The Blessing of Community

College was strange.

It is the only time in your life where you are placed in a community of people who are the same age as you for an extended period of time. You get to live life with other humans who have a similar purpose, but come from vastly different backgrounds.

My first apartment was strange. I was so used to walking across the hall for something. I had to plan to hang out with people whereas in college, they were just there.

Henry Nouwen writes, “Community is not an organization; community is a way of living; you gather around you people with whom you want to proclaim the truth that we are beloved sons and daughters of God.“

Living in a community allows us to call out in each other the aspects of God that we find in each other. The thing about living community like this, it that we first have to is to recognize in our belovedness. Nouwen shares that ministry starts “because your freedom is anchored in claiming your belovedness”.

My freedom lies in believing that I am beloved.

I remember one time, as an RA, we were asked to spend some time in solitude. It was an amazing experience because I was able to sit, just me and God, after the craziness of training. We were given this article called “Moving From Solitude To Community To Ministry” by Henry Nouwen. The article reaffirmed the vast majority of what God had been teaching me this summer.

I sat there in solitude, simply dwelling in the silence and being with God and God alone. It was important for me to sit still and listen to the voice of the one who calls me beloved.

God calls me beloved.

The more that I dwelled with that phrase, God began to speak to the corners of my heart, the center of my being, and slowly I began to accept his love for me. I sat on the edge of a pond where a gaggle of geese were relaxing. I began to watch and study the geese. A group of them flew to the opposite side of the lake to feed.

I watched as a clear leader stepped out of the water.

He took one timid step, intently watching his surroundings.

He stretched his leg out as he took another timid step.

He was constantly on guard and he took small steps forward.

Sometimes I feel like that goose. I know what God is asking us to do or accept, but I timidly step forward. Kind of like this idea of being His beloved. I step forward timidly believing that I am loved, but constantly looking for the other foot to drop. It sounds crazy because you would think that being loved would be an easy thing to accept. Meanwhile, God had become so vulnerable in his pursuit of us. He became so little, so dependent in a manger and on a cross and is begging me, “Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you really love me.” How crazy is that? The God of the universe loves me.

It is a gift freely offered by the creator of the universe.

As a result, I am more prepared to do and capable of loving others when I accept that the King of the World and Creator of the Universe loves me.

The aspect of community changes when you don’t live in the dorms anymore. I have to be more intentional about seeking out people to do life with. I am beginning a new journey.

One that reflects my belovedness.

Tenth Avenue North wraps this idea up well in their song “Beloved”.

You’re my beloved lover
I’m yours
Death shall not part us
It’s you I died for
For better or worse
Forever we’ll be
My love it unites us and it binds you to me
It’s a mystery

I am choosing to walk in the freedom of accepting that God desires me to be exactly the way he created me. He chose me to play in his story of redemption. I have a purpose in his plan. I desire to choose to live in the freedom of God. The freedom that doesn’t worry about what other people think of me.

The freedom that accepts myself for who I am—crazy, beautiful, smart, and weird.

The freedom that steps out of my comfort zone. The freedom that loves God with abandon.

The freedom that crosses oceans and roads to share the gospel.

I want to choose in to God’s desire to change the world. I want to choose in to loving people without judgement. I do not know what God has planned for this year, but I know that his plans are better thqan my plans.

God is good.

So, I’m going to be honest-really vulnerable-with you.

I keep repeating the mantra “God is good. God is good to me. God is good at being God.” from Lysa TerKeurst, but I don’t know if deep down I truly believed them for a time.

I keep saying “this is the year of me”, but not doing anything to promote my healing.

I believed wholeheartedly that “God is good and He has a good plan” right after my accident, but the longer the journey has taken, the more I’ve found myself doubting that truth.

Life is hard.

It’s hard seeing friends do things that you used to be able to do. It’s hard. It’s hard wanting to do everything, but having to pace yourself. It’s especially hard looking forward to something but right before you leave, your brain is not having it. Life is simply hard.

Life is messy.

It’s messy when you make progress but not as much as you would like. It’s messy to want to socialize but your brain hates people.

When you’re in the valley, it’s easy to doubt the goodness of God, especially when you’re in the valley for longer than you thought you would be. This is what happened to me. I knew God was good and His plan for me was good, but recently I struggled to believe it in my soul. Life is harder than I thought. Recovery is a lot harder than I anticipated. On the 17th, it will be 15 months since my accident. I’ve come a long way, but I’m nowhere near where I desire to be. I got angry at God. I yelled at Him, wondering why he chose to save me, but not heal me completely? I shook my fists at Him, wondering why life was so hard now—why I’m 23 going on 93 (sometimes it feels that way). I feel like my youth has vanished.

The funny thing about God is that He wasn’t upset with me for being real with Him, but He didn’t let me stay there—in the pit. He put people in my life to encourage me to rise up out of the mud. It was my choice to listen to them. My mom confronted me about this fact. I was saying these things but she wasn’t seeing me do anything. I wasn’t doing therapy. I got back to driving, but that was about it. It was hard, but good having her say that to me. I didn’t really notice that I was even doing that, until she brought it to my attention. She challenged me, “Do you believe that God is good and that he has a good plan for you?” That rocked me. I thought about that and my gut response was “no”. I knew that it should be “yes”, but it was “no”. Over the next couple of weeks, God used songs and people to tell me “You are loved. You are loved more than you could ever know. I’ve got a good plan for your life. It’s hard right now, but good things are coming.”

So, I’m still struggling to figure out how to believe that when things don’t work out the way I want them to, but I believe it more than I did last month.

God is good.

God is good to me.

God is good at being God.

So, I’m choosing to believe that and fall in love with being alive.

“Because God’s writing your story and He never leaves you alone in your story, and His perfect love absorbs all your fear and His perfect grace carries all your burdens, and your story is a happily ever after because Christ bought your happily ever after so you always know how this story ends.”

Ann Voskamp

The Art of Being Still

I have a tendency to worry and let my mind wander to all the impossible scenarios. I want to have control over every area so I my mind does not appear to stop. I worry about what people think about me. I worry about what is going to happen next. I worry about whether any change is the right thing for me right now. I have struggled recently with worry because of my accident. I worry that, even though everything fell into place rather quickly, the other shoe would drop. I worry that I am not enough–that I’m less than because my brain injury. I simply worry.

Be still.

Be still and know that I am God.

In all my worries and fears, God spoke this truth over me.

Be still and know that I am God.

I am not the one that can change the world. God changes the world. God can change the world through me. I can only be a useful vessel if I am willing to let go of my worries, my fears and my plans, and sit still before the Lord.

God wants me to understand that who He created me to be so that I can fulfill the purpose that He has for my life. I cannot understand who I am in Christ if I spend my energy worrying about what people think about me, or fearing that I am not enough.

Fear and worry is a handicap that keeps me from embracing who I am and what I can do. Fear holds me back from taking those steps of faith that could lead to great adventures for the Creator of the universe.

I realized recently that I have been feeding my worries and fears. I had been subconsciously encouraging the lies that I am not enough. This hurt me.

I was believing the lies and letting Satan get a foothold into my dreams. He was halting my progress because I was more focused on myself and my insecurities that I could not focus on God. I was being selfish because my focus was on me. What would happen to me? Would people like me? Would I be good enough? Would I be likeable?

My mother confronted me about my attitude. At first, I was frustrated. Didn’t she see that I was just worried? I was not being selfish, rather I just wanted people to like me. After a while, mainly after I moved to Washington, D.C for 2 months, I began to see the wisdom in what she was saying.

If I wanted people to like me, I needed to put them first. I needed to find ways that I could bless the people that I am around. People like others who bless them. People who are positive and uplifting. People who think about the needs of others first. I was getting so wrapped up in myself, my worries and my fears. I began to notice during my first week in my internship that the more I focused on blessing others, the less I thought about my fears. The less I needed to be liked. I could be who God created me to be, without worrying what people would think.

Be still and know that I am God.

When I get wrapped up in myself, I forget to quiet my mind and look at God. God is the Creator of the universe, yet he values my time spent with Him. Just like any other relationship, if I am spending too much time focused on myself, I can’t give a lot of time to the other person. I have to step back and realize that being still and spending time with God was going to be very important in my battle against the worries and the fears. I need to fill my mind with the truths of who God is and who He created me to be if I wanted to be free. My prayer for the beginning of this journey is to keep this phrase in my head so that I can remember to be still and know that He is God.

Accepting the New Me

Isn’t it crazy how after a mission trip or something like that, we are no longer the same person we were, but we embrace that change. After something traumatic, we change, but we push against it. We want the “old us” back.

Why is that?

I think it’s because in one situation we put ourselves in a situation where change is an option. We don’t consciously choose to change, but we know change is a possibility. We see things and are impacted by people where there’s no turning back. There’s no chance to unlearn the things we have been through.

In the other, we have no control.

Zero. Zilch.

This change in our personality is forced upon us. In my case, I never saw it coming. I’m a different person, but I’m still Sara. If that sounds confusing, it’s because I haven’t really quite figured it out myself yet. My TBI changed me, not only because of the trauma of it, but because it changed the actual chemistry of my brain. I didn’t have a choice to not change. I’m still trying to tread the the line of trying hard to be the old me, or give up completely.

I have a choice—I can choose to fight against the change or I can choose to accept the new me. I’m still struggling with actually accepting the new me. It’s not easy to encounter things I used to be able to do, but now can’t. I’m still trying to figure out how to balance trying to be as close to 100% as I can, but also embrace the new me. This new person who gets overwhelmed easily—that can’t handle loud noises or flashing lights.

There may be things that I can’t do as well as I could, but there are also things that I can do better now. I’m still working on figuring those out. For now, I’m going to try not to fight against the changes. I’m going to embrace the new me.

One thing I do know is that I’ve never been more sure of God’s love for me.

There are days where His love is the only thing that gets me through the day.

There are moments where I hold on to the phase by Lysa TerKeurst: God is good. God is good to me. God is good at being God.

There are moments when I get frustrated with myself and my limitations, but God chooses those moments to show me that I’m more loved than I would ever know.

Where’s Home?

12 years ago, my life changed drastically. I moved back to the states.

For only being 23 years old, I’ve had three life changing things happen. Moving back was the first. My parents were missionaries so my theology was shaped by dry deserts and dirt floors. From when I was only 3 months old, I grew up in strange culture, only it wasn’t strange to me. I grew up speaking British English and chasing spiders.

When I moved back, everyone said I was coming home, but this culture was strange.

This year, March 17, marks 12 years that I’ve been in the states. After March 17, I will have lived in America longer than I lived in Nigeria.

This is bittersweet. Most people won’t fully understand the significance of this year, but I want to honor the country and people that played a significant part in the shaping of who I am today.

Here’s 4 things I learned:

  1. Cultures are vastly different. In America, there were so many choices-so many things. My brain often got (and still gets) overwhelmed at the grocery store because there are 10 choices for 1 item. Time is linear, here, rather than circular. This moment in time was thought to never come around again which was the exact opposite of Nigeria. If you had planned on doing something, but someone stopped by, you would focus on that person because the time to do that thing would come around again. I, also, grew up in a relationship focused culture rather than a time focused culture. The culture was dictated by relationships rather than the clock. If someone stopped by, you would drop everything and welcome them. People matter first.
  2. It is possible to put roots into people as opposed to places. Places are important. While staying is just as important as going, sometimes, it’s hard to call a certain place “Home”. Home to me is people. I’ve put down roots into people—people that I’ve established as being important in my journey that is called life. I’ve nurtured those roots—watered them. It doesn’t matter the location of the people that a well place elephant picture or song can’t make them seem closer. If we get the chance, coffee dates are my love language, and I love discussing life over coffee. I put roots into people. Even after my TBI, I remember most people but situations and places are fuzzy . I think it stemmed from my transitional childhood and the fact that relationships were greatly valued. Don’t get me wrong, places matter, as my spiritual formation has been shaped by lush green springs, the grey, rainy days, the vast deserts in Africa, the blue-green oceans in Haiti and the magnificent mountains in Montana. God has met me in so many places in the reality of my nomadic past and He often used people.
  3. My heart is big enough to hold many places—more places than I even know. When I first moved back, I couldn’t imagine loving this country as much as I loved Nigeria. Nigeria is still my heart’s home but this country has grown on me. The first time I went to Haiti I didn’t know that it—the country itself—would worm its way into my heart. My heart was stolen by the people and their generosity. The first time I went to Montana, my soul felt free and I fell in love with the mountains and the people. When I went to the Dominican Republic, I didn’t know that my heart had room for another country, but it did. My heart made room for the DR, and it stamped itself on my heart. My heart holds those places closely and now, I know that my heart can hold so many more places.
  4. Normal is overrated. When I first moved back, I felt like I had a stamp on my head. I felt like I had to explain to everyone why I was so weird-why I didn’t know what movies, books or songs were popular or why I knew more about the current events than musical artists. Someone would tell a joke and I would laugh even though I had no idea why it was funny. I just didn’t want to be the only person not laughing. I was trying so hard to be “normal”. I wrestled with insecurity because I was not like everyone else. Over time, I learned to see the value of my experience. It made me a more diverse and well-rounded person. I may be different, run on African time, and not know what is currently popular, but I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

Living and Loving Through the Mess

November 20, 2014.

My life changed that day.

It started out as a normal day—classes, conversations, chapel—until the phone rang.

My mom had called to tell me that my cousin had passed away earlier that day.

Life stopped.

18 years old.

Brilliant, compassionate, and loving Tony.

He was gone.

I sat there in the chapel, unable to wrap my head around the reality that He was gone.

I would never again comment on the current I Heart T-shirt he was wearing.

I would never again decorate the thematic Christmas trees while having a theological and philosophical debate with him.

I would never again hear him play percussion.

I would never again listen to him discuss his fascination with a new animal.

I could not believe he was gone.

Honestly, my first response was anger. Mainly, anger at God for letting this happen.

Anger.
I was a mess.

This tragedy shook up and challenged my world.

People would ask me “how are you doing?” and my first instinct would be to scream “How do you think I am doing?’, but I would simply respond, “I’m okay.”

I am okay.

I am fine.
These responses covered up my grief and put it on the shelf where I did not have to deal with it. Internally, I was grieving, angry, frustrated and incredibly devastated. Outwardly, I looked and acted normal. I put on a mask because I need to be okay. I needed to act like I had it all together, because I could not fall apart. If I was real with myself, I would acknowledge that I was mess.

When the thought comes and the memory surfaces, I immediately shove it aside. I cannot think about that right now. I cannot go there, or I will not come back.

I was not content simply being “okay” because that seemed unfair to Tony’s memory, but I could not handle the pain.

Outwardly, I had to be normal because that was the only way that I could function in any capacity.

One day, as I was laying in my bed, pretending to have my life together, my RD Kelly asked me “How are you doing?”

My generic response came out. “I am fine.”

She looked at me, really looked at me and said, “It is okay to not be okay. Grieving is a natural part of loss.” Or something along those lines.

I was allowed to not be okay.

At that point, all the emotions came rushing to me.
I was overwhelmed.

I was not okay then.

I am still not okay.

Tony’s death still hurts.

A few weeks later, I also lost my grandma.

The devastating feeling of losing control hit me again.

She would never see me graduate college.

She would never see me follow in her footsteps.

I would never again make cookies with her.

I would never again play scrabble with her.

I couldn’t handle it. My grief was messy. My grief still is very messy.

It still hurts a lot.

I will never stop missing them. Someday, the pain will dull, I will heal and rebuild myself around the loss, but I will never be the same again.

The crazy thing about this is that through the state of my grief and my life is messy. I’m remembering His love and how He covers me even when I make a mess of things (Colossians 3:3). I’m remembering that He is a God who is not afraid of our messes but who enters right into the middle of them.

Jesus, the Creator of the Universe, opts to sit in my grief and mess. He does not expect my life to be all put together.

He allows me to grieve and wrestle with the tough questions.

At first, I did not know how to be sad in God’s presence. I had been trained my whole life to approach God in search of some kind of uplift. Now, when I approach Him, uplift is not what I want. It isn’t desirable, let alone achievable.

It felt as though I needed put on a brave face for God, pretend things aren’t so bad. Like He was embarrassed by my pain. Like remaining sad in His presence was an affront to His goodness. God only wanted to see happy faces.

I felt like I needed to ask God to fix the situation. Once I reconciled myself to accepting myself in my mess and pain, I realized that God accepts my pain.

He sits with me in my pain and lets me grieve the loss of people and places without judgement or condemnation.

He ever expected me to be perfect.

Now, I continue to sit in my grief, slowly healing, God reminds me that my grief does not scare him.

My anger does not surprise him.

He continues to love me through the pain.

Ann Voskamp writes, “That no matter what’s happening or what’s coming up—the bottom line is God’s got you—so fear can’t get you. And He looks you right in the eye & hands you a bit of light: You have enough of Me & courage to do this hard thing. You have enough of Me & strength to not give up. You have enough of Me & love to keep on giving. You have enough of Me & Peace to know that you are carried. You have enough of Me to simply rest. You have enough of Me—and I am enough. You are enough—because the great I AM is in you… and with you… and for you.”

After my car accident, one of my favorite things about God was that he heard the cry of my heart. I could be shaking with sobs, no words in my mind, but He knew. He wrapped His spirit around me and comforted me.

Even now, when I get frustrated because I’m not getting better fast enough for my tastes, He meets me in the middle of my mess.

In the muddied water of my emotions, He meets me and comforts me.

When it appears that everyone else’s lives are moving forward and mine seems to be on pause, He meets me.

As I get frustrated because of my TBI symptoms, God dries my tears and reminds me that He has greater things in store. He can take something negative like a car accident and brain injury and turn it into something good.

My grief does not scare Him.

I simply need to have the courage to simply allow Him to love me in my grief and mess.

5 Things You Don’t Know But Should Know About Brain Injuries

March is Brain Injury Awareness month. Brain injuries are becoming more known because of the NFL, but we are still just tapping the iceberg.

1. You won’t be able to tell someone has a brain injury. Right after my accident, you could tell something was wrong. My eyes weren’t focusing. I wasn’t moving my right hand at all. Now, through, I still have a brain injury, but I look “normal”. If you didn’t know my story, and I simply met you on the street, you would have no idea the year I’ve had. It’s an invisible bruise.

“I live by my systems. I have to have a schedule or I am lost….Also, just because I look OK doesn’t mean anything. I have worked for years to get where I am now.” — Nancy Davis

2. People with a brain injury are not stupid, they simply process information differently and slowly. Everyone pictures a person with a brain injury as someone in a wheelchair drooling. This is often not the case. I know people who were civil engineers before their accident. Their TBI affected some of the way they did things, but they can still do what they did in some capacity. I know for me, I used to be able to look at something and remember/recognize it. But now, it takes a couple of times of reading it to maybe remember it. That is no way means I’m less smart than I was, it just looks different. Also, if someone asks me question after question, my brain gets overwhelmed and shuts down. People need to ask me one question and give me time to process the question before I can give an eloquent answer

“My brain takes different paths to understanding and explaining. It’s not a straight road, but one with detours.” — Keli Hanks

3. They aren’t lazy, they just need a lot more rest to function on a “normal” level.

I need to figure in more rest time now than I used to because without it, I hit a wall and am literally useless to anyone. You think about how much your brain is involved in. A while ago, my sister and I were out to lunch. I was quiet so she asked me what I was thinking. I said, “Drinking water.” There were no other thoughts in my head but the act of raising the cup to my lips and drinking the water. Your brain is involved in every act of every day. No wonder we are wiped out all the time.

“Remembering things is difficult. I’m not being lazy by only working a few hours a day or needing days off during a busy time — I just need more rest to function than you do… Changes take time for me to adjust to. What works for one person doesn’t always work for me.” — Sara Hill

4. A brain injury changes a person, not simply because it’s traumatic, but it changes the chemistry of the brain itself.

In a simple way, I used to be way more extroverted but now I’m a lot more introverted to the extent where I’ve had conversations with people only to discover that they went on solely in my head. I’ve also become significantly more OCD. I have to have everything just right, and it bothers me if one thing is out of place.

“My injury may be invisible, but my life has been turned upside down. I will never be the same again.” — Christina Chalgren

5. TBI individuals are some of the bravest people you will ever meet because they have survived something that was meant to destroy them.

I Won’t Let You Go

I am a piece of work.

I have a lot of faults.

I compare myself to others.

I complain A LOT.

I have trust issues (sometimes even with God).

I push people close to me away because I am afraid of them leaving and getting hurt.

I am often too proud.

These are only a few of the faults that make me cringe.I have a lot of faults.The beautiful thing is that even though I am a mess of faults, I am a living human being. This means that I have the potential to change or grow. I have grown. I am a different living human being than I was 6 years ago, when I was a senior in high school. I have outgrown some of my insecurities and gained new ones. I have pushed myself out of my comfort zone so many times, that my comfort zone has changed. Insecurity has the power to push me into the corner, causing me to become a wallflower, not growing but wilting in the feeling of being alone right in the middle of a crowd—a crowd that loves me for me. The thing about insecurity is that just when you think you have won, it rears its ugly head again.

I have a lot of faults.

I know I am not perfect. That thought rolls round and round in my head until God stops me in my tracks and tells me over and over again. “Beautiful daughter of mine, you don’t need to be perfect. You are already perfectly loved.”I am loved through my faults.That does not mean that I do not have the responsibility to fix my faults if I can. I fail. I hurt my friends when I get insecure because I say things I don’t mean. I push people away and hurt them. I often push people away before I could possibly get hurt. That’s really no way to go through life. I need to take responsibility for my faults.I try to hide from my responsibilities and put the blame of my faults on other people and things. As I try to hide, I become encamped in a place where God is preparing me. He is working in me.I may be encamped in a way that I do not understand. I don’t know how to fix my faults. God offers hope.“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”Phil. 1:6

God began a journey in my life and heart and He promises to finish it in his perfect timing. He is working out His plan for my life while helping me work on my faults.

I cannot change who I am and how God made me: I do not want to do that.

I run with my head down.

-I cry when I am stressed.

-I laugh at myself even though I am not funny.

-I act like a kid sometimes.

-I love colored pens and organized schedules.

-I desire spontaneous adventures.

-I am a romantic at heart.

These and other quirks make me who I am. A brown-eyed, curly-haired, laughing, and romantic, brave individual.

I am a work in progress, but I do not want to change who I am. I just need to work through my faults.I am God’s beautiful, loved, cherished daughter, and He wants me to live fully. As God works in me, helping me fix those parts of myself that need fixing. The areas that need work, because I am not perfect. He is there when I can’t change myself. He walks beside me as I wrestle with being present when I want to run away. He encourages me as I choose to trust people. He sits with me as I learn to love who I am through my insecurities. He cheers me on as a give up my pride and base my abilities on Him.I don’t have to be perfect because God is. In the quiet spaces of my heart, God continually whispers “You are loved more than you could ever know.” No matter what our story is-where we have been, what we have done-God’s love can never be diminished, tarnished, shaken or taken. Our response is to abide in that and fully live loved. The amazing thing about God is that even when I fail, God doesn’t loosen His grip on my soul. Even when it feels like He’s let go-when things aren’t going anywhere near my way-He’s still right there beside me, holding my heart. He’s still working in me-figuring out the sinful kinks in my soul. It’s always an adventure with Jesus as He works in me and makes me more like Him.

Expectation

It’s only been just over a month into 2018. It’s been a month that I’ve reached landmark after landmark. I’ve already seen God do amazing things in my life, and I’m expecting Him to do more. Recently, I spoke to the Independent Studies students at Mansfield Christian School. The whole idea was God’s faithfulness in my life. Someone asked me, “What was my plan now? What was my new desire?” It’s funny how I had never pictured myself working at a school or contemplated working in a rehab but now those are really things I’m thinking about. It’s funny how God changes your dreams or gives you a new dream.

This is going to be my best year yet because I’m expecting God to do great things.

On Monday, I drove by myself for the first time in a year, a month, and 26 days (not that I’m counting or anything). It felt good to be free again. It was a little nerve racking but I drove. It was a big milestone to pass. It’s just around town for now, and it feels like I’m 16 again, but it’s baby steps.

Also, I’ve been swimming again. It might not seem like a big thing to others but it is to me. The water is like my second home. I’ve swam for 8 years, and I would much rather swim any distance than run. I tried swimming last summer but my legs were not strong enough to keep me afloat. I tried again recently and I could swim. I was very out of shape but I did it. Swimming is very good for me physically as well as mentally. It takes a whole lot of coordination to swim effectively. It made me feel a little more like the old Sara to get in the water again.

“God may not answer every prayer with a miracle, but He does answer a few with a surprise”

Sheridan Voysey

So I’m expecting God to surprise me greatly this year, and I’m excited for the adventure He is taking me on.

It’s going to a great year!

Giving in to Negative Thoughts

A bad day does not make for a bad life (Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it).

This week, I gave into my fears, of failing, of letting people down, of being imperfect.

I have learned over the years that the only difference between an adventure and an obstacle is attitude. I gave in to my negative attitude this week. I allowed myself to follow the mental tracks of self-doubt, negativity, hesitation, and uncertainty.

I failed.

I failed in almost every area of life this week-oversleeping, and not having words. Utterly and absolutely failed.

I gave in when I allowed my failures to define my life.

I fell into old patterns of fear.

I had a bad day-a few bad days-but that does not give me permission to go down this trail fear.

I gave in and allowed my thoughts to define who God is and what He meant.

In my failures, I gave in and decided to control my life myself.

And, guess what….

I failed miserably.

I had no control of my emotions, of my life, of even my alarms.

It hurt.

Failure humbles me and reminded me that I am not the One who breathed the stars.

Just when I thought I knew that being brave and audacious meant, I was reminded that I need to be brave in my failures.

Admit my shortcomings and buck up.

Offer the failures up to the King of Kings and move on.

King David writes, “Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him” Psalms 62:5. He knew all about failure. He failed at many things, but he kept returning to the steadfastness of the Lord. He presents himself, his failures and successes, before the Lord.

Finally, at the end of the week, I gave in and accepted that God was God (C. S. Lewis). I relinquished control of my life and emotions to the One who created me.

Audaciously, I cried letting God meet me in failures. Humbly, offering them up as a meager sacrifice of my messy life.

Bravely, I accepted my humanness and let God be God.

Redeemed, I allowed myself to focus on His grace and not on my failings.

“I learned to dance with the fear that I’d been running from.”

Ben Rector.

I gave in and let God instill joy in my heart in the midst of my fears.