This Is Home

God gave me a huge heart for others. I have a natural desire to help others and sometimes it leaves me completely heartbroken. I want to see my friends and others around me happy and healthy and whole. I want them to know their value and choose things that bring life instead of hurt. I want them to feel loved and cherished and chosen. But as much as I want these things for the people I love, I cannot force them to change. And that is a hard truth for me to swallow. I hate that feeling of helplessness - when you have to idly sit by and watch someone you love continuously run back to the things that bring them pain. But their journey is their's to walk, not mine. God has been working on me a lot these past few months. I have this bad habit of taking on responsibility for the well-being of my friends, but God is teaching me that I cannot save people. I cannot force someone to change. What can I do? I can pray. I can go to God daily with the burdens I am carrying for the pe...

I struggle with loneliness. Some days I sit in my bed and begin to cry because I have convinced myself that I am completely alone. You have no friends.  No one understands what you are feeling right now. You've just got to suck it up and deal with it.  You're too much. You're not enough. These are just a few of the thoughts that I play on repeat during those bad days. I'm not telling you this for sympathy, but rather because I am confident that I am not the only one who has this struggle. It's been 2.5 years since I graduated from college, and the transition into the "real world" is still really hard for me. When I moved back to Fort Wayne I had this unrealistic expectation that things would just pick up where I left them. I was so wrong. My friends have changed, moved away to different cities and states, gotten married. I am in a familiar place, surrounded by familiar people, but I still feel alone. Tonight at youth group, I forced myself to...

Dear friend, I see the hurt and the heavy baggage of regret that you carry with you each day. I wish my words had the power to change your mind - that you would believe me when I told you that you are valued and you are loved.  You've mastered the art of pretending to be okay. I know this because I'm good at that game, too. The walls you have built for protection hinder more than help, yet still they stand. I'll start climbing, but I can only climb so far. I am far from a perfect friend, but I hope I can help you understand Christ's love for you. I pray that you'll find healing. When you feel unwanted, know that Christ is fighting for you. And I'm fighting for you, too. Stop running, friend. Be still for a moment, take a breath and answer the question "How are you?" with unwavering truth and vulnerability. All those feelings you have hidden behind that wall - feel them.  And when you're feeling overwhelmed, know that it's okay to ask ...

My dad loved watching storms. When a storm was passing through, he would almost always walk to the back porch to watch. Me? Well, let's just say that I would "watch" (or hide) from inside the safety of our house.  I'm not sure when my fear of storms began, but after my dad passed away I would regularly have nightmares about tornadoes. There is one nightmare that I vividly remember. . . A tornado was approaching our house, and my dad was sitting outside on a porch swing. The wind picked up and branches began to fly through the air. I ran outside and began yelling at my dad to come into the house so he would be safe. He didn't move. With tears running down my face, I continued to yell "Dad, please! Come inside! Please!" Still nothing.  I fought the fierce gusts of wind to walk closer to him and yelled out again, begging him to come inside. He turned toward me and calmly assured me that everything was going to be alright, but that I should go back ins...

What if I told you that talking to an empty chair was one of the most freeing and healing experiences I had during my three years in counseling? You're probably thinking something to the effect of "what in the world? She talked to an empty chair?" Yep, I sure did! It was my senior year at IWU. I was working with my therapist to find healing from a fragmented relationship in my life. My therapist pointed to an empty chair and said "Pretend that they are sitting in that chair. What would you say to them?" I thought this was simply a rhetorical question to get me thinking, but no. My therapist actually wanted me to talk out loud to an empty chair. I was hesitant at first, and doubted that this exercise would be beneficial, but I played along. I turned toward the empty chair and began to talk to "them." I shared my hurt, my need to let go of the past and desire to move forward. I asked for forgiveness for the way I treated them. And I forgave them f...

Quote from Project Semicolon I try to avoid this part of my story. Vulnerability is terrifying - I don't want to write out some of my darkest moments, but recently I have felt led by the Holy Spirit to share more of my story. So here I am, typing.  As many of you know, my father passed away when I was 16. After his death, my life began to unravel. I didn't want anyone to know how badly I was hurting, so I would let all of my emotions out while I was driving to and from work or school. Somedays I would be crying so hard that I could barely see the road ahead.  I would cry. I would scream at God.  I was devastated. I was confused. I was angry.  I vividly remember one day screaming to God that I hated him.  The days, weeks, months and even years following my father's death were very dark. In all honesty, I was in and out of a state of depression. Just getting out of bed was a challenge some days. I lost myself in a cloud of shame and sadness.  I...