Chasing After Me

Someone observed something about me last week that was jarring:

I think it’s funny that you talk so much about being an external processor, yet you process things internally a hundred times before you let them out of your mouth.

She was right.

I guess I let the energy I get from being with people, communicating with people, and even simply writing skew my perspective.

The reality is internal or external processing is just that – a process. It’s not good or bad. It’s not stronger or weaker.

The jarring part of what she said is what I realized I let the internal processing do to me.

It. Immobilizes. Me.

Especially in places where I know I’m supposed to be sharing. Like on this blog. Crap, I even have trouble journaling (despite telling everyone I think they should!) because I feel the need for thoughts to be complete first…the need to be formed into something easily digestible, appealing, and certainly important in order to be presented.

Debilitating.

What if I share something that isn’t a complete story? Exposes more weakness or hurt than I’m comfortable with? What if I say something controversial? What if I say something that makes someone angry instead of fulfilled or encouraged? What if I say something plain stupid?

It stresses me out.

Processing holds an important place. But it shouldn’t supersede the processing meant to be shared with others.

So let’s not get in the way of ourselves.

After all, consuming things that are unprocessed mean more nutrients, more vitamins, more strength and, ultimately, more life.

My dear friend Missy Durant is an amazing woman. Her life is overflowing with love and gratitude…and it spreads to everyone she knows. She wrote a book recently, What Matters, and I couldn’t be more excited for her.

I believe in what she’s doing with all of my heart…because it’s beautiful…because I cherish her and her heart.

So, today, I blogged on her web site…take a peek here!

I think a lot. Probably too much. And, for me, writing is cathartic.

One would think that writing would be a perfect solution to too much thinking…it’s journaling, right?!

Here’s my dirty secret…despite frequently suggesting to others that they journal their thoughts…I don’t.

The perfectionist in me is scared of raw, unrefined thoughts becoming real and living outside of my head. The maximizer in me hates writing if no one else can see, learn and relate with things (because I believe everyone’s experiences help someone else).

Excuses.

So here’s what’s going down. I’ve promised myself that I’ll write. I’ve been encouraged by those closest to me to write. I’ve argued with God…He frequently reminds me that writing is a gift He’s given me and wonders why I’m afraid to use it.

If you manage to find these posts in my new “reflecting” category, it won’t be because I’ve announced them on Twitter or Facebook. And, maybe, no one will find them at all. I’m OK with that. These posts will be raw. Maybe, sometimes, something unrefined will evolve into a post more refined. Maybe it won’t. Some days the reflecting might be profound. Other days it might be stupid or shallow. Doesn’t matter…if you follow what I’m writing, you’ll be standing beside me as I splash in a stream of consciousness…be warned, I’m on an exhilarating and exhausting journey…a journey I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Splash around…

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.

My dad is my hero.

It might sound cliché, but for years I had a hard time saying that.

It was hard because I was frustrated that few others knew the amazing dad I knew existed. It was hard because I was sad to think that my dad was feeling empty and lonely and there was nothing I could do. It was hard because I was angry that he couldn’t just throw away the lifeless bottle and spend time with people who loved him instead. It was hard because it hurt to wonder whether or not he even remembered some of the most important moments in my life. It was hard because I was pissed at him for throwing away his life.

A lifelong battle with alcoholism had isolated my father from the world…had hidden the father I knew that few others could see. Not even my husband knew my real dad, because alcoholism hid him.

I often tried to put myself in my dad’s shoes…and I knew his heart hurt. I imagine anger and resentment overtook him when he could never measure up to the expectations put upon him by others. I imagine he hurt deeply after experiencing unspeakable things while serving in the Marine Corps. I imagine he felt shameful after a failed first marriage and failed jobs. I imagine he felt lonely when those close to him were overtaken by death at ages far too young. I imagine he felt guilty for not being the son he thought his parents wanted. I imagine his heart broke for both of his daughters when they each, separately, experienced murders of their best friends. I imagine he condemned himself for things we can’t even fathom. And then, I imagine, those feelings spiraled to the point of unspeakable numbness…to a place where he could no longer allow himself to feel…anything.

I won’t lie. There were many, many, many hard moments over the years.

I remember bad arguments. I remember police cars. I remember hiding in closets. I remember mom finding empty liquor bottles. I remember staying with my grandparents. I remember jail visits. I remember being too embarrassed to have my friends over. I remember hurtful things being said.

But I also remember loving no one like I loved my daddy…and always felt that same kind of love directed right back at me.

I remember the dad who played with me. The dad who taught me how to ride a bike. The dad who taught me how to build things. The dad who helped me learn to spell. The dad who taught me to read. The dad who convinced me when I was young that I would marry him when I turned 18 (so that he wouldn’t have to deal with me dating!). The dad who inspired me with his love for writing. The dad who drove me to school. The dad who taught me how to fish. The dad who taught me how to shoot a gun. The dad who wanted me to use said gun to go hunting with him (but there was no way I was up for killing a deer!). The dad who worked hard for years to provide for our family in tough times. The dad who taught me how to drive a stick-shift. The dad who believed in me. The dad who was proud of me. The dad who introduced me to Jesus.

Twenty-one months ago, after an emergency hospital stay, we thought alcoholism might take his life. Sixteen months ago, we thought the same thing again. It seemed as if alcohol might overtake him in this lifetime, even though we knew his heart was directly connected to the divine manifestation of grace and love.

But then he fought back. He fought back by giving everything up. All of the anger, frustration, lonliness, hurt, resentment, shame, guilt. All of it. He experienced grace Himself. The Grace who taught him that he was not the sum of his past mistakes. The Grace who told him that he is seen as perfect and pure. The Grace who showed him that his life is not finished.

On Friday, my dad retired and walked out of the doors of the Minneapolis Post Office with 20 years of government service…chin held high…love overflowing everywhere. He closed that chapter of his life on his terms. It was beautiful.

Grace literally redeemed his life. That same grace rekindled relationships in our family.

His courage to own his story encourages me to own my own story. His willingness to continue walking out purpose at the age of 67 shows me that God never stops working. His tender-hearted humility exemplifies Jesus.

I couldn’t be more proud of him…or more inspired by him…a living, breathing manifestation of God’s grace.

So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. -Romans 8:1 (NLT)