fraud

"boldness, be my friend" (w.s.)

i remember the first time i ever felt like a fraud. 

i was going into the 9th grade and was transferring into a new school. i knew maybe 3 people at the school and decided to try out for the dance team. after i made it, i remember my sister (very kindly) writing me a note of encouragement telling me how much she admired my bravery. 

that was the moment. 

the moment that i realized that i was a fake, and eventually everyone was going to find out. 

the truth was, i wasn't brave. 

i was just good at pretending. 

where people saw bravery and a willingness to take risks, i saw a girl who would do anything in order to secure an identity. 

i wanted, no, i needed to be somebody. 

and i knew that if i could wear that uniform, people might think that i was somebody. 

i knew i was fake, but i also knew that the appearance of bravery, of boldness, made me feel strong. 

you know that saying "fake it till you make it"? i think that could have been my mantra.

really, if we're being honest one of my biggest struggles has always been placing more value in how things look, than how they actually are.  

i fall into a pattern of thinking that says, "the exterior determines the interior". if you look fine, then can convince everyone, even yourself, that you are fine...it works for awhile. 

until it doesn't. 

for me that process started 6 years ago. 

6 years ago i got sick, and save for a brief intermission, i have never gotten better. 

**disclaimer: don't. feel. sorry. for. me. that's not the point. (that's all)**

being chronically sick is a daily reminder that you are not "fine". 

which is a harsh wake up call for anyone, but especially for someone who fights to convince herself that outward drives inward. that appearance determines quality.  

it's funny that i've worked so hard towards that end, yet the body i have screams the opposite. 

if i take an honest look back at my life, i've always looked right. i've done the right things. said the right things. been the right person. always hoping that as long as the exterior looked right, the interior would follow suit. 

but when the interior feels so wrong, it gets harder and harder to appear right. 

enter: boldness. 

my idea of bravery was skewed in that for most of my life, i hadn't faced things that truly scared me. for most of my life i hadn't come up against anything that i wasn't positive i could overcome. in fact i never really even tried to do anything if i wasn't convinced i would succeed...there is no boldness in that. embarrassingly enough, it wasn't until recently that i realized, true strength, courage, boldness and bravery are found in facing the things that scare you most. it's when you jump headlong into an endeavor knowing full well that it has the power to take you out. no one is remembered for playing it safe. people are remembered for looking fear in the face and pushing on anyway. 

and that's where i am. 

the truth is that being sick is scary and confusing and frustrating and discouraging and, to put it simply, it's hard. when you struggle and hurt emotionally or spiritually, you know what you're supposed to do in order to get healthy. but your physical health, that feels different. even when i do the right thing, it doesn't mean that the problem goes away. i have absolutely no power to change it. 

but you never realize your propensity for bravery until you are confronted with your fear.  

i'm terrified of people knowing that i am not ok. 

and that? that is unavoidable. 

it looks me in the eyes every single day. 

so what does boldness look like? i think it looks likes like embracing the weakness, instead of trying to hide it. i think it means choosing joy, instead of just appearing happy. i think it means being ok, with not being ok. 

i write these things here because my nature is to hide and cover and pretend, but nothing feels more public than putting it on the internet for anyone. 

here's to being letting people see my weakness. 

here's to being rather than appearing. 

here's to boldness. 

you are h e r e

frankly i haven't thought about this blog in nearly a year. until today. i was talking to a girl about how beautiful it is that Jesus comes through the tangled mess of our lives and ties up all the loose ends, turning it into a beautiful story that reflects His glory. for whatever reason that jogged the memory.

it made my think about the life, the story, that the Lord has chosen me for. the one that He has set me apart for. the one that i have been consecrated for. it made me think about all the kinks He's untangled and all the ends He's tied together. My 20's have been significantly marked by refining. He's come through my guilt and shame and hidden places like a storm. storms don't discriminate. storms don't choose the weak over the strong or the incapable over the capable. they just rage on.

and that's how life has felt in my 20's (which are more than halfway over...what?). those waters have covered the face of my life and uprooted everything that sat in the darkest depths of my soul. my life has felt like the Earth must have felt during the flood. almost as if the Lord looked at my life with such great longing, such intense love, such deep sorrow, that He decided He could no longer allow it to exist as it was...He needed to wash it out and let it start over. start clean.

in the last 5 years there have been no parts of my life that haven't felt those flood waters. everything has gone through seasons of being bombarded, of being drowned.
my health. my heart. my deepest fears. my pride. my mind. my confidence. my identity. my hopes. my expectations. my longings. my body. they have all been painfully overwhelmed. beautifully exposed.
what began as a stomach ache, snowballed into years of unanswered questions. what began as one sad day spiraled into hundreds of days where getting out of bed was only the beginning of the battle and laying my head to rest was harder still. what began a painful memory, became a megaphone, accosting my identity from every angle. revealing fear and shame and doubt and self-loathing. making me feel like a bird who's had all it's feathers plucked out. a strange, alien-esque creature that only vaguely resembles it's former self.
that in and of itself is grim and hard and hurts. it hurt a lot. and i'm not really saying that the hurting part if totally over. but i would also be wrong if i said that it's the end of the story.

the pain in my body really was never about the pain. it was, and always is, about the way it hurts my pride. hurts my expectations. hurts my confidence. pain in my body spoke to me the lie that if my body wasn't working, then i was broken. that i wasn't enough. that i was too weak, too frail, too vulnerable. and i would never be good enough.
the sadness in my heart wasn't just about a painful, ugly memory of trauma and violation. it was, and always is, about the nature of hiding the things that make us feel ashamed. the things that make us feel like we have to prove that we are strong, because we are so afraid of people finding out just how weak we are. the things that make us hide and protect and freeze in our tracks.
these are only two examples, but this is all to say that those floods washed me out for years. they tossed me back and forth in a torrid sea of truth and lies. clashing and breaking and never holding still long enough to be grasped or even identified.

but recently something rather extraordinary happened. it stopped raining. (ironic bc it's raining outside as i type...). i think it's gotten to the part of the story where Noah is in the ark waiting. waiting for the flood waters to drain and dry. waiting to see the saturated ground that lies beneath and rediscover his world on (somewhat) dry land. i very much feel like i'm in that place. waiting to rediscover the heart and body that have been drowned out and made new by His flood waters.

by His grace, His prompting and His power, everything is being illuminated. the darkest places of fear and shame and pain have worked their way into the light; and much like the Earth feeling like the Earth again once the waters dried, i am feeling like myself again. sure, the Earth was different. it carried all the marks of the flood, the erosion and tributaries, the lakes and plains and peaks and valleys. but it became the Earth that Christ Himself would be born into. would walk upon. would live and laugh and sacrifice on.
my life carries the marks of my flood. those marks have woven their way into the landscape of my story. but those pathways in my story are the very ones Christ Himself walks upon. and that looks more like myself than anything i've seen in years.

and my rainbow? while i can't say that i have the promise of my life never experiencing a flood again, His faithfulness is the promise i hold to so tightly. because i am making it. everyday more and more. i am making it. and that promise. that faithfulness. it is worth more than the biggest, brightest rainbow i could ever ask for.

so instead of living in hiding and fear. instead of denying the flood, thank Him for the rain. thank Him for the hurt. thank Him for the love that is deep enough to uproot the hidden places and bring them into His glorious light. "just set your sail and risk the ocean, there's only grace". (david crowder band) this is where healing is found. this is where wholeness begins. i promise.