Heather Riggleman

Living Bold Truths through Raw Faith.

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Learning to Live In Between

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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

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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

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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.

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How to completely lose your mind and damage your marriage

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Love is one of the most scandalous words ever created for man kind. It is abused, misrepresented and filled with huge expectations. 

It can build a person up or tear a person down. When you expect love to fill your broken places, it’s the wrong kind of love cemented in insecurity. 

It’s been known to cause wars, I would know because like the song Battleships by Daughtry, (I’m kinda, sorta a huge fan), 2017 had been filled with landmines and battles. My husband and I called for a cease fire through counseling and sitting in our pastor’s office.

For 18 years love had filled my sense of self worth–until it didn’t.

Our vow renewal in 2015. A real wedding with a real wedding dress.

Our issues started in late July, defined by a one act which also shed light on skeletons long hidden and shared with brutal honesty.

Love had left me with skinned knees, bloody hands and broken trust. Love left me feeling like I wasn’t enough.  Love left me contemplating divorce.  It also gave way to intense insecurity. 

And that’s the thing, insecurity will kill love. It will come in like a Trogen horse, destroy everything in its wake and leave you with P.T.S.D.

One such moment revealed that I was walking wounded which I affectionately title:  “How to completely lose your mind and damage your marriage.” 

With my husband’s permission I get to embarrass myself. 

How I completely lost my mind. 

Bullets were flying from both of our mouths before it was time to go to our Bible Study groups.

After Chris left, insecurity gnawed on my heart like a rabid dog and that’s when I saw his Bible study book”Every Man’s Battle” on the book shelf.

Like any loving wife, I set out on a sleuthing mission (a.k.a stalking) to ensure he was indeed at his study group at church. A phone call or text never crossed my mind, so I cruised through the parking lot, slouched down in my seat just in case anyone saw me. After the fourth round, his truck was no where to be found when I remembered we share our locations with each other. Following Siri’s directions, I was led to a lovely cul-de-sac with his truck in the drive way. In fact, it was the only vehicle parked in the driveway.

Here in our small town, you can tell which house is hosting a church group by all the cars taking up space on the streets which is why I was convinced our marriage was over.

When he came home, I confronted him. “Why weren’t you at small group?”

“I’m confused, I was at small group.”

“No you weren’t (insert expletives). Your book (insert more expletives) was on the bookshelf,” I snarled as I held up his book. Before he could say anything else, I informed him of my stalking  detective work. 

He waved the white flag and asked me to drive him to the house where I had “found” him and that’s when I realized my facts didn’t stack up.

The truck was gone but I still had a photo of his “location.” He let me rant before he unraveled the rest of my detective work.

“The group was moved to the leader’s house. Mike gave me another book because he didn’t know I had one. Now let me show you something, drive to 34th street.”

We cruised by the house where his Bible Study had taken place and that’s when I realized the GPS had been about 300 feet off of his exact location. In fact, the house where I “found” his truck shared a fence line with his house he was actually at. He then pulled the other copy of his book out of his jacket. 

In my defense, what are the chances of two identical books, two identical trucks, a shared fence line and inaccurate GPS?

Just saying…it was a lesson well learned and one I won’t soon forget.

I learned right then, the enemy will turn up the heat and play on our insecurities and weaknesses. Especially when you’re working hard to build a love built on God’s foundation instead of your own. 

 My new mantra goes something like this: “Love is patient, kind, trustworthy, not self seeking. It does not dishonor others nor is it easily angered. It rejoices in truth, it always trusts and hopes and perseveres. It never fails.” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8, paraphrased.)

So here’s what I learned:

  1. Do not let insecurity reign. I can’t say this enough.  Insecurity is a form of fear and it’s defined as feeling insignificant, a lack of confidence or a powerful fear of rejection. Who you believe has the greatest power in your life will determine who you are. Always remember the greatest power you live for is the Lord your God.
  2. Bind up your wounds. Sometimes you have to shove aside what you see in front of you to find the root cause. Look for a common denominator of your issues. What are your destructive behaviors and tendencies? Another’s actions are not the issue, it’s your unhealed wounds. Insecurity was an infected, open wound because I never prayed for healing.
  3. Prayer is vital. Prayer creates humility, intimacy and full dependence on God. It allows us to put ourselves in his hands to build trust and growth in ourselves, marriage included.
  4. Do not trust GPS. Trust God, he’s more accurate anyway. Stalking can land you in jail.  Instead lean on the trust you have in God. Stand on his word filled with promises.  Then trust God will work all things for your good. He is faithful, dependent and solid.
  5. Assumptions are the mother of all mess ups. Need I say more?

Chris and I can laugh about the moment now and can I just say, “Thank you God for making me a writer instead of a detective?”  I’d probably land in jail or get fired.

Walk into the new year with gutsyness

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I stand back and marvel at our new snow covered Christmas tree. After such a hard year, I wanted nothing more to fill our house with joy; even if it meant looking like the crazy woman at Menards on Halloween day obsessivley comparing trees before dragging the biggest box to the register. Just saying.

The kids jockey for the best branch to hang ornaments while the lights glitter and sparkle.
I pull out a faded, beat up foam wreath – obviously created by a second grader.  There I am, sunburned cheeks (I lived in Arizona, not such a good place when you’re pale because of your Irish and Scots heritage)with buck teeth and pig tails in place with red fat ribbons that looked like yarn. It would’ve made Rainbow Bright proud.

My mind rolls back to my grandparents hous where this ornament hung in their grist as tree. There was something magical about their Spanish style home with white stucco exterior, red porch, sidewalks and roof.

They had a big backyard for my five siblings and I to get in trouble and roam. We usually got kicked outside during the five o’clock news. That was a scared time for Grandpa. Heaven help you if he was interrupted. Although if you were quiet he would give you lemon drops or mints. Personally I think it was his way of making sure we wouldn’t talk during the news.
Grandma Shaw would be out the front porch looking at the horizon in her button down plaid shirts and brown polyester pants.

She’d give us hugs and threaten to spank us if we got out of line, after all, there were six of us heathens. But I felt safe and loved and carefree. I could get through my struggles with her pearls of wisdom. I felt protected. 

I snap back to the present taking in the view of how the kids dressed our tree. An explosion of purple ornaments and silver glitter snow flakes fill my sight. I sigh because glitter was everywhere; I think to myself that my artist daughter is right. “Glitter is the herpes of the art world, no matter how much you try to get rid of it, it just keeps on giving.”

It reminds me of how 2017 has been. My friends have referred to me as the modern female version of Job – aside from the devil smiting all my kids, although I’ve had some bending knees moments. My tribe has been the quintessential version of the TV version of Friends when they sing “I’ll be there for you” sitting around a fountain. But they mean really meant it if you’ve ever binged watched the show. No matter the problem, they rallied for each other.

If you’ve been following my blog then you’d know every area of my life has been turned upside down. Anyway 2017 has been a year I’d like have a form of dementia to forget it. So much so I’ve had fantasies of throwing the year in order to drown it in that fountain, surrounded by my friends as they sing “I’ll be there for you.”

But here’s the thing, when you’re in the valley and God impresses on you to be bold, brave and courageous, he isn’t kidding because he knows something we don’t. We’re too busy thinking about the struggles and pain. But he knows this is where the biggest growth happens. He knows our roots will reach deep into his soil. He knows if we lean into him we become resilient. Before we realize it a new storm will come along with tornado winds. The storm may blow around you and make you bend and shake you to the core but you’ll withstand the storm because of deeply rooted you’ve become in your faith 

My thoughts on 2017 is to finish the year well. Like me, I want you to look back on 2017. Don’t think of it as the year of pain; but as the year of growth. You’ve become a better you because you walked through the hardships. Take everything you’ve learned in 2017 with a deep breath and exhale into the new year with hope and confidence.

Enter the year determined to be gutsy and courageous. Know there will be moments to grow better or bitter. I feel as though this is a moment to impress upon you all the pearls of wisdom I’ve gained.

Things I wish I’d known when God asks you to be strong for the year long journey:

1. If your biggest dream is to model yourself, your home, and your life like the glossy pages of The Mangnolia Journal, find a new dream. There’s only one Jonana Gains and the world would be better a better place if you live your life to the fullest with your gifts and talents. Besides it’s exhausting to try to create the perfect magazine ready home.

2. When God tries to get your attention with his message of Joshua 1:9 which you end up seeing in stories, comments from friends, sermons and the Post-It’s stuck to the window at Starbucks, listen and prepare yourself for battle. Especially if he’s telling to you be brave. Just saying…

Be strong and courageous for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. 

3. There’s no need to have an “I’m tough, I can do this myself” attitude when your salon lady who does your nails and your counselor offer jewels of aged wisdom. This is a chance to be vulnerable and ask for help. In my experience they offer the finer points of life that help you avoid smacking your face on your problems like a revolving glass door.

4. When the going gets tough, it’s okay to dance it out like you did as a kid with your Sony Walkman and your mix tape of Madonna, Paula Abdul, and Boys On The Block. Let yourself go and feel the joy of the breath in your lungs and the fact God is with you always. His job is to help you see how resilient you are.

5. Always keep a box of tissues in your purse, especially when you’re attending a Girls Night Out event at your church. Chances are your friend on crutches will cattle prod you to the front in order  for you to ask for prayer from the speaker. You’ll end up ugly crying with snot running out of your nose and into her hair as she hugs you and prays over you. This, of course, will be in front of 150 women who know you. Embrace it.

6. Keep your best friends close and your tribe closer. The second you falter and do something stupid – they’ll call you out on it and help you with your Come To Jesus moments. They’ll lift you up in every trial. 

7. Realize sooner than later – you can finish the year well. And that means not gulping numerous cocktails. You will regret that choice and all the stupidity that follows. Nothing good comes from drinking your problems nor stuffing your face with dozens of cookies for all of you emotional eaters. Your pants will thank you. Choose to be gutsy and determined. Choose to dance it out. Choose to be better not bitter. Choose to inhale God’s Word. 

Pull the thread that ties all the challenges and mistakes and heartache. String it together and look for God’s jewels. Make a list of his hand in it all and not just the moments of thanking him for the closet parking stall at Wal-mart.

Like my Christmas tree with all the bright lights strung together and top of herpes induced glitter, marvel its flaws, take in its character and then breathe. Walk into the new year with gutsyness, bold truths and raw faith.

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