faith

My Life Song

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This is intensely personal and has a great deal to do with my faith and how I look at how I should live.

I have sung this song quite a few times in my life but, as we sang it at the close of worship service today, a thought struck me.

This is my heart song, my life song. 

This is what I want my life to be about, my efforts, my desires, and what I want to be evident in the way I go through this life.

1
 Out in the highways and byways of life,
Many are weary and sad;
Carry the sunshine where darkness is rife,
Making the sorrowing glad.
Make me a blessing, make me a blessing,
Out of my life may Jesus shine;
Make me a blessing, O Savior, I pray,
Make me a blessing to someone today.
2
 Tell the sweet story of Christ and His love,
Tell of His pow’r to forgive;
Others will trust Him if only you prove
True, every moment you live.
3
 Give as ’twas given to you in your need,
Love as the Master loved you;
Be to the helpless a helper indeed,
Unto your mission be true.

Trusting My God-Gut

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Some of you knew about this and some of you didn’t. Two weeks ago, I applied for a position at a local middle school. This was an act that required much prayer, faith, and courage on my part because I didn’t particularly enjoy my previous time in this corporation several years ago. But I felt that I needed to woman up and apply, so I did. They called me for an interview a week later. Amidst lots of prayers and encouragement from friends and family, I interviewed for the position (grades 6-8, tier 3 English/Language Arts intervention) this past Friday, and the principal called back the same day saying that she had called my references (thank you to all those wonderful people, by the by) and wanted to recommend me to the superintendent for the position. I asked for the weekend to be able to speak with my husband about it and if I could give her a call Monday morning. So we took our weekend together and discussed it as we walked about GenCon and prayed about it together. I spent my quiet time/time alone praying and listening with my heart for God’s guidance. Sometimes that guidance comes as a gentle heart nudge, a thumb in my back, an inability to settle with peace on a particular decision, or just a gut feeling that I know I need to go with. Based on our talks, prayers, and that undeniable, unexplainable gut feeling that we have both experienced time and again, Ben and I both agreed that we felt a leading that I should be home with Elizabeth this last year before she heads off to preschool.

No, we will not have a lot of extra money this year as a result, but we have always determined that our home will be built on love first and foremost. Standard of living and quality of life are two different things (I even looked up the definitions this morning to be certain before I said that) and we are concentrating on the latter. We may not have a lot of extra money, will have to be frugal and wise with what we do have, and certain things will have to wait a bit longer, but we have a roof over our heads, food on our table, cars that work, and I will be able to give Elizabeth my love and presence for another year as she and I learn from each other and prepare for her to head off into the world all too quickly.

All that being said, I just got off the phone with the principal at the middle school, a former colleague of mine, and told her that I am so thankful to have been able to interview with them and for her faith in me in wanting to recommend me. I do feel led, however, to be home with Elizabeth this year but, if she has any positions open up in a year or so, that I would definitely appreciate her consideration again.

We are trusting God for continued guidance and leading and that He will help us to have a wonderful year together. We are praying for strength and wisdom as Ben teaches and preaches, giving of his time and energy unendingly to and for others and us. It is also my prayer and hope that, at the end of this year, Elizabeth and I will both be ready to go out into the world and face it head-on with all the fierce, fearless courage of roaring lambs.

Thank you all for your prayers, advice, and love. They mean more to me than I can ever say. And thank you for reading.

Finding Refuge in the Deluge

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“Then the Lord will create over all of Mount Zion and over those who assemble there a cloud of smoke by day and a glow of flaming fire by night; over everything the glory[a] will be a canopy.  It will be a shelter and shade from the heat of the day, and a refuge and hiding place from the storm and rain.”  Isaiah 4:5-6 (NIV)

The other morning, I took my daughter out into our backyard after pleas of “House? Please, house?” I had a plan, too. I was going to plant my chair underneath our mulberry tree and, from there, I would have a good view of her whether she was playing in her playhouse or climbing up the ladder to go down her slide. While I sat in this shady refuge, I was going to continue reading and journaling and had plans to write a short devotional on the refuge of peaceful spaces. It was going to be a lovely time outside.

Unfortunately, the insects had other ideas. It has been hot and muggy and raining off and on the past few days, and the dew was still on the grass when we went out so the bugs were out in force.  My backyard, which is usually a beautifully cool refuge in the morning hours, had turned into a torture zone for me. I am notorious for being bitten by insects. So much so that there are times that I just about flat-out refuse to leave the house. If there are bugs about, I will get bitten, buzzed, and, really, just all-out bugged.

How like life, isn’t it? We sit down and determine that this will be our sacred time, our time with God, when we absorb His Word and listen for that still, sweet voice. This will be our time to center ourselves in the midst of everything, to find silence and calm and peace. And then the thoughts creep in. Or, rather, they pop in, buzzing about our mind while we are trying to be still. Grocery lists, dinner ingredients, errands that need to be run, appointments needing to be kept. They buzz and bite at our concentration, threatening to draw our minds away from God, away from quiet.

Sometimes these thoughts are like annoying insects, interrupting us. Other times, it can be our emotions that interrupt, suddenly washing over us like a sudden storm. I can personally attest to this. Thoughts lead to emotions and those emotions lead to more thoughts and, before I know it, I am lost in the storm. I have no idea what I was thinking or praying about in the first place, or even what I was reading or journaling. Something that I tend to forget, however, is that, even in that deluge, God can still be my refuge. Our refuge. We can still call out to Him, call out His name, and He will meet us in that place. That place of trying and failing, that place of frustration or overwhelm. He will meet us there.

As it says in our key verse, “It will be a shelter and shade from the heat of the day, and a refuge and hiding place from the storm and rain.” The “it” refers to the presence of God. It is there to cut through it all and draw us back. Back to a place of quiet, a place of reflection, a place where we meet God, where He can speak to us, and where we can hear Him with our whole heart.

So, while my backyard might not have been the shelter and refuge I had hoped for of a morning, it served as a great reminder of the God Who is, no matter what.

Refuge

Actions Living Out Words

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Last night, I did something I have never done before. I gave a stranger a ride. This is not something I do. Not by myself and definitely not at midnight on a Friday. As I drove through downtown, I saw a woman at the side of the street, trying to wave down a car. As it would be, the light turned red and I had to stop. She came up to my window and asked if I could please help her. The pro/con battle that warred within me felt like it lasted for hours, though it really only a second or two. I rolled down the window and asked if she was OK. She said no, she had asthma, couldn’t get home, and couldn’t afford an ambulance. I could see that she was weary and wheezing and afraid. So I opened the door and told her to get in, sit back, and breathe deeply. Her name was *Ruth. She said that she had stopped a police officer and asked for help but that, for insurance reasons, they said they couldn’t give her a ride, but they could call her an ambulance. She said that she didn’t have eight hundred dollars for an ambulance and lived too far away from home to walk and make it. I told her that I’d take her home but she’d have to tell me how to get there. And so we started off. It wasn’t that long of a drive and she explained that she cleaned houses, starting at midnight (I’m not sure how that works), but that she had started to feel weak and wheezy. So I told her to sit back and breathe deeply and slowly as we drove. It was not my place to judge her in any way; my place was merely to help.

Cards on the table. I was scared. I was terrified. This was not something I had ever done before, but she needed help and I was the one there to offer it. I speak of kindness and helping others as best we can all the time. Now it was time to put my money where my mouth is and walk the walk. I’m not saying that I did this to prove that I am a good person. No, not by any means. This was as much a step of faith for me as a helping hand for Ruth. I prayed the entire time – for help for Ruth but also for protection and safety for me as I ventured into unknown territory. Where she took me in town, I had never been and worried about finding my way back but, thankfully, the road the roundabout put me back on after I left her place ended up being a pretty much straight shot towards my home.

As we drove, Ruth talked. She talked about her employers, being bonded to them and hopeful that they would understand why she wasn’t at work that night, not getting paid until Monday, how she had stopped for a $0.99 shot of liquor before heading to work that night, and, interspersed amongst her tellings, she kept repeating, “You are an angel.  You saved me. God will bless you, Mel.” I just told her that I was glad I was able to help. And that’s the truth.

I dropped Ruth off at what she told me was her uncle’s house and that he would take her home and then I headed off towards mine; after all it was after midnight and I would just reach home by the time I had told Ben I should be home. Very much not the end of my night I had expected but I only hope and pray that I was of some help and that Ruth got safely to her home and rest.

For the Gaining and Gift of a Dream

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Vulnerability alert! Last night, my husband asked me an innocent question: “What is your dream?” As I sat there and thought, I found myself bursting into tears. I cried. Oh, how I cried. As I thought, I couldn’t find anything that fit what I would call a “dream”.

When I was a little girl, I dreamt of being a teacher. I have done that, in some way, shape, or form, from age 16 to age 29.

When I was older, I dreamt of writing and being published. I have done that. (Though I have never quite been so Jo March to declare, “I shall write great books and make barrels of money.”)

I dreamt of finding deep, understanding love and partnership. I have found it.

I dreamt of holding a child in my arms. I do.

img_2035dreamYet, now, at almost 32 years of age, I do not know what my next dream is, what my next step or my next path in life is. And so I cried for a long time last night. It was a despairing cry; one never wants to think that they are dreamless. Soon, Elizabeth will be old enough for preschool and I will be back to work, but what work? Shall I return to the classroom, shall I search for a position in a library, or shall I try to step into something entirely new? I do not know and not knowing scares me.

It has also been suggested to me that I could make money from my writing. That is also an idea that frightens me, although I know it can be done. It would be a step of faith, a step of courage, one that would lead to some of the hardest work I’ve ever done and perhaps some of the rewarding work I have ever done. However, I’m not sure it is one that my family can afford, with what we are planning for/needing to be done in the future. Not as a sole method of breadwinning, that is. But…could it still be worth a try?

Ben asked me another poignant question then (it was truly the night for them): “Why do you write?” And so I answered honestly, perhaps the most honestly I ever have. I write so that there will be evidence that I existed. I write so that there will be a record that I lived, breathed, felt, thought, learned, created. However selfish it may sound, I write so that there will be proof of me. And maybe, just maybe, someone will find comfort, help, or encouragement from what I have experienced and shared. I did find something that I said in reply to him a touch curious, though. I told him that I do what I do in life because I feel as though they are what I must do. I write, share, post, sing, dance, and talk but I have not necessarily looked at those things as “dreams”. They are just a part of who I am.

Then Ben asked me if I had talked to God about it. When was the last time I asked Him for a new dream? I couldn’t answer, which was an answer in and of itself. And so, in the midst of my tears and clutching of my husband’s hand, I did what I should have done in the first place: I prayed. I thanked God for the dreams He has helped me to achieve and told Him of the despair I was feeling at the thought of not having a dream to aspire to, a path to set foot on. My heart cried out and I asked Him for a dream, for guidance, for light. I know and trust that He will be true to His word as I seek His dream for me. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV)

So I shall continue to pray and quieten my heart continue to listen as I look, hope, wait for, and walk towards a new dream.

Stepping Outside My Zone

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So, today, I did something that absolutely terrified me. I posted some Tweets, three of them actually. Last night, as I lay awake in bed after getting my daughter a drink and settling her back down, I felt a nudge in my back/brain/gut/heart/whatever you want to call it. Ben and I spoke last night about just how heartbroken we feel that people are calling for boycotts of our state. According to the 2014 census, there are roughly 6.597 million people living in the state of Indiana. I understand bold and strong action for what you believe in but how can rally for non-discrimination by calling for the shunning and isolation of an entire state? It just doesn’t compute in my head. It just doesn’t make sense to me.

So, in the middle of the night, I felt that nudge, that insistence to do something, say something. And I had phrases, sentences coalescing in my head, even a hashtag. But I was afraid. I was scared. Terrified. I’ve been watching. I’ve been listening. I was scared about being bold. So I prayed. I laid there in bed and I asked God about it specifically. I asked that, if this was really something I was supposed to do, for it to not let me go. And it didn’t. It didn’t let me go. If anything else, the nudge became more and more urgent, insistent. This was something I had to do, that I needed to do.

I wasn’t been sure, though. Just how many of these thoughts was I to send out into the world, tagged #GiveIndianaGrace? I didn’t know. I also knew thatI wouldn’t know until I began. So I started. I posted one tweet. And then another. And then another. And to say that I waited with fear and trembling would have been accurate, still sort of am, honestly. But, after those three tweets, the urgency lessened and I felt that I was done. I had done what I needed to do. I do not necessarily know why I had to do it, why it had to be me. But I did it, and whatever the result(s) of those tweets will be, it is out of my hands.

I’m not a bold person, at least I don’t consider myself to be. This was way outside of my comfort zone but, as they say, that’s where the growth happens, yes?

The Light Around the Door 2014

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2015 is two days away and I find myself sitting in contemplation of the year gone by. There has been a lot of happening this year, so bear with me as I suss at least some of it out.

Firstly, a huge thank you to you, my readers, for sticking with me over this year and lending me your time, hearts, and minds in your reading of these paper bullets of my brain. I hope you have enjoyed reading this blog as much as I have writing it, however scary it was at times.

One of the most notable occurrences is that I have become a contributor to The Well Written Woman, which has been an absolutely wonderful experience! I have had a fabulous time working with the talented ladies at TWWW. They have allowed me a great freedom in exploring subjects in my writing – fiction pieces, personal writings, works on faith and social matters – and I have greatly enjoyed getting to know co-founder and editor Camicia Bennett. Thanks so much, Cam!

I took college courses for the first time since graduating with my Masters in 2006 and entirely online. I was very nervous about how I would handle it and being a mom at the same time. It was hard work, completing two graduate courses simultaneously in five weeks, very stressful and tiring. But I had amazing help from my in-laws, my parents, and my husband; I found ways to enjoy it; and I succeeded, earning A’s in both classes. A personal triumph and big weight off my back as those grades allowed me to renew my teaching license for the next ten years, should I choose to return to education when Elizabeth heads off to daycare/preschool eventually.

Speaking of Elizabeth, my daughter turned two years old eleven days ago and she is an absolute force of nature. Even my mother had to admit that when she was here to visit. As such, I sometimes do not know what to do with her, but we are doing our best. Our Bizzy is smart and bright, talking more every day. But she is also clever and cunning, though thankfully I am still more so just yet. She is artistic, skilled with anything technological (similar to her mother), creative, fun-loving, energetic, and loves the outdoors. She is also sweet and loving, giving affection to those in her life, tight little hugs and sweet kisses. She loves her Marie (The Aristocats) and Katarina Kittycat (“Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood”) stuffies – they go to bed with her every night – and she is never as happy as she is watching “Daniel Tiger” (unless she is outside exploring). She loves to be read to but will also insist on “reading” to herself. She has started to take her own ‘me time’, climbing into her rocking chair in her room to rock by herself for a little bit with a book, her tablet, or just her stuffed buddies. She may still be little but she has gone from a baby to a little girl in the space of a year, and I am constantly amazed by her.

As I have been writing and also continuing in my position as the wife of a Quaker pastor, I have had the opportunity to sit and think seriously on what I believe and how it affects my life, or how it should affect my life. I am well aware that there are some, or many, who disagree with my faith or even what I believe in particular within that faith. And that is OK; my faith makes sense to me. Lately, I find myself drawn more and closer to its core tenet of “loving others” (Matthew 22:37-40) and “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18). I want to do that: love others in whatever way is needed, whether it is a listening ear, a requested explanation of what I believe, a note to say hello, a little gift, prayer, or just my time. And maybe I can help someone find/experience a little bit of peace, even for a short amount of time. I have learned some wonderful lessons from a writer whom I discovered this year: Lysa TerKeurst. Lysa is a wonderful woman who manages to speak to my heart without ever knowing who I am. Her devotionals, books, and faith-based writings have spoken to my soul as I have worked through several issues in my life this year, and I have taken several of her teachings to heart as I work to build myself an even stronger foundation and keep my emotions from becoming “unglued”. One that has been the closest to my heart this year is a reminder that our feelings are indicators but they do not need to be dictators of our behavior or actions. I can choose to act out of high emotion or I can choose to act and speak out of love, grace, and gentleness. The latter is most definitely what I want in my life, and I have some wonderful examples of these to follow in this.

Always, but especially this past year, I have been astounded by the loving natures and kind hearts of the people in my life. My family and friends are simply amazing! My life is constantly blessed by them and their generous souls. There are days when a card in my mailbox, a text popping up on my phone, an IM chiming on my computer, or even a surprise package waiting for me has been just what I needed, just the uplift and tender touch that my heart and soul required on that day, the thought or those words just what I needed to give me the strength to take another step forward. Even those words were simply, “Hi. I was thinking about you.” So, to them I say, “Thank you!” from the fullness of my heart. You are more than I could have ever dreamt for. You hold lines to my heart and I am so grateful for how gently, honestly, and lovingly you handle them.

As this year’s curtain descends, there are indeed many things that I wish I had done and ever the more that I wish I could do. This year has been full and I am thankful for all I have been able to do, accomplish, and witness this year. I know that this next year will be full of its own miracles and hardships, triumphs and challenges. I look forward to it and am nervous for it, too. But, again, that is life and it continues on apace.

NaBloPoMo 2014 Day 25: Encapsulated Mind and Soul

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I have had the same Bible for at least the past twelve years and I am loath to be rid of it. Not because it is the most comprehensive or best reviewed translation. No. I will keep this Bible until it falls apart and maybe even then because it is full of memories and reminders for my heart.

For instance, Proverbs of my favorite book of the Bible. My high school teacher would go through it chapter by chapter, day by day, a few months a year, and I was always amazed and blessed by how she could pull meaningful and relevant interpretations from a centuries-old text. So I still continue the practice today in my personal devotion and prayer time. If a particular verse strikes me, I usually mark it with that day’s date and it’s rather amazing to go back and see how often verses come back into my life with a new relevance, a new poignancy. Sometimes I can match verses and dates with entries in my journals and it’s always eye-opening to review just what was going on in my life at that time and how those verses were relevant to my process and growth.

This Bible is full of note cards with specific prayer requests from college Bible study groups. A thin purple ribbon that a best friend once tied around my finger marks the beginning of the book of Philippians, right next to Paul’s joyous prayer for his friends, what I have now come to call my “Ribbon Prayer”. There is a sticker/picture of the Russian pastor and his family with whom I and three other young women worked ten summers ago. I remember that family and their enthusiastic smiles and kindness and exultation in life and in us. There are notes that I have written in any spare white space I can find in this Bible’s pages, thoughts on my life and on these words of God and their impact, as well as prayers, interpretations, and reminders.

Yes, I think I will hold on to this Bible for as long as I am able, if for no other reason than to be able to pass it on my daughter with my journals, so that may be able to see a glimpse into the process and growth of her mother’s life and faith.

NaBloPoMo 2014 Day 12: Discussing the Other

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Pinned by Kimberly Fitch – http://www.pinterest.com/pin/217439488234406857/

Author’s Note: This is my latest article published by The Well Written Woman.

As I told the editors upon submission, I was working on this article a month ago and, then, it didn’t feel like the right time to publish it. So I published a small statement on love instead. I cannot really explain why. But, a few nights ago, as I opened up Word on my laptop, I was drawn to open and revise this article again. This is an intensely personal work for me and that makes me nervous to send it out into the world, in all honesty. But I hope that, somehow, somewhere, it makes a positive impact.

= = =

“Life is constant rewriting and revision. It’s a good thing I like to edit.”

Not too long ago, I said this to a friend in response to his sharing a picture with me on Facebook. The picture was a quote admonishing that great writers aren’t necessarily great first-drafters but great rewriters. My friend asserted that the quote was applicable to a great many things in life and I find that I must agree. I have found my life and my very self to be in a constant state of re-evaluation and revision. From my sense of self, to a more personal understanding of my faith and calling in life, to my relationships, friendships, and the way I relate to others, amongst other things.

Over the past three years, I have been able to observe some pretty intense shifts in society: some notables are states legalizing same-sex marriage, the resurgence and redefinition of the feminist movement, and the cases for and against religion. One of the hottest button topics of late, though, is sexual orientation. Whether you are hereto, homo, bi, or trans (sexual or gendered), American society has become largely more open and accepting of your orientation than in the past. This is a pretty significant cultural shift. But, as with just about every major cultural shift – from a heliocentric solar system to the abolishment of slavery to women’s suffrage – it is not without its share of battles. The world is so loud with voices crying for acknowledgement and others rising in anger and protest (on both sides) that I do not know where my voice fits or if it should even be heard. Writing this, it’s scary for me because I know the chances of it backfiring and those angry voices, whichever side they may come from, growing louder and becoming directed at me, my intention notwithstanding. But hear me now. I am not here to comment on the politics of or rights for differing sexual orientations. I am not here to talk about civil unions or marriage or legalities. That is above my pay grade. I am here to talk about people.

When I was a young girl growing up in a deeply conservative community, there was no such subject as sexual orientation. Nothing deviated from hetero on that score, not to my limited knowledge, and no one discussed anything ‘other’. It wasn’t until I was in graduate school and afterward that I had friends who were willing and felt comfortable enough to be open with me about such things. Right now, I would dare to speculate that a good third of my current friend base would classify themselves as belonging to a sexual orientation other than hetero. It was an entirely new experience for me and I found myself woefully unprepared. I did my best to observe these individuals and tried to listen closely when they spoke about their lives growing up, their decisions, and their lives now. As a Christian, I grew up hearing sermons about and reading the passages that speak against homosexuality, yes. But, also as a Christian, I am reminded that it is not my place to make judgment calls on other people’s lives, the state of their souls, or their relationships with God. “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.”[i] I know what it is to be disparaged against, to have the choices I have made or the way I live my life judged and found wanting by others, for the sheer reason that I choose to be a Christian. Therefore, I try to uphold my friends, any friends, whenever I can. Not with shouting or with soapboxing, but with an acknowledgement of their wonderful qualities as a person.

I have friends of faith, friends of purpose and drive, friends of talent and heart. I have friends who are brilliant people and far outstrip me in intelligence. People who have helped, loved on, and cared for me when I needed someone most. They have sat with me – online and in person – and kept me company all day when I was on bed rest at the end of my pregnancy. They have brought me adorable gifts just to see me smile. They talk with, listen to, and encourage me when I am in need of a gentle, kindly heart. I have friends who are blessings in my life.

Their sexual orientation has nothing to do with this.

Their humanity does.

Their willingness and desire to have an impact for good in this world does.

One of my dearest friends, a young gay man, is one of the first people I call or text when I am in a rough spot and in need of prayer. He is one of the deepest men of faith that I know, and I often find myself humbled by him and his joy in life and constant work to learn and grow closer to God. I cannot tell you how uplifted I am by his presence in my life.

I know who I am, I know what I believe, and I know what my calling is: to love others. How can I be faithful to that calling if I am judging someone behind my words and actions or seeking to change them through our interactions? That’s simple: I can’t. Will we agree on everything in their lives or in mine? Nope. That is part and parcel of being humans with free will. However, I believe that the question of sexual orientation and its role in the acceptance or denial of people has become a wedge in a faith whose greatest calling is to love others. These are people with lives and families and faiths and convictions, hearts and souls, and beautiful ones at that. They are my friends, my neighbors. Divine appointments do not come in a simply-wrapped box but with all the trimmings and trappings of lives lived in a myriad of ways. One’s sexual orientation or choice of lifestyle does not change their humanity or their need for love, patience, peace, support, faithful friendship, kindness, and relationships in this life.

Jesus taught that the greatest commandment is to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and second only to that is to love your neighbor like your own self.[ii] I wonder just how many people wouldn’t have to walk through life with shattered hearts and battered souls if we held to these two all-important principles, regardless of color, race, philosophy, orientation, or creed. My parents used to tell me, “You might be the only Jesus that people ever see,” admonishing me that the way I live my life and the way I treat others will speak louder and more broadly about my beliefs than anything else. If God is love, then it is our responsibility and duty to share that love and light with others, no matter who they are. Anger and hatred and separation only produce more of the same. We are not to judge others or claim to know the inner workings of their souls or the mind of God. As I said before, that is above our pay grade. But we have every duty and reason to love them as God loves them. So I ask, I beg you. Let’s treat each other like human beings, because that is what you are. Bright, brilliant, soulful human beings.

Reflection: Unglued Devotional by Lysa TerKeurst

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“My Creative Best” – page 132

“A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones.” – Proverbs 14:30

“We get empty when we park our minds on comparison thoughts and wallow in them. […] No jealous thought is ever life-giving. Wallowing in jealous thoughts actually leads to death. Death of contentment. Death of friendships. Death of peace. And certainly death of joy.” – page 133

I really appreciate Lysa’s take on jealousy. Jealousy can cause emptiness in my soul through wanting “it” – whatever I think will make me happy or satisfied at the time – and when others get “it”, it causes my heart to hurt, which can easily lead me into a trap of jealousy. In response to jealousy, though, Lysa notes Galatians 6:4-5, which admonishes:

“Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load.”

This means that I should focus on reasons to celebrate what I have and what I am doing right (page 134, emphasis added). God has a creative best for my life, a plan for me to accomplish. I don’t want to waste my life and energy wishing for someone’s else’s life or blessings. As Lysa reminds herself when she feels jealous, I am not equipped to handle the good and bad of someone else’s life, and it is always a package deal with both. My life is what I have been equipped to handle. “All the things I have and don’t have are what make up the unique load I have been assigned. (page 135)”