I'm Glad God Made Us Wait

In January 2024, I wrote a post called The Fourth Heartbreak Continues. In it, I reference the post I made in January of 2020 where I processed how heartbroken I was to be called to move away from Raleigh, but I knew that I could trust God's plan. In Heartbreak Continues, I admitted that I still didn't know why God had upended our Raleigh life, and that I was actually pretty bitter about it.

I definitely didn't know why we weren't getting pregnant. I looked around and people were getting pregnant by accident, or getting pregnant despite eating like garbage, or getting pregnant despite never moving their bodies. It honestly didn't make me angry or sad, it just confused me. Gabe and I were physically healthy (doctor-confirmed) and financially stable, had a healthy marriage, and I was dedicated to eating well and exercising, while being careful to eat enough calories and not put too much stress on my body. I didn't drink alcohol or caffeine, and I ate weird stuff like oysters and roasted tomatoes that were supposed to help with fertility.

It didn't feel RATIONAL, like writing 2 + 2 = 4 on a math test and having it marked "wrong." I was more indignant than sad, more confused than angry.

Even more confusingly, I was quite happy the way things were. I have a draft of a post called "Pregnancy Ambivalence" that will probably never see the light of day now, but in it I talked about how I was 100% certain that I wanted kids—however, if it weren't for a biological clock, I wouldn't necessarily want them NOW. I loved having a clean house and going on random roadtrips and getting sleep and working on the Fire Faery Story and not being interrupted when I talked to Gabe and eating out on a whim and never having to get a sitter. I was really happy, but due to the aforementioned biological clock, I was also under a lot of pressure to have kids ASAP, because I really, REALLY did want kids.

It was all very confusing—lots of moving pieces, lots of mixed feelings. We prayed to get pregnant for years, and I know other people were praying with us. But nothing happened, and I couldn't understand why.

I did trust God, and not because I was a good Christian girl who had a lot of faith, but because God had been extremely kind in letting me see a lot of past answers to "why not right now?" Maybe he knows how much I need proof, but he eventually allowed me to see why I didn't get into Wake Forest, why my high school boyfriend and I didn't work out, why Gabe and I didn't start dating sooner, etc. I really did trust that if Gabe and I weren't having kids, God had a good reason.

But what the hell was it?!

Well, we are finally pregnant, and God has been kind enough to open my mind to some small reasons and one BIG reason why now is a better time.

Small Reason 1: We have a house.
Yes, we were financially stable before, but where were we gonna put a baby in the apartment? I have no doubt we would've figured it out, but our apartment was FULL. We did not have an extra bedroom. What we did have? A third-story climb to reach our front door and neighbors from Hell on four sides.

Small Reason 2: I got to do my big 30th birthday beach trip.
That was probably the most magical trip of my entire life, and it would have been an ordeal with a baby or toddler. We would have had to either find childcare for an entire week or bring the kid with us, which would have altered the vibe in all kinds of ways I wouldn't have wanted.

Small Reason 3: I'm medicated.
Depression is still a struggle, but before medication, I was...becoming next to useless. There's no way I could have taken good care of a baby or toddler when there were weeks where I couldn't get out of bed, brush my own teeth, or eat my own meals. I have hard days now, but I don't have a lot of impossible days.

Small Reason 4: I've paused work on the Fire Faery Story.
To be honest, this might be more accurately added to a list of "HOW we finally got pregnant" instead of "why." The Fire Faery Story takes  e v e r y t h i n g  I have. All of me. Actually, it clearly takes MORE than what I have, because it's still not done yet. It's basically my first child, and I think I can only gestate one baby at a time. For years I chose the FFS, but when I took a YEAR off...my mind and body finally had room for a human baby.

Small Reason 5: I didn't need or enjoy my home office.
For the first time ever, in the new house I had a whole room dedicated to my work. It was fun to decorate it and hang up art that was all about me...but I didn't actually like being in there. It was the longest possible walk from the living room and kitchen. I felt kinda marooned and would actually avoid working in there, instead opting for the kitchen table or couch.

Small Reason 6: We didn't know what to do with "the big room."
Most of our second floor is a loft/bonus room. We kicked around a lot of ideas about what to do with it, but none of them inspired us. The space was a purposeless void—until we needed a nursery and everything clicked: we could integrate my office and all the bookshelves into the big room. We did it over Martin Luther King Jr. Day and oh. my. GOSH. This is EXACTLY what the big room was meant to be! It looks like a real room now, and I actually love working in the space. It's big enough that when Tot gets older, she can easily play in the room while I work.

Small Reason 7: I got a raise.
Boy, is that divine timing, especially since I'll be taking some time off when the Tot is born.

Small Reason 8: I can suddenly swallow pills?
I dunno. I've always choked on anything bigger than, like, a single sprinkle, but for some reason about six months ago my body was like, "Oh, you mean swallow the pill. Like food," and now everything is better.

The Big Reason: Gabe and I are completely different people than we were five years ago.
When we first started trying to get pregnant, my goal would've been to raise smart, tough kids. I didn't know there was a difference between transparency and vulnerability. I didn't know anything about boundaries or attachment theory. I probably would've believed in spanking my kids. My plan for tantrums would've been simply to cut them off, forbid them. I knew nothing about child psychology or development.

Now I'm obviously no child psychologist or parenting expert, but holy cow am I glad Past Me didn't have kids.

My goal is no longer to raise smart, tough kids. My goal is raise to raise kind, well-regulated kids. My goal is to be a parent who apologizes, and takes responsibility for her own emotions, and makes her kids feel seen.

I know Gabe and I aren't finished growing, and 2035 Stephanie will look back on Now Me and have a lot of notes. But I cannot believe I'm fortunate enough to be able to say,

"God, I think I'm finally starting to get it. Thank you for making us wait."

~Stephanie

Boundaries and Fe: A Match Made in Hell

You may remember me writing about striving for healthier boundaries XD In June, I read Boundaries, Gabe and I had a life-planning weekend trip, and I committed to holding several specific boundaries for the next six months, June to January.

Well, boundaries are difficult to adhere to, and I haven't been doing a great job. I think the main reason is that I have an unhealthy relationship with other peoples' feelings and opinions.

As a kid I was labeled "lazy." I was also labeled "selfish." As a kid, neither label bothered me. People could label me all day long and I'd continue being/doing largely what I wanted. However, somewhere along the line I became interested in self-improvement, and all the labels started mattering to me. I leaned into my ENFJ, away from my Eight, and decided to make other people the most important thing, to overcompensate for naturally being "so selfish."

My MBTI type is an "extroverted Feeling type." The primary way I see the world is by registering other peoples' feelings. (How *I* feel is so far down the list of factors that I often can't figure it out even when I'm trying. It feels like the absolute least important factor of any scenario, because I know I can handle feeling whatever/anything*.)

For me, this means that during dance class, I'm consumed with the fact that one person in the group isn't getting the choreography and is feeling embarrassed about it. At church, I can't hear what the speaker is saying over the roar of how he accidentally made someone in the second row feel silly. At movie nights, I can't focus on the film because of how much the person on my left dislikes someone across the room. When I accidentally take someone's seat, I feel how awkward THEY feel having to deal with it. When Person A recommends a book to Person B and Person B doesn't care, all I can worry about is how Person A must be feeling.

Now, before this starts sounding selfless and angelic, I need you to know that it's not XD Just because I'm in tune with other peoples' feelings doesn't necessarily mean I'm sympathetic. It might mean I'm annoyed because it's distracting. It might mean I feel like I'm being manipulated when I'm absolutely not.

And being others-focused can also be a form of self-focus: how are others feeling about ME? Do they think I look bad in this outfit? Did they expect me to be more interesting than I am? Do they think my shifting priorities as a Christian are a sign of succumbing to "the world"? Some things don't get factored in—like I'll never care that you think I shouldn't have tattoos or listen to metal—but other things are impossible to ignore. 

Recently on a trip, I found myself so wrapped up in what others were thinking and feeling that I couldn't focus on anything else. I tried to stop, wanted to see how long I could go before I was consumed by the wants/needs/opinions/feelings of others. I literally couldn't go, like, a couple of minutes. It was all I could focus on.

One of the things I committed to doing until January was not going to church while I heal from "shoulding," unless I felt specifically called to go one week. Well, I've been doing a horrible job of that.

I skipped a couple of weeks, people would ask Gabe where I was or text me saying they missed me, but then there would be a church function I needed to be at, or Gabe wouldn't be able to attend one week and I felt like at least one of us should be there, or blah blab blah and I'd end up going. Then I'd go another week in a row. And I could imagine the people around me thinking, "Okay good, I'm glad she's gotten whatever it was out of her system and she's back now."

Well, I shouldn't be. I still need to be gone. My boundaries and my feelings are too messed up for me to return in a healthy manner right now. I know that. God knows that. Gabe knows that. My therapist knows that.

But other people don't, and their thoughts/feelings/opinions are all. I. Can. Register.

It's not other peoples' fault. They aren't manipulating me or guilting me or projecting onto me. No, *I* am the one taking on other peoples' stuff when I shouldn't. Other peoples' opinions of me are none of my business. Other peoples' feelings about me are not within my boundaries to control. They can think/do/say/feel whatever is natural for them and that doesn't have to affect me.

In theory.

This is really hard for me. I don't want people to walk on eggshells around me or worry about me**. I don't want other people to DO anything; they don't even have to be understanding or kind. They can be whatever, and I can be whatever, and we'll all work on our own stuff, the stuff that's within our own boundary lines.

I still believe in community and accountability and not making a brother stumble and a bunch of other stuff that probably feels contradictory to some of this, but that's another post (or five).

I dunno. All this to say: boundary work is hard, I guess.

~Stephanie

* Emotionally. Physically, a hangnail will take me out.

** So why am I vomiting this onto the internet? Partly because writing is the best way I can access my own thoughts and feelings, partly because these posts seem to be helping other people wrestle through their own stuff, partly because I'm a validation-seeking millennial. You can assign the percentages however you want.

Boundaries: It Takes a Village

One of the things Boundaries makes clear is that it's impossible to do boundary work in isolation. That's not because boundaries must involve other people (you have boundaries to enforce on yourself, and you and God have a relationship with boundaries), but because boundary work is HARD. We need the support of people who love us in order to do it.

Over and over, Boundaries talks about practicing boundaries with "safe" people while you build up strength to face the people who are likely to react with anger or guilt-tripping when you try to set limits. Your safe people will be proud of you for respecting your property lines, and they can remind you of what's your responsibility and what's not your responsibility in the aftermath of holding a difficult limit.

According to Brené Brown, the most compassionate people seem to be the people with the best boundary skills. When you don't constantly feel resentful or taken advantage of, you can help with a happy heart. You're not a walking mess of compassion fatigue.

Basically, I guess I want to do two things in this post:

1) I want to encourage you to recognize your "safe" people. Who can you talk to about your journey with boundaries? Who can help you say No when appropriate, and cheer you on for doing the difficult, right thing? Who can you trust to tell you if you become a boundaries Nazi who might need to reevaluate?

2) I want to thank the people in my life who are supporting me in this work. I thought people would be mad at me and judge me for being lazy and selfish when I started working on boundaries. Ninety-nine percent of the time people have understood and replied to my refusals with "Good for you! That's so hard!" It's been humbling in a tearing-up kind of way. I tend to prepare for the worst, emotionally, and it's nice to be proven wrong. I don't know why I assume everyone is out for my blood*, but I'm working on stopping that and I've loved being pleasantly surprised.

I think boundary work gets easier as the process continues? I'm new at it, so we'll see, but what I'm noticing is that my boundary muscle is growing at a surprising rate, and the people around me are getting more used to it too. There have been hiccups, but everything has been working toward healthier expectations and communication, so yay!

I love my village so much, and I'm excited to become a better villager every day :D

~Stephanie

* Okay, maybe it has something to do with fear of betrayal/being an Eight, but good grief, why can't I chill? XD

Maybe We Don't "Do" Anything

"So, what do we do about that?" a friend said to me. We were talking about the clothing designer for Target who got fired because he was openly a Satanist. "Do we support Target for firing someone with beliefs like that? Or do we not support Target because they're firing someone based on their beliefs? Like, what if a Christian got fired because they were a Christian? What do we do?"

"Maybe we don't 'do' anything," I said, having this thought for the very first time. "Maybe we just...live our lives."

And if someone confronts us about our stance, we can say that: we don't know what our opinion is. We're still thinking about it, for XYZ reasons.

This was a brand new thought for me, and one that is very counter to how I've always thought and lived. In the era of social media especially, it feels like we have to take a side, post for or against, share some hot take. But we if we don't have to do that? What if we don't have to "do" anything?* What if the world needs and Jesus wants something more mundane than that?

The Jews were expecting a leader who would rescue them from the evil, corrupt government and restore Truth to the world via war and politics. What they got was the exact opposite of a political leader. Jesus largely ignored the politics of his day, not even taking the "right side." He spoke in riddles to force people to talk to each other, and loved children to highlight the importance of faith, and toyed with religious leaders to prove they didn't have all the answers, and ate with sinners to model doing the contemporarily unthinkable, and overturned temple tables to mourn the house of worship becoming something commercial and gross.

Jesus did do things, but not...not what I see a lot of Christians doing today. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think Jesus would be posting all over his social media—or even boycotting or not boycotting Target. I kind of think he'd be talking one-on-one to the person your Facebook post is mocking, and buying food at Target for the homeless guy.

Jesus never delighted in making fun of people—and in fact, the people he came closest to "making fun of" were actually the religious blowhards who saw the world as black and white and thought they knew everything.

Maybe when we see or hear things that outrage us, our reaction doesn't need to be to DO something, but to BE something? I wonder if Jesus is unimpressed with most of the actions we take, if he feels like we're missing the point. Like, posting Bible verses and labeling sinners is one thing, but have you tried loving your neighbor?

I'm tired of being told I need to be mad about something or DO something in response to every little thing. Maybe it's not that deep. Try your best to live like Jesus, and trust him to sort out the details.

~Stephanie

* This will need to be a longer post at some point, but I'm NOT saying I think Christians should stand by while atrocities and injustices happen. I think Christians are called to advocate for people who are abused or endangered, whether by systems or individuals. There are definitely times when we should "do" something; I just wonder if the something is more personal, less performative than what we've been doing.

Boundaries: Let Your Yes Be Yes

I've never considered myself to be a "yes" person. I've never considered myself to be someone who finds it difficult to say No.

But I think I've been considering myself wrong, for a while now.

Maybe I used to be a Non-Yes-Person, a person who found it easy to say No. I can imagine that part of my personality being so loud and so effective as a child that it was inconvenient for those around me. I can imagine being trained out of my easily accessible No.

To some extent, we all have to do things we don't want to do; that's part of life. But it's part of life; it's not all of life. Somewhere along the road, I completely lost that distinction. I began should-ing all over myself, 24/7.

I don't know if it's being a Christian, a southerner, or part of a pastor's family, but I internalized a ton of "shoulds." If people expect you to, you should. If no one else is going to, you should. If you can, you should. What you want doesn't matter. What you feel doesn't matter. You do the things anyway. I am strong enough to do what I don't want to do, all the time. My feelings don't matter. What I want doesn't matter. This is the way things are, and it is right and true.

(And then I married the King of Feelings, who not only acted on his feelings, but did not see the need to support them with anything else, like, I don't know, reasons. Ask us about the first several years of marriage sometime XD We have each walked about a billion miles just to meet in the middle.)

In this headspace, it became impossible to know what I wanted—ever. It's like a brand of overthinking. It became impossible to answer the question, "Do you even want to X?" I would sit and gape at the question, butting against firewalls of Shoulds and cringing against their blaring alarms. Do I want cake? I shouldn't eat cake; I've had enough sugar the past few days. Do I want to go to church? I should go to church; the Bible tells us fellowship is important, as is keeping one's commitments. Do I want to go to my friend's birthday party? I should go; the friend has always been supportive of me. Do I want to stay inside and read? I shouldn't; I should go walk outside instead so I don't waste the nice weather.

Do I even want to do X? The muscle that answers that question has well and truly atrophied.

For years, a very small percentage of my Yeses have been real, biblical Yeses. This isn't anyone's fault but my own. It wasn't that people were forcing me to say yes, it's that I didn't and don't have the neural pathway to say yes and mean it. Everything gets routed directly through Should Station and exits as whatever the "correct answer" is. Feelings and desires don't matter.

After therapy, reading Boundaries, and having lots of conversations with Gabe, he and I have decided that I basically need an Anti-Should Bootcamp for the next six months. For the next six months, I'm not going to do anything that I simply "should," unless I feel a seed of genuine desire toward the thing.

This sounds INSANELY privileged and indulgent to me, and I think long-term, it would be. However, I think healing from wounds and (very little T) trauma can only happen in a space of absolute safety. I need to practice saying No until I start to believe that I have the freedom to do that. Only when a person can freely say No can she also freely say Yes. I need to prune away the weeds of all the Shoulds in my heart and see what healthy interests, desires, and joys might be trying to grow. What do I actually want?

I don't think I'm a lazy person anymore. I don't think this six-month bootcamp is in danger of turning me into a spoiled, capricious prima donna who thinks the world revolves around her desires. I think this is something I need to do in order to grow and heal, and I think I'll "come back" in six months happier, healthier, and able to show up spiritually to all the things I decide to say Yes to.

Because it's not a Yes if you didn't believe you could say No.

~ Stephanie

Jesus Had Limitations

I have always considered myself to be a lazy person.

Growing up, I was often told that I was lazy, and I assume it was true. I internalized it as part of my identity. Being told that I was lazy did not make me less lazy; it just made me aware of the fact that apparently laziness was part of who I was.

If I didn't get my homework done, it was because I didn't try hard enough. If I didn't take all the college classes I wanted to, it was because I didn't want to apply myself sufficiently. If I'm late to a function, it's because I didn't plan well enough. If I'm not a good enough friend to someone, it's because I'm too lazy to try. If I don't finish a work project on time, it's because I didn't work hard enough. If I'm not in the physical shape I want to be in, it's because I don't commit to it. If I can't have three careers and also be a stay-at-home mom, it'll be because I'm lazy.

It's part of my identity. I AM a lazy person. I don't have any limits at all except an unwillingness to work. There is no other reason besides laziness that would account for the above things. I am capable of literally ANYTHING and the failure to do literally anything is 100% a lack of focus and determination.

Except, maybe that's insane?!

I was listening to the Made for This podcast by Jennie Allen this morning and Kirk Franklin was a guest speaker. I was going about my day when he started hitting me with truths I had never considered before. The scales have fallen from my eyes and now I feel like an actual crazy person.

He quoted the book Ordering Your Private World by George MacDonald: "Jesus knew his limitations well.* Strange as it may seem, he knew what we conveniently forget: time must be properly budgeted for the gathering of inner strength and resolve in order to compensate for one's weaknesses when spiritual warfare begins."

If JESUS needed time to recharge, if JESUS had limitations, then how appallingly arrogant of me to assume that I have none; that my only limitation is laziness; that I have no spiritual, physical, emotional, intellectual, relational limitations whatsoever. (I'm hearing how insane and arrogant this sounds as I process it. Good grief.)

Kirk went on to point out that one thing Satan does is tempt us to go beyond our limitations, to exhaust ourselves in any or many of the above categories. "Rest is a weapon," Kirk said. "It's very hard to tempt well-rested, emotionally healthy, happy, and serene people."

Maybe I'm not fundamentally lazy. Maybe I'm TIRED. Maybe I'm really, really tired. Maybe my assumption that I have no limitations has led me to be not only overextended, but emotionally abusive to myself. Until this morning, I ACTUALLY THOUGHT that the ONLY reason I had not succeeded in any number of "failures" was because I just hadn't tried hard enough, because I was lazy.

And honestly, I'm not sure which camp I find more uncomfortable: the You Are Lazy camp, or the You Have Limitations camp.

On one hand, acknowledging that I have legitimate limitations is both reasonable and reassuring. On the other...well, it is a strangely difficult pill to swallow. I have always been comforted by the fact that I COULD do literally anything, I just CHOOSE not to because I'd rather be lazy. It is humbling and disconcerting to think that I may not be ABLE to work a 40-hour a week job, tutor Challenge B, teach dance, have children, homeschool those children, run a perfect house, read a book a week, write and publish a novel, have a great tan, get into perfect shape, have a deep relationship with God, be a great friend, be involved in church, be politically active, become fluent in multiple languages, and relearn math simultaneously NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY.

That was not hyperbole for the sake of making a point. That was the actual list of things I assumed I was capable of doing concurrently if I just weren't so lazy.

Even now, it's hard for me not to look at that list and narrow my eyes and say, "But, like, you COULD. You just WON'T." I still kind of feel that way. Maybe it's a weird millennial side effect of growing up on "you can do anything you put your mind to" culture.

I'm not sure what to do with this. Do I take a vacation? (It's been over a year since I took one...) Do I quit a job? (LOL) Do I...?

~Stephanie

*Obviously as God, Jesus had no limitations. However, he was also human, which comes with limitations that he chose to acknowledge and live within.

Centering Prayer Part 2: The Maddening Impossibility of Stillness

Centering prayer. Sitting in solitude, silence, and stillness. Stilling one's heart, mind, and body.

It's hard to control your thoughts; they seem to be a part of existence.

It's hard to control your feelings; they're involuntary.

But at least—at LEAST—you can control your physical body, right? Being still is easy. You just don't move.

Wrong.

Well, wrong if you're me.

And this drives me absolutely insane.

Why can't I sit still? Why can't I just SIT. STILL?! It's not hard. It should be the opposite of hard. It's not doing anything, it's doing NOTHING. Can't I just do nothing?

Every morning, I sit myself down and say sternly, "Okay. This is it. Do not move. You can do this. Just. Don't. Move."

And every day, I lose my mind because I HAVE to pop my toe, I HAVE to sit up straighter, I HAVE to scratch my temple. Sometimes it's a choice, like I decide that I'm far too uncomfortable and I must move in order to be able to focus on God. But sometimes it's not a choice. Sometimes I just MOVE, and I'm like, "Wh—? WHY?!"

I know that the stillness part of centering prayer is not this rigid. It doesn't mean that for twenty minutes, the most important thing you can do is remain immobile. The most important thing you can do is...nothing.

It's just that I seem incapable of silencing my thoughts and I don't even want to DEAL with my feelings, so the one thing I feel like I ought to be able to do is sit still.

But no.

Centering prayer is the exact opposite of what Eights are "good at." Eights are good at DOING things. They do things even when they shouldn't be doing things. They do things even when there are massive obstacles in the way. They do things when they should be resting. They do things when they should be listening. They do things when they should be planning. Give an Eight a "to-do" list and he will do it harder and with more attitude than appropriate.

Centering prayer is about dwelling with God. You have to submit to the solitude, silence, and stillness. It is completely passive. There is no checklist. There is no "doing." You can't muscle your way to the state of deep time with God.

I "do" centering prayer every morning. More often than not, I end up punching the floor mid-session and muttering under my breath. I cannot seem to do it and it frustrates me to my core.

I know that's the point, in a way. I CAN'T "do it," for at least a couple of reasons:

1) It's not a thing you can "do."

2) It's probably designed to show me that not everything can be done in my power. Some things—the biggest, deepest, best things—can only happen when I surrender completely and let God do them for me.

I'm going to keep trying. I'm going to keep failing. I hope that one day I'll get this. Or at least get out of the way for God to bring it to me.

~Stephanie

I am a Republican, Therefore So is Jesus

A couple of months ago, I realized I was falling into a trap that I think Americans struggle with more than any other nationality: prioritizing politics over Christianity.

(Note: I went off on a tangent that I didn't see coming. It is thoughts that have been floating around my head for a long time, needing to be organized. It is relevant to this post, but not necessary. If you want to read that part, it's in a PS at the bottom.)

I get why America has a high degree of national pride. I believe in her founding principles and I really hope that one day they are—and feel—true for everyone equally.

Because I believe in America's founding principles so wholeheartedly and am proud of her potential as a country, belief and pride in her have become values of mine. Because they have become values of mine, I believe that they are right and true, as is the case for values that anyone holds. If you didn't believe a value was right and true, you wouldn't hold it as a value, would you?

However, as you are aware, we also have a lovely thing called "political parties." I would like to think that both parties have the interests of America and her citizens at heart. So, assuming that we all have the American value of loving our country, we all pick a political party that we think best upholds that value.

Love of freedom, one's country, and one's neighbors feel easily compatible with Christianity. Jesus is all about freedom, I imagine that he would rather a healthy country, and we know he prioritizes loving our neighbors.

With that in mind, we tend to assume that if we are Christians, our politics will align with Christianity automatically. If we hold X values related to our country and we also hold X values related to Christianity, they're probably going to coexist fine because they're held by the same person. It wouldn't make any sense for the same person to hold values that were at odds with each other. Because of this, we usually choose one of the Lovely Political Parties that aligns with our political beliefs and assume that it aligns with our Christian beliefs.

In theory, that should work. But we have two major problems:

1) Only one of them can be the top priority.
You can have Christian values and you can have political values (and theoretically they can coexist). However, one of them is going to be the deciding vote at some point. If you can't serve both God and money (Matthew 6:24), you can't serve both God and your political party either.

2) Politics is in our line of sight more often.
This may not always be the case (it certainly should not be the case), but thanks to social media, we are drowning in politics 24/7. Everything is political. EV. ER. RY. THING. EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!! You literally cannot swing a dead cat* without hitting an opinion that finds itself rooted in politics.

Because politics is what's in front of us most often, we allow the positions of our parties to dictate our opinions on politics, which is—as we established—actually our opinions on EVERYTHING. We don't stop to think, "How is this aligning with my beliefs as a Christian?" because we assume it must.

We continue on our merry ways, drinking the Kool-Aid of our given political party and assuming that whatever it thinks is what Jesus would do.

Well, folks, there are Christians of both parties, so clearly that's not true. Clearly politics is NOT synonymous with our Christian values, at least not all of the time or by default.

So what do we do, as Christians?

We need to stop voting by political party.

We need to check in with Jesus and the Bible for our values and political opinions. We need to pray. We need to prioritize loving our neighbors and living the fruits of the spirit and fighting for justice. We need to put Jesus in our line of sight more often than politics. We need to saturate ourselves in the Word. We need to dwell with Jesus, letting him transform our hearts and minds to be more like his.

THEN, with our minds informed by Jesus, we should form our opinions on current issues and find a candidate/bill that aligns with our value as a Christian. Sometimes that may be one political party, sometimes it may be another.

And you know what? As Christians, that shouldn't bother us. Our loyalty is not to a political party or our country. Our hope is not in a political party or our country. Our loyalty is to JESUS. Our hope is in JESUS. The end.

It's embarrassing that it took me this long to untangle my patriotism from my hope in Jesus. It's embarrassing that I would form a political opinion and then ascribe it to Jesus. It's embarrassing that I was letting the opinions of my political party transform my mind rather than the Holy Spirit.

I want to be done with that. I want you to be too.

~Stephanie

P.S. In general, I think Americans have more national pride than most other countries. In general, I think this makes sense. America was founded very much "on purpose." She didn't evolve as much as she shouted, "NOT TODAY" at England and then sat down with the journal prompt "If I could start a new country, what would it be like?"

When America closed her journal with a contented sigh and nod, she had decided on several specific principles that I happen to agree with wholeheartedly:

- Everyone has the right to political and religious freedom.
- No one has the right to rule without the people's consent.
- Governments are naturally power-hungry and should always be kept in check, hard.

Has America lived up to these ideals? Not so much. However, that doesn't make her ideals any less beautiful or noble or worth fighting for. The Founding Fathers were onto something, and the fact that we've executed it imperfectly is not cause to disparage them or their ideals, but an inspiration, an obligation to do better.

It makes sense to me that a nation founded with this degree of intentionality is generally proud of itself. If you move into a house that's a few generations old, you will redecorate it and make it your own and you'll like it. You may move later, or your children may decide to sell it after you die, but for now you like your house and—sure—you're "proud" of it.

However, if you buy a couple of acres of land, design a house, and build it from the ground up? Whole 'nother level. That is YOUR house. You will be PROUD of it. You will think long and hard before moving. Your children will know that you built that house and they'll be a little bit proud of it too. This house belongs to the family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Like, actually imagine swinging a dead cat and how you would get caught and BLASTED with an admonishment that quickly turns political (even though, like, it really wouldn't need to because swinging a dead cat would be wrong for reasons in many other spheres first).

Centering Prayer Part 1: Knock Knock. Who's There? Not Feelings.

I've known about centering prayer for a year or so. I was planning to start doing in December, but I didn't feel like I understood it well enough. Then quarantine hit, and I was like, "Wow, what a perfect time to start a new, slightly time-consuming habit!" but then I just didn't. Then, over Father's Day, my dad pointed me to some different resources that made centering prayer seem more approachable, and I actually started doing it.

"Okay, so what is it?"
Centering prayer is a type of prayer that is completely and only about dwelling in God's presence. For twenty minutes you sit in silence, stillness, and solitude and focus on a word or phrase that reminds you of God (e.g., Immanuel, Jesus, Savior, Love, Truth, etc.). Whenever you feel your mind wander, gently direct yourself back to your word or phrase for the session. Eventually you should be able to experience "deep time" with God.

"I feel like this probably has an Enneagram connection. *sigh*"
You'd be right, kind of. I don't think centering prayer itself has anything to do with the Enneagram, but the resources I've used to understand it were Enneagram-related, and understanding the Enneagram may help you recognize where and why you struggle with centering prayer.

The three elements of centering prayer—silence, stillness, and solitude—are related to the Enneagram centers.

For body-centered people—Enneagram Eights, Nines, and Ones—the stillness is going to be the hardest part to achieve and will probably poke their most accessible emotion: anger/frustration.

For heart-centered people—Enneagram Twos, Threes, and Fours—the solitude is going to be the hardest part to achieve and will probably poke their most accessible emotion: shame/guilt.

For head-centered people—Enneagram Fives, Sixes, and Sevens—the silence is going to be the hardest part to achieve and will probably poke their most accessible emotion: fear/anxiety.

"Okay, how do you actually DO centering prayer?"
1) Get into a position with a straight back and hands open in your lap that you can maintain for twenty minutes.

2) Check in with all three of your centers, and formally set aside the distractions they pose:
How is your body doing? Take note of sensations. Acknowledge them. Decide to set body sensations aside for these twenty minutes.

How is your heart doing? Take note of your emotions. Acknowledge them. Decide to set emotions aside for these twenty minutes.

How is your mind doing? Take note of thoughts racing around. What are you thinking about? What's distracting you? Decide to set those thoughts aside for these twenty minutes.

3) Close your eyes and invite God into your space.

4) Spend twenty minutes dwelling with him, focusing on your one word or phrase. Whenever your body, heart, or mind presents a distraction, don't "resist" it, just set it aside and turn your focus back to your word or phrase.

"How's this going for you?"
Um...

Not well.

Like, I'm doing it*. But I've run into some roadblocks.

First of all, I can't find my feelings. I go through the other two steps just fine: "How is my body doing? My neck feels kind of tight. I'm hungry. Got a little bit of a headache behind my eyes. My shin is itching. Lips are chapped. Okay. I'm going to set these things aside for now. They'll be here when I get back.

"How is my mind doing? Lots of thoughts. Wow. Lots to do today. Can't forget to add tortillas to the grocery list. Need to check in with work earlier today. Need to find somewhere to get that dress dry cleaned. Okay. All of this will still be here in twenty minutes. Gonna set it all aside.

"How is my...heart? doing? What am I feeling?"

*crickets*

"Come on! Emotions! Hello?! Okay, stressed? Is stressed an emotion? Or is that a thought? ...distracted? Also a thought? Okay, they're not here. I don't know where the emotions are. Whatever. Putting them aside...?"

The first time I did centering prayer—and every time since, really—this is what happened. I know where my physical sensations are: they're in my body. I know where my thoughts are: they're in my mind. I know where my feelings are supposed to be—in my heart—but it's like...I don't know where that is. Literally in my heart? Like, in my chest?

For the first solid week and a half of doing centering prayer, I got nothing. I couldn't even find/see the door to my heart. Right this second as I think about it and try to locate my "heart," it feels...rude of me? Like, "excuse me, that is not for your eyes." I'm not very comfortable with the idea of my heart/feelings (which makes sense since Eights are heart-center-repressed**). It's not a door that feels safe or wise to knock on.

This has been a real sticking point for me. Eventually, I just decide that "stressed" or "overwhelmed" is close enough to an emotion and move on to the rest of the centering prayer checklist*.

Then I run into different roadblocks that will be covered in future posts XD

I talked to Gabe about this. He's heart-centered. It made him chuckle to think about not knowing how to find his emotions. He is made of emotions. He says he doesn't even think in words or thoughts, but in colors and feelings. He is body repressed, and thus rarely immediately aware of what he's physically feeling.

His advice to me was twofold: 1) practice, and 2) try to trace my thoughts back to their emotional roots. If I'm feeling "stressed," why? Where is that coming from emotionally?

This is going to take a lot of practice. I think the fact that I can now "find/see" the door to my heart is a sign of progress. Now I just need to open it and acknowledge what comes out before deciding to set it aside for twenty minutes.

Yeah, but what happens after the twenty minutes?

via GIPHY

~Stephanie

* The ideas of "doing" centering prayer or treating it like a checklist problematic in itself though. That's another post.

** I think I need to clarify this though. People who know me probably think 1) I seem like a pretty emotional person (easily excited, happy, frustrated, passionate, etc.), and 2) I seem pretty aware of myself/my emotions. Isn't that what this blog is about? Fair enough, and I used to think the same thing. Clarification coming in a future post then.

Racism: The First Step

For some reason I've been attempting to process all that has been happening in my head instead of in writing, which we all know doesn't work for me.

I care deeply and I've been wanting to say more, but I'm exhausted. I only know two ways to feel: all or nothing. The "all" was keeping me awake at night, giving me chest pains, and making me shaky. Every day is something new. Every day is some difference injustice, some other constitutional violation, some new threat to freedom.

But this morning, a couple of things hit me:

1) This may be how people of color feel 100% of the time.
2) If God gave me a love and ability for writing, then the worst thing I can do is sit on it when real things come up.

I'm not here to defend my character or be sure that you know my opinions on every facet of this issue. >deleted sentences that amounted to exactly that< If you want to go in-depth, let's get coffee and chat sometime. You know discussion is my love language.

It has taken me an embarrassingly long time to begin to see the racism situation for what it might be.

Do you remember Formspring? It was around when I was like a freshman and sophomore in high school, and it was a platform where your Facebook friends could anonymously ask you questions, you'd answer them, and they'd appear on like a rolling profile page. It was mostly used for trying to get your crush to think about you Differently, but one question and answer by a white "friend" has stuck with me for a decade:

Q: Would you ever date a black guy?
A: No, sorry, I'm not racist, it's just the way I was raised.

I remember thinking, "Wait, that is absolutely racist. What does that even mean? How can you think that's not racist? Are people raising their children not to date black people?!"

That, at age fifteen, was my first recognized brush with racism. A decade and a half on the earth, and the first time I experienced racism was as the most passive of passive observers.

And somehow I still didn't think racism was a real problem.

Some people have said that while personal racism, like the above, is disgusting and may exist, institutional racism is a myth. I can't speak to this from experience, but I think that on paper, that may be true; there may be no racist laws anymore.

Here's the thing though: as long as there is personal racism, there will be institutional racism, because people run the institutions. There ARE racist teachers. There ARE racist politicians. There ARE racist cops. It's not so much that we need to work on racist laws anymore, but racist people.

I can tell you the real turning point in my opinion of racism, and it is both ridiculous and profound.

It was walking in on Gabe watching the TV show Luke Cage a couple of years ago. I remember passing through the living room and watching for a few minutes. I kind of frowned and an absentminded thought floated through my head:

Why is everyone black?

The thought exploded into my consciousness and I made Gabe pause the show.

"They're all black," I said to him. He stared at me.

"Yeah?"

"And it struck me as weird," I continued. "My knee jerk reaction was, 'Why aren't there some white characters?'" I couldn't believe was was unfolding inside my head. "Do you know how many TV shows I've watched where everyone was white and it never even occurred to me? It didn't seem weird. It didn't seem anything. It was just the default. I see ten minutes of Luke Cage and..."

That was when it started to make sense.

The world IS different for me because I'm white. That's not my fault and I don't need to feel personal guilt for being born into this skin or what my ancestors may have done. However it IS my fault that I refused to see this sooner, and I SHOULD feel guilty if I don't fight for real equality.

I said REAL equality. Not just equality under the law, but equality that extends to dating, media, institutions, and everything in between.

Was the murder of George Floyd "racist," or just cruel? We can all have opinions on that, and the truth is, we will probably never know. But I think that might be just the disgusting, tragic tip of the iceberg.

There IS a problem. You might disagree about what it is exactly, but there IS a problem.

I'm sorry it took me so long to admit it, but I'm really glad that first step is over.

~ Stephanie

P.S. I know this can be really obnoxious and I AM trying to work on it, but the way I naturally understand things better is to challenge them and play devil's advocate. If we end up talking and I push on your ideas in a way that seems "wrong," just push back (logically). I want to understand.

Lists with Asterisks: Lent Life So Far

I'm not sure if this post belongs on Becoming Me or Reason in the Rhyme.

It's about lifestyle changes, which puts it here, but it's also about wrestling with what I think, which would put it over there. Maybe I'll post it in both places.

It is Day 9 of Lent. It is also Day 19 of an unrelated health "challenge" I made up for myself. Present Me is now suffering at the hands of overachieving, all-or-nothing Past Me. I'm beginning to be slightly miserable. I will either break soon, or have a breakthrough soon. Here's what's going on.

What I Gave Up for My Own Eight-Week Challenge:
- "white" grain
- candy
- dessert
- unnecessary/excessive processed food
- eating directly from containers

Now, true to my tattoo, this challenge is riddled with asterisks. These are general principles I'm sticking to as much as I can. Will I have an Appalachian Cookie Company cookie when Gabe and I go to Boone for the weekend? Absolutely. Have I been eating white rice? Yes. These are "more like guidelines than actual rules," but I've been sticking to them very well on the whole and I'm proud of myself. It is getting easier and easier.

What I've Given Up for Lent:
- Facebook
- Instagram
- YouTube
- non-Christian music
- non-Christian podcasts
- solo Netflixing
- Poshmark/Mercari

The big asterisk to this list is different: In no way do I think these things are "bad" or "wrong" or "sinful." I don't intend to give these things up for life, and I don't think that I should. I have just been feeling called for a long time to strip my life of distractions so that I can get my focus back on my relationship with God.

I am one of the most distracted people I know. The mental habit of being distracted has started to feel almost like an addiction. I can't stop being distracted. If I'm watching TV, I'm also on Facebook. If I'm making dinner, I'm also listening to a podcast. If I'm having my quiet time, I'm also making a to-do list on my phone. If I'm in a meeting, I'm also sending an email.

It's not just that I like to multitask. I do, but lately the feeling has been more akin to an addiction, a compulsion. I can't just do one thing at time. It makes me restless. My mind cannot settle.

When that started to happen in my quiet time and I could not make it stop, I knew I needed some kind of mental reset. I decided to strip my life down to the basics and then add in only the things I intentionally wanted to keep. I ended up with a list of ten things that I then ranked/prioritized. If #7 is going to prevent me from being able to do #5, I try not to do it.

The things that didn't make it onto the priorities list—because they didn't come to mind when I put on the lens of "basics + things I definitely want to keep"—are the things I'm giving up for Lent.

(I modified the music and podcasts thing. I didn't think to put "music" or "podcasts" on the list of priorities at all because those aren't things I sit down and do for their own sake; they're things I do while doing other things. Since Lent is supposed to be about refocusing on God, I added Christian music and podcasts back in.)

The results have not been what I expected.

Since I'd have no other options, I expected to gladly fill the voids with prayer, reading the Bible, and journaling.

Looking back, I don't know why I expected this. Humans have never been ones to think, "Hey, you know what, let's do something hard instead of something mindless."

My quiet times have not deepened or lengthened. I do not know that I pray a ton more than I did. I do think that listening to Christian music has done a lot for my mood and mindset; that one has actually worked the way I'd hoped it would.

I dunno. It's kind of what Pastor Matthew talked about a few months ago: It's not enough to uproot your weeds; you have to plant Jesus in their place, otherwise 1) the soil erodes, or 2) more weeds grow.

For some reason—some weird form of stubbornness—I have so far chosen to uproot the weeds in my life, but refused to plant Jesus in their place. The result has been voids of bad attitude, boredom, and real sin that happens to fall technically in the realm of fair game during Lent.

I've been told that my Lent list is too extreme, like an overly restrictive diet doomed to fail. I get that. Maybe that's true. I just have trouble seeing how there is a bad way to replace things with Jesus. I have trouble seeing how any amount of sacrifice is too much when Jesus literally gave it all.

My thought process is not holier-than-thou. I wish you could hear my head-tone. It's just simple, sarcastic math in my head. There is nothing I could do that would be more than God deserves. (Again, I want to stress that I don't think it's sinful to have "non-Christian" hobbies or elements in your life. This is something that has been on my heart and that I'm doing for a season to try to rewire my chronically distracted brain.)

Even as I wrap up this post, I don't know what I'm going to do afterwards. I would like to do something healthy like pray, journal, read the Bible, read books, go for a walk. But what I really want to do is goof around on my phone in the ways I still can, like sifting through photos, reading through Notes, checking email, etc.

I honestly don't know what I'll do.

~Stephanie

My Fourth Heartbreak

Gabe and I might be moving to Winston-Salem. True to form, I've decided to process my thoughts via the written word. There are a lot of thoughts. I don't expect this post to be very organized. I'm just going to write it.

Gabe was offered a job last Friday after his third round of interviews.

When he started talking about the company before Christmas, a heavy weight flirted around the edges of my stomach. This might be the job, I thought. He sounded so excited when he talked about the company. He loved what they do (in a laywoman nutshell, they turn plastic bottles into what feels like cotton, to be made into socks, blankets, etc), he loved the way they've innovated, he loved their philosophy.

When he was offered the job, we went into analysis mode, doing the Classical Conversations version of a pros and cons list: an ANI chart. You take a "should" question (in this case, "Should Gabe take the job in Winston?") and in the A column, write reasons he should (affirmative), in the N column write reasons he shouldn't (negative), and in the I column, put things that aren't affirmative or negative but "Interesting." Then we made an ANI chart for a job with the company Gabe works for now as an intern.

We did this in Moe's, like the unashamed nerds we are.

Our charts were well populated. Both charts had a hefty list of A's. But as we drove home, before I even decided to speak, I was saying,

"Why are we even doing this?"

Gabe looked at me, small frown in his eyes.

"We already know you're supposed to take the job in Winston," I said. "We're just looking for reasons to dissuade us because we don't want to."

Gabe's eyebrows rose. "What? Really?"

"We both know it. Don't you?" I asked.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I just didn't know you felt that way."

"I know this feeling," I told him. "I've had it many times before. It's the feeling where I know what God is telling me to do, but I hold up other alternatives to him and try to get him to get on board with those instead. It never works. And when I finally do what he's leading me to do, it's always better than I could have imagined."

So this is where we are. As I type this, Gabe has not accepted the job. But after praying, and crying, and making lists, I don't think the feeling has changed. Sometimes I think maybe it has. Maybe STAYING is trusting God, because we don't have another active offer? Something could still come up and indicate that God is leading us to stay. But it hasn't yet, and I'm not sure it will.

I know God has only good things for us. I know that so deeply. I really believe that.

But this hurts so much.

I don't make friends easily, at all. I finally have friends here. We finally found a church that is Home. We love our pastor. We love our friends. We love what our church stands for. We finally became real members. We confide in these people. We trust these people.

These are the people I wanted to raise my kids with. (Man, this is what really makes me cry, every time I think about it, although I AM NOT PREGNANT.) These are the people I wanted to talk pregnancy stories with. These are the people I wanted to make us meals after I have a baby. These are the people whose kids I want my kids to grow up with. These are the people I would trust to babysit.

These are My People. How can God want us to leave our people? How can God want us to leave the church that has helped me to grow spiritually as an adult like I never have before? How can God want us to leave the church where I learned how to worship, for real?

I know God's heart is breaking with me. He knows the big picture, his good intentions, and he is still crying with me. He is right here in the grief, I know that. I know that God would never call us to do anything that wasn't for our good and his glory. If God wants us to move away from our home, then it's because he has something better for us. It may not even be better friends, or a better church; it may just be a better relationship with him. And if that's it, it will still be worth it.

I don't want this post to sound goody-goody, or even joyful and silver-liningy. I'm crying. I've been crying all day. My Eight heart hurts in ways I don't feel comfortable hurting. In ways that make me want to stop loving people. In ways that make me want to be angry instead of sad.

But I really do trust God. I really do trust my husband. I really do believe that if we're supposed to move, it will be a good thing, and one day I will look back—just like I do now with all the other things God told me to do that I didn't want to do—and know why he wanted us to do this.

But ow.

~Stephanie