Ep10: Begin Again

I published my first full-length novel Once More in the summer of 2018. Four years of work finally complete. I had big dreams for that novel. Big fat audacious dreams. Dreams that no one could convince me were crazy.

Until none of them came true.

We could sit here and analyze all the reasons why, but that would be boring for literally everyone except me. And frankly, I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm tired of second-guessing. I'm tired of not being as proud of my accomplishment as I really should be. Sometimes when a dream gets too big and it just doesn't come through, it kicks the wind right out of you. It did for me anyway.

That's one reason why working on the next book in the series became too hard. It felt pointless. The words seemed worthless. The work was meaningless. It was all less than it had been before.

Eventually, all work on The Sayen Falls series came to a halt. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't write anymore. My characters stayed with me. They're with me every minute of every day. If you've ever seen the movie The Man Who Invented Christmas about Charles Dickens writing A Christmas Carol I am here to tell you that is legitimately how it works. The characters appear, they follow you around, and sometimes they even heckle you. Mine are typically too kind for that though. They just spew ideas and plot twists at me. They don't understand that I gave up.

Yes, I gave up. There I finally said it. I gave up on the big dreams and therefore I gave up on all of it. I've worked on other things--this blog and podcast, for example. I've tinkered with other ideas and projects. But the thing that I love, writing fiction, I gave up.

But the name of this episode is "Begin Again" so there's gotta be a plot twist here, right? Of course there is, or else I couldn't have named the episode "Begin Again."

Actually, that's not entirely true. I planned this episode last week, right after I wrote the one about beginning new things. I had this whole deep awesome conversation with Marybeth about not just beginning new things, but beginning again. Picking up things you used to do and doing them again. We talked about how hard that can be. She said that it can be really hard to be bad at something you used to be good at. Building that momentum to get good at something again can feel so pointless.

But, my friends, sometimes you just have to big fat do it anyway.

Begin again when it feels too hard. Begin again when it hurts. Begin again when the voices inside your head tell you that it's pointless or worthless or meaningless. Begin again even if you gave up. Begin again when the seasons of life change and you have time again. Begin again because beginnings are always worth it.

When I mentally drafted this episode my own writing had nothing to do with it. I planned on talking about muscle memory and making this grand metaphor. I had no intention of talking about Sayen Falls and Once More and the new book Mend. But those characters finally got their way. Their voices finally got too loud. The cup of inspiration finally got too full and I had to spill out what was inside.

Let me explain.

I wrote Once More absolutely drunk on inspiration. I soaked up so many stories, both written and filmed, and used it to fuel my own narrative. Really, I was driven to write a counter-narrative. In a culture that produces so many stories about hopelessness, depravity, brokenness, and shame, I wanted to craft a story of hope. And not like Hallmark hope where it's all okay because, by golly, it snowed just in time for Christmas and we saved Grandpa's tree farm-slash-ski lodge and fell in love with the lumberjack next door. No, I wanted to write something more substantive. Something about community, friendship, family, and relationships. Something that felt like God was in the pages, even if I didn't club anyone over the head with Jesus Juke. [Please note: I'm all for clearly sharing the gospel! I also however cringe whenever Christian fiction has the token come to Jesus moment and then everything is rainbows and unicorns.] 

Despite the fact that all my wildest dreams are still unrealized, I think I did do what I set out to do. I wrote a story brimming with hope.

And, as I chase my own healing these days, I find the story of hope coming back to me. That thread of inspiration is finding its revival. It's not about what didn't happen anymore. It's about the story left to tell, the hope left to be imparted.

When I wrote Once More it was often the darker movies that brought about the most urgency for me to write. I don't do twisted or horror movies, so we can set that aside. But those nitty gritty dramas that are artsy and beautiful but also horribly bleak....yeah those, I'd binge watch those and then I couldn't write fast enough.

The other night my husband and I went to the movies. We saw Knives Out. This movie isn't horribly bleak or terribly depressing. In fact, it's overall message is a pretty good one and it's also pretty funny. No spoilers. But something about it sparked that same frenzy to write. Maybe it's because it was so well-written itself. Maybe it's because I just love Chris Evans and something about chiseled jawlines seems to help me write.

But it's more likely that it's because just the day before, while running on the treadmill, I had this crazy good idea for some of my characters. And in that same moment, I set my younger selves free from the burdens they were left with.

Does anyone else ever feel that way? You look back at the younger versions of you and realize they were left holding the bag? My kids found some pieces and parts to old show choir costumes the other night which led to us watching a video of a performance my junior year. My kids barely recognized me as seventeen-year-old me sang and twirled around the stage. I recognized me, but I couldn't reconcile her to myself now. It left me almost haunted.

That seventeen-year-old girl was such a complicated person. In some ways, so vibrant and confident and optimistic. But in so many other ways, riddled with insecurity, desperate for attention, and so afraid of what people thought of her. Man, that last one has sure stuck around for awhile. That didn't leave with the teenage angst like some of the other baggage.

I got on the treadmill after we watched that video. I was probably motivated by seeing myself about a million pounds lighter. But as I ran, and I sang along to one of my favorite tunes by the East Pointers, "If You're Still In, I'm In" I realized I could set that girl free. I could tell her that even though things were going to hurt really bad and life would sometimes look really bleak, she makes it.

I made it. I'm now thirty-five years old and while I don't look very much like that rail-thin teenager, I have done amazing things. I have given birth to two humans who need me and love me very much. I married a man I admire, adore, and respect. I completed college and held down jobs and made friends and lost friends and made new friends. I started ministries from scratch and stepped into place in other ones. I wrote a novel. That's one the seventeen-year-old me would be thrilled to know.

Yes, dear, you actually write a novel. You finish it. You publish it and let people read it.

And so somehow, in the mix of self-healing and movie magic and an overactive imagination riddled with noisy characters, that cup of inspiration filled to over-flowing. After our date night, we came home, got the kids in bed, and I cracked open the laptop. I opened a fresh page and I wrote. For the first time in months, I didn't worry about if it was good, or if anyone would like it, or if it would ever win prizes. I just wrote the words, I set the scene, I told the story. When I got tired, I stopped.

And as I blinked, bleary-eyed at three pages worth of story-telling I realized.

I began again.

Just like Marybeth had said, it can be hard to begin again. It's hard to be bad at something you were good at. Let me tell you, writing a rough draft after spending well over a year simply polishing a complete draft is brutal. The nuance is gone. It's all rough hewn and full of splinters.

But if I don't write this story, no one will. And if I don't choose to beat the drum of hope in a culture obsessed with our own darkness, then who will? If I just give up, then who wins? Not me. I don't even have a shot anymore. I'm not even in the arena. Hiding at home under the covers, no one wins.

Begin again. Whatever it is. Maybe it's eating healthier or working out. Maybe it's painting or pottery or puppetry. Maybe it's playing an instrument or writing music or dancing. Maybe it's restoring furniture or cars or relationships. Maybe it's believing in yourself and giving your dreams new life. It's really okay if they didn't work out the first time. Begin again and maybe the dream will be attainable this time.

If you gave up like me, that doesn't have to be the end. If life got super busy, that's okay. I stopped writing for six months when I had my daughter. Who can write a novel with a newborn crying at you and a preschooler wanting to tell you things night and day? Begin again when the time comes. And if you're afraid, overwhelmed, or exhausted at the thought, you're not alone. We all are sometimes. Simply begin again. No one's asking you to climb the whole mountain. Just take that step.

And if you're wondering why? Like, why does any of this inspirational hooey really matter? I'll tell you. The things we choose to do reflect what we really believe. If we choose to create, cultivate, or celebrate we believe that there is more than darkness and busyness. If we choose to use our talents, gifts, and passions to the best of our abilities, we believe that we were given those things for a real reason. And we were. God gives us our gifts, talents, and passions. God directed us to create, to cultivate, and to celebrate. It's all through the scriptures. Pursuing a passion is not silly--it's God glorifying, darkness defying, potentially edifying, and arguably sanctifying.

Moses was a begin againer. He murdered an Egyptian, fled into the wilderness, and became a shepherd for like forty years before God spoke to him in the burning bush. Moses had his doubts about the assignment--after all, as if murdering someone wasn't enough, he had a speech impediment. But God insisted, and Moses began again.

Jonah was a begin againer. He outright defied God's directions to go to Nineveh, ended up in a dangerous storm at sea, was thrown overboard, and swallowed by a giant stinking fish. You wanna talk beginning again? Trying do that after you've been spit out on land after three days in the belly of a big fish.

Peter, good ol' Peter, was a begin againer. He denied Jesus three times on the night of Jesus's arrest. And Jesus heard him do it. From what we can tell, Peter gave up after the crucifixion. You can't really blame him. Watching your best friend be mercilessly murdered at the behest of the Jewish Sanhedrin and at the hands of Roman soldiers right after you denied knowing him is going to beat the living daylights out of all you believed in. But after three days, Peter was first inside the empty tomb, gobsmacked and confused. Peter was in the upper room when Jesus walked in, alive. And it was Peter who swam to shore that morning Jesus cooked his friends some fish for breakfast. And this was his "begin again" moment. Jesus asked him three times if Peter loved him, and each time Peter insisted that he did, Jesus told him to feed his sheep. Begin again, Peter. Begin again.

Now, if God can use a murderer with a speech impediment, a disobedient preacher vomited out of a whale, and impetuous, cowardly, confused Peter.....God can use you too. Your "begin again" moment might not feel like a big deal, but only God knows how it can be used to impact eternity.

Maybe my books never become best sellers. Maybe I never win the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay, because duh, I write the script adaptation of my book. Maybe a lot of things never happen. But maybe someone finds some hope in my book Maybe someone finds Jesus tucked into the narrative I tell. And maybe that's enough to echo in eternity. I'll never know if I don't do it.

So, here's to beginning again. If I can begin again, so can you.

Gather the Good
I would be absolutely remiss if I didn't begin this Gather the Good segment with telling you about the song "Begin Againers" by Scott Mulvahill. He's an upright bass player and an increidble vocalist based in Nashville. Definitely check out that specific song, and his latest single, "Say I Love You". That one is just insanely beautiful. And if you like kinda jazzy, bluesy indie awesome music, listen to one of his full albums. He's got a really cool vibe and is another one of those really skilled musicians that just blow my mind.

I'm also going to tell you about two audiobooks I've been listening to. Remember how I said I don't really do audiobooks? Well, plot twist, I've listened to three this year. The first was Little Women and I keep meaning to do a whole episode on that, so we'll see if that comes together sometime. But today I want to tell you about the other two books. My amazing friend Jill recommended the book You're the Girl for the Job by Jess Connely to me. This book is the real deal. She's frank and honest, and so empowering but in this totally solid Jesus way. I'm still listening to it and haven't finished it yet, but it's a really great book if you're beginning something new, or beginning again, or even just struggling to keep going.

And the other book, oh goodness, this book has been incredible. It's Beth Moore's newest book Chasing Vines. I struggle to find words to adequately describe this book that doesn't just morph into senseless fan girling. I'll try though. Beth uses the imagery of grape vines and vineyards, and dives really deep into all the ways this imagery applies to us. It's been mind-blowing. And in all the cliches, I've laughed, I've cried, but I have seriously had so much food for thought. And I've had so much awe for our God. He's so thoughtful, so intentional, and only he plan and redeem history over and over again, and weave a grape vine through it all to symbolize everything he's doing! I have deeply appreciated her honesty and vulnerablity, her candor and frankness, and her humor and humility. I will be listening to this one again, and very likely buying a physical copy so I can mark it all up.

So there ya go, some upright bass music with Scott Mulvahill, some Jesus-filled empowerment with Jess Connely's book You're the Girl for the Job, and some crazy good grape truth with Beth Moore's book Chasing Vines. This is some serious goodness, definitely check it out.

The Pursuit of Beginnings (Ep9)

Be brave enough to be bad at something new.

It's hard to begin sometimes. The desire is there. We're inspired by experts, convicted by our shortcomings, or simply want to do a new thing. The desire is essential. But then fear can set in.

What if I'm terrible? What if I just can't change? Or learn?

And the excuses come a mile a minute.

There's no time. There's no space. There's no one to teach me. I can't figure this out, I'm not artistic...I'm not athletic....I'm not creative....I'm not disciplined....I'm not whatever.

Sometimes the thing we wanted to do dies there. An unrealized dream, hope, or hobby shriveling up on the vine. Other times that thing seems to haunt us.

It pops up in conversations, in memes on social media, on podcasts and blog posts, and it's all over Pinterest. Maybe the internet is stalking you, but it's highly unlikely your favorite podcaster has actually tapped your conversations. It just feels that way because they're talking about the thing. You know, the thing you only mentioned to your friend. Or not to anyone at all.

Then what do you do?

You begin. And guess what? You're usually terrible!

Don't stop there.

If a seed gave up the moment it was planted because it was terrible at being a flower, we would never have fragrant blooms. If a caterpillar just rolled over and gave up before it even got inside the chrysalis, we'd never have butterflies flitting around. If Shakespeare and Beethoven and Van Gogh had just stopped when they were learning how to read, to play, to paint because it was more ink blots, sour notes, and paint blotches than masterpiece we'd never have Romeo and Juliet, or "Ode to Joy" or Starry Night.

True, you may never become a master. But you'll never be anything if you quit right out of the gate.

Oh, and the naysayers, the people who are "only teasing", or the ones who straight up criticize you, forget 'em. Dont let those words take root. It'll crowd out the seeds you're planting. Don't let their fear of something new or different or good become your reason to be afraid.

After all, everyone was once a beginner. And God loves a beginner with enough grit to keep at it. Need some evidence?

Jesus's mama was an unwed virgin, a total beginner in both marriage and motherhood. God could've picked a seasoned mother of six or seven, but he didn't. He picked Mary.

Samuel was just a child when God started speaking to him. And He didn't start with something easy either like, "Go tell Eli that he's gonna win the lottery tomorrow." No, it was "Go tell Eli that his sons will die because they have defiled the priesthood and you looked the other way." Yikes. But Samuel the newbie was faithful and God anointed kings and delivered many a message through him.

And then there's Peter. Peter is maybe the most beginnery beginner to ever begin. Impetuous, impulsive, and sometimes a little dense, he was a brand new recruit when Jesus called him as a disciple. Peter was a fisherman. He'd never followed a rabbi before. And yet Jesus chose him. He taught him, rebuked him when needed, and loved him so entirely that Peter eventually went on to change the world with the gospel of Christ.

Yeah, God's okay with beginners. Even beginners who are terrible. We can't all be Samuel and hit it out of the park on the first try. Some of us are more like Peter.

And maybe your thing isn't religious, it's not spiritual, it doesn't seem like a Jesus thing at all. Perhaps it's not. Or perhaps you're not looking at it from the right angle.

Are you interested in something artistic or creative? God gave us beauty to nourish our souls and our senses. He is the Creator and made us creators in his image. Embroidery, sketching, painting, sidewalk chalk....if you're making something beautiful you are doing what God would do.

Are you interested in something more athletic? God created the human body to run, jump, play, explore, combat, and adventure. He gave us muscles to flex and energy to expend. When we engage our bodies, we're using the very thing be created out of dust and breathed life into. This can even be worship.

Are you interested in cooking? God gave us taste buds and filled the world with all sorts of different things to taste and see that it is good. Jesus himself prepared a breakfast of fish for his friends after his Resurrection. If Jesus takes a minute to prepare a meal for his friends, your newfound interest in culinary arts can certainly be a God thing.

Are you interested in organization and order? Yes, even that can be a God thing. After all, He is the God of order and not of chaos. He built structure and design into the universe and all the minituiae within. Your newfound hobby for organizing or spreadsheets is a reflection of God.

My friend, whatever it is, I challenge you to go after it. Even if it feels silly. Even if it feels unimportant. Even if you've tried before and failed.

2020 is supposed to be the year I explore the word "new". I'm working on it and it's already quite intriguing and inspiring. But, it also seems to be the year I learn to do things I always thought I couldn't do. I'm running and exercising even though I'm not athletic. I'm slowly teaching myself to sketch, even though I'm not artistic. I keep drawing these quirky pictures of woodland animals who stand upright and play folk instruments. I don't care if it's not picture book perfect yet or if anyone thinks it's silly or weird. I'm learning a new thing. And in the spring, I want to plant a garden.

(Side note: You can stand by for A Secret Garden episode in the spring because I can't even daydream about planting a garden without songs from the musical bursting in. What? You didn't know there was a musical based on The Secret Garden? Well, you will if I get the chance to monologue about it here.)

But I don't have a green thumb and everything I plant typically dies for lack of care or proper understanding. Still, this year, the imagery of seeds, roots, and growth keeps pounding like an unrelenting drum. And I just feel like this is one of those interactive metaphors from God. One of the ones you gotta literally dig into to get the full fruit of it.

So 2020 the year of new, the year of doing things I cannot do, the year where I can't be afraid to be bad at something new, or just stop because it's hard and I'm bad at it.

Join me in the pursuit of beginning. It's always better to know you're not alone in the pursuit of new things and being bad at them. And it's even better when the work pays off, and you can say you conquered the new thing. You can do it now.

Next week, we'll talk about what happens when you fall off the horse and need a break.

Gather the Good

In this episode, my best friend Marybeth gave us her take on Gather the Good. She shares about the beauty of deep conversation, experiencing live music, adventuring in the mountains, and photo journaling. Goodness is everywhere, we just have to gather it!

Ep7: Running, Roots, and Ruts: Tales from a Treadmill

"You shall find this to be God's most usual course, not to give his children the taste of his delights, til they begin to sweat in seeking after them."-- Richard Baxter, English poet and theologian 1615-1691

I've recently started running everyday on our treadmill. It's a hand me down twice removed. We picked it up from my parents so my husband could prepare for the stress echo test which he needed to return to work this January. I think we got it in maybe October. That seems right. And from then until January I was on the thing three times. My husband used it thirty minutes every single day to build his endurance. I admired his dedication and tenacity. I envied the time he had each day to do this thing that was good for him. Sometimes it can be so hard to plant a flag and stake a claim for things that are good for you.

After he returned to work, I decided it was time to get the kids and myself on a schedule too. I'm not a really scheduly person so when I use that word know that it's very loosely. Furthermore, I decided I was going to use that treadmill. I set a goal of just ten minutes every day. I know, that seems so low, so minimum, but I figured it was better to do something than nothing. My counselor has been encouraging me to set goals, the physical one hadn't even left the gate yet. And she told me that a few minutes every day was a good starting place. Goals don't always have to be big. Sometimes it's even better if goals are simple if they're realistic.

Most days it's between fifteen and twenty minutes, usually once a week I hit thirty minutes. And when I say "run" know that it's as loosely as I say "schedule". I do run some. Sometimes I jog. Sometimes I do thirty-sixty second bursts then cool down and repeat. Thanks to Pinterest I discovered this is what they call sprinting or HIIT which I don't remember what that stands for. I'm really not a guru here. Fitness has never been my thing.

In fact, it always felt like this thing that wasn't for me. I was naturally underweight up until I had kids. And it really wasn't until after my second child, my girl, that I struggled with any kind of weight gain. Or emotional eating. On top of that, being a tall gangly girl who errors a bit on the geeky side made gym class and sportsing intimidating. I'm not a natural athlete or dancer or anything. I'm a bookworm and a nerd. Maybe some people can be both nerdy and athletic. I'm not asserting they're mutually exclusive, except for me.

And so working out has always felt like this thing where I didn't belong. I remember being asked over and over again by friends in college to join them at the rec center for anything from cycling to some game with a ball (I don't even remember the name. 🤦), and 99.8% of the time I refused. I was horribly self-conscious. I was afraid of being teased for not playing well. I was afraid of looking stupid for not knowing how to use equipment. I was afraid of how weak I was and not being able to keep up. I was afraid of a lot of things above and beyond anything the rec center offered.

That's probably why it took me so long to get on the dumb treadmill once it came to live with us. My husband is a natural athlete. Not a super jock, but confident and fairly skilled at the normal baseball, basketball, and so on. It seemed appropriate for him to run. That's his zone. Me? I'll just stick to my nerd stuff.

But, you see, I felt like I had to do something different. I needed to at least try. I'm starting to not recognize myself in a way. Becoming a mother is an incredible gift and is insanely beautiful. However, it's also demanding and challenging, and it can be very taxing on mental health. My pregnancy with my daughter was particularly intense. The damage to my mental health was profound. Now, to be accurate, there were other factors beyond the pregnancy, like my grandmother passing, but those nine months and the post-partum period left a mark. Anxiety and depression like to throwdown and see who can bring me to my knees first. Perhaps motherhood is hard because it triggers so much from the past that was never addressed. And the years of sleep deprivation, the change in identity (loss of a sense of self and becoming known only as someone's mom), lifestyle changes, the mommy wars and all the mom guilt. Oh man, the mom guilt just drips right off the walls sometimes, right ladies?? If we're honest and vulnerable, most moms I know wrestle with some anxiety or depression, or at least frequent worry and guilt.

And so I cope as most women I know cope. Particularly with food, television, and social media. Mostly harmless things, except when it's really about burying deep the things you don't want to face.

I finally sought counseling for myself this past fall. Heaven knows I should've done it at least a decade ago. I've been digging deep. I've been working hard at altering thought patterns. Patterns I've had for so many years the ruts in my brain are like the ones left by the covered wagons on the Oregon Trail. Permanent. Indelible. It often feels like pretty things might grow up around them, but the ruts will always remain part of the terrain.

Until I started running. Now, I'd heard tell about the runner's high and endorphins and all that chemical stuff. I've read the articles about fighting depression with exercise about a zillion times. But remember, that's not for me. That works for the sportsy people but us bookworms just have to be morose.

So imagine my surprise when I felt better on the inside after logging a mile on the treadmill. I didn't trust it at first. Then, after a couple days, I was kinda obsessed.

And then last week I didn't sleep well at all and I couldn't find my rhythm. One day it was so rough I really thought I was going to injure myself. But I didn't quit. I didn't decide that all my previous assumptions were correct. I decided to keep at it. Every day.

And I added some Rend Collective to my playlist.

Oh, yeah, my playlist. That's an integral part of this whole thing. I've created this playlist I cleverly called 'Move' on Spotify. It started out with The East Pointers. Their new album was basically written for people to dance to so it translates well to running/sprinting/whatever. I, of course, added some We Banjo 3 because their music is a permanent part of my being. A few random other songs have been thrown in including one by Mr. Rogers. He has this little tiny pep talk about growing just as you are and being yourself and being likeable. It never fails to make me smile when it loops on. I read smiling is good when working out because it triggers your brain's reward center. 🤷 I don't know. I told you I'm no guru.

Anyway, last week I added Rend Collective. Their music is high energy so it's great for running. But what I didn't expect was to actually worship while I'm on a treadmill. If you'd said that to me even a month ago, I would've made a snarky comment about fitness nuts and Jesus freaks while brushing cookie crumbs off my smart phone.

But I'm here to tell you, it's arguably the most powerful one-two punch against hidden strongholds of darkness I've found to date. And I've tried a lot. I've faced a lot of dark. Someone once described me as "clawing for the light". That was big dark that I could fight with broad brush strokes. Running seems to dig at the deeper things. The hidden pockets of darkness. The old broken thoughts that keep the wagon wheels in their ruts.

Literally, I had no idea that intentionally choosing to move and sweat and increase my heart rate, while also listening to worship music at an insanely high volume in my earbuds would give me the focus needed to actually hear the Lord speak to those ruts. The Lord is doing a work in my brain while I am doing the work of sweat. And I just keep thinking, this is insane. I still think it's nuts. But that doesn't mean it isn't true. Some of the craziest things I've experience with Jesus are the truest things I know.

Let's be real: not every session becomes this great worship time. Sometimes it's just good tunes, sweat, and endorphins which is all I signed up for anyway. Last Friday though was a doozy. That's why I decided to share this testimony to fitness and worship music and mental health.

I didn't plan it. The run started with the Maggie Rogers song "Light On" which is a super fun song but not spiritual by any means. At least not for me. Then, the playlist looped to The East Pointers. Their song "Wintergreen" has been a major source of empowerment for me since August when I saw them at the Dublin Irish Festival. The music kicked to their instrumental "Before My Time" and then I clicked through a bunch until it pulled up "Marching On" by Rend Collective. This. Song. This song!! This song has been a favorite for a couple years now. It's so fiercely bold in its theology and tempo. But there's this line about strongholds crumbling like sand and as I pounded my feet on the treadmill, it felt truer than it ever had before.

Those limitations I've carried all my life about not being an athletic person, the fears I have carried with me from elementary school to college and into adulthood about being less than and awkward and not belonging, the stronghold I've been chained to about not being enough for some people and too much for others and rarely ever getting it just right and failing at some many things I've tried and being rejected or abandoned or unwanted.....those things? Those things fall away when it's only me and my music on a treadmill in my wood-panneled den. I close my eyes and see chains bursting off, busted in pieces. I am free.

Back to Friday's playlist, after that song I was already at fifteenish minutes but I decided to go for ten more. I scrolled down to a pair of songs that I wanted to listen to together and conveniently totaled ten minutes. The first a song by The Arcadian Wild called "Roots" and the second a piece by Andrew Peterson called "The Sower's Song". And as I ran through these songs, I closed my eyes and beheld a different vision. I saw the big, deep, fat roots of a huge tree being hacked at with an axe. It was utter destruction. Violent and painful.

This is how I have felt for a long time. Perhaps not uprooted, but severely damaged at my roots. How can I grow strong and tall with roots all hacked to pieces?

The only way is with Jesus. He's the sower, the gardener who is faithful to plant new seeds, to tend His vines, to nurture branches back to health. Thats how. That's it.

And check this, on Thursday night I had listened to a podcast with Annie F. Downs and Beth Moore about Beth's new book, Chasing Vines. They talked about vines, pruning branches, staying planted in Jesus, and continuing the work even when it feels so pointless and barren. They talked about the word "abide".

And do you remember a few weeks back I shared about my word for the year? Last year I was given the word "fallow" to consider. I've wrestled with it hard.

Guess what? All through those two songs by The Arcadian Wild and Andrew Peterson are the words fallow, seeds, vines, branches, abide, and void. Specifically that God's word and our brokkeness does not return void. Amen and hallelujah. It was like being pelted with cleansing, lifegiving rain over every inch of my barren achy soul.

I cried. And I kept running. I refused to stop just because I was crying. It freaked the heck out of my dog who isn't a big fan of his mama running on the loud machine anyway. But I kept going.

When the songs were over and ten minutes had passed, I needed just a little bit more. I thumbed to a different list and picked the last song. "A Benediction" again by The Arcadian Wild. This song is a recent obsession of mine. As the song played, I lifted my hands and began to sing.

This is why I don't run the whole time. Aside from the fact that I surely would die, I wouldn't be able to sing. And even though my dog really hates that because he's sure I've lost my marbles, I sing as much as I can. With my earbuds in, I don't even hear myself well. I'm not worried about sounding pretty. It's just getting the words out because the words matter.

"Wintergreen....can't outshine your radiance...or undermine your saliance, despite the darkness of some of these days....Certain spirits are too bright to be tamed..."

"We'll sing, "Hallelujah" for all Hell to hear. Shout out, "Hosanna" above every fear. Strongholds will crumble like castles of sand. We are marching on, we're marching on..."

"So put down your roots and I'll plant this fallow field of mine with you. Put down your roots. Together, we'll watch this desert bloom..."

"As the rain and the snow fall down from the sky. And they don't return but they water the earth and they bring forth life. Giving seed to the sower, and bread for the hunger.

So shall the word of the Lord be with a sound like thunder. And it will not return, it will not return void. It will not return, it will not return void. It will not return, it will not return void. We shall be led in peace and go out with joy..."

"When it seems you're all but drowning, may the water quench your thirsting. When the sun is nearly blinding, may you by it see everything as it was meant to be. Oh, wonder extraordinary. Made to wander free and fearlessly unto all eternity..."

I had no idea running would be this kind of good for me. That soul work would be done. That freedom could be found by running and never actually leaving my own house. A decision to move just ten minutes a day has come to mean so much more to me than just checking off a goal on a list. And I can't make the claim that I'll do this forever and always amen. But in this season, for this me, this is healing and health and growth. I had no idea but praise be, now I do. And now I've told you. If you're sitting on the sidelines, maybe it's time to begin. Find your thing, grab your earbuds, and take the freedom that is yours.

Gather The Good: 

Artist: The Arcadian Wild
Song: "A Benediction"
Album: Finch in the Pantry
Song: "Roots"
Album: The Arcadian Wild

Artist: Andrew Peterson
Song: "The Sower's Song"
Album: The Burning Edge of Dawn
(Bonus Rec: Resurrection Letters Vol 1)

Artist: The East Pointers
Song: "Wintergreen"
Album: Yours to Break

Bonus Music Recommendation
Artist: The Hunts
Album: Darlin oh Darlin

Episode 6: Freedom: A Poem in Free Verse

Freedom.
It's throwing off the can'ts
And shouldn'ts
And 'you have no business'
Chains you've carried for ages.

It's taking hold of all your pieces--
The past
The now
The what's ahead
The broken
The painful to the touch
The scarred parts
And the pretty parts
The places of wholeness
And fulfillment
And reconciling all as one
Living, dynamic, brave
Human

It's deciding that hard can be healthy
And sometimes
The path of least resistance
Only brings atrophy.

It's breathing deep
Of the perfume of Christ
Drinking deep and long
Of the fount of grace
It's savoring and feasting
On the bread of life--
Broken for you.

Broken to redeem your
Brokenness,
Broken so you might know
Wholeness,
Broken because love goes into
All the dark, cracked places.
It cannot help itself.

Love, true love,
Love like this
Is the healing.
And it only has it's
All-consuming, forever victorious power
Because it battled the dark,
Faced head-on the ravages of undiluted evil,
Bore every ounce of soul-wrenching pain,
And Love did it all so you might live.

You can breathe
The clean air of joy;
You can grow in
The verdant soil of Truth;
You can walk
In the warm sun of peace--
Though darkness looms,
Love fought so you can be free.

Freedom is seeing it all laid bare
And knowing it's there for you
And taking your place
In the family
Of the free
And redeemed.