The final post in the #monumentalsummer blog series.
I'm anxious to write this. Scared, almost a little hesitant. But it's my story and it's my blog and I actually want to be a bit more personal with the twelve of you (yes, my stats tell me my page views, and I know that some of them are from me).
When I first wrote my #monumentalsummer post, I really had no idea what to expect. I knew I wanted it to be a great and fun summer, and I already knew it was jam-packed with activities.
But in my mind, it was NEVER supposed to turn out this way. NONE of this was supposed to happen.
Two days after I published my post, everything changed. Like, life got REAL. And that's exactly what I tweeted. I blogged on Monday morning, and by that Wednesday night, the words that came to my ears basically defined my summer. What was forthcoming. And after talking to my friends and praying, I came to the conclusion that, simply put, I was going to have to take a risk.
Risk-taking. It's not for the faint of heart, I can tell you that now from experience. And to be honest, I weighed that option for quite a while. Should I? Should I not? Would it make a difference? How hard would this be? What would happen if I DIDN'T take the risk?
My writer's mind has a way of doing that...considering every possible scenario, good or bad. It's a blessing and a curse. I overthink things, I overanalyze situations, and sometimes I really hate it. But with this risk, I had to. I've blogged about how fear--not taking risks--can paralyze you and hinder you from moving forward. But I've also experienced taking risks of this magnitude before in the past, and the hurt and pain that follows when things don't go your way are just as paralyzing. I looked back to that situation, when approaching this risk, and asked myself and God and my friends, "How can I learn from that risk and apply it this time? What can I do to deal with this better, in the instance that things don't go my way?"
When I look back, I had already been taking baby risks along the way and I had just failed to realize it. So if I had been doing it all along, why couldn't I take a risk now? I came to learn that taking risks isn't about following a clear-cut formula. Part of it is realizing what suits you the best...where your strengths lie and where you're comfortable enough to take a risk, but still having to be vulnerable enough as you do it. It had always been in my writer's mind, so when I finally came to that realization, I knew I could get it done using my own methods.
When I literally laid it all out, took a breath and saw my risk, I was able to forgo some anxiety. I even held a little bit of pride, because I saw for myself what I was putting myself through in taking the risk and possibly attaining this dream of mine. But the next step is actually executing the risk, and I can tell you it's very hard. It's also very hard when you take a misstep and things kind of fall apart and you run to your friends and question how in the world you allowed that one misstep to happen. It was quite the "mess of 2014."
And with some risks, everything just comes together, instantly. There's no down time, there's no waiting--it just resolves or the answer becomes clear. In my risk, I found myself in another round of waiting (the story of my life). I waited to see if my risk would blossom into what I wanted it to become. But days later, I faced the answer and even before I opened that door to see the full answer, I knew it was not what I wanted.
Well, I take that back. I actually did want an answer, and I got it. But it wasn't the success or fruition or accomplishment that I had imagined. It was the complete opposite. It was as if I had been free-falling from taking that leap of faith and when I finally fell, I hit the ground hard. And it really and truly hurt.
When you lose something, it's hard to deal with. People lose favorite items or family members, and they/we grieve. I had lost out on a dream I had, and was willing to take a risk on it, and I'll admit to you that I cried over it. More than I ever imagined. And it's the littlest things that can set you off...like a photo or a trinket or a memory. You learn that you're a lot more emotional than you ever realized, and at first you try to mask the emotions and want to come off as strong, but when you carry your heart on your sleeve, you can't do that. That's woven into your fabric, and you can't be something else. Yes, you hide it because it's not appropriate for some situations, but at other times, you can be in the most unusual place and the emotions overwhelm you.
But one of the many things I learned about taking this risk is that it is okay to deal with the emotions, but we cannot take residence there. God has proven Himself so faithful in the aftermath and when He sees that you're starting to fall to that side, He reminds you to cling to Him. You call on friends to bring your feelings and situation before His throne. And I've had to do that on so many occasions, almost to the point where I feel as if I'm being annoying. But I know that strength lies within Him and the power of prayer. I knew that I couldn't do it on my own, and I needed community to pray for me.
And it's so crazy how God will use the most unusual things and most unexpected people to speak His truth into your life. It's a deep conversation with someone you never expected to share, it's a quote from a newspaper column that shows you what everything was. And it's the devotion you get from your email that one day--in that moment when you still struggled to let go and asked God if He would show you if there was any reason at all to still hold on to any semblance of hope--which was titled "Then God Said No", and you plug your own story in the Bible lesson. Sometimes God doesn't use big flashy signs to show us, but I think for people like me He does, because we're stubborn and blinded by our own wants that He wants and needs us to see it ever so clearly.
He uses song lyrics from Jesus songs and even country or pop songs to show you your emotions or even offer some healing. And He'll even use the words in a sermon--oh, so many words in sermons and Sunday services--to speak truth to your heart. That it will all be okay, if we cling to Him and give it over to Him--the things we want or think we need. He gives us the chance to go to the altar and lay it before him, and He even allows people like me--who struggle oh-so-hard to let go of things--to bring it to Him each time you gather before His presence. He shows you what you need to do, how you need to do it, or sometimes He doesn't. While we feel as if we're dwelling in the midst of confusion because WE don't have all the answers or have it all figured out, He has the answers. He has it all figured and and has had it all figured out from the beginning of time.
In this letting go process, I've found that I can come to God with bold prayers. I have asked Him to still give me what I want and in His grace He doesn't give it to me. I have asked Him to take things away that I felt were hindering the healing process, and in some respects He has. This summer, I started prayer-journaling. I also call them "powwows with God", and my first one was never jotted down. It was me, sitting in a room all by myself and communing with God over two hours about, believe it or not, this eventual risk. From the very beginning, I wanted God to oversee everything that was said or done. I wanted Him to reveal every aspect to me, and in some ways He did and in some ways He withheld from me, probably in a means of protection.
The beautiful thing with prayer journaling is that you can look back and see where you were--whether in a good or bad place--and you can see how you met with God and see where He took you on this journey. I am so thankful that in my prayers, I can see where God revealed His truth to me early on. I was able to see where my prayers, and not the ones for myself, were answered. I can look back on my petitions and thanksgiving and see where His hand was in it all. I read them often, and when I get through them all I am filled with such peace because my Father was there all along. Now, I'll admit there are some things that I have questioned in my mind--was it part of God's will for me to take this risk? If it was, then was falling short part of His plan? What if taking this risk wasn't part of God's perfect will for me? Was I, then, out of His will? And if that's the case, had I been out of His will for the entire length of this #monumentalsummer?
These kind of questions have plagued me, probably longer than they should have, and I believe it's the Enemy at work. Satan likes to keep us at the bottom when we're down to keep us from approaching God. But when I start looking toward the Savior, He shows His truth, His healing. And believe it or not, He will, at the appointed time, tell you what He wants you to hear.
He sometimes does it slowly--He allows you to realize that, if this dream was something He really wanted for you, He would have allowed it to manifest on its own. He didn't need you to take an effort and take a risk and risk the pain that comes along with it. But even though you did take a risk, He used it for His glory, to show you to let go of something that you have wanted for so, so long. He shows you that it's time to finally grow up and take the painful transition from kid to adult with a sometimes-unbearable loss, because you said you felt as if you hadn't had to grow up in these 27 years of life, and this trial finally allowed that to happen. When you felt like you hit the ground hard, it was only by your perspective because your eyes were filled with tears and were blurred, because He was there to pick you up and He was that soft landing spot. Yes, you were broken, but He had that for you because He wanted you to go to Him for restoration.
And like with any good story, He builds it up and finally tells you the answer: completely surrender to Him.
I heard those words on Sunday, and I have yet to shake them from my memory. When we fully surrender to Him, He can use us for the plans He has for us. I have sang songs in church and even written in this blog about coming to full surrender or proclaiming that He is "already all I need", but God had to use something so monumental to show me this. It's about surrendering the pain and heartache and loss, surrendering the dream itself, surrendering what I want and replacing those things with what He wants. And I know it won't be easy. There will be times and there already have been times where I'm reminded again and I have to choose whether to live in those emotions or choose the joy of Jesus. Something will come to mind to remind me of my failed attempt, but I have to shake it from my memory and move on. I believe the overall picture of my life still includes something big--some other kind of dream along these lines, because God has not taken it completely away from me. I actually still pray over it and ask God's will to be done and seen and carried out, because I want to dwell in the midst of His will. And if one day, He chooses to take it away, I will have to come to accept and realize that He does it for the sake of His glory, to shape me to the child He wants me to be, and that while it might seem hard and/or painful, He knows I can handle it.
So thus, a chapter, closed. I had been wanting to write this for over two weeks, and not just to show you about my #monumentalsummer. First, I kind of believe that sharing my story will serve as a motivation or blessing or encouragement to someone else. But still, writing has proven to be very healing for me this summer and in other past situations, so I knew I had to get it done. Like I said, things like this allow you to become vulnerable and sometimes it feels odd or even a little humiliating, but I feel that now that I've written this, I can move forward even more. I thank God that through it all, the only anger I've felt is toward myself, for being so thick-headed for not being able to see what God wanted me to do or not do. Really, I've just been very sad over how it all played out, but I know it's time to leave it in the past and more importantly, at His feet.
I look ahead to the fall, not just for the pumpkin-spiced EVERYTHING and leggings and boots and colder weather, but because I know my Savior has something in store for me that my mind cannot even imagine. I know He has a lesson or opportunity awaiting me, in which the pain and loss I dealt with in this season will have taught me things that will prepare me for what's ahead. I sincerely ask for your prayers, and I can't wait to hopefully share with you what He's teaching me in the weeks and months to come.
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