Her Name is Ambivalence

She has been prominent in my life for as long as I can remember.  Nearly every memory includes some part of her.  Her presence is always near and she influences my emotions, thoughts and actions.  She has more power than I’d like.

Her appearance is complex and chameleon like.  Sometimes she is unkempt and messy as she rushes me from one thing to the next. When she enters a room, her presence is noisy and overwhelming -- demanding to be noticed.  When she is like this I am left feeling chaotic and confused.

Other times, she is tidy and buttoned up -- feigning the appearance that she has it all together.  She moves with apprehension and fear as she quietly waits to be noticed by those around her.  Her interactions leave me feeling constrained and uneasy with myself and with others. 

Her name is Ambivalence. 

I remember her in my childhood home whose family rules were to be independent and to have fun.  And while I easily adapted to those rules, I was also the one with feelings that ran deep and wide.  Sensitivity was a handicap in a family that encouraged independence and merriment.  Ambivalence was born from that constant tug back and forth within my soul.

Ambivalence was present in my teen years as I dated boys.  Being noticed and wanted gave me a thrill and enjoyment that unleashed the messy and noisy me that loved the chaos.  It felt life giving, empowering and fun to my young soul.  But soon, the buttoned-up me would show up, speak through the chaos, and fill me with shame and remorse for being so sexually charged.

As a wife, Ambivalence would make herself known during every conflict. The neat and tidy persona told me time after time not to rock the boat.  Be happy with what you have and certainly don’t ask for too much.  Then resentment would kick the messy and demanding persona into action where her anger was loud and violent.  Back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth again.

As I’ve grown older, I am kinder to myself when Ambivalence shows ups.  I take the time to explore the conflict within my soul which unleashes her more desirable side -- I like her best when she is like this.  In this casual persona, her hair is loose, her smile is genuine and her eyes are filled with kindness.  When she enters a room her movements are fluid and steadfast and she speaks with self-assurance.  When Ambivalence comes to me like this, she invites me into confident ease.

Yes, I still wish Ambivalence had less power in my life.  But when I took the time to know her, I understood and appreciated her much better.  She was born out of genuine emotion and conflict within my soul that I want to honor.  So I invite her to stay and to continue to encourage me to explore my longings and struggles with depth and meaning.  May she free me to embrace the the steadfast me with the confident ease and a genuine smile.

I Am From

I am from hushed voices and eggs frying before dawn

Percolating coffee and kisses goodbye

Dads leave for work while moms take care of the home

I am from shared bedrooms and one bathroom 

A phone on the kitchen wall with a stretched out cord

Dinner for seven every day at 4

I am from crab feasts, softball games and late night campfires

Peeking through stair railings to see late night dance parties

A classic jukebox singing Elvis, Jim Croce and beloved CCR

I am from bikes on the front lawn and catching cooties from boys

Firefly chasing, quiet stargazing and sweet summer crushes

Freedom filled days paused til tomorrow when the street lights came on

I am from emotions that run deep with nowhere to go

Sensitivity is a flaw so keep it fun, keep airy, keep it low

Smile big and look pretty and you will be loved

I am from dreams and longings of Father, Son, Holy Spirit

Fragile faith not knowing how yet craves to enter in

Lovingly He woos me.  He knows me. And He ushers me in.

Finding My Way Home

A battle of wills -- it is constant within my soul.  There is a longing to be at home and to sit in God's presence and trust Him in the midst of the chaos that is my life.  Yet I'm struggling to gain control -- to handle this myself -- to get myself out of the pain.  The battle is real.  I wish I could say that my longing to sit with God was winning.  It is not.

The battle makes writing this reflection a struggle.  Daring to be with people is a risk.  Allowing myself to nurture my soul feels like a luxury that I can't afford.  Focusing on God for more than fleeting moments seems impossible.  I'm in survival mode and I desperately want to find my way out -- to find my way home.

So I must ask myself, what would it mean to trust rather than to survive?  I know that if God wanted the pain and chaos to end, He would do it.  And since He has not, will I trust that He is still with me in this?  Will I trust that He is present in the pain?  Will I desire Him more than I desire the pain to end?  Will I make my home in Him?

I want to, I really do.  Staying in the battle in an act of faith that takes more energy than I want it to. My body, mind and soul long for the rest that comes with trust.  And I know that when I am able to have deep spiritual connections with Him and others, I rest in that trust.  My heart rate slows, my mind stops racing, and my soul exhales.  I feel like the me that God designed me to be.

Today, I read this quote from Henri Nouwen "...come home and trust that God will bring you what you need.......when you come home and stay home, you will find the love that will bring rest to your heart."

I've allowed fear and chaos to keep me from being at home with God and who He created me to be.  Spiritual disciplines have been ignored and rejected.  So now I'm committing to return home.  Each day, I will spend time with God through meditating on His word and listening for His voice.  I will engage in physical activity to help release the unhealthy energy being held in my body.  And I will also be purposeful in pursuing spiritual conversations with others as a return to who God designed me to be.

I long to release the battle and allow myself to be at home with God.  Spirit, intercede for me that when I wonder from home, that I will quickly find my way back.

Tornadoes and Tethers

 A tornado has hit -- my life was ground zero.  It seemed to come without warning and hit with a fury, ripping my life to shreds.  My safe and comfortable life has been lifted off its foundation.  Debris is spread as far as I can see.  Hopes and dreams are shattered.  Family unity is destroyed.  Home is a shell of loneliness.

As I look back, signs of the coming storm were everywhere.  The distance in our marriage was like a dark and ominous sky.  Discord was like hail raining down, beating down signs of life.  Heavy clouds told me that a serious storm was coming -- but I did not expect this.

I've been hit by a tornado before.  I knew the signs.  And yet, I believed a tornado would not hit the same place twice.  Naive hope.

When the storm hit, my life went into the whirlwind.  It felt like the tornado and I were one.  Spinning.  Churning.  Violent.  Unpredictable.  My thoughts raced with little direction or purpose.  My emotions spun out of control leaving destruction in the midst.  My body ached from the force of the storm.  It seemed that the cyclone would never stop.

Fierce friends and family kept me tethered.  They came and sat in the rubble and helped me explore the damage.  They cried with me and their tears told me that the storm mattered.  They fed and nourished me in every way possible.  They were the hands, feet and heart of Jesus.  They kept me from losing my way in the storm.

How does one survive a tornado without tethers?  A tornado is bent on destruction -- ripping apart all in its path.  In the spinning and chaos, it is easy to lose your bearings, to lose your way, to lose yourself.  Yet my lifelines were ever present -- loving me, caring for me, nourishing my heart and soul.

Destruction and beauty co-mingling.  Both are true and real.

Lord, as I live in the tornado's destructive wake, may I hold tightly to the beautiful tethers that You have provided.  May I know the realness of both.

I Have a Confession to Make

I had the honor of exploring confession with at Bethany Community Church. Click on the link below to listen in. The sermons notes are included below.  

Link:  I Have A Confession to Make

I have a confession to make

Sharon Collignon

There confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.

The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.  (James 5:16)

Confession is communal and contagious.

• Because of this day atonement will be made for you, to cleanse you.  Then before the Lord, you will be clean from all your sins. (Lev 16:30)

• Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. (Matt 3:6)

• Many of those who believed now came and openly confessed what they had done. (Acts 19:18)

What keeps me from confessing my faults and weaknesses?

• Pride -- Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. (Prov 16:18)

• Fear -- Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe. (Pro 29:25)

• Unwillingness to Change -- They have left the straight way and wandered off to follow the way of Balaam son of Bezer, who love the wages of wickedness. (2 Pet 2:15)

What are the benefits of confessing my faults and weaknesses?

• Humility -- Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the word to save sinners -- of whom I am the worst. (1 Tim 1:15)

• Fellowship -- If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth.  But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.  If we say we have not sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. (1 John 1:6-7)

• Healing -- Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed.  But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God. (John 3:20-21)

How do I receive the confession of my friend?

• Know your own need for God.

• Allow yourself to be quiet.

• Speak forgiveness and pray.

I am honored to have a voice in the Red Tent Living community! Their beautiful patchwork of stories invites women to discover and enjoy their unique femininity. I'm excited for you to read my piece that reflects my heart as I approached Taylor and Connor's wedding.  Enjoy! #RedTentLiving. 

Bridal Shoes -- Red Tent Living

He's a Good Good Father

My dad has forever impacted my life.  As the first man I ever loved, he set the stage for all relationships that followed.  For good or for bad, dads do that -- they leave an indelible imprint on their daughters.  

Simple moments of humor and love best tell of my dad’s legacy.  In the simple moments, Dad told us stories, beamed with pride at our accomplishments, and joyfully danced with us.

One of my favorite moments is when we were little girls and we would put dad’s shoes on his feet. What fun it was!  Before family outings, Dad would tell us we could leave once we put his shoes on his feet.  He would be freshly showered, clean shaven (except for the horrible beard season!), and smelling of Old Spice and Brylcreem.  My sisters and I would pile on top of Dad and try to guide (force!) his feet into his shoes.  Dad bent and contorted his foot so that it would not go easily into his shoe. We giggled, squealed and begged him to get his foot into the shoe.

After much effort, Dad would relent and we’d get one shoe on!  We then moved to the second foot -- more giggles, squeals and begging as we forced his foot into the shoe. Eventually, we would get his second foot into the shoe, celebrate our success and then realize he had taken his first foot out of his shoe!  And the adventure started all over again.

Four young girls, two freshly polished loafers, and one mischievous dad created moments where love and playfulness flourished.

As dads go, I got a really good one.  I’ve never doubted Dad’s delight in my mother or in his daughters.  We were (are) cherished, respected and loved by a strong and caring man. Without knowing it, Dad taught me some fundamental truths about love that has impacted me laterally, downward and upward.

His legacy shows laterally in the men that my sisters and I have married.  My husband, Ken, is compassionate, engaging, and wise. In the dark of the night when he reaches for my hand, the tender warmth of his touch tells that I’m cherished and loved.  His love, protection and care for our daughters display what a remarkable dad his is. He attended tea parties with dolls, baited hooks and taught them to fish, fixed their cars, and attended every single school performance.  Ken’s love, humor, and tender strength are an encouraging presence in our lives.  Our daughters are resilient and passionate women as a result of his imprint on them.  

Dad’s legacy continues downward as our oldest daughter marries the love of her life later this Spring.  While I don’t know what kind of dad her fiance will be, I see the love, playfulness, and steady strength he exhibits with our daughter.  It fills my heart as I anticipate the family they will build.  I believe the legacy will continue downward through their children too as another good man creates cherished moments with his children.

Dad’s imprint on me also significantly influenced my relationship upward with God.  I think when Dad reads this he will be surprised at his influence on my faith walk.  You see, Dad is not a ‘religious’ man.  He didn’t read to me from the Bible or pray with me nightly. He came from a generation where faith is a private matter so I’m not sure exactly what Dad believes.

But what I do know is that his love for me influenced my relationship with God.  The tender strength of Dad’s hug provides me with a sense of affection and safety.  Few things sooth my soul more than a hug that tells me of the warmth of Dad’s presence.

It’s not lost on me that those hugs teach me about God’s love.  It is said that relationships with dads directly influence how we see God.  My friends who have harsh dads are lead to believe God is rigid and oppressive.  Friends with absent dads fear that God will neglect and abandon them too.   And then there are those, like me, who have loving dads who demonstrate our Heavenly Father’s loving kindness.

My dad is not perfect.  There were times when he was silent that I wished he would have spoken.  And in my imperfection as a daughter, there were times when I kept Dad silent instead of inviting him to speak into my life.  Those times of quiet have also lead me to expect silence from God.  And in my sin, has lead me to ignore His voice.  

Even in the imperfection, Dad’s love is evident.  While he may have been quiet, his tender strength and presence provide me with a foundation to give and to receive love.  I know what it means to climb into my father’s lap to be comforted and loved.  It makes it easy for me to imagine doing the same with my Heavenly Father.  And I’m grateful that Dad’s legacy leaves an eternal imprint on me.