Green Pastures and Still Waters

Knock-knock jokes. They are numerous, and I love it when a child delights in telling me one. Recently, one of them has been playing on a loop in my head, kind of like when a song becomes an earworm. The Interrupting Cow. I apologize if it gets stuck in your head – or maybe not – I will get to that later. Just in case you are unfamiliar with the joke, here is an enthusiastic version of it: Interrupting Cow Joke, remember I warned you. If we look at our day-to-day lives, how many times does the interrupting cow make an appearance? For instance, a vacation taken off course by a flat tire, a date night kiboshed by a sick child, a last-minute call from work needing you to stay late, the umpteenth request for help from your kiddo while you’re making dinner. All of these situations, and more, can bring the best of us to a level of frustration and anxiety that allows the interrupting cow to ruin the day.

I am a big fan of to-do lists, schedules, and structure. I freely admit I am intolerant of interruptions and last-minute changes to my day, and yet, as a wife and mother, my day is full of interruptions. Add in text messages, phone calls, email requests, unscheduled visits, and I start to spiral! I begin to plate-spin, trying to stick to my schedule and striving to accomplish more. I fall prey to letting what I “do” define me, and I lose track of the fact that those “interruptions” are people I love and worthy of my time and attention. Around the time the Knock-Knock Joke started bugging me, I noticed how often my day was not going according to my plan. More noticeable was the way I was responding to these hiccups. I was feeling tired, angry, unproductive, and anxious about all the unfinished projects piling up.

Coincidently, my prayer was experiencing much of the same. My ability to rest in Jesus, receive His goodness, and surrender to His will was at battle with the distractions of my to-do list, worries and fears, and stirrings of not doing enough. If I am honest, I was welcoming the distractions, inviting them in, because they kept me from taking a good look at myself through His eyes. These types of intrusions are the true interrupting cow, and that is how I began to deal with them. When a to-do list item interrupts, I say, “Yup, that is important, but not now.” If panic about getting it all done finds its way into the moment, I turn my heart back to His love and ask Him to help me find a way. Finally, when the loudest one of all, “I am not doing enough,” budges its way in, I ask Jesus to help me to be with Him and know it He who defines me. Addressing these roadblocks has helped me return my focus to Him and has allowed Jesus to open my heart to the act of surrendering control. Are there distractions in your heart that are getting in Jesus’s way?

As I cleared the distractions, I could see the changes that He was calling me to make. First and foremost, I needed to start including Him in my plans. I had to begin with seeking His help in identifying what matters most and matters least when scheduling my day. Next, I needed to focus less on doing and more on being. Being present to my boys, my husband, my friends, and all those other lovely people God places in my life. It is an opportunity for me to surrender my plans to His wisdom. To began trusting that I would accomplish all that needed to happen and being aware it would not be at the cost of missing the opportunity to be with Him and those He places in my day. In a recent email from Blessed is She, the author mentioned the words Jesus spoke before his Passion, “Rise, let us be on our way” (John 14:31). Jesus’s words stirred a deep sense of release and a desire to walk with Him. These days I choose to end my prayer time with His words. Confident that He is with me, and He will lead the way.

This approach has provided me greater freedom to enjoy an extended conversation with a friend or stranger. It has allowed me to find the beauty in an entire day turned upside down by an unexpected road trip for our family business. I am also more readily able to recognize the opportunities for growth and potential gifts each interruption to my day will hold. Earlier this year, I read a quote by Pope Saint John Paul II that, at the time, set my mind spinning. During his papacy, a reporter asked him, “Holy Father, what do you do in your free time?” He replied, “All my time is free.” How is that possible? He was the head of the Catholic Church; how could all of his time be free? Slowly and gently (and sometimes in funny ways), the Lord is showing me how to find this freedom. More and more of my time is free because I am putting Him at the center, letting Him take the lead, and surrendering my control. This process has been far from perfect, I still get tripped up by frustration and anger, but I’m getting better at recognizing it and making adjustments. What can you surrender to experience more freedom?

Now, back to my half-hearted apology. I hope that when you hear the “MOO” in the form of an unexpected knock at the door, the unplanned detour in your journey, or your child has asked for your help for the hundredth time, you will remember that it may be Jesus knocking, correcting your path, or asking you for help. Perhaps like me, you will chuckle thinking of the cow at the door; and decide to trust His plan and surrender your control. More importantly, I pray you will answer His call, rise, and together, be on your way.

Spring has arrived! My windows are open, the lilacs are blooming, and the sun is warm on my face. As the yard comes to life, memories of watching the twin fawns race carefree through the neighborhood and the return of the sweet song of the orioles flood my mind. It is also time to turn the garden soil, pull the weeds, and sow my new seeds and plants. My Adoration partner joyously celebrates my love of gardening. A few weeks ago, her parting words were, “Linda, I suppose you have spent some time working in your yard and garden. Wonderful. Just don’t let the weeds – if they happen to appear – scare you!” Typically, I would have chuckled at her comment and moved on with my day. However, earlier in the week, the concept of weeds had come up during my morning prayer time. Her words struck a deeper chord in my heart.

Weeds. Those of us with yards, vegetable gardens, or flowerbeds know the hassle these unwanted guests create in our space. Often, they require special tools. Burning Nettle or Thistles? You better grab gloves. Crab Grass? Bring the garden claw and loads of patience. Dandelions? Fetch that handy taproot pulling tool. Why all the tools? Because if we do not pull them out by their roots, they will come back stronger and sometimes spread! Even with our best physical efforts to rid our landscape of these freeloaders, we can be unsuccessful and need to call in the big guns – weed killer.

Exponentially more problematic than the weeds in our yards are those in our hearts. These weeds are equally as fast-growing, deeply rooted, and can quickly overtake the beautiful landscape of our soul. Resentment, anger, impatience, greed, coarse language, gossip, judgment, criticism, the use of alcohol to numb, and pride are prime examples of weeds that can invade our interior garden. These offenses can quickly hide the person God created us to be, damage our relationship with Him, and hurt those we love. We should not ignore them. In the past, I have admitted my struggles with many of these issues. God has provided His grace through the “tools” of friendship, prayer, and frequent reception of the Sacraments of Holy Communion and Reconciliation to help me make headway. However, some of the weeds in our souls are products of our experiences or past relationships.

One such weed is what God addressed during prayer – a deeply rooted weed. The Voice of Shame that still calls me out. The lies it tries to sow in the precious space of my soul always take on some version of, “Who do you think you are?” Or, another favorite, “You will never be good enough.” It is an equal opportunity liar attacking my parenting, my ability to contribute meaningfully to projects, my goodness, my worth, my vocation as a wife; the list is endless. This particular invasion requires a powerful tool to eradicate it. Truth.

Truth. It is a bit tricky for me to discern. The Voice of Shame sounds a lot like truth because it starts there, but then the lies run wild, twisting themselves around the truth, choking it out. Even worse, if you have been listening to it for a long time, it can become your truth. My past attempts to refute the lies told by this insidious voice have fallen short. I am not very good at thinking on my feet. By the time I have figured out a response, it has already moved on to a different front of attack. I am blessed to have friends and family who speak to my goodness and the ability to find truth in Sacred Scripture. As beautiful and powerful as these gifts are to me, they sometimes cannot rip the weed of lies out of my heart. Why not? Fear.

I have feared this weed. My repeated failures to win at the war of words have made me skeptical that I can beat it at its game. Its relentless nature has me doubting if I can outrun it. At times, its sneaky methods have me fearful it is the voice of truth. I have spent the better part of a year finding the source of the voice that has sown these seeds of fear, self-doubt, and shame. Its roots are deep, and digging around them has been both painful and enlightening. However, the time has come to rip it out. The Voice of Shame has taken enough of my heart, enough of my peace, and enough of my identity. Enough!

To do this, I need to claim the truth, use my voice to speak the truth, and live the truth. Christ has already spoken these truths to me; He is the one who defines me. These are the truths I must speak to the lies:

These are my truths. They are your truths as well. Can you speak them, claim them, and live them? I can hear you already, “Yeah, but if you only knew…” That, my friend, is the Voice of Shame. We all have past mistakes, current struggles with various vices, and are guaranteed to experience failure in the future, but those moments do not define us. They are weeds, and we have the tools to deal with them.

Join me this spring, and do not fear the weeds. Take the time to dig around them, get to the root, and pull them out. It is a journey worth embarking on because there is beauty waiting to be shared – you! You and your relationships are worth the effort. The beautiful garden of your soul is worth the time. Do not let the Voice of Shame or any other lie hold you back from the freedom that awaits you. Spring is the season of new life and beginnings. Perhaps this spring, He plans new life for you.

Storms. Some big ones have been raging in our world for well over a year. Covid, politics, and racial unrest fill our news headlines day after day and sometimes minute by minute. Also, some equally powerful storms rocking our homes – financial burdens, physical and mental health issues, loss of a loved one, job changes – the list is endless. I have never used this blog to discuss current events, and that is not changing. However, I know these issues weigh heavy on all of our hearts, and they reveal an opportunity to grow our relationship with Jesus and grow as His disciples.

These storms are full of noise, flashing lights, and blowing winds – all of which cause a lot of confusion. Loved ones with differing opinions, news stations bickering, and politicians slinging blame are not helping us find our way. Instead, they are all a big distraction. They trick us into thinking we have some control over these storms, that our confusion will resolve if we just read one more article or listen to one more podcast on the issue. I can’t recall a time I have felt more confused and unsettled about issues in the news. In almost every conversation, you will hear these same undertones of fear, confusion, anger, and loneliness. The sense that we are tossed around in the storm, alone and without direction.

If we remember, Jesus’ disciples experienced much of these same feelings as they were tossed around in the storm. They were panicked as Jesus slept in the stern of the boat (Mark 4:35-41). Rembrandt depicts this scene beautifully in his piece Storm on the Sea of Galilee. In the painting, we see the disciples dealing with the storm in different ways. Recently I was asked with which disciple I most identify. It was easy; I am the one who looks to be heaving over the side of the boat. My choice is partly due to my propensity to motion sickness but more so related to how easily I get distracted by the storm and lose my focus. How I long to be the disciple that quietly kneels and prays at the feet of Jesus – trusting Him to provide. 

Yet as the storm rages, we can be left wondering who is speaking the truth, who do we trust? As I have wrestled with these storms and the discourse they have caused in my own heart, the phrase, “What would Jesus do?” popped in my head. WWJD has always seemed a little cliche to me, and Jesus is so much more than a cliche. However, there is some goodness to this question because He would bring His peace and love to the situation. He would speak, “Peace! Be still!” Then, as He routinely does, He would start asking questions. I can hear Him ask, “Linda, what are you going to do during the storm?”

First and foremost, I am going to turn to Jesus. I am going to focus my eyes on His. I am going to remember He is THE truth, THE way, and THE life. He is not simply another option, but THE only option. I am going to be that disciple, kneeling at His feet, seeking His guidance. 

Second, let’s be honest. I am confident I will not be receiving a call to write speeches for the president, serve on a Covid advisory board, or influence policymakers. These issues are outside of my control, and I need to surrender them over to Jesus. I will continue to pray for a speedy and peaceful outcome to these issues and do my part to help. 

Most importantly, I need to ask Jesus what I can do? How can I be a better disciple? He reminds me that I can love those He places in my life. They include but are not limited to; my spouse, my boys, my friends, the stranger at the store, the pokey driver in front of me, and the lonely shut-in on my weekly call list. I can be fully present to my faith sharing group; I can accompany a friend on a journey, I can reserve judgment and not criticize, I can give whatever He asks me to offer. St. Teresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa) championed this idea when she spoke, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” You can love those you encounter by looking them in the eye, actively listening to the words they speak, and acknowledging their fear, their anger, their confusion, their joy, their hope, or whatever emotion is stirring in them. I can ask Jesus the following:

Who can I pour Your love into today, Lord?

What is the truth You want me to speak today?

Where do You need me to be Your hands and feet?

When, Lord, do you want me to act?

How can I use the gifts and talents You have given me to make a difference today?

You can ask Him these same questions during your prayer time. Is prayer not part of your day? I encourage you to start; give Him 15 minutes of your day. Surrender your worries and ask Him where you can make a difference. One word of advice, pick just one question. I’m notorious for firing off LOTS of questions to Jesus during prayer. I tend to hear His answer much clearer if I stick to just one question and give Him time to answer. 

Asking these questions will open your heart to the heart of Jesus. He will fill you with the Holy Spirit, strengthen you with the grace you will need to do all that He asks, and assure you that He will lead the way. The storms are going to keep coming, they are going to keep trying to distract us from Jesus, and they will do their best to keep us adrift. We can choose to be sick over the side of the boat and survive the storm, or we can choose to turn our eyes back to His, do our part, and thrive. Which choice will you make? Which question will you ask Him today?

Garages. Some are attached, and others are set a distance from the house. Some are single-car, and yet others have three stalls. My garage is typically a disaster! It becomes the place where sporting equipment airs out, the yard and garden tools lay in a pile, and random hunting paraphernalia dries out and waits for the next outing. Oh, and yes, it shelters one car. Honestly, it drives me crazy! I can’t keep it clean, and I am grateful I can shut the door on it! Out of sight, out of mind. I’ve assumed this is how everyone’s garage functioned, but I learned that is not the case. I am slightly jealous of those people who can host a graduation party out of their garage or foster a hobby. And yet, others accomplish even more out of their garage.

We are familiar with the famed story of how Apple Inc. had its humble beginnings in the garage. Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak transformed the world with their ingenuity and drive. I am sure numerous businesses have started in much of the same way, and like Apple, have enjoyed enormous financial success. All of us might be willing to clean out our garages if becoming a billionaire was in our future, but would we clean it out to love our neighbors that are less fortunate than us?

In the past year, I have discovered two organizations that found their beginnings in a garage. You will not find either of these organizations on the S&P 500, nor will they make headlines with their next fancy invention. Some might describe their work as community-minded, good citizenship, or social justice, and they would all be correct. However, St. Paul may describe this as “faith working through love” Galatians 5:6. What each of these organizations does is make the world a better place by loving their neighbor.

The North American Squirrel Association (n.a.s.a.) made space in a garage to serve disabled members of their community. Veterans, cancer patients, those affected by autism, and the elderly are just a few of our brothers and sisters that this organization serves. They make it possible for those with limitations to enjoy hiking, skiing, hunting, fishing, water skiing, and biking. They make it possible for everyone to experience the beauty of God’s creation. On a recent hike with a volunteer, I asked him why he spent so much time volunteering. As he gently touched his heart, he said, “Love, I do it out of love.”

Another group that started making a difference out of a garage is theExchange. Their slogan, “furnishing homes with a little help from our friends,” clearly sums up their mission in helping those who are transitioning to stable housing from poverty, abuse, or homelessness. What started with four women, a garage, and a truck has transformed into a stand-alone building, dozens of volunteers, a board of directors, and has furnished over 1,000 family homes. Again, an act of loving and caring for our brothers and sisters in need. When asked why, “to do worthwhile work” was the answer. These organizations didn’t just make space in their garages; they carved out space in their hearts for those in need. 

As humble as the beginnings were for these organizations, there is one who had an even more humble beginning – Jesus. We all know there was no room in the inn for him and his family, so in a manger is where he gets his start. This space was crowded with animals, probably quite messy and a bit smelly. He comes anyway. He comes as love itself. He comes to heal us and to save us. 

When I consider the work my garage would need to free up the space for these sorts of endeavors, I feel overwhelmed, but more important than my garage is my heart. For Jesus to do His work, we have to make space in our hearts. He needs a pathway to enter. Casting Crowns asks us just that question with this beautiful song, Make Room. This Advent, I need to clean up a bit so I can let my faith work through love. What needs to go? My clutter includes pride, fear, doubt, and despair. I want to rid my heart of them and have Jesus replace them with humility, peace, trust, and hope. In love, I want to see the good and do good. I want to bring glory to God through all of my work. 

How do we make room for Jesus? How do we get rid of the “stuff” that takes up the space in our hearts that Jesus wants? By placing Him first. Again, for me, it is taking the time to encounter Him in silent prayer, participating in Mass with my faith community, and seeking His mercy in the sacrament of reconciliation. Maybe find an organization that is loving those less fortunate and offer, out of charity, your time, talent, or treasure. If you are taking the first steps to making room, start slow. He only needs a tiny crack to bring His light and love to you this Advent season. 

This Advent, may you make room in your heart.

Accompaniment. A word that is not only a mouth full to say, but quite challenging to define. In my attempt to capture what it means to accompany another, I’ve been journeying backward through my life’s experiences to identify my first memory of someone accompanying me. Strangely, it was 23 years ago, exactly half my lifetime. My best friend since kindergarten died unexpectedly, and my dad attended her funeral with me. I will never forget the moment he reached over to hold my hand during Mass and how he physically supported me during her graveside service. Looking back, he too was hurting over her death, but found the strength to be vulnerable, to step out of his comfort zone, and to accompany me. Those moments changed our relationship. We had always been close, but on that day, his willingness to share a silent and profound expression of love brought us closer. It allowed us to be more willing to say I love you and share a hug.

As with my dad, many times, we are called to accompany as a result of our vocation. On my wedding day, I vowed to be my husband’s companion in good times and in bad, and in sickness and health. On that day, I’m not sure I completely understood how living those vows would look, but today it is much clearer. Together, we have celebrated the birth of our boys, struggled through those early years of parenting, and grieved the loss of parents and friends. Currently, we are surviving teenagers, navigating the journey to becoming empty nesters, and learning at every turn what it means to accompany one another. As a mother, I am a companion to our sons. Guiding, teaching, correcting, and loving them. As they mature, I am learning that they are on their path, and I am only there to provide light and love. I can’t protect them from the pain of disappointment, the academic struggles, or the hurt of broken relationships; because if I do, they won’t experience the joy of seeing how their hard work pays off, the excitement of meeting new friends, and the lessons learned from their mistakes. As a wife and mother, I’m in it for the long haul, a lifetime of accompaniment.

Others choose professions that allow them to spend their lifetime accompanying others, but for shorter periods. Nurses, teachers, and therapists come to mind as people who come in and out of our life, but walk with us when we are most in need. I smile as I think of the dedicated teachers that have touched the lives of our boys. These men and women didn’t just teach them to read, write, and master long division; they dried tears, bandaged knees, listened to their stories, helped us teach them to pray, and so much more. They stood alongside each of them for one year and then let them go so they could grow.

Regardless of our vocation or occupation, we are all given opportunities to accompany others and to allow others to journey with us. God never intended us to walk this earth alone. When Jesus sent his disciples out into the world to preach the good news, “He summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two…” (Mark 6:7). We are to be in relationships with one another and with Him. My companions include a devoted spouse, six supportive siblings and their families, and a beautiful bouquet of friends that have loved me through my life’s journey. The hard part for me is to set aside my pride and accept their help and love. To let them help carry the burdens and celebrate the joyful moments. It is also important to remember that God not only gives us one another but promises that He will always be with us, “And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20). He also provides us with the Holy Spirit, “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth…” (John 14:16-17). By cultivating our relationship with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, we never walk alone. Who has God put in your life to walk with you? Have you let a streak of independence prevent those who love you to provide support? Has your pride prevented you from seeking God’s companionship?

So, the question remains, what is accompaniment? In my heart, it is the conscious choice to walk with others in love. To weather the storm or stand in the fire. To offer words of encouragement, to sit in silence and listen, to hold the space while they shed their tears of joy, sadness, or fear. Rarely do we need anyone to solve our problems or take our journey for us, but we desperately need to know we are not alone. At times, it is hard to find the patience, love, and strength to accompany those we love during the difficult times of their lives. Where do we find these virtues? Take a few moments to close your eyes and stand at the foot of the Cross with Mary Magdelene. Reflect on how she journeyed with Christ during his ministry. Recall how she stood by him through His passion and death. Recognize the depth of their friendship. She found her strength, her patience, and her love in Jesus, and so can we. He is the source of these gifts. Whether the walk is long and arduous or short and fun, let God and others accompany you. Let them share Christ’s love, patience, and strength with you. Who will you let accompany you? Who needs you to walk with them in love?

I love this time of year. The leaves changing colors and the cooling temperatures bring me a sense of peace. While on a walk the other day, the evening breeze cooled my cheeks and rustled the fallen leaves at my feet. It reminded me of a short passage from Genesis 3:8 in which Adam and Eve hear God walking in the garden at the breezy time of the day (the evening). This image sparked a myriad of questions in my mind. Did He often walk in the garden, and did Adam and Eve usually join Him? Did they share their day with God, and did he share his with them? The opportunity to have such a close friendship with God captures my heart and fills it with joy. So, why do Adam and Eve hide from God as he approaches? They hide because they believed the lies of the serpent and have sinned; they chose to turn away from God and his love. However, like any good father, God doesn’t just give up and walk away; He has some questions.

God asks Adam, “Where are you?” (Genesis 3:8) Then He asks, “Who told you that you were naked?” (Genesis 3:9) The gig is up, Adam knows, that God knows, they ate from the one tree they were forbidden to eat. Those two questions have been circling in my head. However, in my prayer, God puts a little bit of a spin on them. He asks, “Who told you that you weren’t good enough? Who told you that you weren’t worthy?” The gig is up — He knows I’ve been listening to lies. In his infinite patience, He waits for me to answer. In the meantime, He gently reminds me that it wasn’t Him who told me those lies. 

So, who tells me those lies? The sources of these untruths are innumerable. At times, my own voice can be the one I hear saying I will never be a good enough mom, wife, or friend. There is even some doubt I will ever be good enough for God to love me because of my faults. The voice that speaks those lies can drown out God’s voice of love, truth, and mercy. It is a constant battle for me to discern truth from lies. Admittedly, I get easily discouraged and lose hope that I’ll ever win the war. Hopelessness is the perfect condition for the lies to grow, multiply, and take hold. What lies do you hear? Who is speaking those lies to you?

Sometimes, we receive a wake-up call of sorts. We hear those same lies voiced by someone we love. Maybe your spouse is discouraged with their career path, or your daughter feels like her dreams won’t happen because she is not enough, or a friend is struggling with her resilience in dealing with a habitual sin. Whatever the situation, it is painful to hear someone you love think so little of themselves. I imagine that is how God feels every time I believe the lies about me over His truth. Perhaps we all know someone for whom we can speak God’s love, mercy, and truth to when they are feeling unworthy, afraid, alone, discouraged, or wounded. I will be that voice for my sons, my husband, my family, and my friends. Will you be that voice of truth for someone you love? Will you listen to the voices of truth in your life?

When I fall into hopelessness or begin to doubt I will ever overcome my failings, I can be like Adam and Eve and try to hide from God. I’m falling for the lie that God’s mercy and love are not for me. I am afraid to share the broken parts of me for fear of losing His love, being unworthy of His love, or not doing enough to earn His love. I have forgotten that God already knows all of me. Psalm 139: 1-3 states, “O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways.” And just in case I have any remaining doubts about His willingness to be merciful, Isaiah 30:18 reminds me, “Truly, the LORD is waiting to be gracious to you, truly, he shall rise to show you mercy.” When I have mustered the courage to come out of hiding, I have found peace, encouragement, and mercy. He delights in all of me, desires to speak His truth to me, and to heal me through the sacrament of reconciliation and prayer.

We need to come out of hiding, but how? For me, that means I am going to choose hope for myself and those I love. It means actively choosing to love, unconditionally, the people God has placed in my life and to receive their love. Finally, it means seeking and accepting the love and mercy that God offers me in His sacraments. I deserve nothing less, and neither do you! I am going to freely walk with God, in the garden, during the breezy time of the day. I’m going to deepen my friendship with Him. Will you join me?

There is a poem downtown, stamped into the sidewalk. Every time I run by it, I pause. The words are few, but they have deeply impacted my heart.

Feet carry your body.

Your soul carries

your heart.

Running will never

escape the pain.

It will follow

collect its dues

and persist until

the truth is faced.

Skylar

I do not know Skylar – we have never met. I do not know if Skylar is a man or woman, a student or a full-time poet, young or old;  I am in the dark about Skylar. What I do know is this poem has sparked numerous prayer conversations with God. Tough conversations and simple ones as well.

Simple prayers include praise for these feet and legs that allow my body to run, to care for itself physically, to carry me places that bring beauty to my eyes, sounds to my ears, and joy to my heart. The act of running can free my mind and refresh my soul. It lifts the fog, giving me the ability to see situations more clearly and allows me to work through difficult events of the past or ones coming on the horizon. My daily run provides me an opportunity to pray. Running has been a gift to me over the years. It has also been a physical curse – injury, ill-fitting shoes, overuse, and pain. Additionally, I’ve used it to escape – to avoid leaning into complicated situations – to run away.

Avoidance, this is where the rest of the poem picks up, “Running will never escape the pain. It will follow.” This fact exists for any activity we participate in to avoid pain – to numb – TV watching, social media, alcohol, work/being busy, exercise, overeating. The list is extensive, and perhaps the numbing agent each of us uses is as unique as we are as individuals. Myself? It depends on the situation, and honestly, I have struggled with many of these over the years. I am a serial user. I work hard to overcome one vice, only to pick up another one in its place. Some may enjoy a couple of numbing habits simultaneously. They enjoy snacking while consuming alcohol or snacking while watching television. Regardless of the method, the result is the same. The numbing successfully avoids the pain, the anxiety, or the situation. In and of themselves, these activities can be benign; it is when they become the way to cope that trouble starts.

This method of coping worked well for me; that is, until my niece introduced me to Dr. Brene` Brown and her work with vulnerability. Dr. Brown has some powerful TED Talks available on YouTube related to guilt, shame, and numbing. These short videos, along with several of her books, have made a powerful impact on how I choose to live each day. Perhaps the most startling truth she exposed, “You can’t just numb the negative emotions of fear, shame, and unworthiness. You numb all your emotions, including joy and happiness.” Yes, you read that correctly, you numb it all. If I wanted to live with joy and happiness, I had to stop numbing the anxiety. The only fix to end the numbing? Stop running, face the truth, and lean in. Take the time to find what is causing your pain or burdening your soul. If we don’t take these steps, “It will follow, collect its dues, and persist.” The only way to shake the shadows of the shame, fear, and lies of unworthiness is to be vulnerable. I had to start engaging, having those difficult conversations, making changes in my work and my relationships, turning to prayer, and setting the boundaries necessary for me to live.

Now is the point in time when the conversations with God got a bit rough, a lot raw, and downright exhausting. I thank God daily for a cohort of friends that have supported me in learning to lean in and setting boundaries, a spouse that has encouraged me to make changes in my life to help me be the best version of myself, and the gift of my faith that Jesus will choose me and help to make me whole. Slowly, but assuredly, I am finding freedom from numbing. In new ways, I am living in joy, and as the person I am meant to be.

There are times I run by Skylar’s poem, and tears fill my eyes when I realize the amount of work I have left to do. Other times they are tears of gratitude for these 28 words. Beautifully crafted and bravely shared, these words have encouraged and challenged me to make changes in my life. No longer do I run to escape, to punish, or to numb. I run to live, to experience, to thrive. To be free.