Chasing After Me

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)

Picture yourself holding a pitcher of water. Now picture yourself trying to fill up a cup with water from the pitcher. And now put your imagination to work…imagine that cup moving around like a fly that you’re trying to swat…speedily heading in every other direction beside the direction you think it might go…at light speed.

If that fly were a cup, and you were holding that pitcher trying to fill it, you most certainly would have trouble filling it. There would be water all over the floor from trying to pour it into the cup. And, if the cup were flying around like that, the water that may have landed inside of it surely would be splashing out all over the place.

I know it’s weird…but sometimes I think that’s how God feels.

We think we have to do a million things. We think we have to work hard to please Him.

But really, I firmly believe he wants us to find rest. Because once we slow down to realize He is right there with us…guiding us…talking with us…loving us…He fills us up. We finally slow down enough to take in all He has for us. And then, the cup starts overflowing. Overflowing with that same goodness He fills us up with. It’s an overflow that builds a desire to love and serve others the same way we are loved and served by Him. You know it’s overflow when you can’t seem to turn it off. But you don’t have overflow if you don’t slow down enough to find rest in Him…in His grace. Because nothing you can do, learn or understand can make Him love you more…or less.

Those moments of overflow are humbling. They’re humbling because you feel loved in spite of yourself. They’re humbling because you see purpose in spite of yourself. They’re humbling because you’re empowered to be His hands and feet in spite of yourself.

They’re humbling because you realize your life is a meant to be a vessel of His goodness.

That’s what happened to me on Sunday…a moment of overflow…

Click here to listen to the very first message I ever shared as a pastor at Bloom (Religiously Transmitted Diseases, part 2)…God never ceases to amaze me.

I met a man today. He served three years in the U.S. military in Beirut. He has three large scars on his torso, several scars on his arms, a scar on his neck, and a tattoo to prove it. He’s lived through hell.

It shouldn’t matter that he slept under bridge last night. It shouldn’t matter that that his clothes were filthy. It shouldn’t matter that I heard his story through my open car window at an intersection where he was holding a sign asking for help.

He has a name…it’s Frank Wormwood.

I never would have heard his story had I not asked his name. And, I don’t know what possessed me to ask. Perhaps it was his genuine smile. Perhaps it was a manifestation of a work God is doing inside of me. Perhaps God just needed Frank to know in that moment that he is still respected and cared for. It probably was a combination of all three.

That two-minute exchange inspired me.

A name reminds you that you have a unique perspective on the world. A name reminds you that you have a unique identity. A name reminds you have a journey of your own.

A name reminds you that the homeless person on the side of the road is not an inconvenience, he’s a person filled with past experiences and dreams for the future.

You see, Frank IS a story. He is a story filled with hope. A story that’s worth something. A story that’s worth sharing.

When other people care enough to know your name, you’re not just another person on the street. You are human. You have purpose. Your life is a story.

One of the biggest enemies of my fulfillment is a lack of confidence.

Because it paralyzes me.

Once it paralyzes me, lack of confidence bleeds into other areas of my life. Once it paralyzes me, by definition, I cannot move…I cannot grow.

It’s a horrible spiral.

When it hits me, it results in a reluctance to embrace all of who I am…to be content with my rarity…to exercise my unique talents and perspectives.

I’m afraid to write. I’m afraid to speak up. I’m afraid to take risks.

It’s no secret that confidence ebbs and flows for everyone…all the time.

I’ve come to learn I’m ripe for a battle with confidence when I forget to spend ample time reflecting upon the things that amaze me…when I begin comparing my God-given purpose to the God-given purposes of others…when challenges begin feeling like free-falling instead of free-flying.

The best weapon in my battle? Realizing my being isn’t an end-state. My being is a through-state.

Realizing that fulfillment comes from embracing who I am, being content with my rarity and seeing my unique talents and perspectives as tools used to love and care for others.

Because then it’s not about believing in myself. It’s about trust in what is being done through me…whether or not I can see it…and that’s faith.

For a great blog on confidence, check out what Jenni Catron wrote on Cultivate Her!