Dream-Launch

 Today, I witnessed the launch of a dream. 

My pastor and my friend, my prayer warrior and fellow mama in the trenches, now published author, Dawn Lipsey launched her book. I had the privilege of reading it during the final editing stages, and it is absolutely a Word from the Lord. There are certain motifs in this book that have lived in my head since I read it in November. It is no doubt going to minister to people where they are, and move them to walk forward through and into what the Lord has for them.

Watching the culmination of this God-dream of hers got me thinking about my own dreams. 

Dreams realized, dreams deferred, dreams still germinating, dreams I am in the middle of living...

And with that, I also started to think about the periods of time when dreams are dead. When the soil of our hearts is dry and cracked, when there isn't a cherished seed that we take out from time to time to nurture, treasure, and then tuck back into fertile soil. 

I know people in the midst of each of these stages and phases of dream-growth right now. 

As I watched Dawn, teary-eyed and smiling, greet the long line of people who came by after church to congratulate her and purchase books and shirts and bags and caps, I thought of all of the hours she spent laboring over this work. I thought about the discouragement she mentioned in her sermon, the starts and stops, and the fear of failure. I thought about the call of the Lord on her to write and the ways she said she tried to adjust the call to fit what she knew to be her giftings, rather than push forward into the uncomfortable unknown outside of her comfort zone. 

And I vowed to remember what the launch looks like when I'm in the other periods of my own dream-growth. To keep the end in my heart, even when my head is bogged down in the muck of the process.

Thank you, Dawn, for leading us well in so many ways, but mostly for living what you preach.

More. And Enough.

On the last day of the year, I spent some time looking back and looking forward. In the past few years, as I think is the norm for progressing through your 40’s, I’ve either gotten to know myself better than I ever have or I have realized that I am different from who I once was. Either way, there has been an increased self-awareness, self-realization, and self-actualization that has taken place inside of me. 

So this year, in looking forward, I want two things that seem contradictory. I want more. And I want what I have to be enough.

I want More. More of what makes me feel like…. well…. ME.

More intentional time with the people I love. 

More books.

More making my house look like I want it to look instead of what home design people say it should look.

More trips.

More nature.

More gently guiding the kids in my classroom to fall in love with the words on a page.

More speaking up when someone needs to.

More staying quiet when my contribution can’t change anything.

More hikes.

More beautiful places, not just away but also right here at home.

More chasing the dreams I want to have shape my later years.

More thrilling rides with my kids through their decisive young adult years.

More lists.

More plans.

More running out with Kraig when what I really want is to stay at home.

More gray hair. 

More pictures.

More healthy work.

More attention to my mental health.

More saying no when it really isn’t something that makes me or someone else better.

More saying no when it might be something that makes me or someone else better but it isn’t the right time.

More saying no sometimes when I really just don’t want to.

More snow days.

More sunshine.

More shivelight.

More time with the friends who make me laugh and happy to be in this life.

More of Him. More time with Him. More about Him.

But at the same time, I want to come to know and rest in Enough.

I want to be content with exactly what I have.

I don’t want to hear people talking about this material thing or that material thing, even if it’s a material thing I have always, always, always wanted, and feel a sense of lack.

I don’t want to question the skills or abilities or giftings that I know I have, that I have proven over and over, because of someone else’s {uninformed} opinion or view. 

I don’t want to buy into the lie that if I was just a little more submissive, a little more fit, a little more social, a little more domestic, a little more whatever, that I would be better off.

I want to know, with the confidence that a 44 year old woman of God/wife and daughter and sister and friend/mother of 5/veteran teacher/side hustler has, that I am enough. I have enough to give and I have enough inside and I have enough around me and I have done enough and He makes me enough.

So I want More, but I also want to live in Enough.

 

Trying Not to Fall

On our last family hike, on New Year’s Eve, we went to New River Gorge National Park and hiked the Endless Wall Trail. It’s a very easy, almost all flat, hike. Most of the walking is on a path with very few obstacles (although the day we went, it was very muddy). There are a few areas of scrambling across tree roots and rocks, but not many. There is one footbridge to cross. 

As is the norm for our family hikes, no matter HOW hard or HOW easy, all 5 kids (even the one who hates hiking) were out of sight. We just yell ahead occasionally to check that they’re still ok (although woe be the person who would attempt to abduct the five of them) or to have them wait at the next trail sign. Kraig was, as is his norm, hanging back with me but out a little ahead. And I was, as is MY norm, plodding along. Sometimes it’s because I cannot breathe, sometimes it’s because I need to go to the bathroom, sometimes it’s because I just walk more slowly, sometimes it’s because I’m stopping to take pics, sometimes it’s because I’m looking around, all the time it’s because I’m trying not to fall.

I am, by my nature and since I was tiny, prone to falling. I have no idea why. I used to think it was because I didn’t get glasses till 4th grade and I am very close to legally blind. Then I thought it was because I wasn’t paying attention to my feet. Then I thought maybe it’s just the weak ankles that tall people have (giraffes have the same problem). Now I just don’t know but it has become a bit of an obsession/phobia of mine, trying not to fall. 

Kraig knows my propensity for falling and has, especially since a particularly unfortunate fall in a canyon in Utah where I then had to hike two more miles (apparently running on adrenaline since my knee didn’t seize up until we got to the car and then he had to help me move for a full day), always scouted out the more likely fall places and hangs back to help me across them. (When we finished that aforementioned hike in Utah, he said, “Hm. The place you fell wasn’t at all where I expected you to fall. I was sure it would be on the slippery rocks in one of the creek crossings.” 😂)

Sometimes he just steadies me, sometimes he is just there if I need him, sometimes it’s just a hand, and sometimes it’s a full dependence. 

On the New Year’s Eve hike, there was a small section of the path that was downhill (my nemesis), across exposed roots and rocks, in mud, and slick leaves. This had all the makings of a spectacular fall. Kraig waited on me, in front of me, I put both hands on his shoulders and I looked only at the ground. I looked at each place he stepped and I stepped in those exact places. I didn’t look around me, I didn’t look behind me, and not one time did I look at what was coming up. I stared at the ground, at each place my foot would fall as it stepped, and I held onto his shoulders. As we moved in unison, his right foot then mine, his left foot then mine, I got the most clear understanding of how the Lord has to lead us at times. I actually asked Kraig to pause so that I could take these pictures to illustrate this point. 

On this path of life, our Father takes a lot of different positions. He is ALWAYS there, but sometimes He is walking beside us, sometimes we need His steadying hand, sometimes He just calls out a warning. But SOMETIMES… sometimes not only do we need His complete assistance for each step, sometimes the only way through is to watch His feet and hang on to his strong shoulders. Those shoulders that bore that cross… they are surely strong enough to hold you. 

There are times in life that the going is so hard that we can only handle the very next step. We can’t contemplate the past, we can’t be distracted by what’s around, and we surely can’t look ahead to an uncertain future. We can only think about the very next step. In those parts of our journey, it’s important to do the only thing that can be done that will guarantee an arrival without a fall… hold onto Him and step exactly where He leads. I’ve always loved the verse in Isaiah (Isaiah 30:21) that says, “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’”

But this isn’t that. This is when a voice from behind isn’t enough, we need to lean on Him and we are only strong enough for one step at a time. This isn’t a voice in our ear, but this is the action ahead of the words. This is the way, this footfall right here, walk in it. And He will be there. Just like Kraig is during these parts of our hikes, He will be there as your guide and for you to lean on. He wants to be all that we need, and it’s in these times that we can taste and see that He is as we valiantly, or even pitifully, try. We will see that He won’t let us fall.

2022: Shivelight.

 Shivelight. 

While I love to hike and that often takes place in the woods, my number preference is always to be in the wide open expanse under a brilliant blue sky with a giant ball of sun shining above me. I don’t mind a few wispy clouds, but I want that full sun hitting me. Extra points if I’m on or beside a body of water. 

My southeast Tennessee home is set in a valley, the Tennessee Valley. We live close to forests and mountains. Most hiking done around here is done through the woods and mountains. The hiking I’ve done in the western parks was often done in forests and mountains as well, or through orange hoodoos or towering red cliffs, through slot canyons. I can’t think of a single hike I’ve done through a wide open field without vegetation, other than a part of the Carver’s Gap hike on Round Bald and Wilburn Ridge in Grayson Highlands.

Since my taste for hiking has begun, I’ve spent a lot of time walking through forests, craning my neck for a peek at my best friend, the sun. I’ve come to fall in love with the rays of light that cut through the canopy, reminding me that my favorite thing is still in the sky, just waiting for me to emerge from the woods. 

As I pondered a word for 2022, I was looking at some nature blogs and came across a word that was coined by the British poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, “shivelight”. The word refers to the rays of light that lance through the trees. 

The second half of 2021 was one that found me, more often then not, sitting in the darkness rather than looking for the light. So as soon as I saw this word, thinking of what hopes I have for myself in 2022, I felt drawn to it. I had a short list of about 6 that I had prayed over and never could feel good about any of them, but as soon as I saw this one, I knew. 

I want my 2022 to be one of shivelight. I would prefer it to be a year I mentioned at the beginning of this writing, one of brilliant blue skies and a glowing ball of sunlight, but I’m realistic enough to know that just because a calendar turns the page into a new year, circumstances don’t immediately change. So I know the obstacles will still be there, between me and the sun. 

But I want to become a person whose first inclination is to look for the light. I want this to be a year of finding the light.

Broken and Mended

 I want to write about my 2022 word, and I really don’t necessarily want to write about this, but God said, “Do it” so I am. 

I collect Willow Tree figurines. This went well in a house of few people, no dogs, and when I did the house cleaning. But when we added more people (one of whom seemed to knock them off the shelf like it was his JOB when he cleaned) and a dog with a wagging tail, these guys didn’t fare well.

I’ve moved them around a couple of times (and the most reckless house cleaner has his own house to clean now) to safer locations and the breakage seems to have stopped. When I cleaned up Christmas last night, I decided to repair the broken ones and put them back out in the hopes that they last in one piece this time.

I fired up my hot glue gun and got the broken pieces out, at which point I realized all of the broken parts came from one figurine… the mother and child one. The child’s head was broken off, his arm was broken off, and the mother’s head was off. I started by glueing those pieces back. Then I noticed the spots where the two were meant to be melded together also needed fresh glue— the two spots where they connected.

As I dabbed the glue, God brought to my mind several parents and sons and daughters I know in my own personal life who are broken. They are broken apart, and therefore are broken individually in pieces. Or maybe they were first broken individually and then became broken apart. Either way, as I held those pieces together and waited for the glue to solidify, He had me praying for those parent-child relationships. He had my praying for my own relationships with my children. 

Once I finished, I looked at the figurine and noticed a couple of things. The cracks, they still show. The glue created gaps in the structure. Some parts didn’t line up perfectly. The hot glue strings needed to be cleaned off. And I felt God reminding me that no relationship is perfect. Even when we find a way to mend, to heal, there are often still visible scars. Not all personalities are completely compatible, but love is what can still hold us together. I distinctly felt like He wanted me to write about that, but I was busy in the house and I moved on.

This morning, as I walked by that shelf with the Willow Tree figurines, He told me again. Write it. So I stopped, took a picture of the mother and child that were put back together but still bore the markings of being broken so that I could use it with the blog post, and then I kept working. Just now, as I sat down in my comfy gray chair to rest before I packed one more Christmas bin, He told me again. Write it.

So here it is. And as I have written, He’s given me one more point to make. 

When I first started working on them last night, I had five parts. I had to fix each individual piece, the child’s arm and head and then the mom’s head, before I could work on the whole. I couldn’t have reconnected the child and the mom without first fixing each of them. Sometimes we jump ahead and work to mend relationships without first working on ourselves. The root causes of the breaking are almost never one-sided. And until we can reach deep within and see where the mending needs to be done inside of us, we can’t fix the whole.

So to anyone reading this who is walking through a broken parent-child relationship, know that He sees you. He sees you and He is interceding on your behalf at the throne of HIS Father. He will mend the broken places, He will reconnect what is separated, and He will heal your heart. But first, He will be there while you examine your heart to see where the work can begin.

Yet.

My feelin’ 22 post is coming on the 2nd day of 2022, which is fine. 

The last day of 2021 summed up that year perfectly. We got an early start on a hike to a beautiful overlook in New River Gorge National Park. I was excited to see the river view and the bridge from Diamond Point on the Endless Wall Trail. We reached the first overlook to see only fog. I chuckled to myself, thinking that about sums it up. We got to Diamond Point and there were just thick white clouds of fog hovering just below us. No bridge. No river. No view. Again, about right.

This year felt like that to me. 

Yet. 

As we were exploring the point, one of my kids cried, “I see the river!” Sure enough, a tiny window in the fog had formed and we could see a glimpse of the river. 

A few minutes later, another kid cried, “There’s more of the river!” Now a whole section of fog had lifted. As we watched, the view into the gorge below slowly came into view. And it was gorgeous. 

But you know what made it even more gorgeous? The swaths of fog still hanging on. The sunlight hit those patches and reflected beautifully, they dressed the mountains in layers of white tulle. We appreciated the view so much more because it seemed at first that we wouldn’t be able to see it. 

My 2021 word was “Yet”. I pray every year for the Lord to give me a word. Some years, the word’s meaning is revealed when the word is. Other years, I have to wait for the answer to the word’s meaning. My 2020 word was “Redeem”. The Lord most certainly gave me that word and I thought I had an idea of what its meaning was and where it would play out. Weeks into 2020, I realized I was sadly mistaken. 3 months into 2020, the entire world could laugh at the joke of a word like “redeem” in a time of global falling apart. 2020 didn’t redeem anything. It broke what was whole. 

However, in the last quarter of the year, the Lord revealed very clearly and almost audibly what my word for that year meant. He told me that my word was not a reflection of the present, but a promise for the future, that He would redeem the things that were broken that year. I was elated, and I wrote this post Redeem at the end of 2020 as I looked forward with great anticipation at a year that would see the redemption.

A few days into 2021, the word for that year crystallized into my spirit. “Yet.” For 12 months, I have waited and wondered how “yet” was going to play out in my life. I thought of the “already- not yet” philosophy, the optimism of a “yet” lifestyle, and on and on. Nothing I tried on felt right.

The year started with a kid wrecking a car and was followed by more kid/car incidents. Some things I had hoped for desperately for my kids have fallen through. The things I hoped to see improve greatly for my kids socially as they came out of a pandemic did not happen. Events were still canceled. Other events have still been affected and are even now in question. 

The vaccines brought hope, and I am still so grateful for them, but they didn’t end the pandemic. One year later, we are in a surge that we haven’t seen before. The safety I felt in my job last school year regarding the pandemic was all pulled away this year.

 In fact, the final five months of 2021 were, professionally, the toughest in 20 years. If I could find a way out, I would take it, and I hate to even say that aloud but it’s true. I love every minute of interaction with my students and I loved to PIECES every kid I taught this semester. My coworkers/friends are the high points of my day. But teaching has changed in every way possible and, as I watch colleague after colleague leave for something different, it pains me inside because I know that not only do I not have a choice but to continue, my usual “don’t desert, stay and work and bring about a change, a fix” belief is impossible in this current educational climate. 

2021 has come with health difficulties for my parents, with a hard diagnosis for Kraig. My Grandaddy still struggles physically and mentally. 

There have been personal disappointments, there have been family letdowns, there have been dying dreams. 

Yet. 

This year has brought a health journey for me that I never expected. April was my starting point for some lifestyle changes and, while weight loss wasn’t necessarily the goal, I’m down 24 lbs since April. On my birthday I started some additional lifestyle changes and I can see my energy level has increased since then and my body just feels stronger. I know that these things are working and I am not struggling to maintain them, and that means everything positive for my future. Kraig has done AMAZINGLY well with his new diet and exercise regimen to deal with his diabetes.

We have had so many big events and celebrations this year! Francisco is still living successfully alone and maintaining his job, even receiving a promotion this year. Emma graduated with honors as a Raider Scholar and was fortunate to be honored with one of the local scholarships, the Carrie Smith Lawson. She started school at UTC in August and is thriving. She loves her independence, her roommates, and has done well in her classes. We have learned to walk the tightrope of parenting and daughtering in college and I am grateful. The younger three have had incredibly successful endings to 10th and 11th grades and beginnings of 11th and 12th. They have had amazing sports seasons and their grades are INCREDIBLE. Kelsey and Roman are Raider Scholars and Angela continues to excel and be promoted in JROTC, in addition to adding honors classes. They have worked outreach with the church. Roman has two college acceptances under his belt and his hoping for the Lord to provide a way to go to Lee. This past year has been a pretty peaceful one in regard to parenting the four left under our roof and that’s been beautiful.

Travel! My favorite thing on earth has had such a great year. Emma and I went to Austin, TX, in May to see one of my favorite former students get married. We took a Silver women and kids beach trip in May as a graduation trip for the three senior cousins and it was a BLAST! Time with family can’t be topped. Royal Family happened again and this time we had three of our kids there with us, as we added Emma and Roman to the staff this year. Then we had Bear Paw and THEN… the 17 day trip out west with my parents that I have longed to do. It was absolute perfection, so much beautiful scenery and time together and animals and just the greatest experience. Kraig was even able to fly out and join us for the second half. We ended the year with our family fall break trip (minus France and Emma), which we shifted this year from the original plan so that Angela could visit the Air Force Academy. We did the 4 Colorado parks, 3 Utah parks we hadn’t done, some scenic drives, other beautiful stops, and ended with the tour of the USAFA and a football game there! We also got in several trips to WV (one for a gorgeous and sweet wedding!) and time with our Davis family.

As I look back on this year, to be honest, I see the fog first. When the majority of your waking hours are spent in a difficult situation at work, it tends to color your perspective. A really heartbreaking scenario with a wayward child sometimes fills up the your mind. A pandemic that freaking never ever ever seems like it’s going to end weighs heavily on you. The brokenness from 2020 that came with a promise of redemption that hasn’t happened…

Yet. 

It was about two weeks before the year ended and a friend of mine had posted in a group I’m in, asking people about their word for the year and how they select it. I commented, explaining that I pray for mine and sometimes the meaning is clear and other times it’s revealed later. I told her about “redeem”, and the promise, and the 2021 word of “yet” and that I still don’t have an answer on it so I’m waiting for it to be clarified before I pray for a 2022 word. 

Like a ton of bricks, AS I TYPED, it hit me. The 2021 word goes with my 2020 word. The promise of redemption from 2020 hasn’t been fulfilled… YET. That doesn’t mean it won’t. It just means it’s still in the future. 2021 was HARD… YET…. His promise still stands. 

The fog lifts. The fog WILL LIFT. And even when the fog is there, even in the midst of the hard that I wrote about at the beginning of this blog, the beauty I wrote about in the last half was there too. And maybe the fog makes part of the beauty.