would have taken on my own. Knowing that a calling has been inspired is the first step…acting on the inspiration is the second.

In the years that passed since the missionary, before I began to act on inspiration, I have witnessed the carrying out of missions throughout every faucet of my life. Today while I may not be waking up in a grass hut on the banks of an African river, nor will I be strolling the outdoor market in Sao Paulo to form relationships with the farmers…instead I daily sit across from a hopeless parent and hopeful child in a therapeutic setting….listen….and offer my own version of hope. An occupation that seems so trivial and simple was at one time something that terrified me to the core. I have the missionary added to my list of people to thank…because of his testimony, a sense of boldness had been inspired in me that waited many years to surface.

The process of allowing Christ to cultivate this boldness has taken me to places that I never would have imagined.

So…take some time to think about those that have inspired you. My list is long, this is only the first one that I’ve written about….but they’ve all served to be one of the defining people that made me the flawed person I am today….and for that I am forever grateful and indebted to that inspirational person….The Missionary.

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Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,

to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Ephesians 3:20-21

can't we all just get along

[Disclaimer: to all the wonderful women, girls, mentors, sisters, gal-pals and besties that are invested in my life…don’t read too much into this post as it may not apply to you…if you find that it’s offensive…ask yourself why that is]

One of the greatest conundrums that I have ever mulled over throughout my twenty-five short years on this earth is the whole issue behind why the female gender seems to consistently be engaged in conflict with each other. Look around. You see it.

It’s the group of 5^th grade girls that collectively exclude the former friend just because they decided to one day. It’s the high school girl that is spoken about in a negative light because she makes friends with all her male classmates. And it’s even the woman in the workplace that is smiled at through tight lips and given a shallow compliment when just moments before she entered the room was being tattled on to the supervisor.

Really this has baffled me ever since I can remember. It’s seems innate in some ways, yet learned in others. Ultimately women have relationships with one another yet they always seem to be on thin ice…one false step and they’ll plummet.

I interned for a time for a Psychologist and former grad school professor that bluntly asked me one day, “why are you all so mean to each other?” (by “you” he meant girls in general I promise). I replied with a profound, “hmmmm,” then set about trying to make sense of the matter. So far here’s what I found through contemplating, researching, questioning, praying and seeking advice from several wise people I’m fortunate to interact with.

Cat fights, drama and survival of the fittest aside, all conflict between the female gender seems to boil down to one key issue that we all possess BUT not all utilize (this is important to know so we're not all lumped in the same category with each other).

Continual defense mechanism: there’s no way to explain it other than to out my sex and state the fact that for women, we always have a wall up. It’s a defense and at times proves to be necessary. There’s always something that we’re trying to keep from others…how we’re feeling, what we’re thinking, how much we're going to choose to share about ourselves and so on.

Now, try to keep up with this scenario because it gets complex, but then aren’t women known for being complex?

Watch an interaction between two girls when they meet. You’ll find that they tend to greet each other, size each other up and down and use that first impression determine whether the other is friend or foe. Some determining measures include physical appearance, personality and acquaintances that each girl associates themselves with to name a few.

Depending on the level of defense radiating from girl #1, girl #2 needs to determine if it’s a low enough defense that the two can be friends. If not, they usually won’t interact after the first greeting except on a surface/superficial level. If the defense is low in girl #1, then girl #2 will determine that the two can possibly be friends given the defense doesn’t raise on girl #1. Some tend to have high defenses yet maintain high-stakes interactions…sometimes this works but back-stabbing is always a threat should one do anything to tick the other off.

Confused? Good, it gets worse.

There are exceptions to this competitive standard that women seem to have with one another:

1. Physical attractiveness and age: if one is perceived to be less attractive than the other, the more attractive might decide that a competition is out of the question since there’s been an unspoken one-up (to put it bluntly). The same goes with one being older (or younger) than the other.

2. Family members: I'm purposefully avoiding the mother-daughter, sister-sister relationship scenario, therefore this exception is not addressed in my theory.

3. Lack of defensive nature: let’s face it, there are some women that are gracious to the point that their defense is not perceivable if it even exists. These are the ones that I prefer to surround myself with. Grace and a non-judgmental attitude win out in the end and is the most admirable quality that I find in any human being, let alone woman.

4. Grace of God: the defensive nature can also be used in conjunction with those that can’t see past themselves. Striving toward a more selfless personification will serve to make you a much more attractive friend, girlfriend, sister etc. This I’m determined can only be achieved by the grace and love that God gives us towards others. (1 John 4:7-8).

I once heard someone say that you can see a girl’s true character by the way she speaks about other girls. The truthfulness tied to this is so important to tuck away and ponder…how do your gal pals speak about others? In life it’s so important to be able to rely on one another and this can’t be done if we’re constantly defensive and trying to one up each other. Girls need to have the support of other females…this world is brutal enough without us turning on each other in jealousy and superficial pettiness.

SO, I hope this conveys the meaning that I’m attempting to get across. Keep in mind that it’s a just a portion of a much larger theory of mine that I’ve been populating for a long time and you can always choose to disagree if you wish.

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“A kindhearted woman gains honor…” Proverbs 11:16a

Unwritten

In the last post I made on here, I wrote about the road that we travel throughout the entirety of our lives. For some it’s a triumphant journey. For others, a haunted memory.

In addition to these musings that I’ve had of late, my mind has often been going back over the traveled road and saw the past for what it was...past, behind me, spent. All too often I’m reminded of the manner in which our past shapes the person that we become.

For some of us, our past is something that we’d like to forget…for others it may be something that we regret not doing more with. Still for some, the past is a bitter reminder of all the wrong or difficult turns made that could have been corrected if only we’d had the foresight to see the rough road up ahead.

There’s another aspect that’s important to consider when contemplating the precedent life that we were once a part of, and that is the fact that some of our past takes place regardless of the choices that we make. Life has a way of thrusting circumstances on us that are out of our control and for some, these circumstances can leave us devastated…yet others can walk away with a newfound sense of resolve in our step.

When I got hung up on the previous choices that were outlined in my past, I kept coming back to foolish circumstances that were of my own making. There was the relationship I had a with a friend that went terribly wrong…wrong to the point that we both walked away from the friendship creating irreparable damage in the process. Then there was a pivotal and devastating choice that I made in my late adolescence that haunted me for years. It seemed no matter where I turned, I couldn’t escape the acidic erosion my thoughts and self-blame were doing to my soul.

My guilt was like I was carrying around an oversized backpack in which I placed a new rock everyday. The bag kept getting heavier and heavier with each new rock, yet I still struggled day after day on my own, thoroughly convinced that I was the only person that knew how to handle a burden like this one. No matter how hard I tried to forget it was there, the weight was a constant reminder. It didn’t matter that I had many wonderful moments and joyful occasions throughout my life, I kept fixating on the few things done where I had messed up.

So let me then ask, why is it so hard to forget the wrong we’ve done, while all the good is so easily a fleeing thought? My childhood was a happy one and I came from a great family, yet there was draw to being held captive by guilt that made me discount all the positive.

After pondering this for several years I’ve reached somewhat of an intelligible conclusion. That being it is so hard for people to be forgiving…of others and especially of themselves. When I think about the work that God has done in my life, I’m constantly humbled and struck with awe at the old past burdens we cling to which He never faltered from forgiving. Even more important, I realized after several years of carrying my bag of guilt around, that I was inadequate to serve the God of forgiveness when I had failed miserably at forgiving myself.

After I received this revelation, I began to make daily attempts to forgive those that had wronged me…and to forgive myself.

Little by little, the rocks began dropping out of my guiltpack one by one…until finally one day I noticed the metaphorical spring in my step that happens when we finally relinquish to the Almighty and let Him take over our lives. After all, He's never let our wrongdoings get in the way of His love for us (in fact He doesn't even remember them once confessed), so why should we let ourselves get hung up on the guilt we've created?

A graduate professor of mine once explained that our lives are like a notebook full of paper. The first half of the pages have writing all through it while the second half is blank. The first half of the book is our written past and there’s nothing that we can do to change it. The second half however is the future that we face…and this is something that we most definitely can change so we might as well quit whining about the writing that’s been done so we can focus on what’s left to write.

Life still has its struggles but that’s just to be expected now. Now there are minimal rocks for me to carry around and when I find that I happen to have a few in my proverbial pockets, I chuck those babies out as soon as I can!

I strive to remind others to never be paralyzed by the written pages of our past…instead consider what amazing accomplishments can be achieved with your blank pages and let the Healer guide you.

The Road Less Traveled

Throughout our lives there are many circumstances that befall us that help to shape the individuals that we are continually becoming. (I use becoming since life is technically never fixated as we are constantly in a state of change). If I were to draw a diagram of a my life on an artist’s storyboard, I tend to doubt that it would look linear in anyway. The timeline would definitely be full of turns, curves and bends that all took me in a different direction than the one on which I started (began life).

Recently I’ve been reflecting on those turns and bends on my life’s highway, wondering what I would look like, feel like, or even act like if my timeline had remained relatively linear. When I step back from myself and objectively review my past traveled roads, I see that all the directional changes are individually unique based on the circumstances of that particular era.

Not all the turns are smooth.

While there are portions of the road that slope gradually around large bends on the highway (edged with beautiful scenery reminiscent of my childhood)…there are still other turns that look quite different.

These are the ones that branch off from the well-beaten path. Veer off from every fork in the road that is reached and these turns always bring change (usually unwelcomed). The dark stretches of treacherous pavement are a bitter reminder of some of the paths that I’ve chosen. I’m not proud to admit that I’ve been a traveler on such journeys, but as I reflect back on those circumstances that got me there, it’s plain to see that the excursion was a necessary one for my character.

We choose many of the paths that we’re one…and then we’re placed upon others. The ones that are chosen may not always be the right decision, but the King of the highway makes sure that the journey is utilized for a particular purpose. In my thinking, the purpose of these difficult journeys is for Him to reveal Himself…and to make me a more seasoned and diligent traveler.

A few years ago, I went down a dark road. It abounded with sharp and treacherous twists and turns and for much of the journey I was convinced I was all alone.

Looking back on it now, I realize the intense distortion that one develops in the midst of a depression in life. We truly believe that there is no way off the path we’re on…and worse still, we believe we’re the only travelers that have ever existed in such perilous circumstances.

However, God strategically places certain people in our paths that are almost impossible to ignore. These are the ones that get us to thinking about our present state and open our eyes to the possibility that there is a purpose for the trials of life. If we don’t acknowledge these well-placed former-travelers, we may go back to sadly believing we’ve been left alone on this road of peril.

For me, it took several reminders to be made aware that I was in the company of others. Peaceful and reassuring remarks from the mouths of the wise finally found a resting place on my heart and it was in those moments that I truly saw the dark pathway for what it really was…a journey for something greater than myself.

Essentially I saw the darkness as a stepping stone that led me back onto the road that radiated with sunlight and calming, overshadowing trees. This is where I found a newfound sense of gratitude and thankfulness for the darkness. I’m frequently reminded that these beautiful trails are not long lasting…the dark paths creep up all too often…however I’m thankful for the peace that washes over me following the trial no matter how short-lived it may be.

It may have taken many bitter tears, tormented days and sleepless nights to understand His purpose…but once revealed, I couldn’t have imagined getting to the light in any other possible way.

I’m reminded of these trials in Laura Story’s heartfelt song “Blessings” (see below); this song could only have been borne from personal experience with which we can so quickly relate.

Learning to Leap

There are times when I liken my faith to that of a young child, standing on the diving board of the deep end of the swimming pool, intensely contemplating whether or not they should jump off into the deep. In this scenario, there is a parent treading steadily in the deep water beckoning, coaxing and reassuring the small child that they will catch them when they jump. The child has no reason to doubt the encouragement of the parent-because after all, they’d never let their own baby sink to the murky bottom- and yet the child hesitates…contemplates…waits.

How is this like my faith?

Of course in this metaphorical narrative, I picture myself as the fearful youngster, not sure if I should trust the calm and reassuring words of the one already in the water. You might have guessed that the one waiting in the deep is my heavenly Father. He’s given me promise after promise that He knows what’s best for me…I’ve been instructed in His unconditional love and faithfulness to me since infancy…and time and time again, I find myself in this same predicament.

I so often stand on the edge not sure if I should take the leap into the deep. He tells me over and over that He’s there and will take care of me…He’ll catch me He says. I really have no reason to doubt His word… I’ve heard over and over again about how He’s caught all the others who’ve jumped before me…

…yet I hesitate…

This is where life gets frustrating. The inner conflict that I go through is one of two entities in my being fighting amongst each other. The one screams to just jump and see what happens…trust. The other reasons that you really don’t know if you’ll be caught or not so you better just sit tight…doubt.

I’ve found myself on the edge too many times to count and all too often…sadly… I turn and walk off the diving board, leaving the faithful Father expectantly treading in the water. I’m dejected knowing that I most likely just missed out on something wonderful.

How do I know?

From the others that already jumped.

They have incredibly thrilling testimonies to tell of what happened to them after their leap…I know that I’ve missed out…many times.

But the day finally came when I cried out to the Father in the deep, asking for His help and direction…His response was what I dreaded to hear.

You have to jump out here.

So at long last…after too many years had gone by…I took a deep breath…stood shakily on the edge…closed my eyes…and jumped.

You might not be too surprised to find out that I was caught after all. Not only that but the process of jumping was exhilarating! I’m filled with shame and regret in my realization of what a petrified fool that I’ve been all this time. Not only that, but there’s a sense of annoyed silliness when I see what I’ve been afraid of all this time. Not the deep water…but my own self doubt.

Take this scenario… I’m sure we’ve all been there …and think to the time in your life when you stood on the edge, contemplating what seemed like an ominous and overwhelming leap of faith across a vast chasm into the arms of the Father.

How long did you teeter before leaping?

Or did you simply plunge right in, always assuming (having faith) the Father would catch you?

I’m beginning to see how we approach this situation all throughout our lives. Time and time again, there will be a chasm to jump across, deep waters to jump into, or that cliff to leap off. Every time the Father will be there… arms already wide open even before our decisive feet leave the surface of the edge. Will you be surprised when you’re caught up in His arms?

Hopefully, we’ll always be able to say, “I knew You had me.”

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Praise the LORD, all you nations;
extol him, all you peoples.
For great is his love toward us,
and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever. Praise the LORD.

Psalm 117

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