the unwanted story.

 It's no secret that my year has been full of difficulty physically, mentally, and emotionally. Grief has become a familiar friend. The past several months have been full of processing as I have tried to make sense of my life through a haze of anger and tears. 

This week I found my heart practically screaming at God, "This isn't the story I wanted!"

I sat in the silence for a moment before I heard the soft reply:

This isn't your story, Joanna. 

I felt a mixture of overwhelm and relief. I was reminded that my purpose involves a much bigger story than just myself. 

I think pain often gives us tunnel vision. For example, when I broke my leg this summer I was unable to think about a single thing other than how much the pain was excruciating. I have found that this is also true emotionally. When we are wounded, our world shrinks. The purpose of this phenomenon is to bring our attention to something that needs tending, healing, and repairing. Unfortunately, it can cause us to lose sight of all the other complexities of life. 

Maybe you find yourself in a similar season. Is the pain all-consuming? Has grief tainted your life? Are you drowning in your own experience, struggle, or wound? You are not alone.

Several truths have become my anthem recently:

1) This is not my story. 

     I am part of God's story. That doesn't mean I dismiss my experience or feelings, it means that I was never designed to be alone. I was designed to live my life intertwined with the Holy Spirit and His plans for me. (Which....newsflash: are often NOT what I would have planned for myself). My soul thirsts for something greater than what I can produce on my own. I long to be part of something bigger. I am assigned specific gifts meant to advance God's redemptive story of love, kindness, justice, peace, and healing. That's the story that I want. 

2) When my faith is weak, I lean into the faith of others. 

     I am not an island. I need community to survive a season of intense struggle. When all I can see and feel is my pain, I need to allow those around me to remind me that there is more. I need to receive your prayers and reminders of truth. When I can't access trust in the goodness of God, I am desperate for you to believe it for me. When I don't feel like God loves me anymore, I can rest in His love residing in you. 

3) The content of my story does not decrease my value. 

     This is a hard truth for me to accept. I base so much of my value on my performance in life. When I am struggling or hurting or weak - I feel worthless. God has been reminding me that I am loved and valued regardless of my actions or experiences. It's true, this isn't the story I wanted. This year I have felt less valuable because of my wounds and needs. I keep having to return to the truth of my unconditional worth over and over again. If you can relate, I want you to know that regardless of what you have done or experienced or suffered, God loves you infinitely and you cannot change His mind. 

4) Life often requires a fight.

     In broken-leg-recovery-land, I am pushing my limits. It hurts and it's uncomfortable and my body doesn't want to do it. But this is a necessary stage in healing. The muscles around my ankle and leg have atrophied during the past few months and now I am demanding them to work again. In a way, I am fighting to regain strength - often gritting my teeth in frustration. I believe this is true in other areas too. Treating my depression requires me to get out of bed each day and choose activities that will help my brain. One of the ways I have engaged in the fight for my spiritual health is to speak the truth over myself even when I feel like collapsing into the lies. Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting tooth and nail to hold onto what matters most to me. 

5) There is healing found in worship.

     Offering worship to God while I am in pain feels like a sacrifice, but it's exactly what my soul needs. Reminding my soul of who God is is a powerful antidote and weapon against doubt, fear, and discouragement. Praise can be challenging, but we do it because He is worthy and we are bringing our soul into alignment with His glory. In a season of pain, it often feels like breaking up scar tissue in physical therapy. It's necessary, but it's not comfortable. 

6) There is authentic hope for the story's ending.

     Pain is an indicator that something is wrong...and there are a lot of things wrong with this world. Pain is a reminder that we were meant for something better. Something whole. Something perfect. As a Christian, I cling to the hope that there will be a day when all things are made right. All wounds will be healed. All pain and grief will cease. This truth is a comfort to me on the days that it feels like the darkness will last forever. 

I want to conclude by saying that it is okay to grieve the story that you wanted. It's okay
to feel disappointed, hurt, and even angry. The journey I am on is not one I ever would have chosen. I'm not thankful for my mental health struggles. I'm not thankful for my broken leg. I'm not thankful for pain in relationships. I'm not thankful to be missing work.

But I am thankful that I am not alone in this story. I can rest in the truth that my life is part of something bigger and more beautiful than I could ever produce on my own. And I can rest in the all-consuming love of God. 

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. - Philippians 1:6

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. - Romans 8:38-39

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. - Ephesians 2:10

...we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek. Hebrews 6:18-20

waking up.

 I've been chipping away at writing this for several weeks. I've questioned whether or not I should share the following, but I was reminded this week of how important it is to know that we are not alone. So that's why I'm writing... in the hopes that this will encourage someone who can relate to the journey I have been on. Much love, Jo

As many of you already know, I am recovering from a broken leg. I had an appointment with my doctor and we discussed my pain level. It's been hurting more the past several days and I wanted to know why. "I feel like my leg is waking up. I'm feeling more." The doctor explained that it may be that I am experiencing the healing of the nerves in my leg, which were damaged in the break and the surgery. "When those nerve endings start to heal it can actually become more painful as they "wake up, even though it's a good thing."

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this since the appointment. It seems to be a picture of my life this year. I feel like I am waking up from so much that has fractured. 

I started the year preparing for a series of Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT} to address my longstanding struggle with my mental health. I put a lot of expectations on that treatment and how it was going to help me. Unfortunately, ECT was not effective for me and the side effects left me with serious short-term memory loss and cognitive dysfunction. I don't remember most of the months of February, March, and April. My struggle with cognitive functioning only made my depression worse and I had multiple hospitalizations in the following months. 

On top of that, for a while, I was overmedicated and prescribed meds that had significant negative side effects. 

I feel like someone scrambled my brain. In the past several months I have not felt like myself. I have not acted like myself. I look at my text messages, pictures, and emails and I don't recognize conversations I had. I don't recognize people that I met or hung out with during the past few months. 

It's such an unnerving feeling and difficult to explain. 

Some of the side effects of one medication were tremors, muscle weakness, and loss of balance. As a result of these, I was falling often. During my most recent fall, I dislocated and fractured my ankle and broke my leg in multiple places. I had to have surgery and it's been a tough recovery.

As I regain my mental coordination, I have to heal from my physical injury, which means I can't do anything weight-bearing for eight weeks.

So here I am, trying to pick up the pieces from this year as my cognition returns and my body heals. 

My life is suddenly very simple, as most of my time is spent in bed and I'm surviving mainly off of protein shakes and fruit snacks, oh - and pain meds. I haven't worn makeup in weeks, and my hair is so greasy I think it could stand up straight on its own. Sometimes my biggest accomplishment from the day is brushing my teeth. 

It's given me a lot of time to think. 

.

.

.

And to ask "Where is God in all of this?" 

.

.

.

I felt as if He is a million miles away for a long time. I have questioned what's my fault and what's His. I know much of what has happened was a natural consequence of my choices, or simply from having a body and brain that need healing. Why? I didn't ask for this. And I have fought so hard to gain freedom from my struggle with depression. I keep asking myself Why did everything happen the way that it did? It's not fair. This was going to be the year for healing! I was going to start running again, celebrate recovery, and find renewed purpose to love and be loved by the people I am privileged to have in my life. 

This year has challenged me more than I have ever experienced.

I wish I could say that I have endured with hope, courage, and faithfulness. But it's really only been about 50/50. Half the time I have been fighting for my healing and half the time I have been fighting to throw the towel in. 

I'm on crutches now. I graduated from the wheelchair. My arms are getting stronger as I rely on them for my mobility. I've always had better lower body strength. And this year I had plans for my legs to get stronger. But instead, it's my upper body that is gaining muscle. It feels like another picture of what is happening in my life and in my heart. I'm getting stronger, but not in the ways I had intended.

I have spent a lot of time with my family and it has been a gift. (Shout out to them for being my caregivers and feeding me and carrying my pillows from the bed to the couch every day)! Words can't express how thankful I am. 

I've been forced to slow down and appreciate the mundane, like a restful night, a shower, and a card game with friends. 

I'm thankful to have my cognition back and to be able to remember things again. To feel like myself.

To be "waking up" in my heart and in my relationship with a good God that has been faithful through all of it. Even though it's messy and uncomfortable and emotional. 

I didn't choose this journey. I didn't choose to struggle with my mental health or to break my leg fantastically. I didn't choose to feel distant in my relationship with God this year. But I am learning to accept that this is part of my story - His story. I know that there will be people that don't understand. That's ok. 

I'm writing this for those of you that have found yourself on a journey you didn't choose, or in a season you didn't want. Maybe you thought you would become strong in one way, and find yourself strengthening muscles you didn't know you had. Maybe the battle has stolen so much from you that you no longer feel like yourself. I see you. I'm here for you. You are not alone. 

Breaking my leg has been a terrible experience. But I'm also thankful for it because it's been restoring my soul. While I did not see God at work at the moment, looking back I see how He carried, cherished, and protected me. And as I lay in bed, elevating my leg, He is here with me now. 

Maybe this is the year for healing. Maybe it's just not what I expected (or how I expected). 

Maybe your healing isn't what you expected either.

Hang in there. It's still beautiful, friend.

believe (imago dei).

I'm going to endeavor to put words to some of the thoughts and feelings that have been swirling in my mind and heart for the past several years. 

Wish me luck.

As many of you know, I grew up in a very conservative and sheltered Christian environment. My dad was the faithful pastor of the small community church I routinely attended, along with all of my siblings. I lived and breathed ministry life; volunteering for the worship team, children's activities, and even mowing the lawn. I went on mission trips and volunteered at Bible camp nearly e
very summer. I was homeschooled and had little to no exposure to peers or adults that were not Christian until my late teens. 

Like most of you, there are elements of my childhood that I cherish and elements that I wish had been different. I love my family fiercely and deeply respect and value my parents and the choices they made, even though I may make some different choices if I have a family in the future. 

My journey as a young adult has been messy. There have been seasons where I wanted nothing to do with my family, nothing to do with God, and nothing to do with life. As I have been exposed to so many environments and people outside my original belief system I have wrestled with serious doubts, skepticism, bitterness, and honest questions regarding what I was taught about God, the world, humanity, and so much more. 

My struggle with a life threatening eating disorder and the ups and downs of misdiagnosed mental health issues have called into question so much of the "happy clappy" image of faith and the world that I internalized as a child. As a sensitive soul I have always cared deeply about all things alive and beautiful and hoped for the best and brightest outcomes. The transition to adulthood has left me grappling with the weight of pain, evil, hatred, trauma, and brokenness in "the real world." My heart has been so heavy as I have absorbed and processed the events of the past few years. 

I feel my soul has only recently found a reprieve, and I am savoring a newfound passion and hope for this complicated adult life. I am sharing my thoughts with you from a position of openness, love, and deep respect. I request that you would extend the same to me.

In my wrestling through what I believe (not my parents, not my churches, not my friends, not my colleagues, not my mentors) I have gained these understandings...

#1...that this is a process that we all face at some point in our lives. For many, it happens in early adulthood as one separates from family and place of origin. For most, the process is not a "one and done" experience. In fact, I believe that a healthy individual will continue to evaluate, challenge, and grow in their beliefs many times in a lifetime. 

#2 ...our perspectives will vary largely based on our past personal experiences, especially our knowledge and our resources. For example, some of the issues/topics I am passionate about include my faith, a healthy relationship with food/body, mental illness, sexual trauma, feminism, and foster care/adoption. I have formed/changed opinions and beliefs around these topics because I experienced something that challenged and/or impassioned me. 

#3... that challenging and reevaluating long-held beliefs and opinions takes great bravery and humility. Learning to listen with intentional openness and kindness towards someone or something you disagree with is not for the faint of heart. This process invites you to make the vulnerable statements of "I was wrong," "I don't know," and "I'm sorry."

We are living in a season of polarity and hostility among so many people groups and ideals. Social media feels like a minefield to me as I navigate relationships with family, friends, and acquaintances all across the spectrum of beliefs (politically, religiously, environmentally, relationally, etc). Humans are complicated. Even in the most tight knit groups and cultures you will find variance, small and large. One may agree with someone passionately regarding one issue and disagree vehemently regarding a different issue. 

Our multitude of opinions are based on our core beliefs including (but not limited to):

the world (organisms, history, science) 

religion (afterlife, deity, morals)

our humanity (value, purpose, relationships). 

The way you vote and take action politically, pursue a career, interact with other living beings (humans, animals plants), respond to emotions, and build your unique life will mirror what you believe to be true. I recommend taking time out of your busy (or stagnant) schedule to ponder, question, and name your core beliefs. Then ask yourself, "What do my actions and opinions say about my core beliefs? Do I need to make some changes to realign with what I actually believe to be true?"

Here's the thing. 

I'm a Christian. My faith is very important to me. I have wrestled with what I believe through the lens of my personal experiences and my core beliefs. I am still questioning, still challenging, still working out the details of what I believe in the complexity of life. I do not claim to have all the answers. I acknowledge that I could be wrong in many areas. After all, I am just one human in a world of billions attempting to work out what I believe. Who's to say that I nailed it? When I die I may find out that I have been wrong all along. Or maybe I won't find out anything because I will simply cease to exist. I honestly don't know with 100% certainty. But I do know what I believe given the hand I have been dealt and the information I have evaluated. Just like you. 

I know that we don't agree on everything. That's ok. In fact, it's healthy. We need a world of diversity in thoughts, experiences, and passions. Even if I believe your perspective is wrong, it can be healthy for both of us to rub shoulders as we wrestle it out for ourselves. We challenge and sharpen each other. If we are open, we can become wiser, kinder, and better informed. There is potential for great beauty within disagreement. 

There is also potential for great harm. When we approach each other from a place of pride, bitterness, and hostility the only thing we fuel is hate. We dehumanize each other. We replace dignity with violence. We do not learn or grow or mature, we harden our hearts and limit our ability to love. Now, I am not saying that there is never a time to break ties or set boundaries with someone (or a group of someone's) in order to maintain your integrity. Many issues do require us to take action, speak up, and sometimes fight for what we believe to be true. But the reason that we choose to engage in the fight or cut ties with someone are significant. For example, are we coming from a place of integrity and love, or are we desiring control and power?

As I pondered all of this during the past year I found myself drawn again and again to consider my beliefs surrounding humanity. Who are we? What is our purpose? What drives us to do the things we do? What is our value? What is our function? ...Is it all meaningless?

I look at the world around me and I feel the gravity of evil and pain. I see humans with no regard for kindness and love. I see senseless trauma. I see arrogance and immaturity. I see physical and emotional damage. I see (what I believe to be) a world horrifically broken by what Christians call "sin" or, what I also call "the choice to separate ourselves from God." I am deeply grieved by the reality of those who have given themselves over to evil, hatred, and harm. I am also horrified to discover these tendencies within myself. 

Under the weight of all of this I have found myself collapsing into the belief that humans (all humans) carry imago dei, the Image of God. That in all our complexity; our beauty and brokenness, our loving and fighting, we reflect fragments of a good God. The glory of our original design peeks through the cracks of our messy lives. Regardless of your origin or your culture or your family or your beliefs, I believe you have the imprint of a creative, intelligent, relational, loving being. I believe the concepts of morals, justice, virtue, selflessness, loyalty, kindness, order, and art are evidence of something greater than a theory of chaos and luck. 

As I hold this belief with open hands, I find myself growing in my capacity for love. I am humbled. I am slower to speak and eager to listen. While we may not agree on issues of importance, I still believe that you have immense dignity and value and that you are worthy of love and belonging.  This core belief has fueled my purpose and hope during a heavy and painful season. I have begun to shift my attention from what is wrong with humanity to cherishing the beauty I see in others. To recognizing the goodness, the joy, the creativity, and the unconditional value. 

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there is no good God and no imago dei. But I believe that there is, and as a result of that belief I am discovering new levels of joy, freedom, life, hope, and purpose. I treasure the people in my life more. I cherish moments of connection, laughter, and love. 

I encourage you to ponder what you believe and the results of those beliefs in your own life. I'm not asking you to believe like I do or to change your opinions. I am asking if you would be willing to join me in considering this complex life we have been given, in the hopes that you too will find solace in the chaos and hostility swirling around you. 

With open hands and all my love,

Jo

here's to (twenty six).

here's to quiet mornings and fresh brewed coffee

to wet puppy kisses and soft clean fur

to deep conversations and playful banter

here's to silhouettes of mountain ranges

to homemade pasta and olive oil and parmesan

to crackling fires and fuzzy blankets

here's to hello's after it's-been-too-long's

to popcorn and late night movies

to steep hikes and breathtaking views

here's to belly-laughter and happy tears

to holiday spices and giant snowflakes

to clacking keyboards and brand new paintbrushes

here's to sunset beaches and sandy toes

to empty airports and used book stores

to sloppy kisses and children's games

here's to favorite playlists and horseback rides

to inside jokes and nicknames

to sore muscles and deep stretches

here's to road-trips and waterfalls

to much-needed hugs and encouraging words

to brunch and grapefruit mimosas 

here's to sparkles and streamers

to hot tubs and heaping bowls of ice cream

to new tattoos and old hoodies

here's to wisdom (from hard earned lessons)

to kindness, and joy, and connection

here's to twenty six.

can you see me?

 It's 3:02am and I should be sleeping, but I'm not.

I'm staring at the blank wall behind my bed and swallowing a wave of nausea as the projector in my head flips chaotically through my memories. I cringe. I hold my breath. I clench and unclench my fists.

I realized recently that there is a common thread throughout the memories that my brain chooses for the highlight reel. 

Can you see me?

It echoes between the walls of my soul. 

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be seen. To be noticed. To be known. But in a very specific way. I don't just want to be seen, I want to be admired. 

I want to be seen as brave, beautiful, strong, responsible, wise, competent, kind, diligent, special, and successful, to name a few. At the end of the day I want to be seen as good. Please tell me I'm not the only one. 

I want you to see me.

Yes, you. I'm talking to you, reader. 

Family, Friends, Coworkers, Distant relatives, Acquaintances, Christians, Atheists', Buddhists, Democrats, Republicans, Young, Old, Wise, Ignorant...etc.

I want you to see me.

Which is why I am awake, tossing and turning at an ungodly hour. I am thinking about all of the times my flaws have slipped through the cracks of my futile efforts to appear "good." Some memories boast of my ugliest mistakes while some simply announce that I "said the wrong thing" or "made the wrong face." 

Like a chameleon I want to adjust myself in whatever-which-way that will gain your approval. And failing to gain that approval feels devastating. There is an avalanche of evidence against my illusion of somehow pleasing everyone, which leaves me with lots of opportunities to cringe in the middle of the night as I rolodex through my past.

Can you see me?

That question seems to be tattooed on the inside of my ever loving eyelids. I so desperately want to be seen by you. And I want you to love what you see. Because then maybe, just maybe, you will love me. 

Oh. 

There it is.

My soul is constantly searching for the affirmation that I am enough. That who I am is worthy of love and acceptance and belonging. So I peer into the chasm of my history and carefully calculate how you see me, thinking that is where I will find the evidence of my true value. 

Do you see me as brave, beautiful, strong, responsible, wise, competent, kind, diligent, special, and successful? Do you see me as a failure, a burden, rude, selfish, broken, foolish, and flawed?

In reality, there's no way to know what you see when you look at me. I can't read your mind. If I could I would probably be surprised at how little you were actually thinking about me. And even if you judged me with the same scrutiny that I judge myself, your opinions would be varied. One action could be perceived as wise to you and extremely foolish to someone else. 

You are human, just like me. Flawed, beautiful, brave, and foolish. To ask you to define my value is unfair to us both...despite what my brain may tell me at o'dark thirty. 

Can you see me?

My soul was wired to ask that question - it's imbedded in my core. It drives me to my knees. And it's there that I find the same truth again and again. 

There is someone who sees me. One who has seen every single snapshot of my life; every failure, every victory, every secret and every public announcement. I believe that I am seen by a good God. And when He looks at me He doesn't see me the way I want to be seen. 

He sees Me. 

All of me. He sees the good, the bad, and the ugly. He sees the actions and the motives behind them. He sees the maturity and growth and the foolishness. He will never turn away in disgust. He tells me that I am loved. 

I am worthy of love and belonging not because I am without flaws, but because I am designed for love and belonging. The need to be seen and known and loved is no accident. It's woven into the fiber of my being. 

So when I find myself tossing and turning in the night, desperate for reassurance, I want to turn my gaze to the truth that I am seen by the One who loves me most. There is no façade, no fear, no excuses. I am just me. And no matter what you think about me, good or bad, it's ok. I can rest in my worth as a daughter of God, created with intentionality and purpose, loved extravagantly and unconditionally. 

As I finish writing this I am reminded that so often our actions are driven by unacknowledged and/or unmet needs. Chances are, there's a reoccurring theme behind that things that keep you awake at night too. What is it? What echoes off the walls of your soul? 

let go.

You’re still in shock

It makes sense

The wind knocked out of your chest

Reality hit you this morning

Take some time, take a breath

When you woke up and rubbed your eyes and the images remained

And you realized that nothing will ever be the same

You thought…so many things

And then it was not at all what you thought

Now you’re left sitting in the rubble

Picking up the pieces

Desperately trying to make sense of it all

Then, a flutter in your ribcage

A whisper in your heart

Giving you direction in the chaos

A place to start

Let go.

It’s quiet, but firm

Unrelenting

Let go of what you thought it would be.

In the ashes and the rubble of your dreams

Let go

Let go of what you expected of yourself and what you expected of Me

Weep, mourn, rage

Whatever it takes

But please, let go

I know it sounds cliché and trite and dismissive

And I know you’re angry that I even brought it up

You’ve held on so tightly for so very long

It’s time to admit that what you wished for is gone

Let the dust settle

Let the tears fall

Let go

Let go of who you were, and who you will never be again

Let go of the regret, the guilt, the shame

No, it won’t erase the anger or the pain or the scars

It won’t rewrite your history or realign the stars

But it will help you breathe

Tend your wounds

Heal your heart

So let go

It’s the only place to start

twenty five.

1.     Food past the expiration date isn't worth it. 

2.     Spiritual, emotional, and physical connection with others is vital to life.

3.     Questioning what you believe requires integrity.

4.     Friendships/relationships are allowed to grow, change, and disappoint without devaluing the individuals involved.

5.     Cat urine is the worst smell in the world.

6.     There is absolutely no sense in keeping (or wearing) clothes that no longer fit.

7.      Nobody has all the answers.

8.     Sometimes self-care just looks like survival.

9.     Persistent, domineering self-talk can still be completely false.

10. Buy the non-slip shoes.

11. Just because you can stay up past midnight doesn’t make it a good idea.

12. It’s perfectly ok and healthy to change your mind.

13. To-do lists are a magical game-changer.

14. Debt is not the end of the world.

15. Pray bigger prayers.

16. Life is harsh. Cherish the beauty.

17. Humans in the church are just as messy as humans outside the church.

18. Being ignorant when you are young is not a failure – it’s normal.

19. Don’t get drunk…but if you must, do it around sober, safe people.

20. Seeking professional help is underrated.

21. Advocate for yourself in the doctor’s office.

22. Gaining weight is not the end of the world.

23. You are allowed to let go of harmful beliefs,

24. There is tremendous healing potential in vulnerability…There is also tremendous potential for wounding.

25. Art is underrated in the adult world. Do it. Share it. Celebrate it.