Chasing Perfect

The Roots of All Goodness Lie In Risk Taking

March 11, 2019 By Heather

You are never too old to set another goal or dream a new dream. – C.S. Lewis

I’m a serial killer of sorts. Mainly plants, sometimes grass or a tree. I can’t help but see a gorgeous plant and think it would be so beautiful in planted in my front yard. Fast forward a few days and you’ll find husband patting me on the back as I lament over the latest plant I’ve murdered. Things like this have a way of scaring a woman. It makes her question why God created her female in the first place when she can’t even nurture a plant.

So when my husband presented me with a gorgeous baby orchid for my birthday I wanted to clobber him. I KNEW its days were numbered just like the rest of my kills. Besides I didn’t need something that was going to be a reminder of what a failure I was in this particular area of nurturing.

It was a risk to entrust its care to me and it was a risk to believe I could actually keep it alive despite my past experiences. Yet if I didn’t risk…it reminds me of something C.S. once said, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”

I truly believe there is a time for risk. The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of risk-taking. In fact, the writer of Ecclesiastes says there’s a time for everything. A time to plant, a time to uproot and everything in between. My darlings, risk is in the middle of planting, uprooting, being called to something new or staying.

My loves: Risk is vital to our souls. Risk is a part of life in order to grab hold of what is in front of us and let go of what’s behind us. To risk demands we face our fears. It demands we lay down our insecurities. To risk is to show up with our crazy dreams and fight the voices of doubt. Each time we step out in faith—we risk. We don’t know the results of this leap but God does.

When we risk it all for His sake, we put our heart on the line and it speaks volumes to Him. It’s in these moments your roots grow more than it ever has. He put the desire for risk in each one of us.

How do we know we’re on the right track? Because it feels uncomfortable. Because it feels exciting. Because it spurs wordless prayers. Because it’s an adventure. Because it takes a partnership with God to get it done!

Just this morning, I was talking with my friends about risk. One friend is weighing the risk of starting a new mom’s group. Another is weighing the risk of asking her boss to share Jesus more at work. Still, another just launched a business and is pondering the risk of trusting she’ll have clients to keep her out of the red.

Every time we step outside of our comfort zone, our spiritual roots grow just a little bit deeper. When we take calculated risks, we discover what we are capable in HIS hands. In all honesty, risk is a season of trust.

Recently, not only had I taken a risk on a silly little plant but I had also taken the leap towards a new job. One that scares me and thrills me all at the same time. Like my Orchid, my time had the University allowed my roots to grow deep, yet it was time to uproot. During this fallow season, my heart had a chance to rest but I felt a tug, a nudge, a whisper. It was time to do something new. It was scary to think I could it, but I knew I wouldn’t be doing it alone.

And here’s the thing my darling, you’re never alone. He is with you every step of the way. Live brave. Live big. Trust. Release the fear and take the risk.

How would your life look differently if you did?

The Anti-Resolution that Could Change Your Year

January 1, 2019 By Heather

Smoke filled my nostrils and burned my eyes sending my body into fight or flight mode. I tell myself it’s just a campfire, it’s just smoke on this cold wintery night. Yet, here I am filled with fear. I am unlearning, unraveling, undoing the memories and the moments of the last camping trip in August.

My husband woke me in the middle of the night. Ashen skin and wild eyes; all he could communicate was that he thought it was a heart attack. That night became my worst nightmare as I loaded him and our kids in the truck, racing like Danica Patrick to the nearest hospital. I watched his heart race to 311 beats a minute and I stood in the corner as the ER team shocked his heart back into normal rhythm. This was only the beginning of several ER visits, hospital stays.

The campfire is where it all began but that doesn’t mean every time I smell smoke that my husband is going to die. The smoke blinds my eyes to truth in front of me—therefore it’s time to unlearn. Maybe you feel that way too. Blinded and filled with panic as 2019 is looming bigger on the calendar and 2018 is bullied your soul. Before you flip the calendar, the New Year reminds you of the promises you made last year. And shattered. Big self-improvement promises that were merely dust by Valentine’s Day.

You know the promises:

How you promised to read the entire Bible in a year, how you wouldn’t yell at your kids or husband. How you promised you would make your son use the bathroom instead of the front porch to pee. How you promised yourself you wouldn’t hold it until the last minute to pee. How you would lose the 10 pounds, the muffin top, and run that half marathon.

Or that you would try harder, hustle more, be someone better. But then life’s classroom of hard knocks and soul bullies showed up to remind you, “Who are you kidding? Forget it. Don’t bother, it will never change.” The soul bullies hiss what a loser you are when you raise your voice, empty that bottle of wine, let your bible collect dust and throw your tennis shoes in the closet.

But what if I told you something that could change your New Year’s Resolutions? What if instead of doing, trying and hustling there was something entirely different? What if you chose to unbecome? What if you chose to unlearn, to undo the world’s messages, to untangle the real YOU from the muted, smoke covered version of yourself in order to find the truest version of you? It’s why we make those resolutions, anyway. We want to be a better version of ourselves.

Like that late wintery evening at the campground, where I unlearned the behavioral responses of fight or flight, we need to unlearn the worldly messages that lie about what will make us happy, better, true.
what the world is telling us that will make us happy, better, or true.

Maybe 2019 is a chance to get back to the real you. Maybe this is your chance to untangle your soul from the bullies—the ones who say you need to keep up with the Jones’, look like the chicks from Baywatch, and break the glass ceilings in order to be a better you. My darling, lose the weight if you need to but don’t do it because of pressure and shame. Turn away from the “self-help” gods we make promises to; look to the Scriptures instead.

There is a better way to be a be a better you. It doesn’t begin with a bunch of worldly, shallow, already set up to be broken self-made promises. The better you is already found in God’s Word but it’s been buried in the lies that hustle-is-better-than-holy life. We don’t need to make become someone else or make resolutions, we need to go back to who we were, to who we are.

It reminds me of my church’s recent renovation. It was time to replace the faded pews and worn floors with better flooring and seating. But we had to undo decades of carpet, wood, and trim. We had to strip the sanctuary bare, right down to the foundation. My darling, mama. Your soul and New Year is need of the same undoing.

Unbecoming, undoing, unearthing, untangling, unraveling. 2019 is our chance to surrender instead of strive. It’s a chance to undo all the messages of the world in order to bring in the new. Shut down the resolutions and turn to the one thing that will change your soul in the New Year.

In case you aren’t sure how, here are three tips to help you uncover the real you—the best you in the New Year.

Three Ways to Undo the Old to Get Back to the REAL You.

1 – Break up with Busy

The world values busy. In our American culture, moms aren’t valued or desired unless they are busy and productive. Your to-do list becomes the thing that is stressing you out, wearing you thin, and distracting you from what your soul really needs. The busier you get, the more cluttered is your schedule and soul. And the less time you have to actually pee when you need to. Soon you’ll find yourself exhausted, sick, and burned out. Your soul doesn’t need accolades of an overcrowded, completed to-do list. It needs downtime and lots of it. Remember busy is a choice. Stress is a choice. Downtime is also a choice. Choose wisely. Create space in 2019 to allow room for solitude and growth. Redo your daily routine to be fully present in every moment and establish a regular practice of rest. If need be, buy that fancy pants planner you’ve had your eye on and re-organize your schedule and your family’s schedule.

2 – Unlearn the Hustle

My darling mama, you don’t need to Hustle to be someone. You matter simply as you are. You don’t need to prove it by throwing big birthday parties for your four-year-old. You don’t need to find that next project. You don’t need to break the glass ceiling either. Hustling is another word for busy, for striving, for cluttering your soul with all the things that take you away from the real YOU. There’s a difference between hustle and holy hustle. Your biggest effort, ambition, focus, drive and direction is meeting with your God each and everyday. Unlearn the world’s definition of success and re-define it in your relationship with God and how he sees you. Success is God’s department, faith is yours.

3- Undo the False You

You are not the number on the scale. You are not the value of how clean your house is. You are not your paycheck. You are not your resolutions. You are not the number of degrees or lack of on your office wall. My darling mama, you are who God says you are. The best practice to undo the layers and messages of this world is meditating on God’s world daily. Carve out time to practice this. Doctors and scientists have proved prayer and meditation promote healing and impact the brain. Find an App or daily devotion or women’s group. Do what you can to dig in!

Learning to Live In Between

October 28, 2018 By Heather

It’s 2:58 a.m.

God and I have been meeting a lot like this lately. In the middle of one thing or another. In the middle of the mess. In the middle of life. In the middle of open-ended questions. In the very middle of my story.

While he may not have a need for slumber I do. My body yearns for the covers. My mind aches to be relieved of its duties. It’s barely been a week since I was released from the hospital. One moment I was dizzy and trying to make it to the kitchen for a glass of water, the next I’m opening my eyes to my husband. He tells me that he found me on the floor because I’m fighting Encephalitis.

Just barely a month before that we were in three different hospitals because his heart raced over 300 beats a minutes and then stopped after being shocked. We were in the middle of fighting for our health after always being so healthy and active.

These thoughts are fresh in my mind as I roll out of bed in the dark as my hands search to find my cane and I question why He likes meeting me between the midnight and dawn.

On the couch, covered in my favorite blue blanket the thick pages of my Bible fall open to Ezekiel. And this is what He whispers about our world, my church, but most intensely my bones.

Heather, do you believe I can make your dry bones come to life again?

It’s 3:18 and I whisper, “God only you know that.”

And he presses into my bones: “I am putting new breath into you again.”

And I sit there in the silence and think of what He’s telling me. So I breathe my first breath and I inhale so deeply.

Do you believe in every season I am capable? Do you believe this here in the middle?

He leads me to the valley of dry bones, He whispers how in many places, I am dead and dying because I am weary.

I read the story and He unveils the truth about the very middle of the story. “I will put breath into you and make you live again.I will put flesh and muscles on you and cover you with skin. I will put breath into you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’”

This middle of the night moment is a Holy Awakening.

This realization that He is with me in the middle. He is breathing life into me. But sometimes we forget because life takes our breath away. We can’t see past the unexpected or the fire in our chest because we can’t see past the next breath.

One minute we’re doing life. Kids, laundry, carpool, schedules, work, dirty dishes and the next we find ourselves in the middle of the mess. We don’t know the end and we can’t go back to the beginning. We have to know the valley isn’t where our story ends.

So my friends this is the work we are doing, to open our lungs and allow Him to breathe life into us again. And if I’m being honest, it can be downright hard.

It’s easy when we are at the beginning. It’s fresh, it’s new, it’s breathtaking, it’s intoxicating.

Like the moment you hold your squirmy newborn and breathe in her scent.

The moment after you say I DO to the man of your dreams.

The moment you stand in the living room of your new home.

The moment you survey your new office or the moment you sit in your first Grad class.

The beginning is fresh and full of possibilities. But what happens when you’re in the middle of that story? It’s in the middle where it takes our breath away?

It’s in the middle where we doubt:

When you find yourself exhausted during another in the middle of the night nursing session.

When you’re in the middle of parenting a child with Autism or ADHD?

In the middle of recovery.

In the middle of fighting a brain infection.

In the middle of learning how to how to walk again.

It’s 4 a.m.

He whispers that He sees me and will call the winds of the earth to breathe life into me again. His breath – His way.

No matter how tired, no matter you ache, no matter how weary, He will breathe life into your dry bones. He is still with you, here in the middle of the valley dry bones, here in the middle of your story. Here in the middle of my story. So, my darling, breathe deep.

Waking up in the dark

June 19, 2018 By Heather

4:02 a.m. Something interrupts my sleep in the middle of this twilight – predawn moment. The sound gets louder as I stumble downstairs and the on button to the coffee pot knowing I’ll need more than my usual 10 cup daily limit.

Annoyed and barefoot I step out to the back patio with my journal. There my sleep-waker is perched on the gutter. She tilts her head towards me and chirps at me as if to invite me into her conversation. I attempt to shoo her away. She flutters to the ground and picks up pieces of bread crumbs from our supper the night before. So, I sit down on the steps and whisper, “Okay, God what to you want to say to me,” as I study my new companion. My journal opens to a coffee stained page with the verse about grain, death, and the dark. I had written about how my heart was entombed. I was consumed by grief as if something in me had died.

The mode between self preservation and self protection where everything feels safe and protected is where I’ve been operating for more than a year. I had stepped out. I leaped too far, I flew too high and the crash was more than my soul could bare.

Jesus himself once said:

“Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal.”

Who in their right mind wants to say, “Welcome Death, let’s have a cup of coffee together. Tell me what needs to be buried?” I think one of the most inconvenient truths is that something has to die before something new can live but we don’t want to surrender to the process. It’s incredibly difficult to watch something important to you die. I don’t think we ever get used to it. We think: Don’t touch my career. Don’t touch my body. Don’t touch my marriage. Don’t touch my family. Don’t touch my dreams.

But on the other side of death like a seed planted beneath the soil holds new growth, new life. Something better than the best we have. Growth isn’t an accident, it’s a process. But here’s the thing, we have to want to grow even when we are buried in the dark.

The swallow chirps at me as if to say, “I trust him, don’t you?” I open myself up to God speaking through this annoying little creature. I question him for awhile and I begin to believe if I surrender to the process there are treasures hidden in the darkness as I wait on God.

Thomas S Monson once said, “Amidst the confusion of the times, the conflicts of conscience, and the turmoil of daily living, an abiding faith becomes an anchor to our lives.”

Keeping your faith when you’re standing in the dark is no easy task. Yet if we abandon self-preservation, we become witnesses to the mysterious unfolding of the here and now. We come to that place, that season, that exact moment when it’s time to do that holy work of waking up to the “wait,” in order to reconnect the pieces of ourselves that we’ve hidden away. It’s a chance to explore what God as new growth takes place.

This connects to a conversation with my friend. Every time I’m with her, my soul is changed. She’s older, wiser and saturated with God’s presence. She sees what I can’t see, so I pour out everything, how there seems to be no purpose, no direction. I talk in circles about everything and nothing.

She listens. Minutes pass before she takes my hands and says, “Maybe you’re supposed to just be. Maybe waiting in the dark is a chance to wake up to something new. Maybe right now you are healing. Maybe this in-between feeling is actually a new beginning.” Her South African accent makes her words seem wiser.

Abide means literally means onward wait. Waking up in the waiting, that’s where I am. And we all think the same thing, who wants to wait in the dark?

We want the light, we want all the answers, our purpose, the end-game, the meaning of where we are.

I snap back to the present when I sense God’s whisper: Where you are, bruised, bloodied and broken is exactly the place you need to be. It’s not an in-spite of place. You do not need to know the results or the end game, it’s really none of your business. This process is holy ground. This is the work of me in hidden places of you.

So this my friends is the work you and I are doing, Waiting and waking. This is your chance to be a part of this holy process in hollowed ground. Whatever it takes, wake up. Wait, see what God is doing in the soil of your soul. Make this your mantra.

Like my morning companion, this is our chance to see what the dawn brings. The focus isn’t what we used to be but what we could become. The very undoing of you and I in the dark is the new beginning.

Forging a Fierce Faith – You’re Stronger Than the Struggle

February 23, 2018 By Heather

Close your eyes and imagine this graphic: a spa green background and a woman with a blissful smile on her face. Her face is slathered with a creamy facial and cucumbers cover her eyes with a slight smirk on lips. It implies, “Yeah life is rough but I’m handling it like a boss.”

That my friends was the cover of my first book. And I freaking loved it too. I can tell you it wasn’t well written or well researched since I wrote it when I was 28 and didn’t have a clue about life, but mainly because I wrote it the bathroom with little hands sliding under the door.

It was written in earnest but the idea of opening it and quoting excerpts makes me cringe. I said a lot and I said nothing at the same time.

But it was my first book baby and I was so proud of her. I was dazzled by the woman on the cover who looked calm, secure and confident. And here’s the thing, I want to get back to her.

Lately I’ve found myself in the hard places that look nothing like my book baby’s cover.

I’ve been treading water too long to prove myself worthy of anything: author, wife, mom, career woman, and friend. I’m tired of saying all the right things.

Instead, I’m becoming more barefaced. The more I peel off the layers, the more I’m finding many of you are tired of being in the hard places too.

Too many of us are standing in the in-between of struggle and fierceness. Some days you irreproachably juggle everything that is your life—kids, husband, house, job, church, friendships, school, appointments, and on and on.

Then there’s those days when the ball drops and it puts your anxiety level through the roof. But then God calls you to: Be strong and Courageous. Be still. Be YOU.

Sometimes these are the hardest instructions to follow. If you’re exhausted like me from the struggle to prove yourself, you are not alone.

We’ve spent too much time with our necks turned, eyes on others, mimicking what we see because we don’t know how to be. We’ve wallowed too much in the in between places.

I want to get back to my fierce faith and I bring you on this journey too. I want us both to be in the beautiful mess and handling it like a boss.

I look back to my book baby with the glossy green cover and hear God whisper, “That’s you in the shadow of my being. That’s you when you melt into my hands. Through me, you’re stronger than the struggle.”

His reminder gives way to forging a fierce faith when the days are heavy, when the days are hard.

When hope is overdue.

When the disarray surrounds your home and heart.

When you feel the absence of true friends.

When anxiety and worry rise.

When you’re weeding through the rough patch in your marriage.

When you catch the woman aging in the mirror.

When life doesn’t look like your dreams and plans.

He wants us to be strong in HIS strength.

He wants us to uncomplicate our spiritual battles that thread through our very marrow and daily routine.

Forging a fierce faith isn’t just about resting in his hands. Like a pail tossed to the bottom of a well, he wants us to draw deep from his strength to quench our need.

Let his strength fill every chasm in our bodies. Let it quiet the voices of not-enoughness. With tenacity, let’s YES to the battles, YES to the in-between, YES to his strength, because it means we will be more fierce for tomorrow.

The Roots of All Goodness Lie In Risk Taking

The Anti-Resolution that Could Change Your Year