Solid Food

March 25, 2013 ~ Emily ~ 11 Comments

I’m almost 26 and I still have a difficult time processing that I’m an adult doing adultish things. I don’t consciously go about my day thinking I’m in my mid-twenties until I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror and fail to see high school Emily staring back at me.

Instead, I see a married (young) woman with an apartment, a car, and a job. I see someone who travels by herself, makes meals, does laundry, and buys toiletries (which all seem grown-up to me). I’m always taken aback when real life forces me to own up to adulthood.

Last week was one of those real life weeks. Tim and I dealt with taxes, dentist appointments, doctors appointments, and every type of insurance. We spent a lot of money on things that aren’t fun to spend money on and sacrificed plans we hadn’t planned on sacrificing. I’ll spare you the details of these transactions since most of you are probably already thinking, “Yes, Emily, that’s part of growing up and being an adult…” Suffice it to say, it was just an unpleasant, overly adultish week.

It’s in the midst of those weeks when I’m bombarded with the reality of maturing and growing up that I can fully appreciate the illustration Paul uses to talk about spiritual maturity.

You have been Christians a long time now, and you ought to be teaching others. Instead, you need someone to teach you again the basic things a beginner must learn about the scriptures.

You are like babies who drink only milk and cannot eat solid food. And a person who is living on milk ins’t very far along in the Christian life and doesn’t know much about doing what is right. Solid food is the for those who are mature, who have trained themselves to recognize the difference between right and wrong and then do what is right.

Hebrews 5:12-14 | NLT

There’s a natural progression of growing up in both our physical life and spiritual life. We start with a level of immaturity and grow from there. Being a baby, or young in the faith, is just part of the journey; but staying that way is most definitely not part of the plan.

Food helps us grow and mature. The type of food we eat changes as we develop. Milk is easy to digest (unless of course you are lactose intolerant), but it gets old after awhile. Solid food offers variety, but it can be more difficult to digest. Hence, babies start out with a milk diet and progress to solid food as they grow.

Solid food requires effort – you have to buy it, prepare it, chew it, and clean up after eating it. The work does pays off eventually, though, as you begin to develop a taste for the abundance of food God created. There’s discovery and adventure in trying new foods or a different preparation style, but like any cook knows, a bad recipe or failed attempt can be discouraging. That’s when milk seems like a really good option…

Sometimes, childhood seems like a really good option, too. All I want to do is revert back to life with no bills and no responsibilities. It was certainly easier when all I had to worry about was getting A’s and making my bed. Then, I think about my husband, the job that allows me to travel, and the sense of accomplishment I get when we pay off debt. Those things wouldn’t be possible if I was still drinking the milk of my childhood.

Being an adult is difficult, but it is also fulfilling. I want my adult life to be mature just like I want my spiritual life to be mature, which requires solid food. Taxes, paying pills, making decisions on my own, using money wisely – that is solid food.

Paul’s exhortation to backsliding Christians has certainly been a poignant image in my mind this past week, and will continue to be, as I take on adulthood one bite of solid food at a time.

Growth won’t come without solid food. You just have to embrace the changes required in the process.

{photo credit: Biblioteca de Arte-Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian via photopin cc}

The Best Author I Know

March 7, 2013 ~ Emily ~ 9 Comments

One thing I love about how God shapes our lives is His uncanny way of creating unforeseen twists and turns in the setting, the plot, and the cast of characters. I’m not talking about major surprises coming out of left field (though He does do that); I’m talking about subtle nuances written into one’s life that weave a story of God’s goodness, His glory, and His perfect plan for us.

The specifics of our story are expertly crafted to work together for God’s greater purpose and our greater good. { <—- Tweet this! }

When we moved to Idaho in September, I hadn’t planned to work, at least for awhile. Though Tim would have supported me either way, we decided it would benefit our family most if I didn’t work straight away.

Turns out, I really needed that time to process the way our story had been written thus far. So much transition – new marriage, new location, new church community, and Tim’s new job – had been jammed into a few months. It almost felt like God had ended my story and started writing a brand new one.

Maybe in a way He did, but I like to think of it as just another volume in the set on Emily Catherine Gardner – this one entitled, The 9.0 Transition Earthquake.

I’m still processing, however, I’m finally allowing God to pen some joy back into my heart. I may prefer living closer to family and friends, but God has demonstrated time and time again that He’s a better writer than me and I should let Him shape my story. { <– Tweet this! } He’s certainly writing an interesting chapter right now, full of those subtle nuances I was talking about.

I got a job a month ago. The job simultaneously combines one of my favorite things and one of my least favorite things: traveling and talking to strangers. {I’ll let you work out which one is which.} I work for a marketing research company that does impact studies for a few major restaurant chains when they want to open a new location near an existing location. I travel to the site and survey customers.

When I got married, I thanked God that during my 24 years of single-hood I had the opportunity to travel extensively abroad for school and missions. He allowed me to explore the world while I had the freedom to do so. Though Tim is an adventurer like myself, the life of a youth pastor is not conducive to a ton of travel. I had my time of mourning for the end of my major traveling season and left it to God to help me be content in one place.

Not only has God provided a job that helps us along in our goal to be debt free {so close!}, I get to travel a lot! {Boston and Chicago last month and Orlando currently.} The travel bug bites and I no longer have to dose it in Benadryl cream.

{God’s plan – 1, Emily’s plan – 0}

author and creator

My only reluctance towards this job was the necessity of approaching countless strangers. I don’t have much initiative when it comes to talking and I generally avoid eye contact with surveyors in a restaurant or on the street. I figured this would just be the price I had to pay for traveling.

After walking up to almost 1,000 strangers {rejections included}, I have developed more confidence in my social presence. The “go say hi to people” time at church is less intimidating. Giving announcements and demonstrating absurd poses for a game at youth group {that one’s for you, Lindsay} aren’t butterfly inducing anymore.

As a pastor’s wife in a new church, I am so thankful for my new found ability to talk with strangers and be socially assertive. I’m no Chatty Kathy, mind you, and I still feel awkward at times, but I’ve made marked improvement. I’m not sure how else I could have developed that so quickly if it weren’t for this job.

{God’s plan – 2, Emily’s plan – 0}

The things that seem to just happen in life don’t just happen. They are written into the plot for a reason. Often, those reasons aren’t apparent at first. Sometimes they even appear distasteful, like talking to a bunch of people you don’t know. But God is the author and creator of our lives. He is a life-smith with a supernatural ability to write the perfect story for each of His precious kids. { <– Tweet this! }

Grace For The Good Girl

March 4, 2013 ~ Emily ~ 6 Comments

I have never found myself so accurately portrayed in a book before I read Emily P. Freeman’s Grace For The Good Girl. I tweeted as much in the midst of reading it and Emily responded with an apology. It made me laugh, but it was indeed a reminder that being a good girl isn’t always a good thing.

You see, what I was meaning as a compliment to Emily spoke more than appreciation for her writing and message. I had unintentionally admitted how much I struggle in my good girl identity. Finding myself in every word of her book meant that I still desperately cling to perfection. I’m still seeking value from other people’s perceptions and base my worth on living up to an impossible standard.

One of the most encouraging things about this book was discovering that I’m not alone. I certainly don’t wish the stress and anxiety of being a good girl on anyone, but I spent many years wondering if I was the only one who felt shackled to an image that didn’t necessarily portray reality.

I believe being a good girl is part nature, part nurture. It’s one thing to be inherently sweet, thoughtful, and compassionate; but it’s another thing when you surpress normal emotions, desires, and needs to appear that way.

My natural good girl tendencies became my own enforced norm when I discovered smarts and an illusion of perfection could get me attention. Little did I know that a dangerous pattern of internal pressure was developing. When my natural good girl failed, I had to kick my nurture good girl into high gear or I wouldn’t feel good enough. My classmates wouldn’t like me as well if I didn’t get an A on that chemistry test. I wouldn’t be the apple of my Sunday school teacher’s eye if I didn’t find Malachi 2:5 first. No guy would ever ask me out if I didn’t stay a size 4.

Of course, I didn’t begin to recognize this corrupted train of thought until a few years ago when my circle of friends grew into a community of honest and authentic sisters who weren’t adverse to showing their brokenness.

Emily reveals that same brokenness in Grace for the Good Girl. She is honest about the time her husband found her curled on the couch sobbing because she felt inadequate, how she felt like less of a woman because she had c-sections instead of natural births, and how she is sometimes crippled by anxiety.

I felt as if an invisible good girl was following me around wherever I went, showing up without permission to shame and blame and scold. She was omnipresent, like a pretty little goddess in a pink, shadowy corner. She embodied the good girl version of my current life stage and shamed me accordingly; good student, good leader, good wife, and good mom. She represented the girl I wanted to be but didin’t know why. I felt the heavy weight of impossible expectations and had the insatiable desire to explain every mistake. My battle with shame was constant and hovering.

Instead of recognizing my own inadequacy as an opportunity to trust God, I hid those parts and adopted a bootstrap religion. I focused on the things I could handle, the things I excelled in, my disciplined life, and my unshakeable good mood. These masks became so natural to me that I didn’t even know they were masks.

Emily P. Freeman ~ Grace for the Good Girl

Even in those broken moments, Emily offers hope and encouragement for all good girls no matter where on the spectrum they land, whether they are recovering or still covered by the mask of perfection.

Emily also wrote a second book, Graceful, geared toward younger women. When it launched in September, Emily encouraged people to write letters to their teenage self. Mine sheds light onto my good girl history and explains more about Graceful.

Find more of Emily on her blog Chatting At The Sky.

Seasons {a mom’s reflection}

December 21, 2012 ~ Emily ~ 2 Comments

I thought of many ways to introduce this post.

I could talk about how much I love my mom. I could talk about how moms have this uncanny way of knowing exactly what you need to hear. I could talk about how this message made me cry, the words meeting me and traveling with me on this primitive road.

But, the simplest thing to do is just explain.

My mom knew that I was struggling with the cold, struggling with Christmas, struggling with adjusting to this new season of life. She sent me an email yesterday. This is what it said:

Sovereign in all seasons. I have been contemplating that theme for awhile. It was a particularly meaningful/challenging/powerful meditation as I decorated the Christmas tree on Sunday afternoon. I’d put it off for over a week, having put the lights on a week ago. Finallly decided I’d better just go for it, anticipating a significant emotional challenge: in 56 years, I have NEVER decorated a Christmas tree by myself.

SO… I put on the Christmas music, Greg had lit a fire and brought in the ornament box, and I prayerfully committed to choose joy and thanksgiving in this new season. It was a constant recommitment, that choosing, as I remembered with so much love the significance of special decorations.

One of my recurrent thoughts, when I felt myself slipping into sorrow, was “What would I want to be different?” My children living at home forever, never experiencing the joy of having a spouse and children of their own? To everything there IS a season, and a time for EVERY purpose under heaven. Amen and Amen.

I was genuinely comforted and experienced a quiet joy knowing that my loving Father is, indeed, designer of all my seasons.

His blessings in the springtime of babies and toddlers, storybooks and puddlejumping; an amazing summer of growing children and a growing faith, Bagelry breakfasts and dinnertime laughter… I’m certain that the God of those precious times and memories will continue to reign in my autumn, orchestrating blazing colors and harvest blessings in my life.

May I not limit His purposes with my fear of the unknown or lack of trust in His sovereignty, love, and care.

That’s my prayer and that was my thought process for a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon. Absolutely earnestly praying for you, my springtime Cria, as you walk with your Abba through your own change of seasons.

Seasons, by nature, are ever changing. When one passes, another arrives, bringing its own unique changes and challenges.

My instinct is to rush through each season in hopes of eliminating discomfort. These words reminded me to slow down and embrace the joy in each season.

When The Tree Falls Over

December 17, 2012 ~ Emily ~ 2 Comments

All Charlie Brown Christmas trees are not alike. There’s copious charm in the original concept – a tiny tree with baby branches, scarcely decorated with budding greenery. The small frame looks cheery despite bald spots and piney peach fuzz. But, the cartoon charm doesn’t always translate to real life.

What happens when the Charlie Brown tree hits puberty? You end up with a tree like ours – a tall tree with skinny frame and gangly limbs. Pine needles are sprouting but in all the wrong places.

A couple more years and our Chuck Brown tree would likely live up to its Noble namesake, but for now, we have a teenager tree making himself at home in our living room.

This is my portion of primitive – Christmas style.

I love picking out a tree, but my normal practices don’t usually involve a four hour tromp through the National Forest with a chainsaw.

Instead of standing up a bunch of trees at the local lot to find the fullest, greenest Fir, Tim and I roamed the woods looking for a tree that had enough branches to hold all our ornaments. Instead of being bound and tied to the car roof, Tim forded a river with the tree hoisted on his shoulder before it was thrown in a trailer. Instead of burying the lights deep in and out of the close packed branches, I struggled to hide plugs in the sparse foliage.

As much as I enjoyed the experience of chopping down our own tree (and only spending $5), I wrestled with the imperfection of it all. Branches drooped under the weight of lights and ornaments. Longer decorations couldn’t hide bare patches. The entire tree leaned to one side.

I professed appreciation for the Charlie Brown resemblance, but secretly wanted the trimmed and shaped Noble Firs of years past.

Then, in the dusk of evening, when those pesky lights were plugged in, I was mesmerized by the beauty of that tannenbaum. Bright bulbs cast a glow overshadowing the imperfections. In fact, the soft glow of the colored lights made those gaps and gangly qualities seem intentionally unique.

I started to see what light can do in the darkness of flaws.

Nature groomed our tree to be a stunning representation of what our lives look like to God. Our Charlie Brown qualities were hand-crafted by Him and look especially lovely in the light of His love.

As if I needed further prompting to embrace joy in my Christmas portion of primitive, our tree toppled head first into the middle of the living room just as National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation was starting.