ENCOURAGE - EQUIP - EMPOWER
IT STARTS HERE.
It’s a new year. Lots of people are anxious to make changes. Many are reflecting on the past year and progress made. It’s a new start, a new beginning. It should feel exciting, fresh and motivating.
But maybe you’re feeling a bit like me. Stuck. Looking at the past year and not seeing the growth you would like. The failures seem to loom large, and the progress has been slow. The new habits gone to the wayside. The goals long forgotten. And maybe, like me, you feel a little discouraged, or a lot discouraged.
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One of the worst moments of my life happened the year after my husband and I were married. Most of his family were gathered at his parents’ home that summer day. I was about to plug in a floor fan when our almost two-year-old nephew started running towards it. Fearful that he might get his fingers in the fan, I stopped and stood up to make sure he wouldn’t touch it. As I stood up, my head bashed into my mother-in-law’s teacup shelf.
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I don’t feel like a new creation.
These days, most days, I feel stuck. Stuck in old ways, old habits, old insecurities, old sins. It’s as though I’m in a swamp, my legs and arms encased in thick sludge, and I can only move forward one inch at a time. Some days it feels like centimeters.
I don’t know if this particular “stuckness” is due to seasonal depression, spiritual warfare, sin nature, or something else entirely, but it’s lasted for several months now and I’m tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally.
As a new year comes speeding towards me like a motorboat…
When I was a very little girl, I would go to my great aunt and uncle’s house on Christmas Eve. This involved a seven-hour car journey in the days preceding, a special Christmas outfit chosen ahead of time and gifts carefully planned and wrapped. It was almost overwhelming to a small child; the excitement, the food, the impending visit from Santa Claus…and the gifts!
When my children were little, they were in a simple Christmas play at our small Milwaukee church that for some reason I often think about. The children playing Mary and Joseph went from door to door knocking, only to have an innkeeper (who happened to be the same man behind every door), proclaim loudly in a deep baritone the words “No room” as he turned them away again and again.
Those words “No room” seem to often fit into our celebration of Christmas.
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You’re sitting at your designated spot at the dinner table, the NFL theme music playing behind you and a heaping plate of turkey and sweet potatoes in front of you. You bow your head and close your eyes as someone at the head of the table says grace. You open your eyes, and the forkful of stuffing is halfway to your mouth when another family member asks the classic question.
Exactly one year ago today I received the phone call no one ever wants to receive. My dad had been killed at an accident at work. I spent the day in shock – unable to really cry, my heart just felt heavy and sad. Friends and family immediately reached out. I think I responded back. It’s all a blur.
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I recently watched a movie in which an American soldier was shot in Afghanistan while out on patrol. Only he and his translator survived from their unit. The translator was determined to get the soldier out of hostile territory and back to his base with no concern for his own life. One of the things that struck me in the movie was how well they portrayed the Herculean task that the translator was facing.
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Earlier this year, I wrote a blog post for Willowdale Women called I’ll Go First. This was my first time publicly sharing the story of how God redeemed me from years of sexual sin and shame.
I never planned to share this story. That piece of my life is one I hoped would stay buried in a deep, dark place for a long time, until the day I was buried in a deep, dark place… But then God stepped into my story.
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