Honesty

Swimming in Circles.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

A title that would probably only make sense to who this was written about.

It’s getting late. My room is finally clean after weeks of being in complete disarray. (Bi-Polar will do that.)

Laying in bed, I’m getting pretty tired as I’m trying to get back into a consistent routine. I opened my phone to scroll for just a moment and I heard Walking Away by Justin Bieber.

It hit me like a gut punch so hard it nearly took my breath away. I swiped away immediately but 5 seconds was all it took. 

It’s kind of crazy how a song can completely unravel you in under thirty seconds. Especially as I’ve been actively avoiding any and all music that gives me even a fraction of that visceral response. One second I was fine – or at least pretending to be (let’s be honest, I haven’t been fine for a minute now) – and the next I felt this heavy, sick drop in my stomach like every memory of her came crashing back all at once. 

And that’s the part that nobody really wants to talk about or deal with when you’re trying to move on… or at least I don’t. Time passes. Life keeps happening. You go to work, answer texts, laugh at things, pretend you’re healing. But then life gets quiet for a second. A song comes on. A smell hits you. A memory slips through the cracks. And suddenly you’re right back inside the grief like you never left. (Which maybe you didn’t because you’ve been avoiding it all together.) 

Tonight, I see her everywhere. 

In every lyric. Every silence. Every memory I’ve been trying so hard to outrun. 

I think what’s hardest for me, what really breaks me, is knowing I burned that relationship to the ground almost by myself. There’s no comforting version of the story where I can blame timing or distance or fate. I can’t even say I walked away. I hurt someone I loved deeply, and now I have to live with the weight of that every single day. 

Some regrets don’t stay in your head – they live in your chest. In your stomach. In your throat. They follow you around like ghosts. 

I keep replaying everything. Every moment I should’ve been better. Softer. More patient. Sober. More honest. Less afraid. I keep wondering if there was one conversation, one choice, one version of me that could’ve saved everything before it all collapsed. 

And even though deep down I know we weren’t meant to work, and even though I know staying together undoubtedly would have kept hurting both of us, I loved her so deeply that I genuinely don’t know how to picture a life without her in it. And tonight, that’s sitting on me like a thousand pounds directly on my chest. 

So many of my decisions after losing her were made out of hurt. Out of rejection. Out of desperation to distract myself from the reality of what I lost. I kept trying to convince myself I was okay. Trying to move on too quickly. Trying to numb myself with anything and everything. Trying to fill silence with noise so I wouldn’t have to sit alone with what this actually feels like. But the more days go by, the harder it becomes to pretend this doesn’t break my heart. 

I’ve tried to move on in all the wrong ways. 

Distractions that didn’t last. 

In people who were never her. 

In pretending I was fine when I wasn’t. 

In convincing myself that if I just stayed distracted enough, I wouldn’t feel it anymore. 

But grief doesn’t disappear just because you ignore it. It waits. It lingers. It finds you in the quiet moments and plays everything back in high definition when you least expect it. 

And in all honesty, there’s a part of me that hates myself for how long I’ve been running from that truth. 

I don’t know how to rewire my mind after years of loving someone. I don’t know how people just wake up one day and stop carrying another person inside of them. She became everything. The biggest part of my day, my future, my understanding of love itself. And now I’m standing in the middle of the aftermath trying to figure out who I even am without her, or who I was even before her. 

And maybe that’s the hardest truth of all is that I’ve finally accepted that it’s over. 

Not in the dramatic way movies portray heartbreak. Not all at once. Just slowly. Quietly. Painfully. Like something sinking to the bottom of the ocean. 

I think part of me kept believing there would be another conversation. Another chance. Another version of us someday in which it could work. But I know that’s not reality. 

There’s this unspoken idea that you’re not supposed to talk about something if it didn’t work out- like if it ends, it somehow becomes less real, less meaningful, less worth saying out loud. But I don’t adhere to that in the least. Because whether it was right or not, whether it was meant to work or not, it meant everything to me. 

She meant everything to me. 

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? 

Because when you love someone while still being deeply broken yourself, you don’t just love them – you lean on them in ways no one person can carry forever. You start needing them for more than they can realistically give. And when life really bears down on you, it requires a kind of love that doesn’t flinch, doesn’t fracture, doesn’t leave when things get heavy. 

And unfortunately for me… I didn’t always know how to stay fully present in it. I may not have physically walked away from the relationship, but I escaped in other ways. I numbed myself. I lost myself in addiction and avoidance and everything I thought would make it hurt less. 

And in doing that, I lost her. And I lost myself too. 

I don’t know how to begin grieving something that once felt like home. 

I used to tell her I’d see her on the other side of healing – like we would both become whole again and somehow find our way back to each other in a better form, in a better time.  

But now I don’t think that’s what this is. 

I don’t think I’ll see her on the other side of healing anymore. .

Because some things don’t come back around. Some loves don’t circle back to each other. Some endings don’t reopen into beginnings. 

And I think I’m finally starting to understand that this isn’t something I’m supposed to hold onto until it turns into something else. It’s something I’m supposed to put down, even if my hands still shake when I do it. 

I loved her. I really did. Not halfway. Not temporarily. Fully, messily, imperfectly. With everything I had at the time – even when I didn’t know how to give it properly. In so many ways I still do – I don’t know if that ever goes away, and I don’t know if I would ever want it to.

I think I’m finally at the place where loving her doesn’t mean keeping her anymore. 

It means letting her go. 

Not because she didn’t matter. Not because what we had wasn’t real. But because it was. Because it shaped me. Because it hurt me. Because it changed me. Because it deserves to stay what it was instead of being dragged through what it can no longer be. 

So this is where I stop reaching for her in the dark. 

This is where I stop turning memory into something I can live inside. 

And if she ever comes across this… 

I don’t need anything from her. I don’t need a response. I don’t want to reopen anything that life has already closed. 

I just hope she knows she mattered. Not briefly. Not conditionally. Not quietly. 

She matters to me in a way that doesn’t end just because we did. 

She will always matter to me. And for that, I’m extremely grateful.

There was no way I was going to be able to go to sleep with that all sitting with me, so I’m leaving all the thoughts, all the heartache, all the memories and all the tears here, at least for tonight. 

On Choices.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

Running. 

Ironically, I hate running when it comes to physicality and I love it when it comes to my circumstances. Unfortunately for me, I do both. 

Typically, if I’m in a good place holistically, I’m doing the one I hate and when I’m in a really bad place holistically, I’m running away – from everything and everyone. To those who know me, I’m known for it.

But regardless, it’s something I always end up doing one way or the other.

It’s extremely rare that God ever forces my hand in anything. I can count on one hand the number of times He’s done it. Usually, if He’s leading me somewhere and I’m running away from it, He just lets me make enough mistakes to pile up to ruin whatever plans I’ve made for myself until I begrudgingly run back to Him, only to do the bare minimum to make myself feel better.

It’s usually only a matter of time before I’m off doing my own thing again. 

It’s been about a month(ish) since God took my entire world and flipped it upside down, very much forcing my hand this time. 

I was running way too fast in the wrong direction, again, and I believe He had had enough. Both because I was gambling with my life and also because He’s given me about 4 years now of doing things my own way. 

I was dabbling in substances, spending time with people that I had no business being around and drinking myself into oblivion in a very short amount of time. All the while, crying out to Him and wondering why I felt like I was quite literally losing my mind and had NO peace. 

My behavior was completely unhinged, compulsive and destructive and I no longer cared. I was willing to do whatever it took to just not feel the emptiness that was consuming me. 

When I finally came out of the bender I was on, my first thought was to run. To run back to rehab. To run back to my hometown. To run to somewhere new. To run literally anywhere that would get me away from the environment that I had built and demolished in as little as a few weeks. (Realistically, this was a long time coming…) 

The thing I’ve learned about running away is that everywhere I’ve ever ran to, I was still there. I couldn’t outrun myself however, I was arrogant enough to think that I could outrun God. Never happened. 

In my trying to figure out what I was going to do and where I was going to go, God made it quite literally impossible to not stay where He had me. Nothing panned out and nothing pulled through, when usually it happens pretty easily. He made my circumstances so impossible in fact, that for a time, I couldn’t even leave my apartment if I wasn’t leaving on foot. 

For lack of a better term, at 33 years old, I was very much grounded by my Father (God, not my Dad to clarify!) . He had taken away my car, my safety nets, my sources of comfort (numbing) and my ability to choose where I went next. Again, He had enough. 

God gave me a choice. 

Either I allow Him to do what He wanted to do with my life or I could continue in the same loop of insanity and take my chances with my life. I know that His grace is sufficient and I know that He is rich in mercy, but I suddenly got the sense, and I felt it to my core, that there would come a point when His grace runs out and where would I be when it did? 

This question changed everything for me. 

It wasn’t just about getting sober anymore. It wasn’t just about whether I can be a lesbian or not. It wasn’t about just redeeming my reputation or trying to salvage relationships that had been strained. It wasn’t about going to church or AA or not sleeping around or getting my life back on track. 

It was about realizing that I had a choice. And that choice was a mark of His grace all in its own right. Not everyone gets that. Not everyone is given the opportunity to try again or to get right with Him. I’ve watched it over and over again in the lives of people that I loved dearly that I’m sure that not one of them ever thought that the choice they made would be their last on this earth. 

God has given me more grace than I could ever put into words. More than I could ever write down or document. I’ve gambled with His grace more times than I can count and in my pride, truly thought that I could just continue to live however I wanted and do whatever I wanted, with whomever I wanted, and still be right with Him. 

In this past month of God disconnecting me from everything I leaned on and filled my life with, I started to question whether that was true or not.

I wanted to believe God was who I wanted Him to be, not who He is. He is gracious yes, but He requires much from those who call themselves followers. I said the words, claimed I loved Jesus, yet nothing in my life would have reflected that. In fact, I had posted a picture of a bible study I was doing, and a good friend of mine messaged me saying “oh the lesbian is now super religious?” He was completely kidding and didn’t mean it with any ill intent, however for someone who has claimed to love Jesus with all of her heart her entire life, it was jarring to hear how others saw me vs. how I saw myself.

Nothing in my life would have told you that I’ve given up everything to deny myself and follow Him. If anything, I was living in complete hypocrisy – praising Him with my mouth and denying Him with the rest of my life. 

I will say, He may have forced my hand to some extent, but he has been so patient and so kind to me over these last few weeks. He reminded me of who I was before I walked away. I had forgotten and have been on a completely unsuccessful mission to figure out who I am now. 

And Thank God. 

I was trying to find myself in the world when I was never called to that. He had called me to ministry. To discipleship. To learn a completely opposite way of living than what’s comfortable. He called me to trust that if I kept my eyes on Him, who I was wouldn’t matter anymore, because it was never about me. And that without Him, I will always be lost and searching.

I remember when I decided to up and follow my own path about 4 years ago, a dear friend and spiritual mentor that’s known me since I was little, pulled me aside and warned me. She sat before me with tears in her eyes and said “ If you decide to walk in this, if you decide to walk away from Him and everything He’s brought you out of, your words won’t matter, the world will love you and you will sacrifice having Him.” 

My heart was so hardened at the time, it just made me mad and honestly, I think I ran away faster. I had made my choice. I chose myself. I chose the life I wanted. And my life has never been the same. Another failed relationship that I banked everything on only to feel like I was never enough and completely unloveable in the end, heartache, addiction, legal issues, broken friendships, broken trust, the inability to move on from things that were hurting me… the list goes on. Just brokenness in every way.

Years later, the Holy Spirit brought those words back to my memory, and I wept over them. 

Not because I was sad entirely, but more so because I was so grateful that He didn’t let me die in that, when I could have several times over. That He gave me yet another opportunity to turn my life back over to Him. That my life didn’t end in rebellion, brokenness and addiction.

Choosing Jesus, and I mean truly choosing Him, isn’t the easy choice. It’s excruciating at times. It will cost you everything. It will mean changing the way you think, changing the way you speak, changing the way you respond to circumstances and people, changing who you surround yourself with, changing what you allow into your space and who has access to you, changing what you listen to, changing what you watch, changing what you talk and joke about… I mean the list is endless. He requires much of those who say yes to Him, and honestly it’s never convenient. 

BUT… 

There is peace. There is joy. There is contentment. There is faith. There is hope. There is freedom. There is knowing that you are not alone. There is HIM and I promise you, that is everything. 

I have often fallen into wanting the things Jesus could give me more than I actually wanted Him. As He’s brought me into this place of what I can only refer to as anonymity, he’s stripped me of everything. My identity. My desires. My plans and my wants for my future. 

But in exchange, as I’ve chosen obedience, He’s given me Himself. His presence. His wisdom. His strength that I certainly don’t have on my own. 

In a world that focuses so much on I and me and making it happen for myself I’ve had to allow Him to reframe everything. I’ve had to let Him teach me His way.

For me it looks like choosing no contact when I desperately want to text them. It looks like staying off of social media (for the most part) instead of scrolling for hours. It looks like surrounding myself with a Godly community even when I’m aggressively uncomfortable. It looks like giving up music I’ve loved for years. It looks like waking up early every day and opening my Word instead of turning on my TV. It looks like saying no to sex, alcohol, binging, isolating, numbing and instead getting on my face before the Lord and feeling everything as He breaks my heart wide open. It looks like deleting photos and phone numbers. It looks like staying exactly where He has me instead of running away even when I’m crawling out of my skin with restlessness and anxiety. It looks like walking/running down to the beach everyday even when I’m too tired and would rather stay on my couch. It looks like worshipping Him through the tears and the temptation instead of choosing the immediate gratification. It looks like discipline and routine. It looks like praying about everything and allowing trusted voices in my life to help me because I can’t be trusted to make healthy decisions on my own yet. It looks like having to accept the decisions I made even just weeks ago and choosing to thank Him for saving me instead of condemning myself and worrying about what other people are going to think. It looks like letting my life speak for itself moving forward instead of trying to prove myself.

My prayer is that in time, I will be unrecognizable to the people who knew me even up until about a month ago. That was a lesser and far crazier version of myself than who God ever intended me to be. That person was selfish, a liar, a manipulator, a controller, an addict and a hypocrite. I was an extremely broken person who lacked boundaries and who thought love was ultimately about myself.

As far as I’m concerned, that person doesn’t exist anymore. Not because I’m some self-righteous person sitting on her high horse or just choosing to ignore everything I’ve done and said, but because an extremely loving God saved my life over and over again, and in the light of what He’s done for me, radical change and everything I have is the only appropriate offering I can give Him. 

I’m so grateful He gave me the choice to do things differently. I’m so grateful that I found a wonderful little church and godly people to walk beside. I’m so grateful for the desire to know Him. I’m so grateful for a beautiful place to live for the time being. I’m so grateful He never turned His face from me and never lifted His grace off of me. I’m so grateful He ruined all of my plans and gave me a new life. Certainly not an easier one, but one that doesn’t have darkness hanging over me to the point where I don’t even want to live it anymore. 

Voddie Baucham, one of my favorite Pastors, said it like this, and it resonates so deeply at this point in my life… 

“I may not be where I want to be, but Hallelujah, I’m not where I was.” 

This is my story…

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

“I can trust God with my life. God has a plan for me. I was born with a purpose. I was born with talents. I was born with a mission to set the captive free. I can trust God with my life.

 I try to say these truths to myself, over and over; hoping somehow they sink in. Praying somehow they shout louder than the voices that haunt me. Cuz from day to day they are battling with all the words inside of me; the many wars inside of me. Like what if God fails me? What if I make a mistake and I ruin the lives of the people around me? What if I’m the one person who doesn’t have a purpose? What if my talents are not good enough? What if my decisions are not good enough? What if my life is not up to par of what everyone expects of me and I’m drowning in the sea of what-ifs…” 

These Waters by Hosanna Wong 

I spoke these words 3 years ago at an event. Tears came to my eyes and a lump grew in my throat as I said them because they resonated so deeply with me. I felt them in bones. 

3 years later, I still find myself weeping over these words. 

The doubt that I thought would subside is still here. The voices and the words inside of me that I thought would be silenced are still very much battling. 

As I get ready to go back to the place I ran from, I find myself terrified but finally hopeful. I find myself encouraged. I find myself at peace. All things I’ve desperately longed to feel again but thought were out of reach. 

I will say this. 

God. Is. Good. 

ALL. The. Time. 

In the darkness, He is light. In the chaos, He is peace. In the confusion, He is clarity. In the doubt, He is sure. In faithlessness, He is faithful. In weakness, He is strong. 

I was raised on these words. They were instilled into me as a little girl. Yet somehow, thirty-some years later, I still wrestle with them. I still question Him. 

I’ll say this…. 

Addiction is a monster. A bigger monster than I ever realized. Yet God is greater still. Relapse happens and it’s easy to feel like all hope is lost. Loss happens and it’s easy to feel like all hope is lost. LIFE happens and it’s easy to feel like all hope is lost. 

But God can author a redemption arc like no one else. Hope is not lost. Not with Him, ever. He can fix and resolve what nothing and no one else ever could. 

In the moments I felt like my life was over, like things were too far gone, He always responds. He always steps in. It just takes my willingness. 

This past year I was sober, and yet somehow further away from Him than ever. I relapsed and I found Him again in my brokenness. 

Why? How? 

He is a God that LOVES the broken. He is near to the brokenhearted. He finds us in our weakness and it truly is where He is strong.

I have tried to shoulder everything myself. I failed. 

But Jesus… 

The moment my world fell apart, I found Him again. He was waiting with open arms. And somehow, in all of my doubt, in all of my faithlessness, in all of my brokenness, there He was.  

And the crazy thing about Jesus is that He used the thing I hated more than anything (my addiction) to pull me out. Had my addiction not flared back up and my relationship not fallen apart, I don’t think I ever would have seen that I was spiritually dying. 

He took something horrible and used it for His glory and my good. 

Addiction is overwhelming. But God is bigger. Doubt is overwhelming. But God is bigger. He is there, always. 

He never leaves us and He never forsakes us. 

All this to say, my life that I built for myself on pride and ego, fell apart. Crumbled. I relapsed. My relationship ended. I am moving back to the place I ran away from. 

But God is so good. He is so patient. He is so gentle. 

When I look at the fruit of my life as of recent, I can’t say that any of it is viable. It’s dead and decaying. 

So I’ve decided to make a change and go where He sends me. I cried out to Him and let me tell you, when I say He made things move in 24 hours, He flipped my world upside down and opened every door that needed to be opened. 

He is a good and gracious Savior. 

I just want to love Jesus. 

With all my heart and mind and soul. 

I just want to honor Him with my life. 

I am beginning this journey today. I’m leaving literally everything behind to pursue Jesus. 

And I have decided… 

To follow Jesus. 

Thoughts for Wednesday.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

“I hope you will go out and let stories, that is life, happen to you, and that you will work with these stories… water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.” Clarissa Pinkola Estes 

Stories. One of my very favorite things in this life. I love true stories. Listening to the experiences of others. I firmly believe stories train our empathy. I’ve always tried to listen from the inside, if that makes sense. To hear from within the story. To hear, smell, taste, see and feel everything as if I were there. 

Some of my favorite stories are that of my Grammy, Mary Louise. She is a beautiful, independent, authentic, creative and deeply insightful woman. A poet, artist and brilliant writer. And her gracious but blatant honesty precedes her. I love that about her. Her experiences are rich and full and she has the wisdom of a life well lived to prove it. Her stories are hers to tell, however I was recalling a conversation I had with her about a year ago and I was reminded of just how valuable experience is. Her past experience speaks to my present; a conversation that went something like this… 

“Sometimes I feel like ‘did I ever do anything right?’  Because the bad stuff is always ready to stand up and take credit. But once you realize the bad stuff is just standing in front of the stuff that you did well, you just have to tell your naysayer where to go sometimes … even when that voice is strong. It’s persuasive and loud. Sometimes it’s hard to know. Is it friend or foe? When it’s trying to silence you, it’s not on your side.” 

These are my naysayers… fear, shame, regret, doubt, insecurity. It’s crazy the way we allow our regrets to speak to us. How loud we allow fear to be in our ears. How much we believe our own insecurities and allow them to tell us who we are. And shame… wants nothing more than to keep us quiet. 

I sit here this morning, so grateful for the wisdom of my Grammy. Whose courage to live in vulnerability has helped me to find my own. To ask every intrusive thought that tells me I did nothing right… “is it friend or foe?” To live with a wild heart wide open and vulnerable. To value the times of struggle and chaos, because there has been unspeakable beauty that came from those ashes. To step on the head of shame with a vulnerable heart and cherish every experience because it all shaped me into who I am today. 

So my thoughts for today…. Tell your story. Say no to fear. Reject regret. Cry it out. Be present. Fall in love. Live authentically. Let your stories, which is life, happen to you. Water them with your blood, tears and laughter until they bloom.

 And tell the naysayers in your life where to go...

Collecting Lessons.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ 1 Comment

“You’re not a failure… you’re collecting lessons.” – A ghost of my former life (aka my ex fiancé) 

As much as I really hate to admit it, He was right. 

I had a conversation recently with a dear friend who is walking with her child through a difficult time. It’s a road that I myself have walked. She asked me if there were any verses, sayings or anything that helped me.

This got me thinking. 

If I could go back and talk to a much younger me, knowing what I know now, what would I say?

Emilee,  

Hi sweet girl. This isn’t going to make much sense to you now, but as life unfolds before you, I hope you remember these words. 

Life is never certain. You can’t control it… no matter how hard you try. 

There will be moments of great joy. There will be moments of great pain. Cling to the moments of joy. Even if they are momentary. 

Loss is inevitable. And you are going to experience some significant losses. As much as I want to warn you so that you can prepare yourself,  no amount of warning can prepare you to lose someone you love. 

So cherish those you love. Be kind with your words, because the people you speak to may not remember them, but you will. 

Be a good friend. There will come a time when you truly believe that life is all about you. That you can do it on your own. But it’s not and you can’t. This is a tough lesson you’ll have to learn. And you’ll lose some friends along the way. But humility and honesty will bring you through. Admit when you’re wrong and don’t stop there. Take ownership of your actions and learn from your mistakes. Admission without change really means nothing. 

Never stop dreaming. Don’t be afraid of failure. Keep taking chances. 

You are going to embark on a journey to “find yourself.” I hate to break it to you, but you don’t find yourself in one attempt. Although this would be easier, it’s a lifelong process. You’re going to make mistakes along the way. Many, many mistakes. (Unfortunately, bangs will not be the worst of them. Not even close.) And that’s okay. You’ll learn.  

Don’t try to grow up too fast. Enjoy being a kid. Enjoy the simple things in life that you love. Sunsets. Fireflies. Staying outside in the summer until the streetlights come on. The smell of chocolate chip cookies in the oven. Laughing with your family in the backyard. Playing catch with your dad. Hiding in the neighbors yard with your brothers. Reading to your sister on the couch. Snuggling your mom. Savor those moments. 

Pay attention to the good. Because eventually, moments just become memories. 

“Cool” is underrated. Lead with your weirdness. There’s no use in trying to change that. It’s who you are. Eventually, you’ll see it as a good thing. 

Cherish your purity. Know that your value and your worth do not come from what anybody tells you or what you can give them. Also, you’re not going to find your husband in a bar… No matter how charming he is…

You can’t hide from your life. You can’t hide from your mistakes. You’ll have to face them eventually. This will be really hard, but you’ll get through it. 

Vulnerability isn’t weakness. In fact, it’s one of the greatest strengths someone can possess. Write everything down. Share your experiences and give them a voice. This will be crucial for you when you walk through some really hard things. 

Don’t let anyone tell you that because you are emotional, you’re crazy. Your emotions are actually going to be one of your greatest strengths. They will fuel your empathy and your compassion for others. Cherish these too and don’t try to shut them out. Learn from them. (And remember that emotions are in fact real, but they may not always be reality.)

Mental health is really important…  Especially for you. Depression is a real thing but there’s no shame in that. Find a good counselor. Talk about your pain. Talk about your goals and your dreams. BE HONEST. 

I would say don’t drink… but I already know this is a lesson you’re going to have to learn the hard way. You won’t listen to anyone else, so I know you won’t listen to me either. However, know that when it gets really ugly, and unfortunately it will, it will get better. 

Family is everything. When your family seems mad at you because of the choices you’re making, it’s not because they hate you, it’s because it scares them. They just don’t know how to say that. They actually love you very much and want the very best for you. Destructive choices hurt people. Losing you scares them just as much as it scares you. Remember that. 

Freedom isn’t what the world tells you it is. Booze, boys (and girls… you’ll face that someday too) and bars are going to seem like a lot of fun. They might be for a moment, but it doesn’t last. And getting drunk and sleeping around will leave you emptier than you can imagine. And the older you get, the less cute it is. “Hot mess” is not a good look.

Protect your heart. This doesn’t mean never being in a relationship or never letting people get close to you. Just be careful with who you give your heart to. Watch how they live their lives and listen to how they speak to and about people. It will be an indicator of how they will treat you when the guards come down. Maya Angelou said it best… “When somebody shows you who they are, believe them.” 

Find things that you love to do and don’t ever push them aside for someone else. If someone asks you to give up your passions for them, DONT. 

Lastly, but certainly not least. In fact it’s the most important thing. God is good… ALWAYS. He is faithful. ALWAYS. He will save your life, quite literally. So listen to Him. Spend time with Him. Tell him when you’re mad at him, because he already knows. But whatever you do, don’t turn your back on Him. He is the only one, who won’t fail you. Who won’t disappoint you. And he is the only one who will get you through those moments when life hits you so hard that you can’t breathe. 

Nothing worth having comes easily. You are going to have to fight for the good things in your life. But your life is worth fighting for. 

Because someday around 30, you’ll wake up one day a little older, a little wiser, a little chubbier and a whole lot happier than you’ve ever been and you’ll realize that God has given you an AMAZING life. 

So ask for help when you need it. Tell someone when you’re hurting. Pray ALWAYS. And remember that this life is precious. That your life is precious. Everyday that you’re alive is a gift. So take a breath, sit back and enjoy the crazy ride. It won’t look anything like you’re imagining now, but if you stick it out, it will be better than you can even believe. 

Today.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ 4 Comments

Today I’m starting a journey. 

A journey of transformation.

A journey of renewing my mind. Every day. Making every effort. Because you say I’m already equipped. 

A journey of awareness. Self Awareness. Awareness of your presence. 

My mind is powerful and I have lived under the weight and burden of negative thinking for far too long.

But it’s you who created my mind.

You are higher You are greater.

You say I have the mind of Christ. A partaker in the divine nature.

So today, I’m choosing a new path. A new way. I’m choosing you. 

I’m choosing to live presently. To dream. To have vision. To laugh. To cry.

To live free from the distractions and the noise that I get so easily entangled in.

Today I give myself permission to be and I give you permission to do.

Today I choose to reject fear and I choose to accept grace. 

Today I will make every effort to respond to your promises. 

Today I will patiently endure. 

Today I will trust. 

Today I choose purity. 

Today I will seek knowledge. 

Today I will  love. 

Today I choose self-control. 

Today I choose godliness. 

Today, my heart is postured toward courage. My mind is set on you. My purpose is your will alone. 

I will walk this new road with humility, in your ways, not my own. 

I am set and determined to open my eyes and see the beauty of your creation every day. I don’t want to miss a thing. 

I long to have a heart that hears you. To encounter you in all things. 

To live this life with you. To live believing that there is nothing that can separate me from your love. 

Today I relinquish all control.

I will wait with patience. I will listen with intention.  I will obey when you speak. 

You go before me and I will follow. 

I choose the road marked Holy Ground. You’ve paved the way and you will direct my every step. 

I will trust you today, not worrying about tomorrow. 

 I am not guaranteed even the next breath, so I will not waste it. I will no longer take this life for granted. 

I will not waste my life. 

I will live everyday believing that today is going to be the best day of my life. 

I wait expectantly for what you will do in this process. 

Thank you for today. 

Three Years…

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

FullSizeRender.jpgThree years. It seems like forever, yet at the same time, it seems like just yesterday.

It’s been three years since I’ve heard your voice. Three years since I’ve heard your infectious laughter. Three years since I’ve called you at three in the morning and you let me come over and watch movies and you stayed up with me, just so I didn’t feel alone.

Three years breaks my heart. Three years makes me really appreciate the 23 years I got with you, however it seems so cut short. Three years feels like way too long to go without my Momma’s advice.

However, you left me with the legacy of your life. You reminded me that it’s one step at a time. You reminded me that God holds a light to our present steps and motions. You taught me that it’s okay to not know how the future is going to go, and it’s okay trust Jesus step by step.

More than anything, my Mom taught me that fear is only an emotion…. If we allow it to be. She taught me that all of us get scared, especially about the unknown, but her faith and her unwavering dedication to trusting God with such uncertainty showed me that even though life may not turn out how you want, God is ALWAYS good. He is ALWAYS sovereign. He is ALWAYS faithful.

My life looks nothing like I thought it would at 26 (or regardless of age, wherever I’m at). I’ve learned that heartache doesn’t dissipate. I’ve learned that there will always be reminders of heartache.

Forgiveness doesn’t wipe out the existence or the memory or hurt, it simply allows us to graciously accept our current circumstances. Healing is taking brokenness in stride. It’s understanding that the process of being mended is a delicate balance of joy and suffering.

In order to truly appreciate the journey of healing, you have to know where you started and came from. To see where God brought you to, or out of.  Learning to walk with faith doesn’t always mean walking without grief. But there is a sacred beauty in the joy that comes from that refinement. The scars we bear are beautiful because they reflect the scars of a man who took on what we couldn’t. Jesus. 

Ecclesiastes says that “Everything is made beautiful in it’s time.” There is a time for everything. When we hold onto pain, anger and hurt we miss SO much that is happening to us. When we graciously accept all of this as a tool of refinement, we are able to see past the emotion of heartbreak and see how God is using it to shape us.

In all the “times” that God speaks about love and hate, I’m reminded that when we hate, God is love. In our time of tearing, God is mending. In our time of quiet, God speaks louder than ever. In our time of grieving, God teaches us to dance.

This isn’t a post about having all or really any of the answers, it’s a post about being reminded of that fact that Jesus is sovereign over everything.  My Mom’s legacy reminds me to take every day as if you’re being lead by a lantern.

Every step is lit only one by one. I may not be able to see every step in my future or know where it leads, but I rest in that fact that it’s covered by Jesus. I may have my moments of questioning and doubting, but I am so  reassured of the grace of God. I feel freedom to ask what he wants to show me. I feel freedom to ask where he wants me to go and what He wants to do with my life.

All this to say, I feel like my Mom played such a huge role in me trusting Jesus. Her future was SO uncertain. Her life was ended much sooner than she (or any of us) had planned, but Jesus had planned something different and she rested so peacefully in that. She is my legacy. She is my reminder that Jesus is ALWAYS good. And most importantly, she is my reminder that what I do with my life is not of myself, but of Him.

The Unraveling

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

FullSizeRender

Todays thoughts: Being alone takes courage.

Whether by choice or not, both bring a different element of discipline. Being alone by our own design is courageous because it means actively quieting all the voices of desire that fuel expectation; both of our own or of everything and everyone around us. Making the deliberate choice to take pause and time for ourselves and our own lives, often isn’t the easy decision.

Being alone when it’s not our own choice is courageous because it means choosing patience to bravely stand alone over things that we can’t always control. Whether it’s something that has been stripped away or simply hasn’t presented itself yet and despite the longings in our hearts, it takes courage to wait faithfully. To trust that there still is hope, even though our futures may not look anything like we’ve imagined them to.

I find myself somewhere in the middle of these two positions. Sitting on the edge of complete uncertainty, yet intentionally making the decision to stay exactly where God has me. I’d being lying if I said it was my choice to be where I’m at in my life currently, but I can say, that it is my choice to accept it honestly and faithfully, and find grace in wherever that is. Grace towards everyone around me. Grace toward God and his radically different plans than my own. Grace to accept that my mom “should” still be here with me. Grace over the anger and emotion of my very flawed, human heart. Grace towards myself.

I fall prey to the feeling of unworthiness more than I’d like to admit. I believe the lies. I believe the thoughts of not being good enough. I believe that, even just at 26, I’ve made too many mistakes. I’ve messed up too many things and I’m truly not enough and seemingly, never will be.

Although through the eyes of humanity, those things at times may be true, but I have been so struck by the truth that God’s grace is enough. It’s such a simple truth, yet it’s filled with complexities that go so far beyond my human understanding. My grace fails all the time. Sometimes, I don’t always have the capability of displaying true grace. Grace to forgive. Grace to understand. Grace to be compassionate. Grace to be patient. Grace to be kind.

To stand alone in these realizations can be really hard. In my human mind, it often times comes across as I’m not enough. The really beautiful thing about that is that it’s true. The only thing that makes that not completely contradictory, is that we can admit that we’re not enough, and in that grace, we can stop apologizing for who we are and where we are, and accept exactly where we’re at but without shame. We can admit the things we’ve messed up and done wrong, but we don’t have to live in the fear of being completely unworthy.  

I’ve spent several days and nights quietly by myself recently and in those times, I’ve had a lot of time to really appreciate that time alone. I don’t mean that I’ve always been blissfully happy in the peace of my own home, because truthfully, many of those moments have come with tears, with heartache and trying to just figure out how to exist by myself for the foreseeable future. But in the midst of all of that, it’s come with understanding.

Suddenly, letting go of “who I should be”  or “where I should be” doesn’t seem so scary. I may still be scared of a future unknown, but I’m starting to have the courage to lean into that fear and face it without the shame of being unworthy. Instead of putting on a brave face, learning to live authentically, exactly as I am.

I’ve had the feeling my life was “falling apart” a lot recently. The more I’ve prayed and the more I’ve asked for God’s grace over the understanding of my life I’ve started to see it more as a beautiful unraveling. Although my life may be “coming apart” it doesn’t mean it’s not intentional. I believe that sometimes God pulls on the strings of our lives. Not as puppets, but as creations. Sometimes you have to pull something apart to put it back together, only better.

I was angry for a long time about this. I felt like God pulled the strings of my life more like I was a marionette doll. I felt like all these things were happening in my life and I was just supposed to “move how God tells us to move.” It made no sense to me because how I felt didn’t match how I was supposed to act.

It took awhile, but I eventually saw that God wasn’t pulling the strings of my will, He was pulling the strings of my circumstance and my heart. He could see what was loose and snagging, where I couldn’t.  He wasn’t trying to control me, He was trying to secure me. Where I was unraveling, He wanted to put me back together, the right way. Sometimes in order to do that, it requires being isolated.You would never catch a single snag in a sea full of threads.

God had to get me alone to really hear His voice. My heart has been so tired and I’ve felt so isolated, but I’ve found more courage in those solitary moments than I have ever before, so I’m thankful.

It by NO stretch, means that it’s been an entirely enjoyable experience, but I am still finding joy in present moments. I’m still finding strength that I didn’t know I had. In everything I’ve felt like I lost and in all of the angry moments of feeling alone, God has never been absent. He has never not been visible in the fabric of my life. It’s just a matter of if I choose to see past my present emotion and trust that my future will make more sense.

When the comforts around you disappear, even ones that you’ve maybe even depended on for years, and you stand alone, your heart learns to take courage. Courage to let your past be your past. Courage to be vulnerable. Courage to lean into the hurts of your heart all the while, leaning into a God that is bigger than all of those hurts combined. Courage to willfully still choose joy.

Despite being afraid, I’ve found that God grants us the courage to be brave in imperfection. We can live a life completely unraveled, and still be a perfect a mess of threads. A mess of human emotion. The beauty is that when we see a mess, or even a disaster, Jesus sees a lifetime of untangling.

To live and to love so fiercely, with such a raw vulnerability, with so little guarantee of the life that we’ve always pictured, is the ultimate picture of Jesus to me.

“To be nobody-but-yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody but yourself – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight- and never stop fighting.” – E.E. Cummings

Dancing Upon Disappointment

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

Dancing

I’ve sat in the silence of my own home many times in the past 3 years of living in my little apartment. There have been silent moments of peace, silent moments of gratitude, silent moments of fear, silent moments of uncertainty and silent moments of doubt. Tonight I sat in the silence of sadness. The silence of disappointment. The silence of looking at a life I had wanted so badly and finally had to let go of.

I sat and I cried. I cried and I cried and I CRIED. As I gasped to regain my breath, amidst all the tears and the overwhelming pain swelling in my heart, I turned my eyes up. Tonight I came to the realization that just because you can’t always lift you heart, you can always lift your eyes. Life isn’t always “fair” and it certainly doesn’t always feel good. Sometimes it hits you so hard you feel like you can’t breathe.

In the midst of truly breaking down, I felt a sense of sincere hope. A hope that I haven’t felt in a long time.  A sense that even in the midst of my most genuine uncertainty, there was still a reason to sing. Even though it doesn’t always make sense in the present, the past has taught me that all things are made infinitely more clear in time. Although sometimes “hallelujah” is really hard in the moment, it’s still so necessary to worship, to be thankful.  

Heartache rarely comes with reason. It causes question. It causes a feeling of constantly walking on unstable ground. To me, that’s the beauty of real faith. The ability to walk blindly into the darkest of situations, and despite the anger and emotion of it all, trust that God is still God.

As I sat on my kitchen floor, tears streaming down my face and my heart feeling like it was shattering into pieces, the only words I could get out were, “You are still good. You are still sovereign. I choose you.” Although they were words filled with heartbreak, they were without anger. For me, that’s a step forward. It’s easy to blame God for things not going the way you had planned and for things looking undeniably different than you’d imagined.

When dreams seem to die and plans change, it’s so easy to become callused and closed off to the idea of an invisible God. Falling in love with a God that’s neither tangible nor visible is really hard. Tonight was the first night that I can honestly say, I leaned into the presence of an invisible God. I pulled on the strength of something I couldn’t see, but something I couldn’t deny.

Disappointment and pain are inevitable. Hurt certainly doesn’t discriminate and we all experience it in one way or another, at some point. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that God is never negligent. He may be out of sight, but He is never missing. We may distance ourselves in the face of human emotion, intention and discomfort, but He is never absent.

To me, the beauty of Jesus is truly reflected in the broken moments. It’s in the pain and the moments of truly surrendering our will, that our need for Him is magnified. Choosing Jesus doesn’t always feel good. It doesn’t always feel comfortable. Sometimes when the breath to praise is lost, the simple act of putting our arms out in surrender and choosing joy is enough. It’s all He’s asking for.

The beauty in believing blindly is knowing that the striving can finally cease. The worry and the uncertainty completely lose their power. I’ve learned that sometimes when we’re called to rejoice in sadness, we don’t always have the song, but He can still teach our feet to dance upon disappointment.

Slow Down, Little Girl.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ 1 Comment

“Little girl, little girl, don’t grow up too fast. Before you know it, you’ll be wishing you could just go back. Don’t you know there’ll be plenty of time for that somewhere down the road? Yeah, it’s all gonna fly in the blink of an eye. You can’t slow down this thing called life. So take your time and let it last, Little girl don’t grow up too fast.”

Blog 3.1.18

I feel like everyone has, at one point or another, had that one teacher in school that just wanted to make it a point to really hammer home the lesson of “taking your time and following the directions.” I mean, I know that’s a pretty basic discipline that I’m sure most teachers try their best to convey to their students, but I feel like there’s always that one, that takes it a step further to really make a point.

It was just a normal day in the seventh grade. I went to my history class like I did every day; completely unprepared and hoping that I could just skim the chapter that I was supposed to read the night before and bull***t my way through the rest class on the general gist of whatever I had read in the 10 minutes previous to when my class actually started. Not really a recipe for success, but my Jr. High self seemed to think it was a good idea at the time.

Suffice it to say that no one ever accused me of taking school too seriously. I got to my class, chatted with my friends before the bell rang and proceeded to take my assigned seat in the very front and center of the classroom, which I can only assume was a pretty intentional move on my teachers part. I was never a huge fan of history at the time, so this class didn’t really appeal to me in anyway.

Class started, I opened my book and almost immediately was off in my own head, failing to listen to anything my teacher was talking about. He wasn’t one to ever give a quiz or a test without warning, so when I when I saw him set a stapled packet of paper face down in front on me, I immediately panicked. To be honest, it wasn’t unusual for me to be unprepared for a test that I knew full well was happening. You’d think that panicked feeling that I got, (without fail, every single time) would have taught me to maybe just take the time to study the night before, but it never did.

As he continued to pass the tests out to the rest my class, STILL, instead of listening, I went straight from thinking about what I can only imagine was something to do with the particularly cute boy that sat directly behind me, to focusing on the fear of having to answer questions that I was certain I didn’t have any of the answers too. I finally tuned in just in time to hear my teacher emphasizing to “read the directions carefully.”

In true Emilee fashion, I did…not. I quickly flipped over my test, and proceeded to skip directly over the instructions and started in. The deeper I got into this test, I realized that something wasn’t adding up. Some of the questions were worded in a way that was far beyond the comprehension of a seventh grader, and some of them had nothing to do with history at all, and still, I was so focused on how to just get by, that I didn’t take a second to just stop and look up.

I kept my head down to at least appear like I knew what I was doing, even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I got more and more anxious thinking about having to have yet another, “So what happened?” conversion with my parents after receiving back what I could almost guarantee would be a failing grade based on the fact that I had only legitimately answered one question. TOTAL.

After a while, I started to hear a collective group of snickers coming from different parts of the classroom, and when I finally looked up to see what was going on, everyone except for me and a handful of people, were just sitting with their arms crossed.

Long story longer, unbeknownst to me (and also the particularly cute boy sitting directly behind me), the directions clearly stated that the test was just a joke and to simply put your pencil down and wait quietly. Seventh graders can only sit quietly for a short period of time, hence the snickering taking place around the room. Although it was a humorous (and slightly embarrassing) lesson, it was something that I never forgot. Little did I know how applicable it would still be almost 15 years later.

I’m not, and have never been someone who likes to live my day to day life at a rushed pace. I like to take my time, savor and enjoy moments and kind of just float from place to place. I am this way in almost every area of my life except in the area where I probably should be most. Whether it was wanting to be older than I was, taller than I was,  impulsively taking on things way before I was ready, I was always looking 10 steps ahead of where I actually was, because I had this notion that everything was better down the road.

As a little girl, I was always playing dress up with my moms clothes because I wanted to be just like her. I used to fight her constantly on wearing the clothes she would pick out for me. The practical, comfortable clothes that allowed me to run and play. I wanted to pick out my own clothes. I wanted to decide for myself what I was going to wear, and if I had it my way, it would have been a princess dress, high heels and my pink lipstick from my favorite starter makeup kit that my grandpa got me, every day.

Don’t get me wrong, she let me do it sometimes, but only when it was it was the right time for it. Playing at home or going to a tea party at a friends house, sure, but going to the grocery store, probably not. She knew that about 5 minutes in, I would be complaining that my dress was too itchy, that my crown wouldn’t stay on my head and my little plastic dress up heels would be too hard to walk in.

She knew that ahead of me, lied years of enduring pain due to walking around in heels all day. She knew that there would be plenty of hours way down the road, of complaining about dresses that are too uncomfortable. (5 year old me thought the biggest problem a girl could face with a dress was that it was too itchy or that it wasn’t sparkly enough. It would be years before I would come to understand the struggle of trying to breathe in a dress.)

I would get so angry with my mom when she would tell me no. I was too young and didn’t have the perspective to even remotely understand that she was right. This carried on through every stage of growing up. Whether it was wanting to wear makeup way before I was old enough, go on a roller coaster before I was tall enough, stay at home by myself before I was responsible enough, I was always in such a hurry to be anywhere other than I was. I wanted to rush through everything just so I could get back to doing whatever it was that I wanted to be doing.

Instead of studying, I would rush through my homework. Because I wasn’t putting in the work in the first place, I wasn’t actually retaining anything, so I would fail tests and I would end up having to work with my teachers over recess instead of being able to play with my friends. It took me a long time to realize I was making things so much harder on myself by not just slowing down, listening to direction and taking the time to do it the right way in the first place.  

Today, those are just distant memories. It seems like such a long time ago. What’s funny is that now, at 25, I may be older, but I still look in the mirror and see glimpses of that little girl in the princess dress. I see her in decisions I make now. Decisions that have led me to the very moment of writing this. This has been one of the more interesting phases of my life. I have friends that are the exact same age as me, that are married and starting families. I also have friends that are the exact same age as me, that are still struggling to figure it out. I find myself somewhere in the middle.

I wanted to grow up so quickly, so badly, that I rushed the process. I thought I cheated the system. I thought that I could sidestep some of the incredibly essential life lessons and I am finding more and more just how wrong I was. Just as much as that 5 year old who wanted to live in a princess dress was no match for my mom, this 25 year old who wants to live her own life is certainly no match for my God.

The thing about serving a God that is so wildly boundless, is that we have to acknowledge that without Him, we can’t be. There is truly no freedom in living life with no direction(s). We will never be anything even remotely close to what we can be, when we summit to the will of God.

Although I understand this and truly believe this with all of my heart, adhering to this is something I really struggle with. Waiting on God and trusting His timing is incredibly difficult for me, especially when I’m surrounded by people who have so many of the things that I want for myself. It’s easy to think that we can just go out and get whatever sounds good in that moment, and in a lot of ways, in our day in age, that’s true.

However what happens when what we’re seeking isn’t necessarily what’s good for us? When we take something that maybe wasn’t ours to have in the first place? When we think we’ve found the things that will finally bring satisfaction to the missing pieces of our hearts but really we’ve just created a life filled with things and people, and it’s still not enough. I use this example because as I was dealing with hurt and grief, I literally did this.

My heart was breaking and I began to fill my heart and my home with everything I could find. Before I knew it, I was surrounded with a life that had everything I could have ever wanted or needed and I still felt like something was missing. I started to feel like I was living an unfamiliar home; I knew it was mine but I didn’t recognize anything in it.

God never fails to get my attention. Lately, it’s been reminding me that that little girl is still in my heart. The difference between her and the girl standing here 20 years later, is that even though that little girl didn’t like being told no, she obeyed. She obeyed for no other reason than she didn’t know not being obedient was even an option. She trusted her mom because even though she made her mad, she couldn’t help but feel the undeniable love she had for her. She didn’t know how to hold onto anger so she was able to listen to what she was being told. She wasn’t always able to understand, but she listened.

It’s not often that you hear someone say that they aspire to be the child version of themselves, but in a lot ways I do. I was able to obey without fear. I was able to listen with an open heart. I hadn’t known what it was to truly worry, because my parents always kept me safe. Being an adult is really, freaking hard sometimes.

In all the moments I’ve prayed that God would change certain aspects of my life, and I’ve gotten angry and impatient when things remained the same or when I’ve prayed that God would just leave my life alone and He’s completely turned my world upside down, there’s always been a reason. Love. A completely reckless, completely unabashed and completely condition free love.

I was feeling pretty lost the other day and I asked God to simply remind me who I am. As I sat in the silence, there were no words, but He simply brought the picture of that little girl playing dress up to my mind. I saw the little girl who didn’t need validation from anyone to believe she was the most beautiful girl in the world. I saw the little girl who experienced such a pure joy to be exactly where she was. I saw the little girl that wasn’t afraid of what anyone thought because she didn’t understand judgement herself. I saw the little girl whose only expectation in life was to just be herself.

 I truly believe God calls us to have the faith of a child for a reason. It’s crazy how we become so disconnected from those pure, innocent little people we once were.

My prayer for this season is that God would remind not only me, but all the women struggling with finding their purpose and fulfillment that there is hope. There is always hope. I have felt like there has been a huge attack on the hearts of women lately. I know I personally have been struggling through a lot and I know I have felt alone for a lot of that.

That’s what Satan wants. He wants isolation and he want us to believe that we will never be enough despite our best efforts. He wants us to believe that we need to strive in order to be valued or deemed worthy. For my life personally, I have had enough. I am done feeling like I’m not good enough, like my life will never amount to anything, like my sins and my struggles define who I am.

I believe, with all of my heart, that God is going to raise up a generation of fiercely faithful and fiercely bold women. Women who like myself, have made countless mistakes, fallen short countless times, felt like we weren’t beautiful enough, smart enough, good enough, capable enough, worthy enough. I refuse to continue living under that lie and I just want all you ladies who are struggling with those very same things to know, I am praying.

I am praying that God brings freedom from the constant expectations. Freedom from the lies that some of us have believed for years. Freedom from the chains that sometimes we’ve built ourselves and therefore think we’re not deserving of being set free from. I am praying that God would remind each of us, everyday, who we are. That we wouldn’t be afraid to be women of God and children of faith all at the same time.

Thank you to all the women who have come along side me recently and encouraged me when I desperately needed it. My heart is that even if it’s for just one person, that I would be able to offer the same encouragement and grace to someone that was extended to me . You are not alone in this and God is still good!! ❤