Brave, Anyway

Author: bravegirlwannabe

  • Purposefully Seeking Purpose

    Purposefully Seeking Purpose

    My word for this year is purpose.

    I’m not attached to it, and unlike other years I’ve not spent a lot of time thinking about it. It doesn’t feel right and I just don’t love it. In fact, whenever I hear or encounter it I move to focus on something else. Maybe I simply haven’t been ready for it.

    Much of the last year has felt like a trip through the car wash, gear in neutral, with all sorts of things happening around me. But now I’m driving out, rolling down windows, tentatively driving into warm sunshine after a pressure wash.

    I can focus on things that used to be painful, and I am no longer afraid to let my mind wander. So I found myself annoyed this week when I couldn’t get a song that I haven’t heard anytime recently out of my head: The Byrds singing Turn Turn Turn is just awful.

    To everything, turn turn turn, there is a season, turn turn turn…turn it off! And for the first time I realized that to everything there is a season is a biblical thing and I went searching for it. And to my surprise, the word purpose is also there.

    KJV Ecclesiastes 3 says “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.”

    We have a purpose. Each of us. Figuring out our purpose can be a daunting thing, and I think a lot of us never do it. What’s equally important I’m starting to think, and perhaps not always as big to tackle, is looking for and seeing the purpose of events and seasons in our lives. What is our purpose in them? What is their purpose in us?

    Proud VCU Momma!

    There are visuals all around me marking the passing of seasons, and the passing of purposes. The bracelet around my gear shift tells the story of a college Mom now, after so many years highlighting childhood cancer awareness. The walls in the room over the garage tell the story of a toddler playroom then paint projects then pajama parties then PlayStation competitions – the seasons of childhood and the seasons of motherhood.

    But now a new season is approaching, and with it a new purpose. Maybe it’s been there all along, and I’m just now approaching it. Or maybe it’s been pursuing me and I’ve been running from it.

    My first lesson in purpose in this season is that I have to purposefully seek purpose. (And I’ve already lost the first quarter – yikes!) My second lesson is that it sometimes takes a new season to reveal the purpose of events or people or things in your past ones. For things to come together. To fulfill the promise in Romans 8 that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

    One Dad’s Bible at another Dad’s desk.

    Thankful for nudges, crappy songs, old bibles with new lessons, old desks made new and glorious, and old me made new.

  • February 16

    February 16

    A year.

    It’s been a year since my Dad died.

    It’s been a year since my Dad passed away.

    It’s been a year since my Dad went to heaven.

    Just typing the words makes me feel like I can’t take a deep breath. Like a brick is laying on my chest.

    I hate that I didn’t talk to my Dad the day he died. I love that the last time we did talk he was focused on how he might get someone stubborn to believe in God and go to heaven.

    He was a prayer warrior, a prankster, and a protector. He was tenderhearted and yet he was steel.

    Sometimes I look at the girls and think he’d be so proud of them and how they’ve handled this year. And then I think he sees them and he knows.

    Valentine flowers

    I picture his smile when I see yellow flowers or smell honeysuckle.

    I picture him holding his hands up in prayer every time we left the house as I watch Audrey walk to the bus stop each morning.

    I picture his hand placed lightly on my back, encouraging me, each time I have something new or hard to do.

    Perhaps because I was searching for them, this year was filled with signs he’s still close. Eagles hovering near the house. People named Paul. Finding long forgotten books.

    I love opening up his old bibles and books and seeing his handwriting, his highlights, and his notes. I had a full circle moment last week that I know would have brought him such joy. It came via a text from Ella. She took one of my old bibles to school with her, and on a night when she was struggling she opened it to see a 25-year-old affirmation of mine: The healing power of God is working in me right now.

    Thankful for his example.

    Thankful for almost 50 years with him.

    Thankful his prayers are still at work today.

    Thankful his example is still at work today.

    Thankful.

  • Freedom With No Answers

    Freedom With No Answers

    Today is my Dad’s birthday, and in just two weeks the year of freedom will draw to a close.

    I’ve spent months trying to figure out why this was the year of freedom, taking notes when freedom thoughts hit me and assuming that by year’s end it would all come together and I would understand. And yet, still I do not understand.

    In fact, I’m just confused. And the coconut cream from one of his favorite boxes of chocolates offered me no clarity. The mailman also did not deliver.

    Every year until this one, I’ve been able to reflect on my word for the year and clearly see the areas of impact and why God planted that specific word in my heart. I didn’t have an epiphany this year, perhaps because this year has been pretty taxing or perhaps because I’m just not smart enough to see the overall message. Maybe both. Or maybe my notes were just bad.

    * The freedom that comes with procrastination is not nearly as precious as the freedom that comes with proper preparation and timing – the latter freedom comes with no anxiety.

    * Ella could not wait to be the age of 18. The age of freedom! It’s so funny how not free and still reliant we are on real adults at that age. Ella’s graduation into legal adulthood did bring about a new freedom for me that I unexpectedly really enjoy – stepping back, guiding only when asked, seeing what she can do and seeing what God is doing through her.

    * There is freedom in death, for those who died and for those still here. Freedom from the aging bodies and sickness we have in this world. Freedom from the expectations of others. Even when we miss people terribly, it’s okay to acknowledge that some things may be simpler when they are gone. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love them wholeheartedly; it means you’re able to be honest with yourself.

    * We all have the freedom to put things in God’s hands. When I do this, it’s almost always as a last resort when I’m exhausted. I need to start doing this much sooner so I can feel peace and freedom faster.

    * Paul wrote in Galatians that we must hold on to our freedom. The context is different but the message applies in all sorts of areas: it is our job to not let go of the freedom we have. Falling back into behaviors or thought patterns that aren’t good for us requires action on our part, not just a hope and a prayer.

    * When I was a youngster studying history, it seemed like freedom of speech was to ensure truth could always be spoken. The further I get into adulthood the more it seems to allow communications of anger and hatred to flourish.

    * The path to freedom is primarily paved with forgiveness. Of others and of ourselves.

    * Sometimes I put on my face creams in the wrong order. This does not mean I have too many creams or I am ridiculously old. It means I am tired. Or perhaps I am exercising my freedom to mix them all up to make a paste to see if they’ll work better as a group.

    * One person’s struggling partner is another’s ticket to financial freedom.

    * We can spend so much of our lives hoping to one day be free from things. Fear. Jobs that don’t fulfill us or that drain us. Old heart wounds. Sometimes when we’re struggling – many times, I think – it’s our job to free ourselves and we just don’t do it. And the thing that keeps us from freeing ourselves is laziness. It’s easier to complain, blame others or wait for magic than it is to take action, ruffle feathers, or make changes ourselves. The freedom in change is so worth the pain of the pruning.

    Yesterday on my way to pick up Ella for her Christmas break, I thought about how my Dad used to make the long drives to get me at Emory. Halfway to Richmond with my whole music library on shuffle, Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus) by Chris Rice came up. Although the song was already a few years old by then, I first heard it not long after my Papa died. I have never made it though the whole song without crying and this year I’ve hit next within a second every time it comes up. But yesterday, for the first time in a very long time, I listened. I sang all the way through and I did not cry.

    I did imagine my Dad laughing as I sang the last part. Perhaps the path to freedom is in keeping perspective: I may not have answers today, but I’ll one day laugh on Glory’s side. And with my Dad again.

    Sometimes the way is lonely

    And steel and filled with pain

    So if your sky is dark and pours the rain, then

    Cry to Jesus

    Cry to Jesus

    Cry to Jesus and live!

    O, and when the love spills over

    And music fills the night

    And when you can’t contain your joy inside, then

    Dance for Jesus

    Dance for Jesus

    Dance for Jesus and live!

    And with your final heartbeat

    Kiss the world goodbye

    Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory’s side, and

    Fly to Jesus

    Fly to Jesus

    Fly to Jesus and live!

  • Words

    Words

    There are no words.

    I’ve sat down to write so many times in the last three months, but each time I get up and walk away because I simply have no words.

    It’s not disappointing. It’s not frustrating. It simply is.

    Each time I wonder what it says that I don’t even care that the words are all gone. And each time I smile as I’m reminded of a trip to the Hallmark store a few years ago. I needed a condolence card and the first one I picked up said only “There are no words.” I can have no words all on my own and for free – the whole point of Hallmark is they are supposed to have the words.

    I do still have words for Words With Friends. Name and profile picture removed to protect the one with the high streak of two.

    Things that I have always been passionate about do not matter right now. What’s happening in Israel and Gaza, elections, legislation, court decisions, health care. My current world is small, focused just on family as we navigate loss and change. My current job is big, getting us all through this season of loss and change.

    I am task after task after task. Trying to predict and prepare for what others will need, trying to appropriately respond as very different people grieve very differently, and often afraid to really think about what I think about it all because I cannot risk a dam breach right now.

    Sometimes I don’t even have words when I pray. So I simply sit and remind myself that in Romans, God says that when we don’t know what to pray the Spirit knows and He takes care of it. And then I hope that my cavalier attitude about not having words is not frustrating to God.

    The path forward is pretty clear most days. And I even wonder how that is, and if that’s okay, and what that really means or says about me. Am I able to move forward and get stuff done because I care(d) less than others? Am I just more experienced at compartmentalizing? Am I a biblical Martha who just always focuses too much on the tasks? Is a massive dam breach coming? Is it today? There is no end to what I can overthink.

    And yet, I know that everything is and will be okay. I was reminded of it this weekend when one of my favorite worship songs came up in the shuffle. Tauren Wells singing Echo always gives me a boost, but the words hit different (Taylor Swift!) this time. Your love is holding on and it won’t let go.

    When I don’t have words or peace or answers or prayers, I sometimes wonder if God is far away or busy or that I’ve done something really wrong or that I don’t have enough faith. None of those things is true. I may not be doing a good job of holding on to Him, but He’s still doing His part of holding on to me.

    Our household love language is constantly trading memes and reels.
  • Freedom Documentation

    Freedom Documentation

    One of my greatest treasures is dozens of little pieces of paper from my Dad. Cartoons he cut out from the newspaper. Thoughts he wrote down and stuck in my purse or laptop bag. Notes from sermons that he wanted to focus on and that he tucked into the bibles he eventually gave us. Little messages from him that I saved over the years and recently went back through as I mentally prepared for Father’s Day.

    A three-time Vietnam Vet’s commentary on my date’s attire: “Last time I saw someone wearing something like this I bushwhacked him in the jungle.”

    Some were funnies or just hearts expressing love and some were reminders that I could always, always come home. But most are lessons – lessons that are fundamental and yet have different meanings at each life stage and event. Lessons that grow with you, as you grow. I’ve started thinking about them as his constitution. The Constitution of Dad.

    Pray every day. Eeeeeeeevery day, he’d say, making sure I knew that the frequency is important. Pray Psalms 91. Pray the prayers in Ephesians. If you don’t know what to pray, just say the name of Jesus over and over. Praying allows God to work. And praying doesn’t change God’s mind, it changes ours.

    The longer you wait before making a u-turn, the more costly it is in every way. Sometimes we get on the wrong path. We’re certain it’s right until we know it’s not. It happens to literally everyone. And most importantly, it’s not a disaster. Even if it costs you money or you lose a little time to go back or hop over onto another path, this is money and time well spent.

    Let everyone be wrong. About you, about situations, about anything. Your peace is what’s most important and it’s your job to hold on to it. Good humans will admit when they are wrong and reach out to you. You need to admit when you’re wrong and reach out to people.

    Be honest, with everyone but most importantly with yourself. See things as they are and not as you want them to be or as you wish others would see them. If you cheat on that test, you did not earn an A or finish first – you behaved in a way to gain something. If you do something halfway, you deserve the C. Cheating and short-cutting will always hurt you more than anyone else.

    What you refuse to surrender, you will eventually surrender to. Anger. Addiction. Unforgiveness. Fear. Insecurity. Expecting anything other than what God has promised.

    You gotta clean out your mind regularly. Think about what you are thinking about. Just like you tell your hand what to do, you tell your brain what to do. You choose what thoughts to keep and what thoughts to toss. About yourself and about others. If you allow your mind to focus on negative thoughts, you will feel and speak that way. And if you fill your mind with thoughts only about yourself, you won’t be of any use to anyone for anything – especially God.

    Do not limit God. With your words, your deeds or your thoughts. And our words have power, so always be mindful of what words come out of your mouth.

    Looking at his notes that most spoke to me, all spread out on my living room floor, I realized the common theme is they are paths to or instructions for living freely. There’s even a note on the inside cover of one of his bibles that says Get On With Life.

    Like Thomas Jefferson’s reference to our country’s living and breathing document to help guide a nation to “establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity,” the Constitution of Dad is my guide to living in freedom.

    My Dad and baby Ella. A girl Dad and a girl Papa.