Chasing After Me

Independence.

We seek it. We’re recognized for it. We’re even rewarded for it.

But why?

It starts in school…during parent/teacher conferences we hear phrases like “she’s a independent worker, you should be proud.” And it doesn’t stop there…we even see it in performance reviews at work as a measure of success. And, even in everyday life, how often do you catch yourself thinking “I can do this myself”?

Guess what?! I can’t do this myself. And I’m done trying to pretend I can.

I’m done with independence.

It’s not for me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking thinking for yourself – I’m a big fan. I’m not ripping on the taking care of yourself – that’s necessary. I’m not talking about an individual’s work-style or the need for people to simply focus and get work done – because at some point, work just needs to get done. And, I’m not even talking about the differences of being extroverted or introverted. What I’m talking about is bigger than any of those things. I’m talking about the psychology of thinking we can and should do everything on our own…and the drive to make it happen.

I’ve learned that, for me, striving for independence causes pride. It makes me think I can do things best on my own…without people who care about me…without people who are smarter than me…and even without God. Furthermore, the more I pretend to be independent, the more miserable and lonely I am. And all of that is no longer OK with me.

The hardest part of the realization? Admitting it.

It happened again the other day. Instead of telling some friends I needed them…I shrugged it off as something trite. Seriously?! I couldn’t even admit to my closest friends that I needed their guidance and encouragement. As if asking for it made me weaker. Really, God forbid, anyone know I can’t do something on my own. I was being stubborn about my independence…I was being stupid.

We were created to be relational beings. We were created to communicate with one another. Hello…Adam and Eve?! It’s been collaborative since the beginning, my friends.

Think about it…

At work…do you really think that no one could possibly have a better idea than your idea? Or even someone’s insight might make your idea stronger? Of course we know that. Most of us have seen collaboration create stronger results. It works. If that’s true, why do we worry about doing it alone just to get the credit?

What about your friends and family…do you need them to love you? Care about you? Or is it all about what you bring to them? Of course not…we need them, too…but all too often we’re afraid to admit it.

What about your relationship with God? Do you really think it’s all about what you can do for him? Think again. God doesn’t need you to do squat for him. He loves us so much that he already did EVERYTHING for us. All we need to do is let that love overflow from us.

I’m done pretending.

I can’t do it alone. I wasn’t called to be on this journey in life alone.

I need people. I need God.

And, it’s liberating to admit it.

Being dependent on others makes me smarter, stronger and more complete…not to mention, humble.

I am unashamedly and blissfully dependent. And I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Fear is a funny thing. It’s not always obvious. It’s horribly uncomfortable. And, it’s often taboo.

Relational rejection.

There. I said it. That’s my biggest fear. Now it’s out there.

It’s ironic really.

Ironic because I love being completely open. Ironic because I love the freedom to be real…raw…and human. Ironic because I love seeing those traits in other people. Ironic because I’m one of the most obnoxiously relational beings I know.

Yet, somehow, this fear has forced me to hide a piece of my soul from the world. Even from my closest friends. Not because of any lack of trust. But truly out of fear. Fear that if they knew every ounce of my maniacal thought process and pervasive insecurities, they would no longer want anything to do with me.

Frankly, it’s been so well hidden in my life, that I’ve literally forgotten those things exist. I’ve gotten so comfortable with sharing my feelings, that I’ve forgotten there are “whys” behind those feelings. And, convinced myself that no one really wants to know those things anyway.

Wrong.

Way wrong.

The friends who do care about those “whys” have somehow found me. And, their deep love cracked that hard core of fear…a place in my life where I feel most vulnerable.

I let my fear of being alone and being vulnerable limit what my friends could be to me…limit the love I’d allow myself to receive from them. But, thank God for their persistence. For their love. For letting God use them to show me another layer of his own unfailing love and grace.

In close friendships, people don’t see vulnerabilities as signs of weakness or dark corners where no one wants to go.

These deep relationships seek vulnerabilities to embrace them.

Once my friends drew the vulnerabilities out of me, I was reminded that if they desired to get that close to me, than Jesus wanted it more. He doesn’t care about dark corners, because he is light…because he embodies perfect love…because his perfect love casts out fear. Even fear of relational rejection.

In the New Testament, Jesus refers to himself as our friend. I’m convinced he does that so we can capture glimpses in our lives today as to how he wants to operate in our lives. How we talk with him. How we laugh with him. How we cry with him. How we debate with him. And, yes, even what we share with him.

Those friends know who they are. And, I’m indebted to their compassion, loyalty and deep love. And, mostly, I’m thankful that God could use them to remind me of how much I’m loved for who I am. Right now. Despite the flaws, insecurities and fears I see in myself. Because He doesn’t even see them. He only sees beauty…vulnerable beauty.

“Knowing and letting oneself be known require overcoming many ancient fears – but it’s worth every risk.” – Arianna Huffington in “On Becoming Fearless”

One year ago I was packing up boxes at my desk.

One year ago I was meeting with people to let them know how much their friendships had meant to me over the years.

One year ago I did one most courageous thing I things I’ve ever done…I exchanged a life of routine and predictability for one filled with unknowns.

I left my amazing job of nearly 12 years to help friends plant a church…to start my own communications business…to learn more about myself.

Sounds cushy, right? Nope.

Crazy. Lost. Weak. Dense. Alone.

That’s how I’ve felt throughout the past year.

Stretched. Grateful. Loved. Fulfilled. Found.

That’s also how I’ve felt.

You see, courage doesn’t exist without risk.

Walking a path of unpredictability is hard. You end up tripping over yourself more than anything else. You doubt yourself. Question your decisions. You wonder who you are. And then you remember that it’s part of the ride. The courageous ride. The ride that shows promise of something great on the other side, even if you can’t see clearly what it is in the moment.

And, when you stop to remember the purpose, the ride becomes euphoric. It has meaning. You just need to put yourself in a place where you can see goodness and promise even in those dim moments.

My point? Opportunity is not painless. Even when it is what you know that you’re supposed to be doing. Even when you’re pursuing your passion and standing in your truth.

A year later, I’d make the same choice 1000 times over…even knowing all I’d feel. Because I’d also know the purpose found on the other side. The purpose to Bloom.

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Consider this a thank you note of sorts. A thank you to Best Buy and all of my amazing colleagues…for all you plant in your people…for all I learned…for all of your encouragement…and, dare I say, all your love. A year later I still feel it. And, it helped me discover purpose. I am forever grateful.

“My name is Natalie. N-A-T-A-L-I-E. I’m four-years-old. What’s your name?”

“It’s Dawn. D-A-W-N.”

“Hi Dawn! I’m going to call you ‘friend.’”

And she did.

In the hour I spent with that sweet little girl, she called me “friend” probably 50 times…every single time she spoke with me.

I guess if you need a quick reminder of what really matters you should just ask a homeless four-year-old.

She didn’t care about task lists, finances, work, material items or even family drama. She cared about relationships.

Relationships built on a Jesus kind of love. Maybe Natalie didn’t know it was a Jesus kind of love. But I have no doubt.

You see…Jesus loved me through Natalie tonight. Natalie decided to be my friend. She didn’t know me, but it didn’t matter. She smiled at me. She hugged me. She held my hand. She wiped chocolate from my sleeve. She carried my dirty dishes to the kitchen. She introduced me to her family. She shared a million stories with me.

When you think about it, it’s totally backwards. You see, Natalie is one of eight kids. Her family has been homeless since October. She and her family live out of their car and at shelters. She was excited about getting a pair of shoes today that actually fit. Her entire family has to believe in the goodness of people and the goodness of God working through people to see hope for tomorrow.

I was supposed to be there serving her! Yet, she wanted to be a friend to me. Take care of me. Love me.

She probably never will know how much I needed that friendship tonight. She probably never will know that she made a permanent imprint on my heart. She probably never will know that Jesus loved me through her.

Her unconditional love reminded me of the importance of letting what Jesus pours into me, pour into the lives of others…a love that is unconditionally compassionate…a love that smiles at strangers…a love that genuinely cares…a love not impeded by worry or selfishness.

Thank you, Natalie. Thank you for becoming a piece of my heart. Thank you for reminding me what really matters.

And, God, thank you for Natalie.

* * *

Natalie and her family just found out that they’ve got housing. They’ll be moving into a newly remodeled apartment within two weeks. Thank God. You should have seen how excited Natalie’s mom was…seeing her excitement nearly brought me to tears.

The Family Place is a day shelter serving homeless families in St. Paul, Minn. The majority of their guests are children. Forty-seven percent of the homeless in St. Paul are children and teenagers. Often, their families have lost their housing because of medical emergencies, job losses and even landlord defaults and condemnations. They’ve unexpectedly found themselves in a new and difficult world, a world where hope and dignity are pushed aside to make room for daily survival. My church, Bloom, partners with this organization to serve their guests without agenda.

A call is not a destination…it’s a compass.

Don’t ask where I got that. After doing a lot of reading, studying and reflecting over the holidays, the concept hit me like a train. And, I’ll preface this post by saying that it’s my own reminder to me…I only hope it helps someone else along the way…

You see, I’d like to think I’m not the only one who spends far too much time wondering what is next in life. It’s funny, because the future is something in life that is not guaranteed. Don’t get me wrong. Daydreaming is totally cool. For me, it’s sometimes welcome escapism.

But here’s the deal…what if life isn’t about what’s next? What if it’s not about where you’re going? What if it’s more about why you’re headed in a certain direction?

Would that change how you approach your life? Because the concept is definitely turning my life upside down.

After all, is there really ever a destination in life? Seriously, even if you find a destination, don’t you quickly find a new one to run toward anyway?

Maybe you’ve discovered that burning thing inside of you…maybe not…but it doesn’t matter.

Do you really think you’re done once you figure that out? Of course not. That burning thing simply gives you purpose, passion and direction…not THE answer.

So, why then do we spend so much time stressing about it? You know what’s inside of you. What’s stopping you from running with what you know so far? You’ll learn as you go…every step of the way. If you just start moving, the compass will continue to direct you. And, a compass never stops pointing in a given direction…you only know you’re going in the right direction.

Turning a call into a destination only adds stress, grows ego and leaves you feeling empty. (Can you hear me convincing myself here?!)

Realize. Reframe. Repeat. Remember.

A call is not a destination…it’s a compass.