Let’s Get Outta Here!

I’m not sure why we ever hesitated in the first place, because looking back, this trip was always a good idea. Our five-night stay in Los Cabos, Mexico, was booked somewhat last minute, but it couldn’t have come at a better time.

When I think of this trip, I think of sitting by the pool from sun-up to sun-down and eating nachos for lunch from the poolside bar and tarte tatin for after-dinner dessert. I remember our bus trip to Cabo, with lots of scuba-diving and boat-riding and adventuring all day long. Morning cappuccinos and midday naps come to mind, as does sitting and watching the sunset without a care. Time with him is always my favorite—but even more so when it feels like we’re far away from the rest of the world.

Recommended Reading

So I’m reading my first Brene Brown book. For those of you who are familiar with her and/or her research, you probably just smiled/screamed/sighed or let out some other expression of excitement. For those of you who are sitting there scratching your head and thinking, “Who?” stay with me as I explain.

Brene Brown, PhD., LMSW, is a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. She is most well-known for her research on shame, vulnerability, courage, and worthiness. She has now written three books based on this research, while her various TED talks on the subject have gone absolutely viral.

(Instead of providing you with her entire biography, I encourage you to check out her blog if you’re interested in learning more about her. It’s beautiful and fun and more importantly, full of incredible research and resources. I’m loving it right now.)

While it’s not her first one, the book that I’m reading right now is entitled, “Daring Greatly- How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent & Lead.” At the recommendation of a few close friends, I picked up this gem and I haven’t been able to put it down. Taken from Theodore Roosevelt’s speech “Citizenship in a Republic,” Dr. Brown uses the phrase “daring greatly” to mean showing up and letting ourselves be seen.

In other words, being vulnerable.

Vulnerable. Just the word itself can sometimes be enough to make you cringe and cower back into your protective shell. If you’re like me, you totally identify with Dr. Brown’s idea of vulnerability being the first thing you look for in another person, but the last thing you want others to see in yourself.

Vulnerability is scary. It’s messy and it’s raw and it requires you to admit that you don’t have it all together, you don’t live up to society’s expectations, and maybe worst of all, you’re not perfect.

Ouch.

But vulnerability is about being real and it releases you and it’s the key to truly connecting and living in healthy relationship with other people. It’s reaching the point where you can say, “I am enough.”

There are a dozen ways that I have been able to relate to this book, and at times I have felt as though Dr. Brown was speaking directly to me, about me. I was cut to the core by a particular sentence that I read in chapter three: “…research tells us that we judge people in areas where we’re vulnerable to shame, especially picking folks who are doing worse than we’re doing.”

So convicting.

Basically, the things that I am most critical of other people about are the very things that I feel most ashamed of in my own life. By focusing my (and other people’s) attention on their flaws, I am distracting myself (and everyone else) from those very same flaws that exist in my own life. I find that for me, this mostly stems from the curse that is perfectionism and my striving to attain the unattainable.

Throughout the book, Brene provides practical advice for how to combat this way of thinking—this way of living. As she says herself, her research is a journey that takes you from “What will people think?” to “I am enough.”

It’s personal, it’s practical, and it is absolutely powerful.

This post hardly scratches the surface of all the gold this book contains, but let me encourage you to check it out for yourself. If you struggle with letting people see the real you because you’re afraid of the rejection that might come as a result, rest assured, you’re not alone.

It’s called “Daring Greatly.” And it’s highly recommended.

“The Chicago Years”

As of late, Ty and I have been finding ourselves in a state of what could best be described as premature nostalgia. We have this tendency to think of our relationship as being separated into seasons or chapters. For us, these chapters are most commonly defined by geographic location.

For instance, our story began unexpectedly in Guatemala, where our worlds collided and the Lord, in sovereign fashion, literally moved mountains to ensure extra time for our getting to know one another (literally, as in rock exploded in the form of a volcanic eruption). Then there was that summer in Ohio marked by long talks over coffee, late nights under stars, and lots of falling in love. The move to Moody came next—Ty’s first semester on campus and our first test of long-distance love. Following twelve months of frequent phone calls, four-hundred mile flights, and far too many nights spent apart, it was my turn. On August 12, 2011, I traded trees for taxis and set out to make the Windy City my home, beginning what I know we will someday affectionately look back on and call “The Chicago Years.”

Oh, Chicago. How I love you.

The soon-to-be-seminarian and I are unsure how long we will have the pleasure calling this beloved city home. With Ty heading to Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in the fall, we suspect we have at least another year and a half in the Chicagoland area. But the beyond belongs to the Lord.

Thus explains the nostalgia. Chicago will forever hold a piece of our story, and I forever love that. The scene of so many special moments, it has been the perfect backdrop for our first few years together…

That spot along the Lake where he popped the question.

Our go-to breakfast place. The one where we celebrated me saying “yes.”

The studio apartment on Barry—all 350 square feet of it. It was small, but it was ours.

That Starbucks on Wabash. The one where a boyfriend and a girlfriend mapped out their next five years together, only to crumple up the list and throw it away. The Lord’s ways are always better than ours. Always.

A park named Lincoln. A ring was sported and pictures were taken.

That little pizza place in Lakeview. Our carry-out choice for the last night on Barry Avenue. Eaten on cardboard boxes and followed by a night sleeping on the hardwood floor with towels and snuggies, it is the taste of one of my sweetest memories—of all time.

Moody. The halls that hold the echoes of memories too many to list. A place so near and dear to our hearts.

The old 1800’s cathedral. Our chosen house of worship and place our souls are fed.

The view on Wacker. We know the one.

And so the list goes…

If after a year or so we find our home elsewhere, know that you will be dearly missed, Chicago. But for now we’re going to enjoy this special setting of our newlywed season. Here’s to you making it all the more sweet!

Spring Fever…

Well, today is the day. The first day of spring. According to the calendar, that is. The weather, not so much.

Here in Chicago, spring’s big beginning means 16 degrees. Halfway to above freezing and a long way from fun. At least the sun is shining, though. That’s what I try to tell myself anyway. A reminder that it could still be worse.

I’ve come to realize it’s a lot like life, the waiting. Sometimes we’re stuck in winter and even though spring is on the horizon, we’re forced to feel the gloom and fight for our happiness. A lot like literal seasons, these less than ideal periods of life lead to a deeper appreciation of the better days, the warmth. Out of gray and into blue, we bust out of bitter and run to beautiful.

It’s hard to take someone on a tour of a place you haven’t been yourself. I know winter because I’ve experienced winter. Pain. Waiting. Storm clouds overhead. But I’ve also known spring. Light breaking through darkness. Refreshment. Cleansing rain. It’s somehow comforting to have people who are in it with us, those who have been there themselves. Standing on the other side, they beckon us forward. Glimpses of sunlight, encouragement.

But sometimes the hard winter hangs on. Spring betrays us. Trials linger and we’re lost in the valley. Here, we remember the words of the Saints. James telling us to count our trials as joy, gifts. Peter calling us to rejoice in the midst of our grief. We’re not to try and escape the hardship prematurely, for then the work will not be done. Spring takes time.

Rather, we are to let the testing of our faith produce steadfastness. And to let that steadfastness have its full effect: us, perfect and complete, lacking in nothing (James 1:2). “So that the tested geniuneness of (our) faith – more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire – may be found to result in the praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (I Peter 1:7).

Our refinement for His glory. Us more like Him and He all the more honored. The wait of winter is always worth it.

Well, today is the day. Or maybe it’s not. But He has a reason for every season. Like winter turned spring, we too can be more beautiful than before.

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