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...
For years, this blog was titled "Thoughts from a Stranger." The title stemmed from a core belief that everything was temporary — this world, my body, this life. I used this belief as a lifeline when the things around me felt overwhelmingly cruel. It was easier to digest all the pain in the world when I believed "this isn't home." It brought me comfort that we were simply strangers passing through what felt like a God-forsaken world. That there was something, somewhere better to come. This blog's URL is the same as when I first created it in 2010: this-isnt-home. It was my theology summed up in three little words. I'm keeping it. It's a reminder of where I've been — of who I've been. I've always looked at life through a lens of questioning and curiosity. I remember asking my mom when I was younger, "Do you think all truth is in the Bible?" I honestly don't even remember how she answered that question, but I think it caught ...
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...
This is great and so are you. :-)
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