Loss knows no limits.

Loss knows no limits.
Whether you've lost a child, a parent, a spouse, a part of yourself, a season in your life... there is a certain understanding that unites all people who have experienced true, heartbreaking, seemingly impossible loss. I hear stories about people who have lost their 3 month old babies in car accidents, or people who have lost their husband of 30+ years to cancer, or of women who have had bits and pieces of their identity ripped from their grasp and my heart immediately feels united with theirs. Their loss is my loss. I understand it. I feel it. I grieve and mourn with them. While our stories are so different, we have both experienced loss in such a real and life-changing way. Loss knows no limits. It is universal. The pain and grief that come with loss, whatever the form, is the same. I find so much hope in this, knowing that I am not alone. Knowing that others understand, to some extent, the heartbreak I feel. Knowing that, before ANY of our suffering, Jesus felt the same loss. I love how JJ Heller says it in her song Control "...there were scars before my scars. Love written on the hands that hung the stars. Hope living in the blood that was spilled for me...."
I find hope knowing that there were scars before my scars.
And I get to choose, everyday, how I respond to the hurt and pain I feel. I can let it control my life. I can let it debilitate me. I can give in to the hopelessness.
OR
I can believe in God's great plan for my life. I can believe that every obstacle and unjust thing and seemingly impossible struggle that occurs in my life "has been permitted by God as a glorious opportunity for us to react to them in such a way that our Lord and Savior is able to produce in us, little by little, his own lovely character." -Hannah Hurnard

I can't say that I understand the reasons behind why these things happen. Loss isn't fair. It doesn't make sense. It hurts and is horribly impossible. But I choose to believe. To have faith. To live a life of surrender to my God, knowing that He wants me to be more like him. Knowing that He will use every impossible situation to make me more like him. Knowing that he is a good God, always.
Loss knows no limits, but neither does God's great love. That's the truth.

De-stress-afier

Some days, life gets the best of me. I find myself tightly wound with stress, frustration, an ever-growing to-do list... you get the idea. This morning was one of those days. As I was getting ready for work, I found my mind racing with all of this week's meetings and agenda and shopping lists. Now, different people respond differently to these types of scenarios. Some people would make a list of EVERYTHING they need to get done. Some people would ignore the nagging reminders in their head, and just stroll through their day unaffected by many things they need to get done. Some people would call a friend and begin to verbally process through all of the items on their plate. But me, I have a special way to deal with situations like these: When the stress comes, I vacuum. I'm not even kidding. About 10 minutes into blow-drying my hair today, I got up from my vanity, plugged in my Dyson, and proceeded to vacuum my bedroom. Twice. Okay, maybe three times. When I was done, I somehow felt lighter, happier, more care-free. I'm convinced everybody needs to vacuum when they're stressed. Or at least figure out what it is that melts their stress away like vacuuming does for me.
Vacuuming is officially my de-stress-afier.
Try it out sometime, you might be pleasantly surprised by the outcome :)

Celebrate.

A simple word
Written on the door frame
Of my soon-to-be office
In Sharpie
Spoke to my heart.
This past year has been a really hard one.
I've come through so many dark places.
God has done so much in my life.
And I want to be known for, to be MARKED by, my celebration.
I want to celebrate in the face of discouragement and pain and loss and suffering and heartbreak and trials and hardship.
I want to choose celebration. Someone wise once told me that this is a season of celebration for me. And I'm convinced the season is not over. That the season may last a lifetime.

I believe that something powerful happens when you take a posture of celebration.
The power shifts from the hands of the one inflicting the pain to the hands of the one healing it.
It would be so easy to look back on my year, and ahead at the year to come, and think of nothing but the hard parts. The trials to come. The pain. But I choose to celebrate.
I want to celebrate ALL of the victories in my life.
Big and small.
Easy and hard.
All of them.
Because there are a lot.
I'm blessed. My life is blessed. I have an incredible family who reminds me to celebrate. Who reminds me I have many reasons to celebrate.
So, as the drywall goes up around that exposed door frame, and the sharpie-marked 2x4 gets covered, I fix my eyes on God, knowing that He is celebrating with me.

I choose celebration.
I want my life to be marked by it.