My Chrysalis

Last year at this time, I sat quietly by the fire reflecting on yet another year of growth through grief. But, as I mourned the deaths of my mother and father, a transformation of sorts was underway – I like to think of it as my chrysalis. I began to let go of the parts of my life that were dead – the comfort of darkness that kept me from the challenges and opportunities in life, my fears, my insecurity as to just who I was and my place in this world. As I sat watching the fire flicker, I knew I had a choice – to succumb to living a life in sadness or to learn to fly again. As my father’s daughter – there was only one choice – to let the parts of me that needed to die away do just that so that the beautiful parts that make up the life I would come to live this past year could take flight.

And take flight they did.

Emerging from my cocoon of grief, I embraced life with vigor. I said yes to opportunities not knowing how the journey would end but trusting that no matter what it would end well.

I committed myself to doing more than simply following in Christ’s footsteps but going to wherever He led me. My faith was transformed from one of rigor to one of complete awe, trust, and love. As the year unfolded, I completed my lay pastoral studies and found myself spending my summer and fall immersed in the Word- writing sermons, leading worship, and hopefully leading my congregation in a closer walk with God. Graduating and then serving as a Lay Pastor in years past would have been plenty to make this the capstone year in my adult life, but my metamorphosis still had a ways to go – I still had beautiful wings to grow.

Taking wing like I never have before, I soared into the arms of a love and a friend like no other – and now as I write this – my journey is solitary no more. There were times I never thought I would find someone to share my life with. In fact, I had grown quite comfortable with the idea of navigating life on my own – it was easier that way. This year I said goodbye to a sheltered but safe heart and I took another chance – on love. This time, fully trusting that God had good things in mind for me – even arranging our first date – I was reminded that love always wins. Who would have thought that I would not only find God’s purpose for me, but His greatest gift to me in 2018.

I began to realize anew how wonderful life is when it is shared with someone. Love is wonderful. And yes, true love will hurt at times, but true love also grows through those hurts with tenderness, appreciation, and trust with each passing day. This love filled the caverns of my heart and brought light to my life.

That I found my way – albeit roundabout – to the amazing moment where I stood before the man I will love forever – professing my love before God and all those who love and support us – was a dream come true. It delights me to no end that we will spend the rest of our lives together. And to think – this all began with the tiniest spark of life and hope flickering within.

Last year, as I said goodbye to the year that I said goodbye to my Dad and began testing my wings, I didn’t want to let the year to go – severing, even more, the connection I had with my father. I promised to make my Dad and my Mom proud and find the happiness they always wanted for me as another year dawned. I kept my promises. I could not have fathomed just how magnificent my flight would be. Thank you, Lord, for rebirth, for the chance to live life anew again. Thank you for showing me that faith, hope, and love do conquer all.

His light shines in the darkness. My light has never shone brighter.


Wishing you and yours, a very blessed New Year. May your life take flight in ways you could have never imagined – inspired by faith, hope, and love.

Thoughts on Today ~ August 14, 2018

Saying goodbye.

There was no spectacular sunrise to mark this momentous morning – rather I ran under a smoke muted sky with no overwhelming sense that today would be any different from yesterday – in fact, I almost forgot this anniversary, and yet I felt a spark of something, perhaps a reminiscent twitch of anticipation for the events of this day exactly five years ago. The actual activities of August 14, 2013 were rather commonplace in our shared human story: packing up one’s belongings and striking out for somewhere new. For me however, that day and the ensuing days of settling in were the opening sentence of the first chapter of my new life.

Looking back, it seems like ages ago and yet just yesterday, when I stood still in the soft morning light of an Eastern Montana sunrise and breathed a weary sigh as I surveyed the pared down contents of 42-years of life stuffed into a trailer and the back of my Santa Fe. Saying good-bye seemed surreal; the actions felt imagined, my throat constricted with a twinge of guilt, and my stomach was a flutter with nerves.

As I pulled out of Billings bound for the far northwest corner of Montana, a heavy silence enveloped me despite my planned departure soundtrack of Neil Diamond tunes keeping my tears at bay. Gone was the chaotic din that was constant in my life for the past month of job leaving, possession packing, possession discarding, panic attacks, and the social commitments that came with saying good-bye.

So, this is it! Here I am world, I thought at the time. I felt emotionally exhausted and amazingly free. I had no idea what awaited me in the year and years to come. Yes, I expected change but nothing as dramatic as the changes to the entire dynamic of my life that would unfold. Little did I know that those last moments with my family in the early dawn light would be one of the last times we were all together and filled with happiness and hope.

Had my life so far prepared me for that moment of independence? Oh, YES! All at once, I was alone, truly and wonderfully alone for the first time in my life. I at once marveled and trembled at what was transpiring. I was leaving behind a life that was full of responsibility and friends. People of all walks in my community recognized me. I was leaving a well-paying job for what I hoped would be a career that used my talents and challenged me. I was leaving my history behind. Now I was free to be me.

Naturally, I am not the same woman today that I was that mid-August morning five years ago. I realize now that I am a very independent spirit with a heart that longs to be shared. My treks into the mountains seeking ever-higher peaks and grander vistas reflected the journey I was taking personally. After years of living a regimented work-a-day life, I discovered this crazy, wonderful, selfish desire to play! I still panic with realization that time slips away quickly and I wasted a lot of it in the past doing every-day, comfortable, and safe tasks rather than challenging myself, taking a few risks, and having fun. While I refused to be fenced in as I grew into this new sense of self, I desired boundary lines I could grasp onto from time to time, seeking direction and support.

In the five years since that moment of independence was celebrated, I have come to know the joys and sorrows of self-discovery. The things I once valued in life have been tested. I have come to know the depths of grief and heart break and had to navigate the roughest waters of my life on my own. I questioned my direction, my reason for being, the quality of my character, and the choices I made. In the wake of more loss than I had ever known in my life, the light that had always filled me was put out in the storm. I walked in darkness but fought for the light. I never doubted that God had a plan and purpose for this proving period of self-examination and self-revelation.

Eventually, I found my way again – led by a light that was so much brighter than the darkness that had enshrouded me. I learned to accept the compassion of others and as my spirit healed my horizons brightened and expanded.

Today, I walk stronger and surer of who I am – a child of God, a woman of faith, and journeyer of the heart. I am pursuing my passions and callings with a confidence  acquired through the fires of life.  Learning to share my heart again is where I am now. The independence I embraced 5 years ago bears little resemblance to the freedom to be, to love, and to grow that I live everyday now. Relationships matter so much more to me than the need for boundary lines and control. Each day presents an opportunity to enrich a life and mine in doing so. Yes, I get caught up in the chaos of life – one that is more wonderfully chaotic than I could ever have imagined it being when I pulled out of the driveway on that morning five years ago – yes, I can be overwhelmed by responsibilities and challenged by my choices – but the essence and outcome of both are positive growth and deepening commitment.

I am forever thanking God for the friendships that have crossed the miles with me and sustain me, my Flathead friends, who are more like family, who gathered around me as I learned to live again after deaths of my parents, and for my brother and sister-in-law who remind me of where I am from and what I am made of.

While I have known times of great loneliness in this adventure of independence,  today, I rejoice in the wonder of love and such happiness and belonging that I pinch myself. Life is certainly an interesting roller-coaster ride of emotions! I thank God for every tear and fit of laughter as each enrich my life with colors of the heart and make me feel alive.

The melancholy moments of longing for what was and the joyous highs of the adventures that lay before me can exhaust a person at times. I gather that is why life reveals itself to me on an as needed basis, a situation that reveals my lack of patience when it comes to my personal soul searching. Nevertheless, each day I awake with renewed vigor in my quest. What a book I will have to write before it all ends (I am obviously extending the publication date by years!)

Thank you, Lord for sustaining me through this journey, for filling me with the bread of life, and giving me wonderful hope in tomorrow. I cannot wait for the next chapter to begin!

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3

“Answer me quickly, Lord; my spirit fails. Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.” Psalm 143-7-12

“But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.”  Isaiah 40:31

“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

“So, I recommend having fun, because there is nothing better for people in this world than to eat, drink, and enjoy life. That way they will experience some happiness along with all the hard work God gives them under the sun.” Ecclesiastes 8:15

Let your light so shine!

Following My Heart – To Be a Voice of Hope for Yours

“In times when everything is changing, when everything seems to be in transition, when nothing seems certain, God plants people in our lives with voices of hope. These are those who in our times of suffering point us toward the day when suffering will end. They reassure us in times of doubt that we can have faith. They remind us of our baptismal callings and of the God who makes a way out of no way. They remind us of God’s purpose and God’s love for us. They believe in miracles, not least of which is the miracle of God calling us to fulfill God’s purposes. And when we cannot, they remind us that God claims us as beloved anyway, just because.”

Three years ago, I read those words as I was idly skimming through a random Lutheran website. Yeah, I know you are asking who randomly skims Lutheran websites?? Well, I did at the time -and do so more fervently now –  but I began to slow down as the words caught me with my guard down and my heart quickened.

Every single word spoke to me. This was who I wanted to be. THIS IS WHO I was called to be. This was the beginning of a much different kind of adventure than the mountainous escapades that had captivated my soul and inspired many a loft  thought for much of my recent past.

And so, I took a giant leap of faith toward fulfilling that dream. On June 2, 2018 I stood before a gathering of 225 people from across the state to profess my willingness to answer the Lord’s call. Two years of challenging, inspiring, and thrilling study of God’s word and the Lutheran faith with an abundance of self-discovery thrown in for good measure came to an end as I became a certified Lay Pastoral Associate of the Montana synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.

My life is so very different now than when I first heard God whispering to me. It is amazing as I look back on the last three years just how dramatically my approach to life, concept of life, and perspective on life has changed in such a relatively short time. When I began this journey, it was to be a stronger, more authentic voice of hope in the lives of others. Little did I know that I would be the one needing a beacon of hope, a reassuring voice leading me through some very dark days of grief and personal wilderness, reminding me that God does indeed end all suffering and that no matter how much I questioned His will –  His grace would set me free. This program and my fellow classmates became that voice and the one constant positive I could focus on and find myself through during the most difficult time of my life – losing both my parents and finding myself feeling very much alone in this adventure called “life”.

In the process, I gained an even greater appreciation of my faith and deepened my relationship with the Lord. I have grown as a person and as a disciple. I have been inspired to think beyond what I assumed was my calling in life and dared to open my heart and my mind to the ways and will of the Lord.

As I stood before that assembly, I so wished that my parents could have finally seen their daughter accomplish something she set out to do with such passion and heart; but losing them both as I delved into the tenets of my faith made everything I profess as a follower of Christ that much clearer – there is more to this life and beyond this life than I will ever know, our God is a loving, merciful God, and the promise of the resurrection IS REAL. I have been forever changed by these truths and by trusting in Him, I was able to stand strong in spirit with a happy heart again.

Through my wayward and wandering life, He has prepared me to be one who in times when everything is changing, when everything seems to be in transition, when nothing seems certain  – is a voice of hope for you; one who in times of suffering points you toward the day when your suffering will end; one who reassures you in times of doubt that you can have faith – because I know what it means to doubt and to see; one who reminds you of your baptismal calling and of the God who makes a way  – an amazing way – out of no way; one who reminds you of God’s purpose and God’s love for you; one who believes in miracles, not least of which is the miracle of God calling me to fulfill God’s purposes; and one who – when you cannot – will remind you that God claims you as His beloved anyway, just because. I cannot begin to imagine a more fulfilling, more life-giving, more challenging calling in life.

My father always told me to find my passion not in that which provides material wealth but from a source that only my heart can define. I am doing just that and my heart could not be happier or more at peace. I have no idea where God is going with this endeavor, but I do know I will let my Lord’s light so shine through me wherever He leads me.

Thoughts at the End of a Life-Changing Journey

“In times when everything is changing, when everything seems to be in transition, when nothing seems certain, God plants people in our lives with voices of hope. These are those who in our times of suffering point us toward the day when suffering will end. They reassure us in times of doubt that we can have faith. They remind us of our baptismal callings and of the God who makes a way out of no way. They remind us of God’s purpose and God’s love for us. They believe in miracles, not least of which is the miracle of God calling us to fulfill God’s purposes. And when we cannot, they remind us that God claims us as beloved anyway, just because.”

Three years ago, I read those words as I was idly skimming through a random Lutheran website. Yeah, I know you are asking who randomly skims Lutheran websites?? Well, I did at the time -and do so more fervently now –  but I began to slow down as the words caught me with my guard down and my heart quickened.

Every single word spoke to me. This was who I wanted to be. THIS was WHO I am called to be.

And so, I took a giant leap of faith toward fulfilling that dream. This morning, two years of challenging, inspiring, and thrilling study of God’s word and the Lutheran faith with an abundance of self-discovery thrown in for good measure came to an end as I became a certified Lay Pastoral Associate of the Montana synod of the Lutheran church.

When I began this journey, it was to be a voice of hope in the lives of others. Little did I know that I would be the one needing a beacon of hope, a reassuring voice leading me through some very dark days of grief and personal wilderness, reminding me that God does indeed end all suffering and that no matter how much I questioned His will –  His grace would set me free. This program and my fellow classmates became that voice.

In the process, I gained an even greater appreciation of my faith and deepened my relationship with the Lord. I have grown as a person and as a disciple. I have been inspired to think beyond what I assumed was my calling in life and dared to open my heart and my mind to the ways and will of the Lord. This class became my rock and my salvation – giving me something to focus on and find myself through during the most difficult time of my life – losing both my parents.

As I stood before the synod assembly this morning, I so wished my parents could have finally seen their daughter accomplish something she set out to do with such passion and heart; but losing them both as I delved into the tenets of my faith made everything we profess as followers of Christ that much clearer – there is more to this life and beyond this life than I will ever know, our God is a loving, merciful God and the promise of the resurrection is real. I have been forever changed and by trusting in Him, I was able to stand strong in spirit with a happy heart again.

Through my wayward and wandering life, He has prepared me to be one who in times when everything is changing, when everything seems to be in transition, when nothing seems certain  – is a voice of hope for you; one who in times of suffering points you toward the day when your suffering will end; one who reassures you in times of doubt that you can have faith – because I know what it means to doubt and to see; one who reminds you of your baptismal calling and of the God who makes a way  – an amazing way – out of no way; one who reminds you of God’s purpose and God’s love for you; one who believes in miracles, not least of which is the miracle of God calling me to fulfill God’s purposes; and one who – when you cannot – will remind you that God claims you as His beloved anyway, just because.

Tonight, my heart could not be happier or more at peace. I have no idea where God is going with this endeavor, but I do know I will let His light so shine through me wherever He leads me.

The Goddess of Nature

It was a long, harsh winter in my neck of the woods this year but winter’s frozen shackles have been thrown off and the abundance of springtime is bursting forth! Well perhaps in someone else’s garden… I have an abundance of winter’s wrath remaining behind.

A survey of my ¾ acre of paradise reveals that it is anything but! The 6-foot drift that melted from the side of my house revealed an impressive ice formation spewing forth from the main pipe of my underground sprinkler system – which despite being blown out managed to freeze. The whopping water bill I received as the ice thawed and the water began to run was just –  dare I say it-  the tip of the iceberg! Death has come to all 6 of my arborvitae; my Spirea have been beaten down to scraggly skeletons under the weight of feet of snow and those are the ones that survived; a young maple stands in naked shock, its’ trunk forever scarred by the blade of a city plow; my evergreens proved not be so ever – they too shocked into an unpleasant shade of brown.

Ah yes, the joys of my first spring as a homeowner! Having bought my home at the height of summer blooms last year, my only charge at the time was to get the grass green again. Having conquered that feat and attaining Goddess- of- Nature like status in the eyes of my neighbors in the process, I was unprepared for the overwhelm of maintenance that arrived on the wings of the first bluebirds of spring. My cozy and carefree 600 square foot nest that served as home for my first four years of naive seasonal bliss in NW Montana suddenly seemed very inviting again.

Alas, this season I have been a busy Goddess of Good Grief with plenty of work to do. There was the fence to finish, the lawn to get green again and mow and mow and mow, weeds to pull, weeds to pull, weeds to pull, pine needles to rake, evergreens to prune, pine trees to shape, Spirea to cry over, and 10 blighted boxwood shrubs to dig up – all with my trusty and oh so curious four-legged “helper” by my side. It was the future health and happiness of this little pup that I had in mind when I signed the mortgage papers on the largest yard in the neighborhood – not the hours and hours of yard work that would occupy every weekend.

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But then my whirlwind of agrarian activity came to a screeching halt as a gust of gardening amateur’s defeat knocked me off my feet. What in the world was I doing?  I had no idea! Well, actually I know just enough to get myself into gardening no man’s land. Not knowing what half the stuff popping out of the ground was, was the first sign that I might be in over my head – was that a  wily weed or wistful wonder? Finding out I pulled the good stuff and left the bad stuff left me nonplussed – it looked like a weed to me!

Frustration began to creep into my cultivating celebration. Refusing to be outdone by boxwood roots that also refused to be out done I almost threw a temper tantrum. My childish impatience of wanting the manicured lawn, perfectly rounded shrubs, and gardens blooming with more than just dandelions and black medic – and wanting them now – threatened to rain on my sunny disposition.

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Amid this springtime frenzy of activity,  I wonder at the circle and cycle of life. And as I spend these hours with hands in the soil or pushing the mower or trimming away the dead, I find myself in deep thought.

I feel a sense of excitement brewing inside of me – and a sense that I have been through this cycle of death and life before and I have – because I have lived it. While this winter was a hard one on my spirit, which longs for sunshine and dry mountain trails, it was nothing compared to the seasons of life I have endured of late. In the past two years, my life has been transformed and has looked and felt like my yard looks now. The deaths of my parents left me in shock; and while I went about living as best I could, I felt suffocated by guilt for being an absent daughter in their time of need and by the grief that comes with losing the two most important people in your life back to back.  But their deaths also motivated me to pursue my dreams, to finish well, and make them proud wherever life leads me.

To do this, I needed to tend to my inner landscape. Just as I called on an expert to help me identify the good and bad inhabitants of my yard and a friend to help dig up and dispose of my shrubs, I called in the help of others to see what in my life needed to be let go of, what needed to be pruned, and what held and holds promise.

As the seasons have passed, some of the the withered leaves of life I had clung to for purpose and security have begun to fall – providing a foundation for something new. The wintering of my soul revealed areas of my life that kept me frozen and alone and the bracing cold spurred me to reach for the opportunities that awaited me with change.

The tears that had for so long fallen into an abyss of sorrow now serve to water my well cultivated soul. Sprigs of hope are making their wonderful presence known. I can see growth where I pruned and I am rewarded with a heart that blossoms with laughter again. Tending one’s inner landscape is hard work. But if the promise of spring I am seeing in the garden of my life bears any likeness to what awaits the behemoth that is my yard, then all this sniveling and snorting I have been doing should be worthwhile.

For a few weak moments, I found myself slipping into the comfort of just leaving things as they were in my life and my yard – hoping they might come back in the rose-colored glory that I remembered them being – and replacing the shrubs I had torn out with more of the same. But my better angels prevailed. They said it was time for a transformation – for real change to come to fruition. For resurrection and new life.  Yes, it will take work and perseverance and more patience than I currently have, but the seeds of change have been planted, and I can’t wait to be like the Goddess of Nature again dancing in her little piece of paradise.

“Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.”  – Martin Luther

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Living Forward

“It is really true what philosophy tells us, that life must be understood backwards. But with this, one forgets the second proposition, that it must be lived forwards. A proposition which, the more it is subjected to careful thought, the more it ends up concluding precisely that life at any given moment cannot really ever be fully understood; exactly because there is no single moment where time stops completely in order for me to take position [to do this]: going backwards.”  – Søren Kierkegaard

I wonder if the late Danish theologian and philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard, ever dreamt that a modern modicum of communication known as Facebook would one day be a vessel for bringing this illuminating thought on understanding the meaning of life to the remembering masses? If you have spent any length of time on this social media phenomenon, you will be rewarded with glimpses of your yesterdays and if you are like me, sent into thoughtful repose for a few moments at least, on a daily basis. Most days these “flashbacks” make me smile – a recent one of mine from a year ago lamenting that it was time to go to bed and dream of puppies after a hard day – made me laugh out loud as I have  now made that dream come true. But as the calendar pages turn over to a new year, I know I will soon be facing 1 and 2 year flashback “anniversaries” of some pretty difficult days and times in my life.

A friend of mine and I, both of us recovering from life after 2 years of living, were recently bemoaning this daily (depending on how much you frequent Facebook) reminder of how good things once were, of how bad things can be, and boy what have we done with our lives since? As we commiserated with one another over coffee, the comment was made that we could alter our profile settings to filter out what Facebook could “send” to us. We can filter out people, dates, and just about anything from our past that we don’t want to be reminded of or see. But should we? This idea did not sit well with the sentimental, soul searching, meaning of life seeking me. After all, I thought, though these Facebook flashbacks conjure up emotions in me that frankly I could do without somedays, they are the experiences that made me the woman that I am in 2018. Yes, I wish those experiences could all be mountaintop highs and photos of celebrations with family and friends, and abounding successes, but they wouldn’t be real.

Despite our superior intellect among species, God did not give us minds that can purposefully filter and forget the life we lived. Rather, he gave us mercy and forgiveness through His Son. Our memories are reminders for the here and now that we made it through, that life goes on, and that God is faithful to us. I like to remind myself that my faith needs to be as clear and strong as my 20/20 hindsight.

It is easy to be grateful for the good things that happen in our lives. Gratitude for all that life encompasses –  the good as well as the bad, the times of joy and times of sorrow, our successes as well as our failures, and connections as well as rejections – now that requires work. It is only when we look back at our lives that we can truly comprehend the journey we have been on and give thanks for the important lessons we have learned and the people we have met along the way.

It is those lessons and those relationships that allow us, prepare us, and propel us forward in life even as we do not know what tomorrow will bring – let alone comprehend it.

If we try to filter from our lives the events and people we would like to forget, we cannot claim the identity that God, in His timing, reveals to us. We can, however, choose to fill our lives with more experiences and seek out relationships with others that will, in time, become pleasant memories. Strive for flashbacks that make you smile or better yet laugh with a heart and mind that understands that life can only be lived one day at a time but with a confidence in its ultimate purpose.

As the new year gets underway, resolve to make memories you will cherish and make grateful  peace with the past. Yes, your past does define you but it doesn’t have to confine you. Who you are today is the product of the experiences you couldn’t comprehend or appreciate yesterday. Be grateful for everything that has brought you to where you are now and trust that in time you will see where the guiding hand of a loving God has led you.

Let your light so shine.

Of Relics and Roots

“And now, just as you accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, you must continue to follow him. Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.” Colossians 2:7-9

I have been doing a lot of thinking about roots lately. And while, the lengths of the roots on the weeds I have been pulling out of my garden beds are pretty impressive and have been occupying much of my time, the roots filling my thoughts while I am busy pulling those weeds go much deeper.

I am blessed to have grown up in a family whose ties were strong between parent and child as well as past and present. There are times I wish I knew as much about my future (or even tomorrow) as I know about the past “pre-Erika” times. I was not fortunate to know any of my grandparents well. My grandfathers had long passed away before I was born. My mom’s mother died when I was in second grade and I had only a yearly visit from her to form any sort of relationship.  My dad’s mother died when I was in the fifth grade but I only saw her one time – when I was in kindergarten – as she had suffered from Alzheimer’s for nearly 10 years, was in a nursing home, and we lived out of state. At that time, children didn’t visit people with Alzheimer’s. Nonetheless, my parents did a good job of connecting me and my brother with our heritage – both ancestral and cultural. Scandinavia was very much alive and well in our household and in our upbringing. They also ensured, that no matter where we were or what circumstances we faced, that we had a firm foundation in our faith.

We were a rather nomadic family, moving on average every 3 or 4 years with my dad’s government job. My hometown of Rock Springs, WY was only home from my birth to 8 years of age. After that home was where we made it for however long my dad’s career allowed. We saw a variety of the country and I am a better person for it, but for me, being rooted meant being rooted in relationship – not place. My parents knew that too – all said, my parents had moved 23 times in their marriage before they finally retired to Billings and made that their final home. It was there that we finally planted roots of place and established a place we called “home.” Indeed, it was the one place (except for my brother who moved there after we did) that we had all lived for the longest period of our lives. For a family who was used to the transitory lifestyle, we quickly planted roots – deep ones – and for the first time in my life I felt the certainty of place.

I relished that certainty of place for 24 years. As you might imagine, moving to the Flathead 4 years ago, leaving my family and friends behind, was a pretty bold and daunting endeavor for me. However, I can honestly say I have grown more in heart, mind, and character in the last 4 years than I did in the entire 42 leading up to my move here.  I had secured a good job before coming (thanks Joe!) so I had some form of security when I arrived, but not much else.  I worked hard to integrate myself into the community and make new friends here. My little nest of an apartment kept me safe (although not always warm) and saw me through a lot of life – more than I ever expected to live through when I arrived. Times of sadness with the deaths of my dog and both of my parents, times of heart break, and times of frustrating illness along with times of immense mountaintop triumphs and the joys that come with living life fully, discovering my sense of self, and finding “my place” in this world.

I don’t think it is a coincidence at all, that I as I closed the door to my little nest of an apartment (it was a lofty 600 sf!) one last time – a place so full of personal discovery – that I would at the same time be forever severing the physical ties to my home of 24 years back in Billings. The belongings of my family’s past were sold in an estate sale last weekend and my “home” is now where I choose to make it – right here in the Flathead – which I did with the recent purchase of my first home.

The last time I stood in my home of over 24 years I had just laid my dad to rest 2 days prior. Despite the emptiness that surrounded me then, I found consolation in the familiar accessories and necessities that had followed my family from place to place – treasures from before I was even born.  There was a sense of normalcy seeing Dad’s executive desk strewn with various medical bills and memorial preparations; his beloved Ivan Doig books, Golf magazines, and Bibles that helped occupy his time still scattered about; dusty duck decoys; family portraits; treasured artwork; shoes tossed to the side; Dad’s walker propped against the wall; the living room furniture that held us through the best and worst of times – it was in the heart of our home where all our celebrations came to an end and as that week of sorrow came to a close, served as a sentimental time capsule of comfort – a collection of our very good life lived as a family and the last days of Dad’s life at home.  The older-than-my-dad grandfather clock which had withstood the flames of a barn fire and Morck family formation still ticked away the day and our Baldwin upright beckoned me to play one more song, though time would not allow. I had glanced around making sure I hadn’t left any of my belongings from the “week of death” behind, closed the front door, and hit the road. I didn’t know that it would be the last time I would ever see our home as home. I didn’t know that time capsule of comfort would only be saved to memory by a fleeting glance as I rushed to be on my way. I presumed I would be back for at least one last visit, one more living room session of sentiment, but as fate would have it, that wasn’t to be.

Seeing the house again, this time prepped for the estate sale with the contents of our family’s past marked at fair market value, was jarring to say the least. Treasures from my childhood, treasures I hadn’t seen in years were now on display – staged for effective sale in ways they were never meant to be. Gone was our homey kitchen and table that had served up so many family suppers and arguments. Gone was the cozy living room where Dad and I had that last cherished father-daughter talk late into the night on Thanksgiving. As fast as our lives fell apart in the ensuing months of illness and death, this place had always been a haven, a sanctuary of sentiment. Now it was just a stage from which the contents of our life would be sold.

I had driven to Billings the night before the estate sale was to start and arrived around midnight. My intent to make a fast perusal of the place to garner any items I may have missed putting aside after my dad’s funeral quickly came to a halt. Thoughts of what I might need or use in my new home suddenly seemed acerbic. The items before me had lost their value to me –  as I realized what made them treasures were the people who treasured them, not the items themselves. Rather than checking off my mental list of necessities I could grab (and save a buck – owning a home is expensive) I stood there and cried as I realized and remembered all I had lost. Aside from a few heirlooms and the prized and once lost Danish plates that the estate sale professionals found in their staging, not much would be coming to my new home with me.

***

I believe God has brought me to a very purposeful chapter in my life. It is time to start anew. Until now, I always had Billings as a fall back, a safety net, the home where I was always welcome. Now it is all up to me. For so long my life has been in two places on separate sides of the state.

It is hard to put down roots when you don’t know where home is. Until now, I was ok with that. Being rooted has consequences; it means you are claiming an identity of place. For four years I have struggled to claim where that place would be. How could I when “home” was still in Billings but I was here?

At some point on this year-long journey of grief book-ended by the deaths of my mother and father, I began to sense that the soil in the Flathead was fertile soil, a good place to plant roots. It is here that I will embrace the life God has called me to and truly live life – not live it in limbo. For too long I have been on an unrelenting quest to reshape my existence but never claiming it as my own. No longer. Now, as Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard said: “Now with God’s help, I shall become myself.”

Now with God’s help, I shall find home, and in faith not in relics of the past, plant new roots.

Home

Don’t Cry Because it’s Over, Smile Because it Happened.

“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

– Dr. Seuss

15585330_1423685114322749_7195857032468761883_oI had a difficult time letting go of 2016. In all the years of my life I do not recall one that contained so many life changing circumstances as the past year. One would think I couldn’t wait to close, make that slam, the door on the year that brought emotional upheaval, sickness, strife, and death to my life but instead I found myself wanting to hold on to the year that was as the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve. In every aspect, 2016 was a year that will shape the narrative of my life for some time to come.

The stories we tell others of the most extraordinary events –  good and bad – that we have experienced in our lives and that help us make sense of the world and shape us as individuals are what Northwestern University professor Dan McAdams, a pioneer in the field of narrative psychology, calls our narrative identity. We tell these stories to give our lives meaning and help others understand us. While many people may experience a similar event in their lives, each person interprets the event differently and assigns different levels of importance to it. Some people will simply move on from an experience like a swimming lesson gone awry, while others are transformed by it, perhaps emboldened to face their fears throughout life or traumatized by the experience they viewed as a broken trust.  McAdams calls these “narrative choices” and they predominantly fall into four thematic categories: redemption (stories that transition from the bad to the good that follows), contamination (stories that transition from the good to the bad), communion (stories that emphasize connection, love, friendship, intimacy, caring, or belonging), and agency (stories that emphasize achievement, self-mastery, empowerment, status, and influence).

McAdams’ studies have shown that those whose narratives fall into the redemption, communion, or agency themes have a better outlook on life, find more meaning and purpose in their life, achieve more of their goals, seek out and find more connection, enjoy deeper relationships, and generally report a greater sense of well-being. People who tell their stories through a contamination lens tend to see themselves as victimized, less-than, and fail to thrive in their personal and professional pursuits.

7803683540_76d8f5f45d_bHow we interpret our experiences, how we tell our stories, will set the tone and direction of our journeys in the year and years to come.

I tell my story through a lens of overcoming and persevering through events which brought me to a closer walk with God. By overcoming a near fatal eating disorder in my twenties – the ramifications of which altered the trajectory of my life including my schooling, my career, and my relationships –  I gained an inner strength and appreciation for life itself that I would not have otherwise acquired. I truly was born again into a life with Christ when I came out of ICU and gave my life completely into His hands and the hands of others He worked through to make me well again. I have lived every day since, cognizant of His divine mercy and grace in my life.

While 2016 had its fine share of wretchedness that at times drove me to places of darkness and sorrow, it was also a year of great personal growth and new direction in my life. My mother’s death changed who I am in this world going forward. I no longer have my mother to stand by me and as odd as it may sound, at 45 years of age I no longer feel like a child. Rather, I am determined to be the woman she never imagined I could be with a strength that I know she quietly and not so quietly instilled in me throughout our tumultuous yet loving mother-daughter relationship.

My father’s car accident and battle with cancer which began shortly after my mother’s death reminded my entire family that we cannot do this life thing on our own. We were richly rewarded through the goodness of friends and family surrounding us with acts of love and prayers. Through it all, my Lord was there, walking with us, carrying us, and working through His angels here on earth – and there were many- ensuring that this battle was fought with faith and determination and through His great providence, we won!

In 2016 I was reminded that I am not invincible and God knew just how to do that. The mountains that once gave me so much exuberance and fed my conquering spirit would put me in my place and lead me towards a new respect –  that for myself and my own well-being. Mind you, the mountains are really not the place to discover your weaknesses – at least not your physical ones. The events of the year had been quietly taking a toll on me, leading me to crash and burn on a mountainside for the first time in my epic climbing life (writer’s opinion inserted there). It was the first of many signs that I had been neglecting my own health but I ignored them and pushed through the symptoms of exhaustion, collapsing spells, and stomach issues chalking them up to stress.

When fear started to overwhelm everything else in my life, I headed to the clinic one morning for a check-up and ended the day being thought of as a bit of a walking miracle as I sat for five hours in the transfusion chair receiving three units of blood. This was a rather unexpected outcome of quick check-up! To put it bluntly, I had no red blood cells and quite frankly, the doctor told me – I should have been dead.

My 2nd brush with death in life reminded me once again that my physical body –  God’s temple on earth-  needs attention too, and for the first time in too long, I began to take serious responsibility for my own health. To win in life, one must be strong, unwavering, and humble – we must know our weaknesses to overcome them and I found mine.  Now I am in a process of restoring my health and I am making good progress! Which is a good thing because I have embarked on a new direction in life that had been far too long in the planning stages. My mother’s death and father’s illness made me very much aware that life is to be lived – not just observed or reflected upon. My goals of becoming a Lay Pastoral Associate and becoming a voice of hope in others’ lives will be realized.

While it is easy to succumb to a woe-is-me-what have-I-done-to-deserve-this-attitude when life goes awry, (which is a perfectly natural response) I choose to see my experiences as stepping stones rather than hurdles and tell a redemptive story of new goals, new opportunities, and strengthened relationships, rather than a story of my life going from good to bad which would ultimately lead to a life suspended. By choosing to see the events of my life through a lens of redemption and communion I am choosing to embrace the challenges I have faced and use them for good.

1795353_897513270273272_6053940868719391842_oI used to look to the mountains for my escape. They were a place I could go to get away from the chaos of life, challenge myself and come out on top (literally and figuratively), talk to God, and find peace. But my mountain sanctuaries did not avail themselves to me as much last year as in the recent past, partially due to the incessant rainy weather, partially due to my health, but mostly because God determined the chaos of life needed to be lived not escaped from, my challenges would come from within not from a wanderlust adventure, and I would come to find my peace in Him at all times – not just when the mountains called me.

2016 changed me. I am stronger now, in WHO I am. I am humbler. I am more aware. I am more alive!  I don’t need to run from life or the circumstances I encounter any longer. When I turn to my Lord instead of running away, I have the strength to find the good in the moment – even when it seems this moment is all I can see. When I call on Him to shine His light in my life, I can be a light in the lives of others. When I am weak, when I have lost heart, He picks me up and restores my spirit.

I don’t need to prove myself on a mountain or be anyone other than the me God created. In fact, as I gaze out at the mountains from my valley home now, the anxious desire I once felt to constantly climb and conquer every trail and peak I could sanely ponder has quelled to a more restful yearning filled with an appreciation of the beauty, opportunity, and peace that awaits me.

What is your story of life and 2016? How will you tell it and how will it define your goals and direction for 2017 and the years to come?

This is what the Lord says— he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

~ from Isaiah 43

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Looking Back, Living On, Emerging Strong

But as for me, I will sing about your power.
Each morning I will sing with joy about your unfailing love.
For you have been my refuge,
a place of safety when I am in distress.

~ Psalm 59:16

One would think I couldn’t wait to close, make that slam, the door on 2016. A year that brought emotional upheaval, sickness, strife, and death to my life. And yet, while 2016 has had its fine share of wretchedness, it has also been one of great personal growth and new direction. And so, before I bid this life changing year of 2016  goodbye and welcome the promise of 2017 with wide open arms, some reflection is due.

I used to look to the mountains for my escape. They were a place I could go to get away from the chaos of life, challenge myself and come out on top (literally and figuratively), talk to God, and find peace. But the mountains did not avail themselves to me as much this year, partially due to the weather, partially due to my health, but mostly because this year God determined the chaos of life needed to be lived not escaped from, my challenges would come from within not a wanderlust adventure, and I would find my peace in Him at all times – not just when the mountains called me.

13147272_1204040166287246_6929792025810359721_oSuffering from a broken heart and  questioning my future I started the year out very much alone, navigating a route on this journey that we all travel through at some point in our lives – the end of life for one of our parents. Witnessing from afar and feeling quite helpless and guilty as the absent daughter, I watched as my mother progressively began to let go of life as my Dad and brother did what they could to keep her with us. What began as a shift in living arrangements from repeated hospitalizations to moving her to an assisted living center ended with skillful avoidance of her questions about when she was going home. Her clear minded quest to go home twisted my heart as I frantically tried to make connections with her that I knew she could no longer comprehend. My visits home were far too few and too late to bridge the gap and make amends in our fractured relationship however one-sided my attempt was. I fought against the dawning realization that my was mother heading to another home, a much better place for her life weary soul.  Through it all I held on to the belief that God was in this and with us.

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I had marked the last day of winter with a jubilant snowshoe hike to the top of Mt. Brown and on that blue bird day I said farewell to a serious winter of discontent  – ready to claim Spring into heart again.  And then the call came – the call my brother surely agonized over as he dialed – and one I was completely unprepared for.

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After her last happy and bright morning,  my mother had passed sweetly on her way to rest in my Lord and Savior’s arms on the first day of Spring.

The week surrounding her death changed my relationship with God forever. I no longer had my mother to stand by me and as odd as it may sound, at 45 years of age I no longer felt like a child nor could I be.  Rather, I felt determined to be the woman she never imagined I could be with a strength that I knew she had quietly and not so quietly instilled in me throughout our tumultuous yet loving mother-daughter relationship.

As the days after my mother’s death grew greater, the numbness I survived my days with and the fog that inhabited my mind began to fade.  I was left to remember her. To miss her.  To think of happier days  when just knowing she was there wondering what I was up to was enough. It just didn’t seem real that she was gone and yet her absence was all too real in my heart and mind.  I had so many things left to tell her. Now I could and I did. And a sense of peace that truly did surpass all understanding came over me.

Through it all my Lord walked with me, healing me and strengthening me  – preparing me for the coming days that came all too soon.

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Before the sorrow of losing my mother subsided, a new challenge emerged. Cancer came knocking on our door and made itself at home in my Dad. There was no more time for sorrow in our lives. My Dad, my brother and myself had a new battle to face.  Despite having many friends and family members who have faced down cancer  – some winning the battle and some winning their higher reward, I never pictured the battle being waged in my immediate family. We were ill-prepared and already battle weary. How do you fight the unknown? By July we were fully engaged in the  exhaustive, painful,  frustrating, emotional, scary, angry, helpless, hopeful battle. Throw in a car accident and we truly questioned just how much more we could bear.

And through it all, my Lord was there, walking with us, carrying us, and working through His angels here on earth – and there were many- ensuring that this battle would be fought with faith and with His great providence we would win.

And He spoke to me many times. Awakening me and humbling me.

To win battles, one has to be strong, unwavering, and humble -we have to know our weaknesses in order to overcome them. It was my time to be tested. God knew just the thing too… the mountains that once gave me so much exuberance and fed my conquering spirit would put me in my place and lead me towards a new respect –  that for myself and my own well-being.

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The mountains are really not the place to discover your weaknesses – at least not your physical ones. While the events of the year had been quietly (or perhaps not so quietly but I chose to be stubborn and ignore the signs) taking a toll on me.

What began on a perfect, bluebird sky morning and a much anticipated, dreamed about, read about, planned for, trained for, prayed about, stayed up late waiting to get on the much prized waiting list for –  journey across the infamous  23 mile  Floral Park Traverse would end weeks later with much less jubilation.  I had had more than visions of sugar plums dancing in my head during my last three years of living in paradise. From the first time I heard about it, the Floral Park Traverse  captivated me to the point of nearly reaching an obsessive quality in my mountainous pursuits. Tales of deaths, grizzlies, cliffs, glaciers, even just the name – inspired my wanderlust to go wild with want. And finally this was the day, on my 3rd Anniversary of being a Whitefishian no less, that my wanton wanderlust was to be fulfilled! Instead, as I wrote in my epic trail tale, for the first time in my epic climbing life- I crashed and burned and never really recovered.

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But being a stubborn Morck (thanks Dad!) I chose to keep on pushing through –  pushing through stomach distress, exhaustion, inability to breath, and bouts of collapsing with my same determination that I faced everything else – this too shall pass and you will rise above it. Only I couldn’t.

When  fear started to overwhelm everything else in my life, on the morning of September 29th, I headed to the clinic for a check-up and ended the day being thought of as a bit of a walking miracle as I sat for five hours in the transfusion chair receiving three units of blood –  seeing as how I had basically lost all mine and quite frankly as the doctor told me  – should have been dead.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

~ Ephesians 2:8-10

Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord.

My own brush with death made me realize that my physical body –  God’s temple on earth-  needs attention too and for the first time in too long, I began to take serious responsibility for my own health. I had focused solely on others for too long. And so now I end 2016 in a process of rebuilding my life in more ways than I thought possible. I am making good progress! Which is a good thing because this year, through all the turmoil and wretchedness, I embarked on a new direction in life that had been far too long in the planning stages.

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In the midst of the battles being waged in July, God whispered to me –  it was time. He placed before me this meditation – and it changed me.

“In times when everything is changing, when everything seems to be in transition, when nothing seems certain, God plants people in our lives with voices of hope.
These are those who in our times of suffering point us toward the day when suffering will end.
They reassure us in times of doubt that we can have faith.
They remind us of our baptismal callings and of the God who makes a way out of no way.
They remind us of God’s purpose and God’s love for us.
They believe in miracles, not least of which is the miracle of God calling us to fulfill God’s purposes.
And when we cannot, they remind us that God claims us as beloved anyway, just because.”

This was who I wanted to be. THIS was WHO I am called to be!

We need to feel that our lives reflect who we are, that our story is true to who we are.  And at every stage of life, you have choice; you can choose to rebuild your life to become WHO you are or you can keep on feeling restless doing what you do.

And so in October, I began my own journey of becoming WHO I AM –  to be a voice of hope in peoples lives. I finally have a sense of peace in regards to the direction my life is taking. This amazing journey of life I have been on (and will continue to travel) brought me to a point of discernment, discovery, and trust in His purpose for me. How it will all turn out is no clearer today than it was when I first began, but now I see my life through a different lens. I no longer see my life on a wayward trajectory with no purpose. On the contrary, all those potholes, U-turn’s, downhill sprints and uphill trudges were merely a training ground. I do know I am so blessed. Blessed to be alive, blessed to have lived the life I have so far,  blessed to feel centered and focused in a positive direction, and blessed to be finally following a path I have pondered instead of wandered for far too long!!!

2016 changed me. I am stronger now, in WHO I am. I am more humble. I am more aware. I am more alive!  I don’t need to run from life or the circumstances I encounter any longer. When I turn to my Lord instead of running away, I have the strength to find the good in the moment – even when it seems this moment is all I can see. When I call on Him to shine His light in my life, I can be a light in the lives of others. When I am weak, when I have lost heart, He picks me up and restores my spirit.

I don’t need to prove myself on a mountain or be anyone other than the me God created. In fact, as I gaze out at the mountains from my valley home now, the anxious desire I once felt to constantly climb and conquer every trail and peak I could sanely ponder has quelled to a more restful yearning filled with appreciation of the beauty, opportunity, and peace that awaits me.

Let your light so shine ever so brightly in 2017!

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This is what the Lord says— he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”~ from Isaiah 43

Becoming WHO You Are

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

~ Ephesians 2:8-10

10539190_861269617230971_7340061122199340796_oI have had the opportunity to do a lot of contemplating on the essence of life lately and more specifically on the who behind the what. Growing up as a member of Generation X, much emphasis was placed on what we planned to do with our life and less so on the who behind the what. I had grand plans, as every naive college freshman does, of changing the world, of “being somebody”, of attaining my dreams of becoming the White House Press Secretary, Renowned Public Speaker, Mayor of Billings, and heck, why not a Widely Read Columnist Carried By Newspapers Around The Country for good measure. Aside from my lofty world-changing and career goals, there was another side of me that I didn’t give the time of day to for far too long.

Unlike most youngsters my age on a Sunday afternoon, when I was 5 years old, I would come home from church, bulletin in hand, stand on my bed and preach the Gospel. You would think that having started at such a young age I would already have my Master of Divinity and Doctor of Philosophy degrees. Alas, life took me down a different path, one that would enrich me with a wealth of experiences that I now believe God intended for use later on down the road. Experiences that, at the time were more than I could understand, let alone survive. But I did.

Throughout much of my life, however, I have felt called to be a pastor even before women were allowed to pastor a church. I chose to push those callings aside as it didn’t seem “prudent” for me as a career path, and yet the careers I pursued (yes, I have had several) have never felt like my calling. I always felt like there should be something more, that I should be something more, I just couldn’t define what that “more” was. This lack of “more-ness” made me very restless.

I have been involved with the Lutheran church for my entire life, a passionate believer, and after suffering a severe health crisis and brush with death in my twenties, an ardent pursuer of God’s purpose for keeping me around.  I am still on that search. The one constant through the often chaotic changes in my life has been this nagging, pulling, whispering, and nudging from somewhere deep inside me to answer the call of the Lord. In all honesty, despite some turbulent times I encountered as a church council president, that is when I felt most at peace inside. Serving the church and the Lord in an administrative and leadership fashion seemed to satisfy my hunger for “more”. But I did nothing with it. When my terms were up I went on with the what’s in  my “practical” life and I continued to be restless.

I recently read an article by Dr. Todd Hall, a psychologist, author, and workplace consultant, that discussed the importance of living a life of coherence. Living a life of coherence means you can tell a story about your life that brings everything together, “the various aspects of your life “hang together.” But they hang together because they are centered around the core of who you are.”14650110_1332493723441889_1896546441116883722_n

The path my life was following  – to me at least – didn’t reflect a coherent life story, one that gave me a sense of purpose or fulfillment. Rather I was just going through the motions, trying to make the most of every day, but in the end, never really feeling fulfilled or that my life made any sense. Yes, I have always had faith despite my restless wandering. I believed God had a purpose for me, but I just did not know what – or maybe I was afraid of what His purpose for me entailed.

So how does one go about living a life of coherence? You start by examining your past and present life with a critical eye. Do your current goals and practices fit with your
deepest values?  What are your deepest values, anyway? Is the way you are living your life: the work you do, the people you surround yourself with, the activities you engage in –  are these things contributing to you becoming the kind of person you want to be? If not, perhaps you need to consider a change in how you approach your work or your life as a whole, and possibly, if it is your work leaving you feeling empty, a change of careers.  If you are like me, it wasn’t so much that my past and present life didn’t fit with my core values, it was that I was limiting the scope of my life to the practical and what I had become comfortable with.looking-back

Wherever we are in our lives, we all need to feel that our lives make sense, “hang together” as Hall calls it, and have meaning. We need to feel that our lives reflect who we are, that our story is true to who we are.  And at every stage of life, you have choice; you can choose to rebuild your life to become WHO you are or you can keep on feeling restless doing what you do.

Recently, on a spiritual retreat, I began my own journey to living a coherent life – to becoming WHO I AM. The retreat was the first of 4 in a 2-year program to become a Lay Pastoral Associate for my church. And for the first time in many years – since I picture2completed my work in my church back home in Billings – I felt PEACE. I finally have a sense of peace in regards to the direction my life is taking. The awakening I experienced during that retreat confirmed what I have always known deep down in my heart but didn’t dare believe I could be anything more than what I already am. I have always known I was a child of God – my parents saw to that. But now I have accepted the responsibility – the cross you might say  – of being a child of God who is blessed with gifts of the spirit – gifts that have been refined by God through all of my various jobs, dreams, losses, heartaches, toils and triumphs.

This journey I have been on (and will continue to travel) brought me to a point of discernment, discovery, and trust in His purpose for me. How it will all turn out is no clearer today than it was when I first began, but now I see my life through a different lens. I no longer see my life on a wayward trajectory with no purpose. On the contrary, all those potholes, U-turn’s, downhill sprints and uphill trudges were merely a training ground. I do know I am so blessed. Blessed to be alive, blessed to have lived the life I have so far,  blessed to feel centered and focused in a positive direction, and blessed to be finally following I path I have pondered instead of wandered for far too long!!!

If you are restless or feeling empty in your life, I dare you to start a journey of your own… one of discernment that leads you to discovery and ultimately to you becoming WHO YOU ARE rather than defining yourself by what you do.

Let the light of WHO you are so shine, and shine brightly.

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“We need to feel that our lives reflect who we are, that our story is true to who we are. And at every stage of life, you have choice; you can choose to rebuild your life to become WHO you are or you can keep on feeling restless doing what you do.”