Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

How Do You Give It to God?!

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How in the world do you give it to God?!

Have you heard that before?!

You’re having a terribly stressful situation. It’s one of those times where you feel like you’re drowning, and there’s no buoy in sight. You know that God is in control. You know because that’s what everyone says! In fact, if you do reach out for guidance or share your plight with your Facebook friends, at least one person will say it.

“We’re praying for you, honey! Just give it to God!”

Ok. Great. Now, how do I do that again?

I think this was always one of those things in my Christian walk that kind of bothered me. Early on I asked more mature Christians the same question. Like, how? And most of the time I was told to just surrender.

“Brie, literally throw your hands up in the air and say, I can’t do it alone, God!” A friend suggested.

And yeah, that’s true. I mean, God certainly hears you, and He even answers. Things improve, it seems, after that outward expression of your innermost heart desire, but inevitably it creeps back. What I mean is, you can surrender your anxiety to Jesus on Tuesday, but by Saturday something else may rear its ugly head and the next thing you know, you’re anxious again.

Ugh, I thought I gave this to God! What gives?!

So, I sought that answer too, and I was told more good advice.

“Brie, surrender is something you have to do more than once,” my mentor said. “Sometimes, it’s a daily practice.”

And you know what? She was right about that too.

Okay, so you’re saying I need to just go on and tell God I’m giving it to Him. Check.

Then, I’ll need to do that many times over throughout my life. Gotcha.

But, do you know what else I’ve discovered? It’s taken me some time, but I have realized that giving it to God takes a lot more.

For one, it’s easy to say you surrender a situation with your words, but actually carrying that through in your head is a horse of a different color. You know what I mean. You’re sitting there minding your own business, certain that God’s got this, when suddenly you hear a little whisper of a thought. It’s a soft whisper at first.

It says something like, “but what if it doesn’t work out?”

And then the whisper gets a little louder. So you think about it some more. And it gets louder and louder. Before you know it the drumming of your heart in your ears competes with the urgent cry in your head.

“You’re going to fail,” it exclaims!

The terrible “what if’s” plague you, and you’re under its thumbnail. You know God’s got this, but what if?

What if it’s not God’s will?

Maybe He’s trying to teach me something.

Maybe I did something wrong.

Maybe this is my hard lesson.

Before you know it you’re riddled with anxiety, dread, shame, and a yucky feeling in the pit of your stomach. It manifests with physical symptoms. Headache, acid reflux, high blood pressure, insomnia, weight loss, or perhaps weight gain.

Hey, wait a minute! Didn’t I give this to God?! I must not have done it right.

You did. But I’ve discovered that us humans don’t like giving stuff away. Like, we’re major hoarders. It’s against our nature to give something away, even if it’s a problem we want to be rid of. We want to hang on to it so we can fix it, and only when we realize we can’t fix it, do we give it away! But even then, as our hands of surrender are raised high, we feel like we’re missing something. So in that empty place, we fill it. It has to be filled! Sadly, it’s typically filled with thoughts from the enemy. Remember, it’s not flesh and blood we battle. Yep, it’s the enemy who fills us with the anxious what-if’s. So it’s our job to fill that vacant place of surrender with something else.

I’ve found that the act of truly giving it to God is three-fold.

First, yes, you surrender. We got that part. God is good.

Second, you must fill the vacant place where your problem resided in your mind prior to surrender. And the only thing that will fill it right is God’s truth. Y’all, you have to read the Bible. You have to! It’s the key to surrender. Because once you give your trouble to God, the devil is going to get mad. He’s going to attack you. He’s going to attack your thoughts, and you have to hit back with truth.

You have to know scripture back and forth so when the anxious thoughts come you’ll recognize them as a lie.

You’ll be able to stand firm and say, “wait, that doesn’t sound like God.”

Nowhere in the Bible does He say it’s just your lot in life, that life sucks, or you have bad luck. Nowhere. You have to speak truth to combat lies. You speak them out loud, you repeat them to yourself daily, you speak them over your life first thing in the morning before you even feel an attack. You prepare yourself for battle.

Then… you rest. You rest in His truth. Lies come, you kill them with truth, and rest in your surrender. This is the third and final piece, and resting doesn’t just mean being still. You’ll still have to fight with truth as attacks come, but to rest is to abide. It means you live in a state of believing what you’re proclaiming.

You read the truth, you memorize the truth, you repeat the truth. You repeat it over and over until it becomes passive like breathing. You exist, breathing in and out this truth, wearing it like your favorite hoodie. It becomes so engrained in your very center that it’s not just words; it’s the very sustenance of your life. It’s the meat, and you chew on it until it sticks to your bones. That way, despite if attacks come, you’re not frantically fighting them off. Instead you’re resting in the truth of Jesus that has already won the war. If that doesn’t make you want to jump and shout hallelujah then I don’t know what will!

Bottom line, friends. Giving it to God comes down to abiding in the victory Christ has already obtained for you. Spoiler alert… the devil doesn’t win. Anxiety doesn’t win. Depression doesn’t win. We just lose sight of that, sometimes, and that’s ok. There’s still room at the victory table, and getting a seat there starts with surrender. It’s followed by digging in and equipping yourself with God’s word. Then it’s topped off (it is finished, see what I did there) with abiding in His truth that your are in Him, and He is in you. That, my friends, is giving it to God.

How to Find Your Happy

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I could probably gripe about a lot of things that annoy me when working as a nurse, but if I had to pinpoint my biggest frustration it would probably be computer problems. Like, ugh. Since when do I have to be an IT Specialist?!

I’ve been charting electronically for eighteen years or so, and in all that time I’ve discovered the number one fix when having computer trouble.

You call the Help Desk (appropriately named), and you plead, “help me! My screen is frozen!”

I mean, you just wanna finish charting. You have sooooo much to do and so little time.

Usually the IT person will fire back with, “have you restarted your computer?”

“I need you to turn it off, give it about fifteen seconds, then turn it back on.”

Reboot. Unplug. Reminds me of calling Comcast Cable. Am I right?!

The IT guy will take control of my mouse and locate some screen I didn’t know existed where he’ll “end” the running programs. Heck, I’ve had instances where I had a handful of programs running at once and didn’t even realize it.

A couple of years ago I realized I wasn’t as happy as I knew I should/could be. I mean, I was happy for my family, time with my husband and kids, our home, and the nuggets of great moments mingled here and there, but something wasn’t right. I loved my life, but it’s like the program wasn’t running like it should. I was frozen by anxiety, stalled by worry, and run down with fatigue. It turns out I had too many tabs open on my dashboard, and I was running more programs than my server could handle. I wasn’t operating at full speed, and I seriously needed to delete some cookies, but not being very techy, I didn’t have a clue.

Remember that movie “How Stella Got Her Groove Back?” Well, I guess I could have titled this post appropriately as, “How Brie Got Her Happy Back.”

Remember how the Help Desk always tells you to turn off your computer, or to end your multiple programs? Well, when I cried out for help in life, God came back that I had too many tabs open. It was overwhelming. I wasn’t running at my full potential of joy because I was running too many irrelevant programs. I had to delete some cookies. Empty the trash.

I started with unplugging. I stopped running and got real quiet. Once I turned off my anxious mind and sought the Lord for what was important in life, I was able to hear His direction. I had to close some tabs. I had to evaluate what I could close out, and what I needed to keep open.

I decluttered not just my mind, but also my life. I stopped activities that weren’t building up my relationship with my family. That direct sales business that was consuming me? I let it go. All the clothes I had to wash? I gave them away. All the trinkets I had to dust? I sold them. The big house I couldn’t keep clean? I let it go. The busy tasks that I thought I needed to do to be a “good mom?” I stopped. The comparisons of myself to other women? I turned my eyes from others, and instead I sought the Lord.

“What do you want for my family, God?”

All the things I had thought were important, I realized they were not so much.

I asked myself, “is this ________ leading my children closer to the Lord? Is is glorifying Jesus? Is it building my witness? Is it built in love, and does it display God’s love to others?”

If the answer was “no,” then I re-evaluated if that was a tab I needed to keep open, or if it was bogging down my productivity.

If it was keeping me busy, but not making me fulfilled, I let it go. Y’all, you’ve never seen such a decluttering. Not only did I sell or give away furniture I had accumulated over a twenty year period, but I also trashed false ideas the enemy had planted in my mind over several decades. I let go of fear over things I couldn’t change, and I got rid of material possessions that took up my time and money. We re-evaluated how much we worked. If we downsized our life, couldn’t we also downsize our work week? The answer was yes. If we got a smaller home and less cars, couldn’t we gain more time together? Absolutely. If we dumped our full schedule and let go of our preconceived notions of how our life should look, we found a hidden treasure.

It was our happiness. Peace in simplicity. A feeling of fulfillment in simple pleasures. A healthy operating system that ran more smoothly with less windows open. The to-do list got chiseled down, and the moments of quiet increased. The problem is, we live in a society that celebrates busy! The fuller your plate, the more successful you must be. But we debunked that myth. We live in a world that says more is better, and then we wonder why our days at work drag like a slow internet connection, or our off days disappear like a hastily deleted file. I’ll tell you a secret. More isn’t better; it’s only overwhelming your system.

Running from one thing to another is typically something people brag about, but then they wonder why everyone in the family falls apart prior to bedtime. Wives and husbands are craving a date night because their schedules are too full for everyday moments together. Families are on countdown for vacation so they can escape the hectic pace of their life. Why is it this way?

When our systems break down either physically, emotionally, or mentally, we cry out to God, “why?!”

And He’s just shaking His head, “I told you to be still.”

Perhaps the cure for anxiety is letting go. Maybe the solution to financial worry is getting rid of the root of the problem. I’m saying that I think the secret to finding your happy is in the action of taking your eyes off the things that cause you stress. Everyone laments about their stressful life and full schedule, but how many are actually finding a solution? If you’ve got too many files open, close them out! If you’re holding on to problems you cannot change, people who cause you pain, and past hurts, then it’s time to delete the cookies. Empty the trash. Unplug. Give your system a break, and when you restart, I’d consider removing all the dangerous files.

I had to get to a point in life where I said, “is this impacting my eternity or my children’s salvation?”

No? Then I’m letting it go.

I asked, “does this have a kingdom impact? Is it glorifying God?”

No? Bye-bye.

And finally, “is it done it love?”

If it’s not done in love or showing His love, then I’m not really about it. I can be happy at my job, because I’m showing His love. I can be happy with less stuff, because I have all I need. Love. I can do less activities that keep me busy, and spend more time loving my family. For my husband and me, every day together is like a date night. When thoughts come to my mind that cause me anxiety or depression I’m immediately questioning, “but is this love.” God doesn’t give me thoughts that aren’t centered or from a place of His love for me. Even His conviction is from His love, but fear never is. When I clear my mind of the outside noise, I can more easily clear it of the inside noise. Interesting how that works.

So, how do you find your happy? By looking for it! It’s just not found where you think. It’s not found in a bigger house and fatter bank account. It’s not found in pay raises and job promotions. It’s not even found in a trip to The Happiest Place on Earth (sorry Mickey fans). Are you ready for it? Your happy is found right where you are. It’s right here. It’s directly in front of you and in your grasp. You just can’t see it for all the distractions. You’re running too many tabs all at once and holding on to files you should have gotten rid of long ago. If you’re crying out to the Help Desk, I can tell you already, they’re gonna ask if you’ve turned it off.

Restart. Reboot. End Program. Because you can only run on so much before you crash.

We’re All Defective

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Once I cared for a young man who had survived an overdose attempt. He was young enough to be my son, and as I looked at his handsome face and deep, kind eyes, I did feel an almost motherly affection for him. In fact, after we had gotten comfortable with one another I jokingly addressed him as “son,” and he in turn called me “mom.” It was a good day, that day, and my time with him reminded me of something we can all forget.

We’re all broken. In one way or another.

He had just so happened to hit his rock bottom place. Do you remember yours? Maybe you haven’t hit it yet.

I can recall mine. I was around the same age as him. College. That time where you’re supposed to be grown, and it seems like everyone expects you to have it all figured out. It’s funny to me, an age where an individual has the ability to lay their life on the line for their country, is also an age where so much uncertainty can be. But I’ve found that it’s in those lonely, indeterminate times that God meets us. When our hands are thrown in the air, when we cannot find the answers, at the end of our rope; there He is.

This young man reminded me so much of myself. Sensitive, tearful, soft-spoken, kind. The tears in his eyes felt like my own, and if I could have placed my understanding of life at forty-two into his own fragile state of mind, I probably would have, but I also know that we must all get to that place in our own time. It took me a long time to get there. I still pray now that it won’t take him near as long.

During one of our many, heartfelt conversations he shared his broken spirit, in shaking, emotional words.

He cried, “I’m defective!”

And my heart broke for him. Empathetic, I felt his pain. I had known it myself. I wanted to run to his rescue, to console my son, to encourage him, to tell him how lovely he was.

I wanted to say, “no you’re not!” But something held me back.

How many times had others tried to make me see myself like Jesus saw me? Precious, loved, made new? Until I was ready to see myself like God intended, it was just words. And although it was all true, I was beautiful and made perfect, it wasn’t until I accepted my brokenness that I could allow Jesus to fix me.

So instead I answered him, “yes, you are defective! So am I! So is everyone. It’s called being human. And it’s ok.”

If God had a clubhouse with a sign above the door I am very certain what it wouldn’t say. It wouldn’t read,

No Sinners Allowed

It wouldn’t proclaim,

No Brokenness Can Enter Here

The Lord certainly isn’t the little boy on the school bus in Forest Gump saying, “you can’t sit here!”

No, I like to think that Jesus is more like Jenny, patting the empty seat beside her, a smile even though we’re a little weird, a little different, a little defective.

No, I think if God had a clubhouse, the uneven, wooden slab above the door would read in faded, red paint,

No Perfect People Allowed

It’s only once we’ve accepted His invitation inside that we are made perfect through Him. And even that is a journey.

We’re all broken, you see, in one way or another. Many of us experienced a horrible childhood, some worse than others. Some can move on from the ashes, and others not so much. I do know this; we all need a hand out of our mess. We’re all defective, like my young patient felt, and it’s in that mangled mess that God can save us. It’s in our weakness that His strength emerges, and it’s in our hopeless, helpless, unrecoverable life that He can make all things new.

You know what you can’t see when you’re at the bottom? The top. You know what you can’t see in the midst of misery? The way out. It’s ok. It’s ok because He is the light at the end of the tunnel. He is the hand that pulls us out of our mess.

God doesn’t expect our perfection to come to Him. He just wants our love. He takes care of all the rest. So, while the bad news is that yes, we’re all defective, the good news is that He in turn is our perfector.

What God Would Say to the Woman Who’s Not Enough

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Most of us women, at one time or another, feel as if we’re not enough, like we’re lacking some fundamental trait that will magically transform us into the women we wish to be. Not a patient enough mother, or perhaps you’re a wife who suffers to serve. We desire to be that mighty woman of God, to get it right at least every now and again. A fight with our spouse, or a harsh, thoughtless word screamed in frustration at our children prove to us where we have fallen short once again. If only we could be the kind of friend our girlfriends need, or have the time and energy to volunteer at church. If only we could keep the kitchen clean, laundry basket empty, or keep up with our graying roots like other moms seem to do.

We see our Facebook friends dressing trendy, our Instagram idols redecorating their homes. The lady next door doesn’t have trash falling out of the backseat of her minivan, and the mom of four at church, her kids are always so well behaved! A condescending look at the grocery store, the well-intentioned yet hurtful advice from an older woman at church, and the thoughtless comment from your husband all cement the idea that you need to step it up. You need to change, improve, work on you!

Wash your face, wipe your eyes, and work on you! Make time for yourself, yet cherish time with your children, time that is fleeting, and that you’re constantly reminded passes too quickly. How does that work?!

You’ll miss this, they say, all while taking afternoon naps themselves that you can’t personally enjoy.

So you strive to do better. You endeavor to be a Proverbs 31 woman, even though you feel like a Prozac 24/7 kinda gal. If you feel depressed you must not be godly enough, so back to the drawing board for you. Watch your weight, exercise, pray, repeat. Count backwards from ten, take your vitamins, and drink more water. Go out with your girlfriends, read a book, take time for yourself. Stay attractive for your spouse, serve him in love, and give him the affection you yourself feel like you’re lacking. Be in the mood, even if you’re not. Meal prep, crockpot, freezer meals. Keto, Paleo, Weight Watchers, Hello Fresh. So much advice, yet so little time. I don’t know about you, but I just want to not be tired anymore, and to wake up without a sore neck and back. Also, why am I anxious about nothing at all?!

Being a woman is hard, but working to be the woman you think you should be is even harder. It’s not easy being everything for everyone, yet still feeling like you’re not enough. Not good enough, pretty enough, young enough, thin enough, strong enough, happy enough. You’re not everyone’s cup of tea, sure, but maybe you just want to be the cup you yourself could enjoy. You want to be the mother your children deserve, the wife your husband desires, and the woman God needs you to be. Why is it so hard?!

Well, take a breath and listen. This is what God would say to you today.

Stop! Don’t work on you. Work on knowing me better. Stop striving to be the “mighty woman of God” you think you should be, and instead simply rest in who I have created you to be.

I don’t want you to be like her. I created you to be you. The things you see as flaws, I put those there. I thoughtfully formed your crooked nose and short legs. And even the flaws that the world has harshly placed upon you, I can work with those too. Don’t doubt what I can do.

The world will say you are not enough. Even my other children will tell you that is so. Satan will whisper lies so stealthy you will think they are truth, but I promise you this. You can only find my truth in my Word. If it’s not in the Bible, then it’s not for you to believe.

Stop seeking self-improvement, and instead seek my face. Spend time with me. Pour over my truths in scripture, and let that truth flood your soul. Allow it to take over your thoughts so that when lies from the enemy come, because they will, you can overpower them with who I say you are.

Stop working on being better, and start being better in me. Remember that my strength is in your weakness, that you have been made perfect in me, that I am in you, and you are in me. Together, there is no lack. There is always enough.

You are what I say you are, and you are enough. You can rest in my perfect peace, knowing the plans I have for you, plans for a wonderful future.

Stop fighting battles I have already won. Stop waging war on yourself. I take it personally. I created the stars in the sky, ones you cannot even see, ones that shine so fiercely they are blinding up close, but you are still my most precious creation. Just as you are. Stop trying to alter my design.

Stop planning to do better, and simply follow my path I have laid out for you. You cannot see it for your own anxieties of becoming lost. When you feel lost, go back to my map. Read the words there in red. They tell you the way.

Stop working on being a better you, and focus on residing in me. I am your safe place. I can block out the whispers that say you’re not enough. There’s nothing wrong with desiring to be a better you, except when you begin to think you alone hold the key to change. Only I can change hearts, and only in me will you find the completeness you desire. Stop trying to be everything, and rest in the fact that I already am. In me you have fullness of life. In me, you are already enough.

35 Things Nursing is Like…

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Have you ever had one of those days? Like, I’m talking about the kind of day where you hit a brick wall mentally in what you feel like you can handle for the shift, but then you realize you have to keep going? Through that concrete wall?! Yeah, I had one of those recently. It happens in the field of nursing.

But thankfully there’s also the days where you wanna pinch yourself and say, “I can’t believe they’re paying me so much to do this!”

Regardless of the day, good or bad, crazy busy or super slow, blessed or a mess, you can typically think of some amusing ways to describe it. I know when I was losing my marbles the other day I thought of a really good one. So, without further ado, here’s 35 descriptions of nursing, or comparisons, if you will, that I thought might brighten your day. Enjoy.

Nursing is like…

  1. Forest Gump’s box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.

  2. A magician’s handkerchief. You can think you’ve reached the end of a task, but it just keeps coming and coming.

  3. Working in a restaurant. It’s either dead or dinner rush.

  4. Murphy’s Law on Steroids.

  5. Reading stereo instructions. Upside down. In Mandarin.

  6. Riding a bicycle. On ice. Very thin ice.

  7. A cruise. On the Titanic.

  8. Final exams. But if you fail someone dies.

  9. The movie Groundhog Day.

  10. That dream where you’re falling.

  11. Being lost in the desert. Your lunch break is the oasis in the distance. But it keeps being a mirage.

  12. The nightmare where you’re naked in front of a classroom. Except the class is your patient’s family. And the speech you’re giving is the answer to irrelevant questions.

  13. A debate. And your opponent is WebMD.

  14. A Maury episode. “You stated you didn’t need anything else. Your use of the call light 0.2 seconds later determined that to be a lie.

  15. Being a firefighter. But all your extinguishers and hoses are filled with gasoline. And there’s no accessible emergency exit.

  16. Playing Tetris. Your level is the elevator. Before the door closes you have to stack your patient, bed, IV pole, Respiratory Therapist, transporter, and self. God Speed.

  17. Being a lip reader.

  18. Being a mind reader.

  19. Playing Good Cop/Bad Cop. You play both parts. In the same shift.

  20. Waiting tables. But there’s no tips.

  21. An episode of Dr. G.

  22. An episode of Hoarders.

  23. An episode of Intervention.

  24. An episode of My Strange Addiction.

  25. That song from The Lamb Chop Show. “This is the shift that never ends. It just goes on and on my friend!”

  26. Being the coyote on Road Runner when he would run into a brick wall thinking it was a light at the end of the tunnel, then get up and keep the chase going.

  27. Being lost in the woods, thinking you’re about to find your way out over the next ridge, then realizing you just walked in a circle.

  28. Leading a horse to water, but then it getting admitted within thirty days for dehydration.

  29. Being a personal assistant to a Kardashian. Not the ones on the show, but maybe one of their less well-known cousins.

  30. Being a superhero, but anyone who knows you just thinks you’re Clark Kent or Peter Parker.

  31. Those circus performers who balance multiple spinning plates on tiny poles.

  32. MacGyver. With fewer supplies on hand.

  33. A plane going down, and trying to remember to put on your own mask before helping others.

  34. Dinner at the inappropriate relatives’ table. Have you heard the conversations at the nurses’ station?!

  35. Nothing you see on the medical dramas on television!

What ones can you add? Let me know in the comments.

If My Mother Was Still Alive

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If my mother was still alive she’d be turning sixty-five years old today. As a middle aged woman of forty-two, myself, that seems so young. Since I’ve started living an RV lifestyle I am surrounded by men and women decades older, who are full of life and vigor. It doesn’t seem fair sometimes that a woman who loved life so much is gone. It doesn’t seem right that a lady who desired grandchildren so intensely passed away before she met even one of (now) seven grandkids. Most of the time, I just try not to think about it.

Have you ever had someone in your life become someone else? What I mean is, they change. One day you’re close, the next day, not so much. It’s usually some huge event that fosters change, but sometimes, I guess, people just evolve. They become someone new, and that someone doesn’t fit into your life anymore. It’s almost like they died, like they dropped off the face of the earth. Or even if you do speak, it seems like such a foreign conversation.

You ask yourself, who is this person?!

It’s happened to me before. Someone I love dearly moves on to a new life, with new friends, new hobbies, new interests, and it feels like the person I once held so dear is no more. Except for the moments.

I’ve discovered, in my own personal experience that you are sometimes given glimpses, or precious moments of time where the old personality of your friend or loved one emerges, even if just briefly. Just such a moment occurred for me recently, and afterwards I joyfully shared it with my spouse.

“Do you know what I wouldn’t give to have a moment like that with Mom?” I asked my husband.

As we spoke I explained to my husband that while it could make me sad to lose a relationship through distance or time, that when it was reunited it was even sweeter than before. Though the relationship I had once known was gone, those spectacular glimpses into our prior connection were a treasure. And though they were far and few in-between, they still were wonderful. Like a breath of a sweet fragrance your memory had locked away for safe keeping.

If my mother was still alive today I would cherish each second with her for the fleeting time it was. Because now I realize that even one, five minute, phone conversation would be like Christmas morning. Even one hug, one glimpse of her smile, one sound of her raucous laughter, that would be the biggest thing for me. One small encounter would mean the world. One smell of her perfume, one minute of advice, one session with her gentle, listening ear. What I wouldn’t do for that one moment of time!

I wish I could buy her a birthday card today, but even more, that I could watch her read it. I would scour the card aisle, reading every one, and even then I know it wouldn’t get close to conveying how much I loved her, missed her, needed to see her face. But I sure would love the opportunity to try and see.

I wish she could meet the girls. I would let them visit whenever she asked, and I wouldn’t complain when she spoiled them! I’d laugh about how ridiculous they acted when they came back home hopped up on sugar and leniency. I promise I would.

I would listen to her say, “you did that exact thing when you were little!”

In fact, I yearn to hear her say that. After all, she was the only one who knew those things.

Did I learn to crawl first or cruise?

Was I easy to potty train?

Surely I wasn’t as persistent as my second child is, or as independent as the third!

What do you think, Mom?

I think that if my Mom was still alive I could finally pick up the phone and tell her what’s on my mind, instead of intending to call for a split second, before sadly remembering I cannot.

I would ask her advice. I would share how wonderful life has gotten over the last ten years, even though she hasn’t been a part of it, and I’d let her know that’s the only piece missing. Her.

As it stands, I long for forever, to not have to wish for mere moments, but to enjoy timeless togetherness. For that will be a fine day indeed. But until that day I’ll enjoy every morsel of each one that exists for me here on earth. I’ll savor the moments that pass too quickly and fade into memories before your very eyes. I’ll enjoy every smile, every laugh, each and every one. I’ll cherish my relationships, my family, and all the in between.

Looking For Love in All the Wrong Places

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When my biological father gave me up, I wondered what it was about me that made it so easy to let me go.

When my high school boyfriend broke up with me for the other girl, I couldn’t help but wonder what she had that I lacked.

When the first man I ever loved broke my heart, I cried into my pillow, feeling like I would never again find that feeling I had when I was with him.

When I told the cute boyfriend in college, “I love you,” and he thereafter ghosted all my calls, I wondered what made me so easy not to love.

Broken girls become broken women, lacking love, yet seeking it desperately. I always put so much stock in how others felt about me. I was the new kid on the block who just wanted to be your friend, or the quiet girl pining for the cool guy, drawing secret doodles of his name in study hall. A people pleaser by nature, like a loyal pup longing to have its ears scratched while hearing, “yes, you’re a good girl.”

It sounds quite absurd putting it out there like that, but in hindsight I can see the desperation of my past. Like Pavlov’s dogs, I longed for a reward, and my ear was always tuned towards the ringing of the bell. I was eager in my relationships, yet skittish to reach out, if that makes sense. Having learned from an early age that the people you love will definitely leave you, I was hesitant to make new friends, but boy oh boy, did I long for them. I wanted to be wanted, while simultaneously fearing hurt.

I fit into the military like a missing puzzle piece. It was easy to excel when all you had to do was what someone else told you to do.

Yes, sir.

No, sir.

Right away, sir.

Of course, I was top of the class when it came to following commands. Being told exactly what to do is easy; having the courage to step out on your own volition, that’s a bit harder.

As a young woman I felt my body was a weapon, something I could use to my advantage. Like a carrot on a string, dangled to draw attention, but pulled away in hopes a chase would ensue. Sometimes often times not pulled away at all.

In my first marriage I was the doting wife. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, per se, but I know I would have done anything to please him. I would, and sometimes did, forgo the woman I was meant to be in order to become the woman I thought he wanted. My desire to be a good wife was probably crippling to us both. I think sometimes he longed for me to fight back, to argue when I was right, but instead I just said, “I’m sorry.”

I was always sorry. Sorry I wasn’t pretty enough, good enough, desirable enough. Through the long string of failed relationships prior to my first marriage, I had been the same. If I was desired, I felt like I was enough. But if I was rejected, I felt severely lacking. I based my worth on the measurement from others, honestly people who were just as broken as myself. Empty souls longing for something real, something to fill the void.

When my first husband told me he didn’t love me anymore, I felt a pain like no other. In hindsight, I think a wound that started long before was ripped open that night. A never truly-healed trauma that I only added to year after year. He was just fuel on the fire of an already broken heart. He didn’t do the breaking of my heart; he was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

After almost thirty years of seeking love and coming up empty I had hit the bottom of myself. And in that cellar place I sat in the tattered rags of my wrecked life.

I cried out to God. I’m not sure what gave me the courage. After all, I had run from His presence. Though He promised the heart of a Father I had not been shown initially, or the lover I longed for, I had in actuality rejected Him. I had turned my head at His nod of affection, I had ignored His calls time and time again. Why would He want me back? A scorned woman, broken forever, incapable of being loved. Yet…

He answered me. In the pit of my own making, He shined His light. In the desert place I had intentionally wandered into, He gave me living water. He gave me the thing I had always wanted. He loved me regardless. Despite my failures.

He wooed me over time. Sinful man causes a woman to hide within herself, building up a wall to keep the good away. A broken woman thinks she can only have pain. But He was patient with me, calling me softly, closer day by day.

You see, before God could bring me substantial love here on earth, in the arms of another, He had to teach me what love was, or rather what He intended it to be. He had to show me my real self, the one He created, the one He saw when He looked at me. This woman’s worth wasn’t dependent on how others felt about her, but on His opinion of her. This woman learned her worth in Jesus, that her life was worth dying for. Christ taught me how to love myself. And I realized that was independent of any man.

I was once a broken woman, born into poverty, immediately raised in rejection, stacked on top of a sinful world. I grew into a woman broken again and again, allowing the pain others piled on me to melt into my image of self. The cracks were many, at one point loosely held together by nicotine and alcohol, but that is a story for another day. Today, suffice to say, I reckon we’re all broken in one way or another, just some of us more often.

I was a broken woman, looking for love in all the wrong places, blind to the fact that true love had pursued me from day one. I was a broken woman, mended by acceptance, proven worthy by His sacrifice, and healed by His Holy affections.

I am a healed woman, strengthened by His truth, loved beyond measure, no more lacking. I am a woman filled, overflowing with joy, confident in His good grace, blessed by His mercy. I no longer look for love. I have found it. A lasting love that never leaves. And each day forward I strive to pour out that love to everyone I encounter. Because you never know who else you meet that might be broken too.

When You Feel Like God Has Forgotten You

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“She was scared at first,” I told my husband.

I walked towards the lounge chair he had saved for me, while my six year old ran off to find her sisters. My middle child and I had just rode a lazy river ride together while the rest of the family went on to another wading pool with mini water slides.

“What in the world did she have to be afraid of?” he asked in exasperation.

I thought about how the water rushed rapidly as we had approached it, walking down the narrow aisle with rails on each side, a stack of people behind us, making it difficult to turn around even if you wanted to.

She had spoke softly, “I’m scared,” while gnawing nervously on a chunk of her wet, blond hair.

I had explained to her that I was there, and that I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. I relayed this to my husband as we sat poolside afterwards.

“I’ll be holding you the whole time,” I had encouraged her.

My husband shook his head incredulously as I retold the conversation with our middle daughter.

“I don’t think they understand the lengths we would go to to protect them,” my husband mused.

I replied, “now we know how God must feel.”

God tells us over and over in His Word, the Bible, that He will protect us.

“Be still.”

“Fear not.”

“I will never leave you.”

“I uphold you.”

“Don’t be anxious about your life.”

“Cast your anxieties on me.”

“Behold, I am with you.”

“I will strengthen you, I will help you.”

“The Lord is near to the broken-hearted.”

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.”

“In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world.”

“The hairs of your head are numbered.”

“I am the good shepherd, I lay down my life for my sheep.”

As a parent, I can tell my daughters again and again not to be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to them. I would die to protect them. They know this is true! Yet…

How often do I feel like a timid child, a small, soft-spoken six year old that a stiff wind could blow down? I, too, know my Heavenly Father will protect me. Yet…

When the scary current threatens to take me into deep waters.

When the illnesses come with age.

When the bank account dwindles and there’s not enough money to go around.

When people hurt me.

When my enemies come against me.

When I cannot see His face.

Twenty years ago God gave me a vision, and in this vision I was a small, towheaded wisp of a child, similar in appearance to my petite six year old now. In my vision I ran across a large field of green grass. My ABBA Father watched me from the porch of our farmhouse. He watched as I ran farther and farther from the safety of the house. I imagined I must be like a tiny, barely visible dot at the perimeter of the yard. I reached the fence, but that didn’t stop me. Still I ran. At some point I tripped over something and I fell. Tears ran down my cheeks as I looked at the bloody mess I had made of my knee. I was all alone, hurt, and it was my fault. I think I cried as much for the pain of my own heart as I did the ache in my knee. When suddenly a large hand reached for mine. It was Him. Papa.

He helped me up, He brushed the dirt off me, and He lovingly placed a bandage on my knee.

“How did you find me, Daddy?” I asked. “I was so far from home.”

“I was always with you,” He answered softly.

I wish I could tell you that after that, in my own life as an adult, that I never left Papa’s front yard. I wish I could say I didn’t hop the fence. Most of all, I wish I could say I never fell again, but I cannot. I still fall; some just harder than others. What I can say is this. Even at a point in my life when I fell the hardest, and when I was the farthest away, when I called His name I heard the answer.

“I am here.”

Never forgotten, never abandoned, loved beyond what I deserved.

This morning as I prayed about life, fending off melancholy over an area of life where I felt I had failed and fallen short, I felt the Lord speak.

“You know, sometimes what the world may call falling, I simply call redirection.”

If indeed I believed that the paths God laid down for me were the ones that succeeded, then I had to know His redirection was always for my good. And in life when I felt like I had fallen, He was always there with a big, comforting hand, soothing balm for my hurts, and a gentle voice of truth that said, “this way, child.”

Falling doesn’t mean forgotten. As children of God we feel like when we fail God is absent, sitting up high on a cloud, smirking over the idiocy of His creation. We cower under fear of this cruel world because we think we are alone. We assume Dad has left us to our own devices. We see the fast current, hear the rushing sound of water, and we are afraid, even when He is right there beside us. It’s human nature.

But aren’t you glad He patiently encourages us, over and over again, like you would a child?

“Do not be afraid. I am here.”

A Word of Advice for the New Nurse

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I was walking down the hall this morning with a new nurse, and she asked, “so, were you an IV nurse before this?”

She said it with genuine respect as I followed her down the hall to the room of her “hard stick.”

“Nah,” I replied. “I’ve just been putting em in for twenty years.”

“That’ll do it,” she replied in awe.

I wasn’t even working on that floor. It was one I sometimes floated to, and I had run quickly there from my Intensive Care Unit to grab a stowed jacket. When this new nurse had seen me her eyes lit up, and she eagerly let me know she needed me. It seems I had quickly garnered the reputation on that floor of being very skilled at inserting IV’s. As I walked with her to her room (confident that whatever veins awaited me I’d nail it first try) I realized just how odd this was.

I had become the nurse you asked to help you get an IV started in a patient with “bad veins.”

It was crazy, but I was the one you came to when you had a question, needed a second opinion, or encountered something you had never seen before.

Even more crazy, it had occurred to me over the past year that I had become that older nurse with decades of experience that I used to look up to. Now I was the more seasoned RN on the floor.

I bet you’re wondering when the advice is going to come in. Well, here’s the thing. Most of the time it seems like only yesterday that I was the one with shaking hands when I started my first IV (or two, or three), or that I was the one going insane questioning every single move I made. I was the anxious young woman with a nervous stomach. I was the one afraid to call and wake up the doctor. I was the nurse scared to death of making a mistake, running my butt off to try and get things done on time, but leaving an hour late regardless. That was me. But now, it’s not.

Time passes quick at the bedside. It may not feel like it when you’re trying to make it through a crazy, twelve hour shift, but trust me. One day you will look up and realize a year has gone by, then two, five, and beyond if you decide to stay. On a side note, the patients hope you will. There are far too few of us seasoned (but not salty) bedside RN’s left.

So, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to enjoy yourself. I know that’s not always easy when you’re trying not to bang your head against the wall in frustration, but bear with me. You see, right now is a wonderful opportunity for you. You have the chance to be a sponge, to ask a thousand dumb inquisitive questions, and to take every instance you can to learn.

I remember as a young nurse feeling like I should know more, and often times I neglected to ask for confirmation on a situation because I didn’t want to appear like an idiot. Don’t get me wrong. I never did anything to put my patient at risk, but I did lose many opportunities to increase my knowledge in favor of saving face.

I can also recall not taking chances, not grabbing at situations where I could grow my knowledge base and skill level. Rather than missing an IV that looked hard, I might just ask someone else to do it for me. When faced with the chance to take care of a really critical patient, I would be more than willing to pass it along. This only hurt me. My fear of messing up held me back. Don’t do that.

Being a new nurse is hard. Even though you went to school there’s still so much to learn! I get it. But don’t let this keep you from grabbing those extra certifications and educational opportunities. These things will only add to your knowledge, making you a better nurse in the long run.

So, if you’re just barely keeping your head above water as a new grad, hang in there. Know you’re not the first to feel that way. But just make sure you don’t end up floating along content on still waters. Stir it up. Realize that while being a new nurse is hard, what can be really difficult is being an older nurse who everyone comes to. Because one day you will look up to ask a question, and you’ll realize you’re the most experienced person there. You will be the one people come to. You’ll be the one teaching others, mentoring new nurses, and offering your venipuncture skills to the masses. It happens before you know it. So enjoy your season to learn and grow. Your future patients will thank you.

Why Saying, “I’m Too Blessed to Be Stressed” Isn’t Really Biblical

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Do I believe I am blessed? Of course I do! God’s Word tells me so numerous times, and every moment I look upon the face of one of my children, lay my head on my loving husband’s chest, gaze at the beautiful, blue sky, or feel the cool breeze blow my hair back, I know it is true. I. Am. Blessed. In this world, and thank the Lord, for all eternity, especially then. I am supremely blessed, but am I too blessed to be stressed? I think not.

The other night I was up at 2am crunching numbers, my spouse beside me in bed, a Netflix show in the background. It just wasn’t adding up. Some more additional expenses had come up with the sale of our house, and no number of pushing around of bills seemed to tabulate in my favor. I calculated the debt again, and still it gave me an answer I didn’t want to see. There was no way I could swing this scenario, but I had to. There wasn’t a choice.

Have you ever been between a rock and a hard place? It’s that claustrophobic space where Catch 22’s live. It’s a dilemma with no perfect solution, a choice between A or B, when all you want to find is the option of C. But you know what? Sometimes there’s no option C to be found. Or at least it seems that way.

When we can see no way humanly possible for a problem to work out, that’s when the stress creeps in. Y’all, I don’t care how pious, how Holy, how religious you are. It doesn’t matter if you walk side by side with God, stress will still come. I mean, Moses was a man who was pretty tight with God. God spoke with him face to face, as a man would a friend (Exodus 33), and still, when confronted with the enormous task of freeing his people, Moe got a little worried.

He was like, ABBA, while I appreciate the vote of confidence, I get pretty nervous in front of a crowd. I get hives and stutter. It’s embarrassing. Maybe you could ask somebody else, just this time.

I can imagine him shrugging his shoulders as he tried to pass on the stressful job. But God wasn’t having it.

He basically told Moses, I created your mouth, man. And your tongue. I can certainly give you the words to say!

Point being, even those in a close and deep relationship with the Lord can feel like they’re going to buckle under the anxiety of this world. Problems come, no matter how close you are to God, but He’s always saying, “I got this,” just like He did with Moses. In His Word, the Bible, the Lord tells us we’ll have trouble. Yet He also states, “take heart. I have overcome the world (John 16:33).”

In other words, when Plan A doesn’t work, and Plan B falls through, there actually happens to be a Plan C: Christ.

The annoying part is that even if you know all these things, and like me, you proclaim boldly, “God’s got this,” you can still suffer under the stress of the situation. It doesn’t make you a horrible Christian with failing faith. It just makes you human. The important part is that when the wind of stress blows (because it will), and the waves try to overtake you, that you remember the truth. And the truth is, you are blessed. You are blessed because Christ is with you.

You’ll still get stressed. There’s no stopping that. Jesus warns us it will happen. But then we must remember why we don’t remain stressed, that we don’t continue to be overcome, that the devil can knock us down, but doggone-it, we ain’t staying there!

And that’s what happened with me the other night. Financial stress came on me hard, but then I remembered the truth. Even in my hardships, I am blessed. Even in this stressful life and its stressful problems, I am blessed. I’m not too blessed to be stressed, but I am blessed despite my stress. Even in spite of my stress.

But then do you know what happened? I was feeling good, riding along smoothly on my faith, feeling rather good about myself.

Why, yes, I have grown so much spiritually. Thank you.

When all of the sudden, out of nowhere, the bottom fell out. Man! Doesn’t it always seem to happen that way? You’re dealing with a nightmare of a problem. You’re certain it can’t get any worse! And then bam. The worse happens, and you’re back to square one, trying not to chew your nails to bits, eat a whole tub of ice cream, or cuss a blue streak from Kansas to Miami. I’m not saying I ate half a pie, last night, but I’m not saying I didn’t. Stress! It happens. Again, and again.

It’s in those moments where it really does seem like the ocean, and wave after wave tries to beat you down. You eat some sand, and in those moments, with the grit in your teeth, you might not feel very blessed. But when your face gets pushed in the sand you only need to remember one thing. It’s just sand.

All the problems you come across. It’s just sand. All the things you love that you fear leaving you. It’s just sand. The things you cannot change. It’s just sand. Here today, gone tomorrow. Build some castles, but don’t try to stand on it. Sand shifts, you know. It can make you sink. But in the end, whether our castles stand tall or fall flat, it’s really the rock on which we stand. The storms just happen to remind us of that. So we are blessed. Stressed, sometimes, yes, but blessed, always.