Notes to My Siblings

As I’ve been thinking about what I want my focus to be this next year, the two words that come to mind are remember and expect. Currently, I don’t have a great relationship with those words. When your whole life (ok that’s a LITTLE dramatic but sometimes it sure feels that way can I get an amen 😫) seems like it’s been one. thing. after. another, it’s easy to get to a place where you can only remember the hard and you start to expect that the rest of life will continue to suck. You become apathetic. Cynical. And a delightful ray of sunshine to be around 🙄. I was reading Deuteronomy 8, in which Moses reminds the Israelites what God did for them in the forty years since leaving Egypt- forty years that, from a human point of view, seemed like a pointless, dead-end waste of time. It was miserable. It made no sense. And yet, God was in the details: they did not lack anything they needed. Moses also reminded them to expect what God had promised them, even though at that moment they were sti

A big concept I’ve been wrestling with this year is the idea that in life, good and bad coexist. One does not cancel out the other. Good and bad can share the same space. They each stand on their own two feet and are evaluated independently. It’s not about deciding whether there was more good than bad and labeling it as “good” if the good points outweigh the bad (or visa versa). It is now past 6pm the day after Thanksgiving, and it has taken me about 24 hours of emotional turmoil and feeling decidedly not thankful to apply this concept to thankfulness and try using the word “and” instead of “but”. For example: 🍁 I’m grieved that my body still fails me AND I’m thankful for my husband’s love, stability, and goofiness. 🍁 I’m so over being tired AND I’m thankful for my family. 🍁 Chronic pain freaking sucks AND being an aunt is the best. ‘But’ says that the one cancels out the other. ‘And’ says that they are both independent and true things. So the thankfulness thing is going a little be

I used to run 3-4 miles no sweat. Today I ran .5 miles and I’m currently on the floor in pain 😂. How times have changed lol. But you know how I know the whole me is healing? Today my first thought wasn’t “wow you’re so lame, remember when you ran a 5k three times a week 🙄”. My first thought was “DUDE you just ran a half mile! You’re totally getting better!” My physical self may not be (and may never be) what it used to be, but the fact that my first reaction wasn’t a criticism of myself means the rest of me is making great progress. Celebrate your accomplishments today, no “even ifs”, no “compared toos”. ♥️ 🎉

The first picture was taken a year ago. My body had started reacting to building air quality (CIRS), and that triggered several major life changes that people were very rude about (definitely Smashers 🙄). I had daily terrifying symptoms from CIRS. I was severely depressed and at this point had lost 15lbs in two weeks. My muscles were shockingly atrophied and I remember thinking my arms were going to fall off while holding the vegetables. A common thing people have said to me during my illness years is, “Well, you look great!” I think it’s maybe a reactionary phrase people use when they are confronted with an illness they can’t see clear indicators of and they want to add some positive encouragement but have no clue what else to say. (I think it’s also an indicator of what our society says we’re supposed to look like in order to “look great”. Hello people, I did NOT look great last summer, I looked like I’d narrowly escaped Auschwitz 🙄.) I’ve never struggled with the stereotypical bod

Vulnerability is a fragile gift people give to one another. “Here’s a piece of me, it’s really important and very breakable and it means a lot to me.” You have the power take that piece and hold it gently with them, or to smash both the shared thing and the share-er with the words you choose to respond with. Don’t be a smasher, y’all.

The story I thought I would write with my life has been edited so much by hard things and suffering that I don’t even recognize it anymore. The story I thought I would write was centered around me: what I would do, what I would accomplish, how I would change the world. The story that I have is instead a story of what God has done, what He has accomplished, how He has changed me. I’m still learning to like this edited version, but I also know the Master Storywriter isn’t finished yet ♥️.

I’ve already heard people criticize @nfrealmusic new album, saying that he should have been more hopeful and positive. As someone who has been battling for mental health the past year and walked closely with others struggling with OCD, depression, anxiety, and the like, I can tell you... This album is FULL of hope for those who are struggling. Full. Of. It. I almost cried at least three times as I listened through. For myself, for the friends who are struggling, for the reality that I’m not the only one. You see, hope can come in all forms. Hope is not just fluffy pink bunnies and sunshine. Hope can be gritty and rough and a single beam of light hitting the back wall of the deep, gross, seemingly bottomless cave we find ourselves in. We follow it, up and down, over rocks, gaining ground, then sliding off cliffs. We lose sight of the beam for a while, but we keep struggling in the direction we last saw it. And eventually, we find it again. Finding true and deep internal peace in Christ

I’ve been pondering the theology of healing and health a lot lately. Four years ago, I would have told you that health had to do with what you did for your body: food intake, exercise, rest, treating infections, supplementation. Today, I would tell you that wellness encompasses not just physical aspects but also emotional, mental, and spiritual aspects. When Jesus interacted with the people he healed, he didn’t ask physical doctor-y questions, he asked soul questions and gave soul explanations. .“Do you want to be healed?” “Do you believe I am able to do this?” “Your sins are forgiven.” Science backs up the idea that physical ailments are not only physical. Childhood trauma (trauma can be much less obvious than the things that first come to mind) sets people up for a 70-80% increase in the possibility that they will develop an autoimmune disease later in life. Absolutely no disagreement from me that you have to take care of your physical body with good food, reducing toxins, getting en

Sometimes I struggle with being joyful for others’ joyful life events. Sometimes it feels like life is moving on without me. Maybe you read that and I already have the thing that you so badly want and you wonder, how could I feel that way when I already have the thing that fills the ache? The thing that if you could just get there, life would feel complete? Hard truth: That good thing you’re wanting- Landing that job, getting that house, meeting the right person, having that baby, taking that trip, making your dream a reality- that thing that you think will fix the ache or fill the void or be the missing piece? It won’t. It might fill you for a moment, but ultimately you will always, always be left wanting until Jesus becomes the thing that you want above all other things. Preaching to myself.

All throughout scripture, God is referred to as “Father”. Often our experiences trump our head knowledge when we draw conclusions, and it’s a lot easier to assume that God is like our dad, because we’ve experienced in a tangible, visible way what our dads are like and assume from that experience that we know what a dad does. But here’s the thing, God can not be “like” anyone, because he IS. Instead of looking to your earthly father to understand God, look to God to understand what a father should be. Our Father is gracious and kind, slow to anger. Abounding in love, steadfastly faithful. In control but not controlling. He is mercy and grace. He never leaves. He is good, He is untainted by sin. He is protector and defender, provider and giver of good gifts. Maybe your earthly father is as clear a reflection of God as a human can allow, or maybe his own brokenness shattered the mirror to bits. Or maybe his mirror is cracked in a few places, but the reflection is still there. Spend a few

“Riah, Riah, MOriah DO IT.” (With foot stamp for emphasis) My independence started in the toddler years, and what can I say, I’m consistent. Chronic illness has taught me that I can’t always do it, but even now, four years in, it’s rare that I actually straight out ask for help. ‘Because I can do it,’ I think. ‘Eventually.’ And if I can even kind of do it, I shouldn’t inconvenience anyone to ask for anything, not even family, unless I’m desperate. What someone else might hear as “hey, could you grab me a few things at the store?” I hear myself saying, “I’m probably just being too soft on myself and now this person I’m asking for help from is going to think I’m a wimp and a bad wife and what do I need to look like when they bring the groceries so they feel like their effort was valid because I don’t know how to explain why I can’t drive myself and walk through a store when I look fine and am sitting up outside in the yard.” I have a pride issue, true. But I’ve also been the victim of to

It’s been four years + a month since my body crashed and changed my life forever. I’m not sure why I keep this letter, but every time I hold it I can still feel the pain I felt when after three months of testing and interviews I was one of two final candidates and I decided to withdraw because my health issues were so serious that I knew I would most likely be a danger to the people I would serve rather than a help. I grieve what I actually lost these past four years, but the grief of the could-have-beens is what hits me hardest and when I least expect it. Lately I’ve grown to notice that if I’m criticizing someone or something, odds are, at the root of it, I’m grieving something I’ve lost. That might sound crazy, but for me grief is often disguised as jealousy and revealed as criticism. I started to write about grief at least five times and then deleted and started over. Grief and grieving is a hard concept for me. I am uncomfortable with anything that I can’t “fix” quickly, and grief

“Look, I spent the weekend crafting fun Christmas decorations! How was your weekend?” *Well, I spent the weekend listening to a friend’s cries of grief as she walks through the deep losses of chronic pain. Each of my family members are facing huge trials and I currently can’t live in my house because it makes me severely ill and we don’t know what we are going to do. I spent the weekend numb and tired and I’m getting sick which for my body means I’ll probably be knocked out for a while.* “It was busy but fine.” It’s been months since I had that interaction, but it stuck with me because our standard protocol for greeting and conversation doesn’t do life justice. We don’t actually get to SEE each other when we summarize things, and so often BOTH our joys and sorrows remain invisible. If something is great we are hesitant to be too enthusiastic for fear of offending people. If something is hard we are hesitant to be too honest for fear of being Johnny Raincloud. It’s easy for me to get bu

Satan tempted Jesus and Jesus replied with the words of God and a period. Satan tempted Adam and Eve and Eve replied with Gods word’s and a question mark. Satan lied again and she believed it. Tonight my pain level is high. So high I’m slurring my words a little and my hands are shaking. At first pass I want to say I’ve been dealing with the more permissible temptation of believing the lie that God has forgotten about me. But God has been showing me the past few weeks that my biggest problem is not that I think he’s forgotten about me, it’s that I think I don’t deserve to be whole and well when so many others stay broken and hurting. I’ve bought, lived and breathed for my whole life the lie that if God gives me relief I will be taking it away from someone else. Lies. Lies. Lies. Truths: God is completely unlimited. He does as he pleases. HE is the author of justice, not me. He is just even (especially?) when it does not fit my definition of justice. No one and nothing can limit God or

"...out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks." I often neglect my heart. I work hard to make sure what comes out of me is right and acceptable, and I catch myself feeling frustrated when I make the same harsh comments or think the same bad thoughts over and over again. And so I try harder to modify my behavior and "do better". And I fail. I'm trying to catch myself when I start slapping my own hand for slipping up and instead trying to notice what I'm feeling. Therapy is teaching me to trace my feelings back to my secret places and ask why I'm feeling that way. Jesus is teaching me to bring the deep hurts and pains at the roots of those feelings to him and let him carry them for me. Giving up hurts is hard. Changing ingrained beliefs and behaviors seems nearly impossible sometimes. But I'm slowly learning that when I do give Jesus my hurt and pain, my insides feel lighter and brighter. And my words and actions follow, and they become life-g

There’s nothing like being knocked flat on your back for no apparent reason to get the message across: you don’t have enough. You aren’t enough. You can never do enough. . We were supposed to move this weekend but it got delayed due to a flare. I’ve spent the last two days in trying to rest, my massive to-do-do list scrolling through my mind, screaming that I’m a failure, my body numb with exhaustion. The stress keeps rising and rising, telling me I’ll never get it all done, especially not now. I’ve always struggled with doing and doing and never feeling like it’s enough.... so much so that I tattooed “not by works, only grace” in my shoulder to remind myself that: I can never be enough. I can never do enough. Jesus is the only one who is enough. And in his incomprehensible goodness, he shares his infinite enoughness with me, so that I am made to be enough by no merit of my own. In my head, I know it is true: Jesus has made me enough. In my heart, I struggle. Am I a good enough friend

I almost threw it out because the rose had died. Then I noticed that the thorns sprouted new growth. Isn’t that just so much like life? The big dream or goal or accomplishment dies, and we wallow in self pity and go to throw ourselves out because we’ve failed... and we almost miss the newness that God grows out of our pain and sadness. Don’t miss the new life growing in you by staying stuck in the loss of what you thought was the greatest thing. 

“...I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.” Those words caught me off guard this morning. My first pass I read it as “I’ve learned to be content when life is not good.” But that’s NOT what it says. Paul says he’s learned to be content in both abundance and need. And I thought, Why would I need to learn to be content in abundance?? Isn’t that when life is good and everything is easy? So here’s what’s easy about living in abundance: -It’s easy to put my trust and worth in my circumstances and take it away from God -It’s easy to stop looking for how God will work because I feel like I have a handle on life -It’s easy to be discontent with my abundance and want MORE abundance -It’s easy to develop a hoarding attitude and want to store away abundance for my days of need instead of sharing with those around me Maybe contentment is just as difficult in abundance as it is in need.