dear diary :: i hate change {or the shoebox theory}

Dear Diary,

Change.  It's been this recurring theme in our lives for quite some time now.  Some big changes... and some small changes.  Some that I've shared about on this blog (here and here)... and some that I have not.  Some exciting changes... and some scary changes.  Some that were expected.... and some, not-so-much.

And just when it seems that the dust is beginning to settle from one change or another, something else... well, changes.

I'm calling it the shoebox theory.  Imagine life in a cute little shoebox... with all of your things just like you want them... everything in its place... all tucked away, safe and sound.  Then someone picks up that shoebox and turns it one way... and then another... shakes it around a bit and then puts it back... upside down.  And just when you thought you had picked up most of the pieces and rearranged your little shoebox back to normal... wouldn't you know it, someone picked up that damn shoebox again.

That's the thing about change... you can never really prepare for it.  Which is probably why I hate it so much.  I prefer to be prepared. 

But it doesn't always work that way.  Our most recent bout with change has left me feeling anything but prepared.  It's as if the entire lid to our shoebox is missing.  Well, shit.  Now what?

And that's when He does it again.  That small gentle reminder.  Trust me.  

Then I hear my sad, pitiful replies... Well, I would if I still had the lid to my shoebox... I would if you would just do ____... I would if you would just give me ____... I would if you just didn't take ____... would, would, would... if, if, if...

Why is my trust so conditional... when God's love is so unconditional?

Welp... maybe God didn't design me to live in a shoebox?  Maybe He was the one that took the lid to my shoebox?  Simply trying to show me that He is offering me so.much.more. than that stupid shoebox will ever be able to provide.  And sure... it will be scary outside the confines of that little shoebox... but the truth is, I am much safer in His hands than I will ever be in that damn shoebox.  But why is it so hard to remember that? 

"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  May the name of the Lord be blessed!"
     -Job 1:21

dear diary :: anxiety vs. trust

Dear Diary,

Why is it that in the battle of 'anxiety vs. trust', anxiety always seems to win out?  Are the weapons of worry and stress stronger than faith and belief?  Is overwhelming fear more powerful than overwhelming hope?  Does anxiety defeat trust?

Or is anxiety just easier?

Somedays it just seems easier to fall victim to the overwhelming stresses of life.  But in my internal battle of anxiety, am I doubting God or trusting God?

Doubt is easy.  Trust is hard.

We have been so programmed to go... and do... and fix... that the mere thought of opening our hands and trusting God seems so foreign.

Instead of, "go... and do... and fix..." 

What if we were to, "stop... and pray... and trust"??

Is it easier to hold your hand in a tight fist or rest it open?  (go ahead, try it...)  Yet, we still grasp so tightly to our "to-do lists" and "life plans" that we rarely see any room for how God can fit into our tiny balled up fists.  When I'm consumed by the overwhelming stresses of life, I'm failing to see the actual Giver of life himself.

"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7)

Anxiety vs. Trust.  Anxiety may seem easier, but trust is always more powerful.

Love,
Julia

dear diary :: adoption

Dear Diary,

This post has sat in the back of my mind and heart for months now.  Carefully typing out sentence by sentence... only to erase and start over again.

Adoption.

It's something I've hinted at here and there on this blog... a seminar here, and a book there... barely making reference to a very big, and very real, part of our life right now.  Lance and I have talked about adoption for years... before we were even married.  The theme of adoption has always accompanied our conversations about children and our thoughts of starting a family.

And as Lance and I have struggled through the journey of infertility, talk of adoption has become a more frequent conversation.

But why has it taken me so long to talk about it?

Because I never wanted adoption to feel like "Plan B."

This is something Lance and I have constantly prayed and truly desire in our hearts.  But yet when you try X, Y and Z first...  then you move on to adoption... sometimes that feels like the absolute definition of "Plan B."

But thankfully, God doesn't do "Plan B's."

His plan is always Plan A.

And while I can sit and worry about how we're going to "fix this" and "do that," God already has something magical in store for us.

Is it adoption?

I'm not sure... but I know I'm not going to stand in the way of God's Plan A.

We mailed in our adoption application last week... and were accepted on Monday... we are excited and hopeful to see what God has in store for us...

Love,
Julia

dear diary :: those walls

Dear Diary,

I strategically build these walls... you know... those walls of protection.  I build some sides higher than others... occasionally taking a few bricks down... then often times putting them right back up... you know, for protection.

But I've worked so hard to create my bricks of put-togetherness...  to laugh when I'm supposed to... to bake the perfect cake... to buy those adorable new shoes... to have the perfect comeback line... to blog about last night's dinner... to host the perfect baby shower... you know, to morph into the person you want me to be.

It's amazing how so many of us have carefully crafted these walls... we're careful not to say too much, laugh too loud, seem too interested... we're all desperately longing for genuine relationships, yet too stubborn and fearful to make the first move.

It's those carefully crafted walls of protection...

...that don't really protect at all.

They entrap me.  I'm a slave to building my walls... patching the cracks... maintaining the structure... creating new bricks.  It's exhausting to continuously keep up my facade.  Suddenly the walls seem so high... initially built as protection... they now lean in, daring to topple in destruction.

As my facade of perfect bricks begin to crumble all around me, I watch in horror as my flaws are exposed.

...and yet, You are still here.

I realize it's not the perfect bricks You desire anyways.  You love the real me... completely and fully.  You are in the market of fixer-upers.

I serve a God that was absolutely perfect... so I don't have to be.  He tears down those walls of entrapment so I can live in freedom.  And for that, I am grateful.

Love,
Julia

"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship.  And by him we cry, 'Abba, Father.'"
   -Romans 8:15

dear diary :: more thoughts on baby-making & waiting

Dear Diary,

It's been almost six months since my last "dear diary" entry on baby-making... and if I'm really honest, I've been delaying this post for a while now. Part of me thought that maybe if I waited long enough to write a follow-up post that I'd eventually have different news to share.

But I don't.

The past few months have included a smattering of doctors appointments... blood work... fertility tests... pee sticks... and more doctor appointments. I've been in my fair share of waiting rooms lately. And every time I'm in the waiting room, I think of the irony of that word... "waiting," and it's meaning in my life lately.

I typically make sure I have a book or a magazine when I'm chilling in the waiting room... anything I can pretend to read while I wait... And it's behind the safety of my book, I secretly glance around at the other dozen women sitting in the waiting room... the majority of them very, very pregnant. Some of them reading the latest Pregnancy magazine... others marking their calendars with their next ultrasound appointment.

It was sometime around this point that I felt alone. Like perhaps I was the only one in that waiting room... or maybe I'm the only one waiting at all??

Okay, okay... I know that's not true... and perhaps a tad overdramatic. I know there are other women on this journey... lots of other women on this journey. Some much, much further along in this process. And many of them with very painful, heartbreaking stories.

But the truth is, sometimes the waiting gets lonely.

We have another doctor's appointment mid-April... and I'll sit in that waiting room once more... probably pretending to read the same book that I pretended to read last month.

And I will wait.

And I will hope.

Because there is hope in the waiting... And while, yes, I sincerely hope to be a mother one day... that is not where my true Hope is. My identity is not found in motherhood... it is found in Christ... something I daily struggle to remember, but am so grateful that He is gentle to remind me.

Love,

Julia

dear diary :: lessons in gossiping

Dear Diary,

Gossip. It's that one little character flaw that I am constantly trying to justify... Convincing myself that it's not really gossip if I'm just responding... As long as I'm not the one that initiates the conversation... Constantly teetering the fine line between true concern and just plain-old-curiosity... And of course, it doesn't count if I'm talking to someone that doesn't actually know the other person... right? And, I mean, what if I'm funny about it? Surely that doesn't count.

Clarify funny.

Let's say you're at work... and you work a pretty professional 9-to-5 job... and let's just say you occasionally get annoyed with some of the vendors that you deal with. And just as an example, let's say that you sometimes send emails to some of your co-workers to "vent" about how annoying the previously mentioned vendors are. And you get more points from your co-workers if the emails are clever and funny.

Well... the emails are only funny if they are sent to the correct person.

Not quite as funny if they are sent to the above mentioned annoying vendor by accident. Yeah... not funny at all, actually.

Of course... this is all just a hypothetical scenario. This totally didn't happen to me two weeks ago...

Okay... so yes. This did in fact happen to me.

This may have been one of the most mortifying moments of my entire professional career. I called my co-worker (the one that was actually supposed to receive my "funny" email) and tried to simply laugh the whole thing off... "Can you believe what I did?? OMG... blah, blah, blah..." But here's the thing... initially, my response was to just pretend it never happened. Never.happened.

But it did. Why was it okay for me to say what I said to my co-worker... yet I would have never (purposely) said what I did directly to the person that actually received my email?? What makes a statement funny when said to one person... but just plain hurtful when said to another? I began thinking about how many things I say so carelessly... not realizing how ugly and hurtful my words would be if heard by the wrong person.

This, my friends, is gossip.

And the lessons learned in gossiping can be hard to swallow.

I did end up sending an apology email to the vendor that "accidentally" received my not-so-funny email. And although I felt better after apologizing, there wasn't really much to say... my words could not be retracted. I also made the decision to confess my email blip to my boss... a decision that was not easy to make.

Although this was a painful lesson to learn... and one that I still have a LOT to grow in... I pray that my lesson in gossiping is one that I hold onto.

Love,

Julia

"So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you..."

-Matthew 7:12

Linking this up to Capturing Motherhood's Picture Me {Im}perfectly

dear diary :: waiting

Dear Diary,

Recently I have started selecting one little word at the beginning of every year to help define and shape my upcoming year. Last year I chose delight. This year I chose the word wait.

Waiting. It's an odd selection for a motivational word. And it wasn't my first choice either. I tried to choose something different... really, I did. At first I wanted to go with the word hope... then I thought I'd use the word trust... And while those are both great options and I'm sure will hold meaning for me this year... I still kept coming back to the word wait.

Waiting... what does it even mean?

To stay in place in expectation of... To delay... To remain stationary in readiness or expectation... To look forward expectantly... To hold back expectantly... To be ready and available...

I've begun to realize how "waiting" normally has a negative connotation for me. Waiting means something is being withheld... my need for instant gratification isn't being fulfilled... or I am waiting for something that everyone else already has.

Sure, a big part of this word for me is waiting for a child... but it's much, much more than that... I often find myself waiting for acceptance... waiting for approval... waiting for comfort... waiting for answers... and yes, waiting for a child. But I've been asking myself some hard questions recently... Am I okay with waiting? What if I never receive the things I am waiting for? Do I feel that I need those things to be happy? Am I okay waiting for God? Or am I even waiting for God at all? Do I trust that His timing is better than my own?

But that's when it hit me. I'm not merely waiting for God... I'm waiting WITH God. Thankfully, He doesn't leave me high and dry to wait alone... He waits with me... gently reminding me that His plan is better. And I trust that. Some days it's hard to remember... but that's why I chose this word wait... not to remind me what I am waiting for, but rather Who I am waiting with.

Love,

Julia

......................................

I really loved this article on waiting on the Lord.

"Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord."

-Psalm 27:14

Linking this post up to:

Capturing Motherhood's Picture Me {Im}Perfectly

Jennifer Dawn McLucas' Memoir Mondays

The Lettered Cottage Word of the Year

dear diary :: redemption

Dear Diary,

This past weekend Lance and I attended a super-intense-but-absolutely-amazing counseling training at our church. It is called Redemption Groups, and attending Redemption Groups was a requirement for us to continue on with some of the counseling training we have already received. But here's the thing... while, yes, we were "trained" to better listen to and counsel others... we were full-blown participants at Redemption Groups.

Initially, my pride and self-righteousness were on high alert, telling myself, "I don't need this. I don't need to be 'redeemed.' I've got things under control. I'm good right now, God... I'll let you know if I need you." I had my walls of protection, control and fake confidence built high around me.

Well, those walls came crumbling down pretty quick.

As I sat in a room with 6 other women, that for the most part were complete strangers to me, I slowly began to unravel. But in a good way. I began to realize that my wall of protection was actually a wall of hiding. My desire for control was really just a weak attempt at playing God. And my fake confidence wasn't fooling anybody.

Redemption. Interesting word, that redemption. "Redemption" is defined as "freedom from what distresses or harms: to free from captivity by payment of ransom."

And thankfully, Christ has already paid my ransom.

He has redeemed me from my walls of hiding and self-righteousness. He has given me His confidence, so I don't have to pretend with my own. He has given me true life and true freedom. He is committed to me... no matter how many times I fail him with my selfishness, He keeps coming back. And for that, I am truly grateful.

Love,

Julia

Linking this up to:

Capturing Motherhood's Picture Me {Im}Perfectly...

Jennifer Dawn McLucas' Memoir Monday...

dear diary :: baby-making

Dear Diary,

Baby-making. Such a sensitive topic. And obviously becomes much more sensitive if it applies directly to you. I realize for many women pregnancy just kind of happens... maybe you were trying, maybe you weren't. I realize there are some women that absolutely were not trying... and oops... pregnancy happened. Then I also realize that for many, many women there are years and years of trying... and tests... and miscarriages... and waiting...

Lance and I have been trying to get pregnant for well over a year now... which I know, in the grand scheme of things, isn't really that long. But it's funny how once you're "trying" each month seems to drag out a little bit longer than the last one. It's funny how once you start "trying" all of a sudden some kind of baby factory mysteriously opens up around the corner, releasing massive amounts of pregnant women and newborns... everywhere. It's funny how once you are "trying" people seem to ask, almost instinctively, "So, when are you guys going to start a family??" Maybe all of these things were true beforehand, but all of a sudden you're so much more aware... now that you are "trying?" Maybe.

Let's talk about that word, "trying" for a moment... It's a scary word. At least in the sense of baby-making. It took several months before I even dared utter the word... even though Lance and I were... well, trying. If anyone asked, my answer usually went something more like, "Well... you know... we're not preventing... so, eh, we'll see." ...said in my most casual, nonchalant tone. By using this answer, I could protect my pride. Because, I mean, if we're not really trying... and something happens, then "yay, us, we're pregnant..." But you see... the word "trying" well.... it's vulnerable. "Trying" implies that something should be happening... and when it doesn't, the term "trying" feels like some kind of admission of failure.

I have also recently realized how much pride I had in not trying. Lance and I have been married for 7+ years and we do not have children. I took great pride in this. To me, this was proof of a happy marriage... we don't need children to complete us... we are content with just the 2 of us... we can travel... we can sleep in on the weekends... etc, etc. It wasn't that I pitied my friends with children or thought that they had unhappy marriages... please don't misunderstand me... It was almost as if I needed an explanation as to why we were waiting so long...

Someone told me once that women become mothers the moment they start trying. It's not just after you hold your newborn baby in your arms... or even after you get pregnant... it's that very moment when you and your spouse decide that your family will be more complete with the addition of children. From that point on, your entire perspective changes. You see things differently. Your desires change.

Lance and I are confident that we will be parents one day. But it will be in the Lord's timing and in His plan. And I trust that. Some days it's easier than others.

Love,

Julia

............................................

I have had this post sitting as "scheduled" for quite some time now... not entirely certain if I was ready (or wanting) to actually post it. But that is the point of the "dear diary" series... to be honest... to be vulnerable... I was deeply encouraged by this honest post and this super transparent post. Sometimes it takes writing the hard stuff to start moving forward again...

Linking this to Capturing Motherhood.

dear diary :: recovering perfectionist

Dear Diary,

I want to be liked. No, like really liked. I mean, I want people to walk away thinking, "Man, that girl is so fun to hang out with..." or "I totally dig her... she's awesome..." I think I have a problem. Maybe it's a bad case of need-to-be-liked... or a stent of desperately-want-your-approval... or maybe they just call it egotistical?

...I prefer recovering perfectionist.

I mean, I think it's okay to want to be liked... but I have been asking myself lately how much value I place in other people's opinions of me. And if I'm honest, it's way too much. I am thirty years old. THIRTY FLIPPIN' YEARS OLD... I kind of feel like I should be secure in who I am as a woman by now. But so, so often I start second guessing myself.

Take this post for instance... I have been thinking about starting a "Dear Diary" segment for months now, but it seemed too honest... too transparent... too raw. I started writing this post, then started a totally different one about a healthy snack idea. Because a healthy snack idea is safe. If I post about apples and peanut butter, you finish reading, and if all goes as planned, you think I'm clever and maybe even healthy. But really, at the end of the day, you know nothing about me.

But what happens if I write this post? What happens if I lay it all out there? What happens if I am a little more transparent?

I thought it was ironic how the title of my blog is Black Tag DIARIES. A diary is a safe place... a place for you to scribble your most honest feelings and emotions... a place to write with reckless abandon with no fear of what someone else might think. It's funny how all of a sudden... now that I know some of you are actually reading... my tone changes completely. Those honest emotions turn into guarded thoughts that I hope you'll approve of.

I desire to be confident in the woman God created me to be. I desire for this blog to be used as more than a witty little blip about junk food and craft ideas. I want to share my heart, and even (gasp) my struggles, in hopes that someone reading might be able to relate just a little bit. And if 100 people don't like it... or even don't like me... that's okay. Because I'm a recovering perfectionist.

Love,

Julia