Freedom

Yes, this is a cheesy Memorial Day post. I am a very sentimental and emotional gal, so anytime people begin talking of patriotism, America, the soldiers who fought for our freedom, and sacrifice, you'll probably find my eyes getting teary. I had an experience recently, though, that put it all into context. 

Friday evening, we stopped in a picturesque small town in Texas (the one famous for ice cream) and had dinner. Afterwards, we went for a walk around the town square, where a gaggle of fancily-dressed 8th graders and their parents were taking awkward pictures precluding their graduation that evening. As we commented on our own junior high years, we started to notice small plaques and memorial stones around the courthouse. There was a particular monument that caught my eye when I read the inscription. 

... and to those who gave the supreme sacrifice for our freedom...

The words "supreme sacrifice" made me stop. In a moment, I got it. It made sense. Not only am I priveleged to be an American citizen, where soldiers have literally sacrificed everything they had so I could live the way I do, but I also have a Savior that did the same. 

He gave the supreme sacrifice. Not only in His death, but His life brought me freedom as well. I literally am free from the burdens of my past because he chose to sacrifice himself. Death brought freedom. 

Someone else's sacrifice gave me freedom. 

Freedom to make choices like what I wear or what my role in society is. Freedom to worship as I did yesterday morning, in a church in downtown Houston surrounded by veterans and grandmas and southern accents. Freedom to be myself. 

Also freedom from the past. Experiences that have hurt me, choices I have made, the scars from these remain but I am left with nothing but a story. My freedom in Christ has given me a new life. A new, fresh start every morning.

The pastor ended his sermon yesterday with a question I am still pondering: "What do you do with that freedom?" My first thought was gratitude. I want to be better at being grateful for what I have. I also want to honor my freedom by being a good steward of it, not taking it lightly. There is so much I have I don't even realize. Sometimes I wonder if soldiers coming back from Afghanistan or Iraq are sad when they look at America and see what they've fought so dearly for, sometimes coming back without their best friends. Since they're the one making the sacrifice, are they proud of how we honor it? Or do we not realize how much it cost?

I'm just beginning on this journey to realize what my freedom means. I have a feeling it will be a long one, and I'll never truly figure it out, but I'm looking forward to trying. 

Happy Memorial Day, y'all.

On Being "Wife"

If you remember the movie Mona Lisa Smile, you'll remember that it was about Julia Roberts' character, who was in charge of several bright and ambitious students who were on track to change the world (in her eyes, at least). The only catch was that it was the 1950s, and as Topher Grace's character bluntly put it, his new wife having a lawyer job in the city will hardly give her time to get home to make dinner for him by 5. 

I remember watching the film with my mother on a rare mother-daughter date while I was attending college. We went to Jason's Deli afterwards and she proceeded to tell me what it was like to grow up and go to college in that same culture, where your destination after college was to get married. How articles like this one from Good Housekeeping defined the way that wives viewed their role. (In truth, the article is under much debate as to its authenticity, but nevertheless provides a glimpse of what was probably true). 

So here I am, an (almost!) 30-year old woman, recently married, in 2014. Society has changed a lot since the 1950s, and yet my first week as a wife turned out to be a flop, personally. Let me rewind. During our dating and engagement, my thoughts often went from "I can't wait to be a wife and do this for him..." to "after we're married, will he expect me to do that?!" As I should have, I was constantly seeing if our lifestyles were compatible; would I enjoy living with him? Can I see myself making a home with him? Do I want him to be the father of my children? and so on. It seemed like everything was tracking.

Somehow, once we got back from the honeymoon, I shifted into this "wife" mode, which included more of the 1950s version of the article than I could handle. It was a blend of all that I had heard and seen in my life, from my own mother, friends who were recently married, and perceived societal norms.  But it wasn't working. In short, I eventually had a breakdown where we resolved the tension of me wanting to be a good "wife" and my husband simply wanting me to be ME. Myself. Yes, be myself. That's all he wanted. He could care less if I ironed his shirts correctly or had the perfect meal ready when he got home. He just wanted me to be myself!

I'm still navigating my "wife" philosophy, but I can tell you it includes mostly my personality, wit, charm, and servant heart. In short, it's me! If I were to follow a list of rules, either from Good Housekeeping or from the society around me, it wouldn't be authentic. My husband and I have a relationship. We figure things out between us. What works for us may not work for others. And each couple has to figure out what's healthy for them. Anytime you have someone dictating rules of relationships, it becomes an irony of sorts. Isn't the point of a relationship to look at the other person and figure it out between you?

I love how our marriage is a relationship and not a formula. I love how I have the freedom to be who I am and be loved for who I am, not for what I do or how I perform. And I love that love flourishes in relationship, not in rules or guidelines. We each make our own way, so give grace to those around you, but most importantly, give it to yourself, too. 

Who is this person next to me?!

After we returned from our honeymoon, we were opening cards and gifts, and I opened one from a friend who had gotten married last year. It had some congratulatory lines, and then, "...marriage is for sure an adjustment!"

Womp womp, I thought. Well that's cheery! It's an adjustment! I was thinking more along the lines of "enjoy your happy lives together" and "it's so nice to be in love!"

She couldn't have been more right.

In the past two months, I've learned A LOT. A lot about myself, a lot about this other person that I promised a lot of things to. One thing that has been most surprising is how much this other person is all up in my BUSINESS, if you know what I mean. All of a sudden, if I'm having a bad day, they want to know why. They want to fix it. They're also there. Unlike my previous living situations, I can't just shut my bedroom door and spend time alone, sulking, eating brownie batter and watching Frozen. Not only is it hard to recognize myself that I'm having a bad day, there's someone else who wants to join in and love me through it!

But I'm having a bad day. I'm cranky. I'm not being nice to you. In fact, I'm not providing anything for you. I'm loving you incredibly poorly right now. 

I'm adjusting to the idea that there's someone who wants to love me for who I am. While that sounds amazing, it's really scary. What if they find out I'm weird? Annoying? Sometimes lack self-control? Like to eat brownie batter and watch Frozen? And then I realize that's how God loves me, for who I am. In fact, he made me the way I am, so there's no surprises with Him.

Funny how marriage has opened my eyes to the Father's love even more. What an adjustment, hard and beautiful, all at the same time. I know what my friend means now. :)

Don't Be a Hero!

{I'm back. Sorry for the hiatus. After a whirlwind of getting a new job, getting engaged, and now married, I am finally entering the world of normalcy where I have time to think and actually type out my thoughts. Bring a cup of coffee, or in my case, chai, and enjoy.}

So yesterday didn't go quite as I had planned. I'm stuck in the middle of a weekend I had reserved for recovering from sinus surgery, finding myself with all kind of free time, which I am gladly enjoying with my husband. The surgery was cancelled because concern over adequate room in my throat to pass the ventilation tube. All in all, it's a good thing, as they discovered I'm having a recurrence of subglottal stenosis (narrowing of my trachea), which they can fix on the next surgery. I'm very thankful they were cautious and did the right thing; just a little frustrated there's another bump in the process to healing.

When you have a chronic illness, it takes perseverance. You have to develop your own way of accepting the ups and downs, aches, pains, inconveniences, what-if-someone-thinks-I'm-weird, doctors visits that don't go well, and the ones that do. However we choose to deal with the chronic illness mentally, there's still an aspect of accepting what is the "normal" standard for your health. You learn that a little ache here, a little shortness of breath there is maybe just how life is going to be. It's your new normal. So when I began experiencing more shortness of breath in late February, right before my wedding, I figured it was just the "normal" that went along with my frequent sinus infections. It just became a part of my life. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. My sinuses are shot. I will be short of breath to some degree for the rest of my life.

So as I was laying in recovery yesterday, working to listen to the anesthesiologist - (by the way, why do they do that? Don't they know you can't see and/or remember anything?) - as he discussed why my throat was so closed up he couldn't get the tubes in it, he said something I'll never forget. Somehow between the technical descriptions and pictures, I heard the phrase "Don't be a hero."

Don't be a hero.

Why would he say that? At some point yesterday afternoon, crawling through my post-anesthesia brain, I remembered that the shortness of breath I experienced in February was probably subglottal stenosis. Today, I mused that maybe I should've mentioned that, pushed my ENT to look down my throat, maybe I should've fought more. Maybe I just did't believe I'm worth fighting for.

When you suffer much, you get used to it. It's sometimes a sad truth, and after this weekend, I never want to get used to suffering again. I may have been diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, but I don't have to take it. I deserve to be healthy. I deserve to have a higher quality of life than being so short of breath it takes me a whole 5 seconds to fill my lungs in between sentences. There was a point, when I was first diagnosed at the age of 18, that I allowed my family, friends, and doctors to fight for me. That can't happen anymore. I need to fight for myself. I need to stop being a hero and living with the symptoms.

To quote a popular ad campaign, because I'm worth it. And so are you.

Is my value defined by whether I'm standing in front or behind the counter?

Life is so much more than how many letters are after your name in your email signature. In fact, I venture to propose that the more letters, the more insecure you may be about who you are (who decides which letters you put? really...). Sue me if I'm wrong, but this past year has taught me the value of hard-working, lovable, amazing, and crazy individuals who have minimal amounts of letters after their name.

I used to judge retail workers. Yes, it's true. I used to think they were just aimless, not sure what to do with their lives, lazy, and settling for what's in front of them. I have always been a career-minded, goal-oriented, climb-to-the-top girl. Since I was young, I set my sights on having a high academic degree, working in a professional environment, and somehow deriving my purpose and personal satisfaction from said career. Miraculously that was true for 2.5 years of my life.

Funny things happen when you get let go from your job.

Anyone who has been unemployed for ANY length of time (doesn't matter how long, it still sucks) has probably gained a deep sense of humility, perspective, and appreciation for their previous job and jobs in general. It's VERY true that when you don't have something, you realize how precious it was. And sometimes the only way to really see that is to take it away. Remove yourself from the situation. Enter a new one and begin to see where you fit in it all.

Losing my job, being unemployed, and getting a job at Starbucks (did I mention I don't like coffee?) were all surprises in the past year. What I didn't know was that I needed those surprises. Bill Johnson, pastor of Bethel Church in Redding, CA, has said most accurately, and I'm paraphrasing, "Sometimes God takes away what we have because we don't have the foundation to sustain an increase." In the midst of my unemployment, I received a promise that this year was going to be a year of breakthrough. It has, and here's what has broken through.

- I no longer have judgements in my heart about others that probably caused me to be less than appreciative of A HUGE chunk of humanity. I'm a nice person, but with these judgements out of the way, I feel like I can really really really love and appreciate everyone around me, no matter what side of the counter you're on.

- I have developed a new perspective on how to be really myself and how to interact with people different from me. I know that's vague, but I think everyone learns this when they're in any new situation. There's a certain maturity you develop when you have to look at someone, see the differences between yourself and them, and then chose to interact with them in a positive way, respecting their differences.

- I have gained an enormous respect and appreciation for being employed. As I end one job and begin a new one, I realize that it's not about the job title I have, but how I steward the gift and privilege it is to work and feel useful, to work for a living and to gain something from giving something. I also have gained a lot of integrity in this appreciation; making sure everything I do is with excellence and pride.

My job at Starbucks was not just a "chapter" or "season" in my life that I can easily turn the page on and move on. It will always be a part of my life and my story. I see it as a foundation of things to come and will look back on it as a time I really learned how to deal with people. A lot of shaping and sharpening happened beneath the green awnings, and I doubt I'll ever really end that season. Sure, I won't sling lattes and brew coffee, but the relationships and the lessons learned will always be there.

In a way, not much is changing. It's all a part of a great adventure God has me on. All I can say is I'm willing and ready to go wherever He has for me. I know it'll be amazing.

He Always Wins

 "There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind."

- C.S. Lewis

There are things in our lives - experiences, people, ah-ha moments, etc. - that form who we are. There are also things that define us. I have realized recently that those two things can be separate: what has formed me doesn't have to define me. This is my story of one of those things.

In the fall of 2010, the autoimmune disease I had been diagnosed with in 2002 relapsed in the form of a stubborn sinus infection. The oral medication course (low-dose chemo & steroids) wasn't working, and by mid-January, it was getting worse. I woke up one morning and felt like someone had punched me in the face - specifically my left eye. The next month was a roller coaster of pain, pain medication, nausea, weekly infusions, weakness, and joy. Yes, joy. This was the second time the disease had relapsed; but I had an experience in it that forever changed the way I saw myself.

Before I describe it, let me say that as a believer in Jesus Christ, I believe in two different realms - the spiritual and the natural. There are things we say in the natural - like "I will never trust people in authority again" - that have huge impacts in the spiritual. Our words our powerful, and when we speak them, we can actually limit and form boundaries in our world. Whether or not you agree with that doesn't matter; my experience does. Two of my friends had come to the hospital to pray for me, and as they were praying, one of them sensed something in the spiritual realm. She asked, "Reba, do you love yourself?" I was crying so hard I could barely speak the word "no." This opened a floodgate of hurt and rejection I'd felt all my life from various angles, experiences, and people.

So I was physically healing from the relapse (which took another round of infusions, about 4 months later before it was completely in remission) as well as spiritually healing from an emotional autoimmune disease. See, when you get a cold, your body's natural reaction is to fight it; when you have an autoimmune disease, your body attacks itself. I was attacking myself with negative thoughts, feelings of self-hatred, and general disbelief that I was anyone worth getting to know.

I'm still working through some of that today, but in the intervening 2 years, I have gone through what I would call an "inner healing." It was a time of healing the wounds and hurts from my past so I didn't have to carry them anymore. Sometimes when we let the past define us, we are really just carrying around all the junk that was leftover instead of dealing with it. DEAL WITH IT! I'm so thankful that I believe in a God who helps me do that. He not only helps me, He wants me to deal with it, AND He promises that He will fight for me as the enemy tries to keep the burden on me.

He can redeem anything. He always wins.

So it's not a big deal anymore. It's something I can reflect on, tell people about, but I don't have to relive the emotions or feelings associated with it. It's gone and I'm free. Hearing the word "chemo" can bring about many reactions, several of which I've gotten over the past few weeks since posting on FB. But mine isn't a sad story. It's GOOD. It's hopeful. And it's real.

And there's nothing like leaving the past behind us because what's in front is so much better!

Entitlement

I am a servant at heart; I love to help and assist people, I love to ease their lives by a small or large act of kindness that I do. In various employment situations as well as volunteer and everyday life, I've been able to use that gift and it's blessed me immensely, as well. Just seeing the joy on someone's face is worth any sacrifice I've made.

Now obviously, it's a lot easier if the person receiving the service or gift wasn't expecting it, is super gracious, and says thank you. I've had the opportunity to take care of a lot of sick roommates and friends, and they've all been great "patients." Some people don't know how to ask for help, so I usually sense their needs before they ask, and some people just appreciate anything you do. There are, of course, those who take advantage of your kindness and overstep the bounds of the service. There are those who expect a trenta iced decaf caramel macchiato and don't understand why their request is ridiculous and out of bounds.

But what are those bounds?

There are countless articles and books about how Americans are an entitled bunch of people. From labeling being entitled as the "American way" to providing a defense for the amount of public policy being pushed for more and more assistance programs, it's amazing. Many of us asked ourselves the question of entitlement when Obamacare was being pushed through the legislature a few years ago. What, exactly, do we deserve? What can we demand and what should we be thankful for?

Plain and simple, I deserve nothing. Yes, I work and receive a paycheck; that's something I deserve for an effort I give. But I certainly don't deserve the friends and community I have. I certainly don't deserve the family that loves me unconditionally. And I certainly deserve all that God has blessed me with in the spiritual realm.

What if we were all simply thankful for what we DO have? If we are continually thankful, we'll continually be humbled by all that we do have and not continually focused on what we don't. We'll realize living in America is actually an amazing privilege that we need to steward well. And it's not that hard to be thankful. You don't have to even believe in God; just be thankful! Make a list every day of what you're thankful for. Start with superficial stuff and then go deeper. I promise it will make a difference in your life. Promise.