"What we hunger for perhaps more than anything else is to be known in our full humanness, and yet that is often just what we also fear more than anything else. It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are... because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing. It is important to tell our secrets too because it makes it easier that way to see where we have been in our lives and where we are going. It also makes it easier for other people to tell us a secret or two of their own, and exchanges like that have a lot to do with what being a family is all about and what being human is all about."  – Frederick Buechner

********

Several weeks ago, our ComGroup started telling our stories to each other. By this, I mean that we have set aside intentional time for each person to share a little bit about their lives, about their background, about the ways the Lord has been at work. I've done this before in small groups, and while I tend to despise anything related to being put in the spotlight, I think it's a really needed and beneficial part of journeying through life together. To really know one another and be known is such a gift.

So I made my notes the other night, a bit of a timeline of my life. Since I didn't grow up in College Station or even go to school here (shameful, I know), it made more sense to relay a synopsis than a few specific highlights of life. It's amusing now to look back and think about which moments were actually life-altering and which ones I just thought were at the time and to filter content that would fit within an hour and still convey "me". In the end, I'm not sure whether or not that was accomplished, but the neatest part was tracking the way the Lord has weaved provision and grace and purpose into seasons of life when it was least felt or realized.

I've never really thought I had much of a story to tell. There are events and moments of note and worth, sure, but nothing mind-blowing in comparison to some of the struggles and successes of others. But I guess that's ok, because my story is MY story, and it's important in it's own right because no one else has it and because it is also God's story. It is, and continues to be, a story of redemption and growth and learning to trust in pain-staking ways in the mountaintop moments as well as in the dark valleys. So after sharing last week, I actually felt like it wasn't enough, that there was more to tell, more about relationships – both healthy and broken – and marathons and singleness and art and my need to be outdoors and need to pray more and on and on and on, this need for more time to call out the ways the Lord has changed and shaped me and maybe that's the sweet spot. That recounting of the past as well as the expectation of what's to come. Because the Lord has been at work.

One of the stories in Scripture that always comes to mind in reference to "story" is the reference to the Ebenezer stone in 1 Samuel 7. Samuel implores the Israelites to turn to the Lord fully and with all their hearts. They do so, and when the Philistines come to attack, the Lord answers the cries of his people and throws the Philistines into a panic, saving the Israelites. Samuel then erects a stone, names it Ebenezer (stone of help), and proclaims "thus far the Lord has helped us". Perhaps this sticks with me because my dear creative Mother once constructed an 8' tall wire mesh and paper mache Ebenezer stone for a church event. We paper mached for hours, and then she painted the entire structure to look like a real rock. True story. And while I'm sure it ended up in the dumpster after all that work (because really, what do you do with that?), it made the story come alive for me. I love the ways that it was important to the people of the Old Testament to mark the times in their lives in which they knew they tangibly experienced the Lord at work, and I think there's something very powerful to be found in that still today. To stand and say, I'm not done yet, God's not done with me yet, but thus far the Lord has carried and delivered me.

I would say I'm in a season of not knowing what's ahead and really wanting to know, but then, that's the norm around here. I get impatient and concerned with what life might look like in 10 years and will I be a better person then and will I accomplish what I want to and will I love others better and will I trust the Lord more and will I be making a difference and will I feel like I've failed and will I be leaning into Him more even when I do? I guess if the last 10 years are any indication, I shouldn't be as worried about the next decade. For thus far has the Lord helped me.

So tell your stories. Tell the ones that make them laugh at your audacity, the ones that make them question your motives, the absurd and the silly, the scary phone calls that rocked your world, the highs and the lows, the times of tears and longing and broken hearts, and yes, even the utter ridiculous happenings and sacred glimpses of sheer joy. Tell them all and be known.

********

And to my story-sharing people here, proof that this happened. And it's worth mentioning that my first email address was hurdle_hopper@hotmail.com. You're welcome.

How do you recount those moments that really dig into the core of your heart? Not the kind where you think "that was really meaningful", or "I'll always remember this", but the kind that you know is changing the very nature of who you are in that moment. I continue to experience these moments in Ghana. Surprisingly, it's not the "highlight" moments that stick with me. Don't get me wrong; it's incredible to experience formerly trafficked children climbing into our boat and watching the same kids enter a bunk room at the shelter to pick out a new bed for the first time. Those are all special too, but for me, it's the look on the 15-year-old girl's face when she is told through translation that her mom loves her and wants her back, it's turning around to see a group of Americans and Ghanaians who don't have much in common culturally quietly praying under a mango tree together, it's watching your friends endure and pour out over and over again so that others may have abundant life. These are the stories I want to tell. They are the ones that bring light into the dark places and proclaim that in the midst of shadow, hope is present.

This past week renewed my hope. I often get bogged down by all the brokenness around me. We're surrounded by hurting people and devastating situations that are unfair and crippling in a world that proclaims "self" and confuses God's goodness with the desire for comfort and perfection. I've been burdened by that lately. But these kids and these moments – they are filling my heart up with a lasting hope. Hope that God isn't done yet and He is always bringing redemption and rescue in ways big and small; we need only to look for it. I'm anxious to share a few stories from our trip in the coming days. I want to be the kind of person who tells more tales of hope than of hopelessness, who focuses on the light instead of the great darkness, who continues to believe that we can all change the world one smile, one word, one moment at a time.

Blog = 100

Gretchen = 0

And so it goes. I really wanted to do the "one thankful thing a day" this month, especially via Instagram as I'm totally addicted, but let's just be honest – I would get maybe 4 days in, miss a day, and totally derail. *Thankfully* I was able to acknowledge that to myself before thinking it would be the best idea ever.

For now, a quick bit on some recent thoughts...

I'm living in great tension lately. It started awhile back, but I haven't put words to it until the last few days or so. (At least, we'll see if I can put words to it or not.) So many things continue to go right here, and I continue to be affirmed – in work, in friendships, in church. But in the midst of all the good and amazing, it's been a hard season. I find myself very vulnerable and open and yet ready to shut down at any given moment to avoid spilling over. I feel as though God is challenging and convicting me, and I'm growing and leaning into Him more than I have in quite some time, but it's so very hard. It's painful. It's humbling. I love it and hate it all at once; I know God is getting my attention in some very needed ways, yet it competes with my "me do it" resolve.

This tension... it's manifested itself in every area of life lately...

...in the coming undone of my typically amazing ability to compartmentalize and accomplish things.

...in the poor handling of relationships, both on my part and the part of others.

...in my drive for perfection, approval-seeking, and fear of failure. And disappointment? I die...!

...in Mercy Project as we grow and become more visible publicly, as we wrestle with perceptions and outside opinions.

...in marathon planning as we aim to go above and beyond for 3,000+ runners but simply can't please every one in every moment.

...in the day-to-day interactions I have with people – wanting to pour into others more than I am and simply not balancing that well with so, so much going on.

But this time, this tension, it's drawing me in. I see the refining and shaping that is taking place – the preference of being closer to the heart of God than exchanging that for perfection and distance. Of course, I'd like to not jinx that and say "bring it on", but there's something so rich about being in a place where, for better or worse, I'm kissing stagnancy goodbye for a bit and diving in to the messy.

And oh, praise God that He deals in the messy. In the broken. In the far-from-having-it-all-together. Praise God for the ways in which He meets us where we are and refines us.


That is right where I want to be.

*****************

Posts on marathon madness, life as of late, a day trip to Dallas, and Thanksgiving festivities to come... eventually.