For me, risks and trust get real when applied relationally. Baring my soul – complete with insecurities, imperfections, annoyances and even giddiness – is scary. Sharing all of who we are with anyone is a risk. But, when relationships are developed under that kind of transparency, they’re precious…they’re real…they’re like home…the relationships themselves are heaven on earth…they withstand.

And I usually forget that part…that they withstand.

They withstand distance, busy-ness and changes in life directions. Relationships built on the big risk of transparency have built-in trust because they’re built ON trust.

My realization? I’m afraid of trusting those to whom I’m closest to love me in return. And that’s sad. As if they’re not capable of loving me as much as I love them? As if people aren’t capable of giving me grace for bummer or crabby days? As if their busyness or distance means they don’t care? Others may show love differently than I, but it doesn’t mean they don’t love. And, honestly, trusting their love might just be my greatest demonstration of love to them.

It’s funny, I spend most of my time in life finding ways to remind people that they’re loved. And, for me, it’s a very spiritual thing. I believe that we (human beings) were created to be loved, and to love in return. And I want everyone to know that. I believe that God loves us through everything around us…through things we see and relationships we experience. And, at some point, we simply need to choose to believe that we’re loved…even when we’re not entirely feeling it…because that is what faith is.

Do you note the irony here?

At some point, I need to trust people…and choose to believe I’m loved…even when I’m not entirely feeling it…because that’s what faith in their love for me is. And the reward? Knowing I don’t have to worry about whether or not they love me, but simply having peace in knowing I’m loved.

Accepting love is a choice. I would know…because it’s a choice I have to make, too.

But, even more powerful, is realizing that every person can inspire you.

Inspiration is what happens when we stop looking at human interactions as transactional. The moment we remember that everyone is a person with feelings…with a story…is the moment their life can change ours…for the better.

Learning from others is amazing. When we learn from others, knowledge fills our brains. But, when we’re inspired we’re compelled to act. Learning keeps us humble…it makes us wise. But being inspired each other helps us live…fully embrace life.

This week I met with a client, her generosity to give others credit for work well done reminds me to always shine a spotlight on others’ accomplishments.

This week a friend of mine told another friend of mine that she was making a difference, her willingness to share that reminds me that a few words of encouragement, even to someone I barely know, can mean the world.

This week I met a priest, his willingness to connect with me reminds me how important it is to keep an open mind and open door…even with strangers.

This week I had lunch with a new friend who shared a lot of her life story with me. Her candor and strength remind me of how important it is to be real.

This week I met with a vendor, his desire to learn more about my needs reminds me of the importance of trust.

This week my husband’s giddiness over seeing his family reminds me of how precious family is.

This week a friend of mine needed to unload some crap. His willingness to lay it all out there reminds me how important it is to not bottle things up.

This week I had dinner with friends who have poured a ton of themselves into a cause they believe in with all of their beings. They remind me of what people can do when they work together with people being their number one priorities.

This week I met a man who left his steady job while he did some soul searching to find something that resonated with his desires deep inside him. His courage reminds me of the importance of embracing who we are at our cores.

This week one of my best friends poured hours of his life into literally rebuilding his family’s home and spent the rest of those hours inspiring a team of people…all while being an amazing husband and father. His dedication reminds me that people are what always matter most.

Those reminders were inspirations…of humanness…of belief…of life…a true depiction of what matters in life. I pray I never stop being inspired by those around 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.

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.

It creates an image. It prompts action. It evokes deep emotions.

Webster’s definition confirms it:

• To clasp or hold close with the arms, usually as an expression of affection
• To surround; enclose
• To twine around

Now add the “-ed” to the word.

I don’t know about you…but the idea of me embracing someone is easier to stomach than the idea of being embraced. It’s personal.

Being embraced requires me to open up.

Being embraced makes me feel vulnerable.

Being embraced takes control away from me.

But then…after my own hesitancy subsides…I realize that…

Being embraced gives me safety.

Being embraced connects my soul to another.

Being embraced tangibly radiates another’s love for me.

An embrace speaks louder than any words…being embraced generates a comfort and peace unlike any other action.

It all sounds simple. Maybe it even sounds fluffy. But it’s one of the simplest and most profound realizations I’ve had. And that realization has turned the past 18 months of my life upside-down. Or maybe, it’s more accurate to say it’s a concept that has turned my life right-side-up.

For the first time in my life, I feel lovable…because I’ve finally allowed myself to be embraced. Embraced by myself…embraced by others…embraced by God.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t loved. I knew I was. But knowing you’re loved is nothing compared to allowing yourself to feel love.

Sometimes it’s awkward. Sometimes it’s clunky. Sometimes it’s scary.

But it will change your life.

Finding acceptance in embracing me.

Finally. I can love me. I’m not standing in front of a mirror ranking my performance. I’ve got my own voice, my own dance, my own moves. It’s interesting when I think about Jesus telling me in the New Testament to love others “as we love ourselves.” I certainly don’t believe he was telling me to hate others as much as I hate myself…yet all too often, that’s what I do. I think we all do. We are our own biggest haters. I’m too fat. I’m not smart enough. My opinion doesn’t matter. How can we possibly love others when we can’t even love ourselves and respect our uniqueness?

In Psalm 139:14 in the Voice translation, it says that we are filled with wonder and awe (other translations say we are fearfully and wonderfully made). I love what the phrase from the Voice suggests…filled with wonder and awe. According to whom? According to God! I imagine Him staring at me in wonder and awe. If God can look at me that way, then certainly I can. And once I can look at myself that way, I can see others that way, too.

Finding trust, encouragement and solace in embraces from others.

I always assumed that I loved people more than they could possibly love me. Not because I love bigger than anyone else, but because I couldn’t see the lovable stuff in myself. I needed to see the lovable in me in order to realize that I am, indeed, loved as much as (if not more than) I can possibly love. It’s logic, really…if God IS love, and His spirit dwells within those who believe in Him, then they emit love. God loves me through other people. I have no doubt. But I could never feel it until I let myself feel it…until I realized I could trust them to love me despite my flaws and quirks…until I would allow myself to actually HEAR their encouragement and direction.

After all, I Corinthians 13:1-3 makes it clear that the foundation of everything is LOVE. Those around me are merely living according the way Jesus asked us to live. How is rejecting their love for me respectful and loving to them? Allowing myself to be loved by others shows them I love them back. When I can trust that someone loves me, no matter what, I feel deep peace and comfort.

Finding meaning, purpose and hope in my embrace from God.

I really never had a problem understanding that God loves me. But I know I never let myself feel His love. When I think about it, I can’t feel love from people when I’m busy running around trying to please them. That’s how it was for God and me. I tried to create my own meaning and my own purpose…and believe me…that was hopeless. It always left me wanting more. And it allowed me to hide the places I didn’t want to go with Him.

When I finally understood the power of grace, and realized that there is NO CONDEMNATION for those who are in Christ (Romans 8:1, New Living Translation), I realized I had nothing to worry about! Was I at risk of Him not accepting me? Nope. He doesn’t care what I do or don’t do to please Him. He wants me to FEEL His love so that it overflows out of me and into the lives of others. The same way he uses the people in my life. Allowing myself to be embraced by God gives me hope that there is meaning and purpose to my unique self, who is filled with wonder and awe and loved by others.

You see, I realized that I can’t embrace others with a love that’s true without allowing myself to be embraced…without understanding what it feels like to be embraced… without understanding how being embraced changes the direction of a moment, a day, a season, a year and, yes, even a lifetime.

Open up. Be vulnerable. Lose control.

Allow yourself to be embraced.

And then watch your life transform.

(Thanks to the special people who understood the power of the word “embrace” and put it to work in the lives of others…including me. You know who you are.)

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”

Something I hate more than seeing people putting others into boxes…people putting themselves in boxes. You are unboxable.

I was talking to someone in particular when I said that. I was talking to myself. Reminding myself. Frustrated with myself for not seeing that I’d done it again.

I could pretend that the journey I’m on is all sunshine and rainbows. I mean, it’s about chasing after God’s call on my life…how could it not be all smiles?

Insert sarcasm here.

Don’t get me wrong. I know that I know that I know that the journey I’m on is the right one. But that path still has ditches. Muddy ones. The ones where you twist your ankle and fall and get all covered in grime. But they’re just that. Ditches. Not chasms. They’re nothing you can’t climb out of. Especially when you have help. But you need to know who can help you. You can call to your friends for help. But they can’t reach you. They can’t reach you because they’re on different paths. Unique paths for each one of them. They might be able to see you. But they can’t reach. They can only point you to the one who can reach you.

I’ve realized something…when things get scary, when I realize I need to be strong and crazy enough to be comfortable being me…a me that will never be found on someone else’s path…and that no one else has a path that looks like my own…I look for a box to jump in and hide…somewhere that limits where God can lead me. For the record, those confining boxes are found in ditches.

I knew I was in a ditch. And I was looking to people on paths of their own to try to help me out. Don’t get me wrong. They would have helped me get out if they could have reached me. Problem was, they couldn’t reach me. They were on their own paths. They were busy trying to navigate the twists, turns and ditches on their own paths.

I knew what I needed to get out of my ditch: seemingly simple encouragement. Someone to say I was heading in the right direction…someone to tell me that my talents were useful…someone to say it was OK that I wasn’t like other people…someone to tell me that there is a plan…someone to remind me to seek rest. But, despite the efforts of the amazing people in my life, it wasn’t enough. A couple of days ago, the reason became apparent as I was studying…

John 5:44 (The Voice translation):
…you are consumed by the approval of other men, longing to look good in their eyes, and yet you disregard the approval of the one true God.

Fancy that. Didn’t I feel like an idiot. At that very moment, I realized what was wrong. I was so busy running so fast that I wasn’t listening to all God had for me. You know how sometimes you hear the first few words of what someone is saying and then run with it without listening to the WHOLE thing? That’s what I was doing. And in doing that, I was not listening intently enough to God to hear his affirmation, his love and his encouragement. God was waiting right there with the grace I needed, but I was so busy crying for help that I failed to see his pierced hand in front of my face. He was waiting there, ready to pull me out of the box that was in the ditch and to embrace me, despite being a muddy mess.

For the record, I’m walking again, limping a little maybe, but I know I can walk off the pain with his help.

I can’t believe I’m the only one whose ever felt this. It’s a lonely feeling. But my question for you is: where are you looking for help? Even those closest to you can’t reach the depths of your heart that need to be reached. They’re on their own paths. All of them different and unique. So slow down so you can hear ALL God has for you. Listen. There’s good stuff in there. He is the only encouragement, love and grace with eyes penetrating enough to find you hiding in a box…and with a hand strong enough to pull you out of the mud.

Last week, the tables turned on me.

My dad went into the hospital with kidney failure, pneumonia, emphysema, severe dehydration and a bad case of alcohol withdrawal. Wasn’t pretty. In fact, it was horrible.

One morning, I thought the dad I’d known all my life was no longer. He could barely speak. He didn’t know who I was. He couldn’t eat. His oxygen levels were crazy low. He was hallucinating. He didn’t even know what a straw was or how to suck on one. Doctors were talking feeding tubes, ventilators and nursing homes.

I felt very alone sitting next to him thinking about how alone he must have felt. Feeling as if there were only a handful of people who cared. I assumed people were thinking that his lifelong struggle with alcohol and smoking brought this on, and that it was just too bad. I just wanted someone to care about him as much as our family did. I just wanted someone to see the amazing man beneath all of the struggles. It was as if walking into that hospital room that morning sucked the life, joy and hope out of me. I just sat on my dad’s bed holding his hand and swallowing tears.

Until Muna, the cleaning lady came in…

Muna’s smile was one of the most peaceful and encouraging things I’ve ever seen. She asked about my dad and our family. She mentioned how good he must feel because she could see that he was loved. She said he was too young to not get better. She came in several more times that day, sometimes to work, and sometimes to check on our family. In moments when there were no words, Muna just smiled. Muna visited with all of us throughout the week. We learned about her family, about her jobs, her dedication to her children and, without her saying so, we learned how much she cared for people.

Muna’s visit was just the first encounter with undeserved compassion.

People proved my assumption (about people not caring about my dad) dead wrong. Thank God. Despite his downfalls (as all of us have), loving souls gave him grace and showed how much they cared.

Throughout the week, people our family hasn’t spent time with in 15 years showed up at the hospital to love on my dad. Well wishes poured in from all over the world, and even from people whom we barely knew. Amazing reliable friends checked in on my dad as if he was their own dad. The compassion brought out smiles from my dad that I hadn’t seen in 20 years. Real, genuine smiles.

The powerful thing about taking the time to care about people is that it strengthens their faith and gives them hope. After Muna left the room on that horrible morning, I felt better. I felt hopeful. I felt relieved.

Caring for others is powerful stuff. You might not have time to visit a hospital or make a meal for someone, but that’s OK. A few words go a long way. And when there are no words, a smile or hug makes all the difference…not just in the way a person feels, but in a person’s desire to keep going.

Three days after that horrible morning I described, Muna popped in as she always did. I introduced her to my dad. She just smiled and said, “he’ll be going home very soon.” She was right.

I’m pretty sure that our entire family never felt as cared about as we did that week. I’d really love to get in my dad’s head, I’m sure he’s still trying to process the Jesus-like compassion and grace people showed. The compassion gave all of us faith. Better yet, it gave dad faith. He’s home now…and committed to getting better.

We’ve all been placed in this particular place and time for a reason. Don’t miss out on the chance to be the “Muna” for someone else…be the one who cares…the selfless act doesn’t take much…and it can change an outlook on life. Literally.