Open Doors

Well, my dearest blog readers. It's time to end my hiatus and re-enter the online world with my small presence. I've been sitting on an idea my mother actually threw my way quite a while ago, and I think it's time I do it. Open doors. Documenting my life through the perspective of telling the stories behind the doors the Lord has opened to me. Don't you worry your little Christmas carol filled head, though. I'll be breaking it all up into pieces. Door by door how'd the Lord bring me to where I am? We'll find out. If you want to join me and read along, you're welcome to. It's just a way for me to highlight the faithfulness and goodness of the Lord through my life despite the pain and struggles. If you want to hop in and out or ignore the posts to follow all together, that's fine too. I just feel it's time to re-tell His glory over my life.




Door 1 - The Foundation Of Gold

My parents are so obviously my first door. The circumstances in my mother's life certainly didn't plan for my conception. Dropping out of college and having a baby as a single mother were certainly not on her to-do list. But she always wanted me. I was never unwanted by her. Her unexpected motherhood wasn't a chore nor did she look at it with disdain. My biological father didn't want me, but that wasn't much of a surprise with his track record. My mother is my rock. She could have given me up, she could have "gotten rid of the problem"... she had options. She chose me and the day that she did she built a door with the Lord. One that would wait for me to come through it the very moment I was born. A door from unplanned, unexpected, potential single-mother horror story to a life of being wanted, cared for and loved by a family that loved and supported my mother AND me.

Then, walks in my poppa. He is very literally my best friend. He went on an awkward date with a pregnant girl, her parents and His own parents... and he chose her. Fresh out of the Navy, new to the Lord, he chose a woman who came with "Baggage" and he chose to love it all. He's always been the only dad I needed or wanted. He is everything a girl could dream of and more. He taught me everything I know,  including the fact that we really know nothing. He was a stranger to parenthood. Still, again, he choose it. And when he chose it, he built a door with the Lord that would open for me to pass through the very moment I was born. A door from fatherlessness, confusion and lifelong searching for significance to a life of love, acceptance, understanding and worthiness.

I was born October 31st, 1991. I was a healthy weight and length, though my mom had been very ill throughout her pregnancy AND I was born early. She was supposed to be on bed rest, but she went to the mall to go gift shopping for my poppa, whose birthday was also the 31st. In the words of my parents "God chose the best gift to give." (I hope you can feel my adolescent eye roll here). Poppa and momma weren't married yet. But I was born and immediately cried my way through two of the biggest doors a girl could have. I had a poppa who adored me, a momma who desired me and parents who loved each other.

4 months later, on leap year day, my parents tied the knot. Apparently I was a fussy brat during the ceremony and though proud grandma was trying to comfort me, she gave me over to the only solution mid-ceremony. She brought me right to my poppa, I shut up, and they finished the ceremony with me in his arms. It was "unconventional" by traditional standards, but it was absolutely perfect for us. When my parents said "I Do" they solidified a door to a golden foundation for me. The rock on which my life would be built. They opened a door, that all three of us walked through. I had family, I had parents, I had married parents, and I had a firm and solid family life. I had a marriage to look up to, I had a teacher and mother who loved me fiercely and a best friend who taught me to be tough and let me explore every bit of who I was as a child.

God could have given me to any family. He could have put me in any living situation, and while many may sit and ask "Why not give me more?" I often sit and wonder at the fact that God gave me ALL of this. He gave me a family who chooses. A family that has taught me radical love, bravery, pushing through my limits, the importance of standards and morals, the importance of caring for the underdog, how to stand in the face of adversity, creativity, musicality, my love of history and literature, and most importantly they taught me how to build myself in truth of the Lord.

Of all the doors that could have been opened, the Lord opened a door to a  shimmering, golden foundation. Still in need of purification and in need of being perfected, just as any piece of gold. But solid gold, just for me, none the less. My story and the many stories of God's faithfulness to me would be all for naught if it weren't for the foundation of family I was given through two unsuspecting individuals who CHOSE ME.

My First door rests in a gallery in my mind. It's old, and worn down and it's been dipped in gold and it sits under a banner that reads "Chosen Child"

And this miracle of family is only the first of many doors to come.

The lie that changed it all...

Thanksgiving. Christmas. The ever so glamorous "Holiday Season!"

A time where community gathers together and celebrates, fellowships, experiences each other through a new lens of celebration.

I used to pride myself in the community I had. Through a large majority of my life I've felt surrounded, supported, never alone and the truth was, I had the best people in my life. Living in a bedroom with 3-4 other girls and sharing 3 showers with 15 girls, never having my own kitchen, knowing how to navigate the potentially testing waters of tight community living were all things I felt I knew well. And I did.

Now, I would say pretty much none of that is the case. Moving to Vegas 4 years ago was the unfortunate beginning of friendships I had held near and dear to my heart my whole life fizzling into casual likes on fb and once a year "happy birthday's"... if that. And in the process of those friendships seemingly passing away, I clung to the community I had around me at YWAM. Even though that community turned over every 6 months or so, there was at least always someone I could connect with and be close with. When I finished my time of ministry with them, most of those relationships became obsolete. Casual "Hellos" and "It's been forever since I've seen you!" but nothing more. My church here in Vegas started an AMAZING season of worshiping in a different  venue, and as much as I adored our new vision... we lost our family feeling. We aren't really behaving like a tribe anymore, we're just a gathering place. I've walked into a new work situation, and I LOVE IT. It's my dream job. And my co-workers are some of the biggest blessings in my life. They constantly remind me that it's safe to let them in, and I still constantly sit in fear that i'll believe them... and then I'll be wrong. Just like I have been so many times lately.

Now, I honestly don't believe that any of these people who were once close with me have changed all that much. I don't think anyone has iced me out or forgotten me. But everything has changed.

A lie changed everything. The simple words whispered in spine chilling tones "You're not worth the effort to know."

I mean, clearly... he had to be right. Why else would everything fall apart so easily? I feel as though I've tried. I've put my all into some relationships and they still flutter away.  As soon as I was taken out of someone's daily space, and communication became work, things dissipated. I was allot of work wasn't I? People are too busy, they don't have time, I'm too needy, I want too much from people. My work schedule throws a wrench in the system. Working over nighters, every other night. Not the normal job for anyone else my age who exists in my vicinity. That makes me hard to love too, right? ... all reasons to excuse myself from the table of God and lock myself in the basement.

Now, I'm not proud to say, I've begun isolating myself. Spending almost all of my free time in a bunk bed, in an empty dorm room, living back at the YWAM base, feeling out of place and unimportant to anyone. I spend my time trying to fill the silence by reading books out loud, watching netflix and hulu, sleeping unhealthy amounts and pretending like it doesn't bother me. I'm living the dream, it's clearly the good life.

It's pathetic, honestly. And it's frustrating for me, being an individual who loves to proclaim people's worth, and being someone who understands allot about psychology and such things and not being able to fix myself. Knowing that there are solutions, but not being able to see or practice them. I feel trapped.

As much as I would love this to be a blog that ends in triumph. It's not. At least not yet. Currently, I'm a slave to the lie, to the insecurity. I break out of my chains around every other day and then I come back dragging my feet, head hung low, wrists presented muttering "You were right, freedom is too much for me to handle."

We're meant for community. And I'm wanting to fight for it, but honestly, I'm tired of fighting to be loved. And I'm tired of believing blatant, evil lies. So, I'm working on it. I'm not complete. I'm not finished. And that's okay.