Chasing After Me

My House

Home is not what my house becomes when people are made comfortable there. Home  isn’t even a destination. Home is bigger than that.

Home is where we’re most vulnerable, but where we’re also the safest.

Home is a where we’re naked and where our dirty laundry piles up, but also where we become refreshed and beautiful.

My Home

Home is where we feel safe crying, but also where someone will be to wipe our tears.

Home is where we’re comfortable being all of who we are, but where we have a family encouraging us to follow our hearts, to take risks and help us grow.

Home is where we love and serve others.

Home is where community flourishes.

Home is where love abounds.

Home is something we experience…a state of mind…a community of friends…for me, home is a made possible by grace and powered by Love. A Love that overflows to, I hope, help others experience HOME.

Two and a half years ago, my life turned upside down. I left the comfort and security of a solid job to pursue things burning inside of me.

Little did I know at the time that those flames would turn into a full-on inferno of passion and an unstoppable drive to further a mission of grace, love and freedom.

That description probably sounds like sunshine and rainbows, but it’s been hard…and I’ve learned a lot.

Prior to that point in my life, I felt like I knew what I was meant to do…since I loved communications and helping people put thoughts into words, I felt as if I existed to help people embrace the purpose, significance and value in their stories…to help them articulate their stories using their strengths…strengths that maybe they didn’t even realize existed…and then cheer them on to whatever the future held.

Then things changed.

I vividly remember having conversations with my closest friends once I took on my role at Bloom. It sometimes felt awkward and clunky. I remembered saying that I was always used to being in the backseat helping people be great…I wasn’t used to being front-and-center. Looking back, it’s obvious why it felt awkward and clunky, I took my focus off of purpose…tried to embrace a different purpose.

THAT was my biggest mistake.

It was frustrating for a while. Things felt very right, yet somehow off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. After a few months, I finally let things go and just let myself act like Dawn again, and then things felt right…but at the time I didn’t really know why.

Then one day it became crystal clear. It was as if God, himself, was talking to me…and, frankly, I don’t doubt that he was.

“Your purpose never changed. I just gave you a new platform.”

That might sound crazy. That might sound anti-climactic. But, to me, it was jarring, freeing and energizing. A reminder that – no matter what life tosses at me, or where I volunteer my time, or where I work, or whomever I speak to – my purpose lies in encouraging others…and helping them embrace their stories to inspire more people. Sure, throughout my life I’ll have to learn my way around new spaces, but each new venue doesn’t change who I was meant to be. It was then when things began clicking again…because I realized that I could embrace that purpose I knew was always there…in my role at Bloom…in my role at work…as a wife…as a friend. Now, I can say I’m more confident, excited, peaceful and ready to take on new challenges…because I know I can be me no matter where I am.

…and my prayer is that everyone finds that place where they can embrace their purpose…not think it needs to change…not think it’s tied to a specific job, role or earthly relationship…because I genuinely believe it’s God-given and much bigger than that…that purpose will help us do our jobs, be better spouses, be better parents, be better friends…simply be.

***If you haven’t ever read Strengths Finder 2.0, do it. Take the assessment. It’s a great tool and can help you embrace your talents…event things you don’t see as talents right now.

***Take a listen to Bloom’s Purpose Realized series…the messages I heard during this time helped me hear more clearly from God.

On Sunday at Bloom, I put a shared a picture of a seemingly confident and happy woman 22-year-old woman on the big screen for all to see.

The young woman was just out of college and, on the surface, looked as if she was happier than happy and probably had all of her crap together.

But, in all actuality, it was a girl who had struggled for years with things that many people struggle with… starving herself and then forcing herself to puke when she did eat…racking up crazy amounts of credit card debt at a very young age with no great way to pay it off…going out every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night…drinking too much…finding guys to pay attention to her. In many moments, she was afraid the façade would crack, and that people would instantly see her thoughts of inadequacy, imperfection and brokenness. That they would instantly see that she was a sham.

You know people who feel this way. In fact the “people” are probably you.

I would know.

I had to put that picture up on Sunday as I shared with my dear friend Tamara about seeing ourselves as God sees us…I had to put that picture up because it was me…because it was a me who saw herself as broken.

A couple weeks back, when we were mapping out that message, one of my best and most trusted friends mortified me when he shared that some people think I’m always confident and strong and that I don’t make mistakes. I was mortified because didn’t want that to be the case. Ever. I wanted people to see me as transparent. Those closest to me know that a “confident, strong and perfect” Dawn is not reality. But what kept me awake all that night was a burning desire to lay some of the hard stuff out there…a desire to embrace transparency. Not because I was trying to hide anything from anyone, but because those real moments are the moments that can connect people with hope.

Those moments connect people with hope because they can see an anchor of hope at work in your own life…when they can see you smile despite what you’ve gone through or are going through…when they see you can cry, yet still cling to hope to keep breathing…when they see another imperfect soul find love and acceptance from their higher power.

We all go through crap. We all do stupid things. We all have moments of weakness. We all have moments of feeling gross and dirty. But we often carry all of those feelings behind a façade of a smile. Those moments are integral parts of our stories. And, for me, I believe that God – thanks to Jesus – sees me perfect, holy and righteous, despite those moments of inadequacy…those moments in the past, those I’m living now, and those I’ll face in the future.

Embrace your whole story…not just the highlights…the highs and lows complete the story. Even the crap…because I believe God turns crap into fertilizer…where there is crap, beautiful things can grow.

I’ve been silent on this blog for a while. I’ve made a lot of excuses for the silence…like…no one reads this blog…no one cares what I really think… my perspective isn’t valuable…my perspective isn’t unique…I don’t have time.

But here’s the thing: none of those things matter. Furthermore: I know those things are not true. Not for me, not for anyone.

I believe that every person IS a story…every piece of his or her life. And, the thing about a story is…a story isn’t a story unless it’s shared.

Life is not a solo mission…for anyone.

So you share, too.

Maybe writing isn’t your thing. So find another way to share. But don’t be afraid of your story. Don’t be ashamed of your story. Don’t assume no one cares. Embrace who you are. Share who you are…the good…the bad…the obnoxious…the infuriating…the humor…the heart.

We were not meant to live alone. We were made for each other. To love each other. To encourage each other. To embrace each other. To inspire each another. To help each other discover what already is inside of each of us…right now…all of who we are. Our lives were meant to sharpen other lives. Now…not someday.

You are a story. Share you.

A story isn’t a story unless it’s shared…and I assure you…someone is listening.

Embrace your once upon a time.

I always apologize. For everything…seriously…FOR EVERYTHING.

Some of the things, I absolutely should apologize for.

But I also find myself apologizing…for speaking, for having opinions, for asking questions, for not saying enough, for not fixing something unfixable, for thinking I’m not good enough, for other peoples’ emotions, for my own emotions, for not doing something that was never expected in the first place…it really never ends.

Mostly, if I look at the big picture, I actually apologize unendingly for BEING myself…to the annoyance of the people in life who are most precious.

I always thought that trait was simply compassion…just how I’m wired.

Others might call it perfectionism.

My closest friends might lovingly call it an annoyance.

My (very wise) husband calls it ridiculously self-critical.

This week I’ve been reading Angry Conversations with God, by Susan Isaacs, and something LEAPED off of the page. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I’m quite certain it was God Himself showing me something. Here’s the quote:

Susan, I think you keep apologizing (to God) because you haven’t accepted forgiveness (from God).

The thing is, it wasn’t the actual words on the page that got to me. When I read that passage over and over again, I saw something different:

Dawn, I think you keep apologizing (to those you love) because you haven’t accepted their acceptance (of you).

Wow.

The “Dawn” version screamed at me. The realization was startling. More startling, because I now realize I’ve rejected acceptance my entire life.

By rejecting acceptance, I’ve discounted the love that those closest to me constantly and unconditionally offer. And, by doing that, I’ve also rejected God’s attempts to tangibly love me through people who are His hands and feet.

It is the root of something that’s nagged me my entire life…something that has often made me feel lonely…something that has often made me feel insecure…something that could keep me from where I’m supposed to go.

Sorry for my mistakes…but no longer sorry for who I am.