let's be brave together.

After all the feedback on my last post, I think it's time to keep being real about about how the move / new job / life in Michigan have been for the last five months: HARD!  It's not that I hate it or regret my decision; I actually have way too much fun most days and am so at peace. It's just that it's been a transition and transitions are hard! You can't spend your entire adult life in one place and then completely move on overnight. There is a grieving process involved in any change in life, and leaving an entire life behind is no exception. 

Instead of really giving grief the time it needs, I've had to stuff it and get to work...there's 80 kids and a team of staff members relying on me every week. 

Now we don't really have internet at camp, but when the wind blows the right direction sometimes I get a wifi signal, and there's this quote that pops up often on my Pinterest feed: "You have to be brave with your life so that others will be brave with theirs." 

It first came up months ago when I was deliberately searching quotes on bravery, looking for some inspiration as I had just made the decision to go back to Michigan and was looking for some encouragement, someone's words to voice what I was feeling when I couldn't figure out exactly how I was feeling or what I needed to say.

Brave felt like a good word. I was stepping out into the unknown. It was big. It was scary. I needed some courage. There is a ferociousness to brave that I liked. 

In January and February I took this quote to heart. I needed to do this Michigan thing. I needed people to see me do something scary and big so that they would be inspired to do the same. The ability to leave was like a superpower, and I was commended on being "strong" enough to do something so scary.

But now that I've been gone, I don't think the brave thing was leaving. Yeah it was scary and still puts my faith to the test daily, but I don't know that it was brave.

Brave is the way I handle it now that I've left. And this time, brave to me isn't about being strong, it's about being weak, being vulnerable. It's about being not-ok, and being okay with it. Brave is courage, but not in a sense of power...it's courage in my ability to share with others how I'm actually doing. It's admitting that yeah, even though the days are good, I'm still grieving. Yes, somedays I'm still searching for hope, waiting for this all to make sense.

Brave might be one of the easiest things to fake. It's easy to masquerade around in a parade of accomplishments and look-at-me-nows. But when the mask is off? Is the person under it really brave? Or is brave a front for insecurity, loneliness, the feeling that you can't really share how you're doing?

I want brave to be going to church with a tear-streaked face because I'm lonely and I need my people and I need them to know it. Because how will they help me if they don't know my struggles?

In March I was back in Florida for a wedding and able to reconnect with so many people I haven't seen in a long time. I wanted them to think I'm brave so I told them about this big new move. But what if real bravery is found in my ability to tell them "I moved, and you know what? It's been a struggle."

Here's the problem: people really don't know how to deal with that. Oh, yes, some do and they do it well. But I think this kind of brave is unexpected. And that's what makes it important! I've found that being brave in my struggles helps other people be brave in their struggles. 

In the last couple months I've taken notice of the struggles of some of my friends. They are struggling in their jobs, in their marriages, struggling with their weight and with their kids and their own insecurity and loneliness. 

Can't we all just struggle together?

What makes me most sad about all these friends who are struggling is that so many choose to do it on their own. There are the few who have let me in on their struggles...what about all my friends fighting their own battles who aren't brave enough to talk about them yet? Can't we all just struggle together? That would be brave.

I think now I want brave to be synonymous with real. Authentic. Genuine. Brave isn't strength in the struggle, brave is admitting there is a struggle. The courage to be yourself might be the bravest thing you can do.

Let's be brave together.

glimpses of hope

I could have lied.

When the woman sitting next to me in church (who I’d just met 50 minutes ago) asked if I had lunch plans, it would have been so, so easy to respond with a smile and “Yeah, sorry...I have to get back to camp. Thanks though!” and then out the door like normal.

Lies. My “plans” included picking up Qudoba and climbing back into bed with a burrito and One Tree Hill (Season 4, for the 11th time). That plan is so much easier than the hard, awkward work of meeting new people at a new church in a new town. A church I don’t know that I will for sure be attending in a town I don’t know that I’ll live in.

But for whatever reason I said no, I didn’t have plans. It was uncomfortable to answer that way, because I knew what would come next. It did, and when she asked if I like Mexican and wanted to join her family for lunch, I agreed. Fifteen minutes later I was sitting across the table from a precious three-year-old, making faces and eating far-too-large of a burrito. We shared stories of moving and life changing and God at work even when we couldn’t see it. (And of course we played some Dutch Bingo, too). 

It was nothing major. It probably wasn’t a big deal to them. But it spoke volumes to me. For the first time in too long, I felt hope. The hope that comes with taking a risk, the hope that comes with knowing change is around the corner. The hope that says it’s been a rough season, but it won’t stay that way. The hope that says you haven’t lost yourself, you’re still in there somewhere, and here’s a reminder of who you are and why you’re here.

Sometimes it’s hard to have that hope when you live in a camping trailer and aren’t sure where you’ll be living in two months. It’s hard when you don’t know how you’ll pay for that unknown place in two months, because your job is about to be part-time. It’s hard when all your friends are together 1200 miles away and you miss them terribly and wonder if you will ever find a connection like that in your new town. 

These last five months have been, without a doubt, the most challenging months of my life. They’ve been filled with unknown and emotions and more questions than answers. Yet God has been so good in showering me with little glimpses of hope - warm fuzzies, text messages, cinnamon rolls on my stoop (true story), conversations with students, sunsets, and burritos after church. Whatever situation you are in, I pray you find hope where you need it today. And if you’ve got enough hope to pass around, share it. You never know what one word, one invitation, one cup of coffee could mean to someone who just needs a little hope.