Everybody makes mistakes. I’ve made plenty. Good things can come from the most outrageous missteps in life. I had a baby when I was 16. Now I have an amazing daughter that I couldn’t imagine my life without. Jesse and I married too soon and for all the wrong reasons yet we’ve been gifted with a life together that is full of love and hope.

Mistakes can bring about change and can highlight the dark corners of our life where we need to change, or repent, or release.

I think regrets are something different. I view regrets as something we desperately wish could be different yet we can’t redo. Regrets are the times when we make a choice that we wish we had never made, one that effects the outcome of a situation permanently.

In my mind mistakes can be celebrated, regrets need to be mourned.

There are very few things in my life that I truly regret… calling my mother an awful name in anger because I was a selfish teenager not getting my way… not visiting my grandfather in the hospital before he died because I thought it would hurt too much… not visiting Sara sooner because I allowed money to get in the way… all the things I can’t redo, or undo, no matter how hard I try.

Last night learned that our sweet friend Sara had passed away and the feeling of regret that I had this morning was suffocating. Then my friend Matthew’s post reminded me to breathe… breathe deeply… and find joy. Without regret.

The physical, in person visit wasn’t as important as the friendship. How or where Sara and I spent our time together isn’t as important as the fact that we spent it. Together. And we spent it well…

Laughing.

Loving.

Praying.

Dreaming. Together.

Without regrets.

How do you handle regrets in life?

A few weeks ago I learned from Twitter that there are a bunch of people unhappy about Chaz Bono dancing with a woman on Dancing with the Stars.

Last night I learned that a lot of my 2,000+ Twitter followers (most of whom are evangelicals) LOVE Modern Family. I had a constant stream of excited tweets about last night’s season premier.

So, I’m confused… Do conservative Christians take issue with both shows, just Chazz, or do they really not care either way?

Based on my Twitter observations it seems as though conservative evangelicals had more of an issue with Chaz than with Cam and Mitchell adopting another baby on primetime. Maybe because Chaz is transgender? Because DWTS is real and Modern Family is fiction? Because Modern Family is crazy funny where as DWTS is corny and lame? IDK.

Maybe I just follow more liberals.

Thoughts?

P.S. I LOVE Modern Family… even with the new, talking Lily.

The Lord can change our plans in an instant.

Sara has been sick, very sick, for a long while, and while we knew that this day would eventually come, I think we had all hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t. At least not for a long time. I received the news that her condition had taken a serious turn about a week ago. It’s been a long week full of lots of tears and heartache for me. But I know that my weepiness and selfish longing for her is not what Sara would want. I hear her in my ear reminding me of God’s goodness, of our hope in heaven, of her peace, and the joy that she experiences every day. That’s our Sara, our consummate encourager.

My best effort to honor Sara in her last days is to try and do exactly what I know she would want me to do: Not focus on the loss of her passing, but rather sing praise and rejoice in the life that she has lived.

Through Sara’s friendship I have had the blessing of learning first hand what “a life lived well” is supposed to look like. I have seen pureness of spirit up close in person. I have been given the priceless gift of experiencing what we were created to be on earth displayed for me through the love of my dear friend.

I have seen humility.

I have seen grace.

I have seen kindness.

I have seen selflessness.

I have seen mercy.

I have seen patience.

I have seen trust.

I have seen forgiveness.

I have seen love. True love. 1 Corinthians 13 style love given freely to me and countless others.

Sara has taught me that living my life well isn’t about me. It’s not about what I do, or what I have, or who I know. Living life well is all about what we choose. Joy. Peace. Love.

Sara, thank you for all of the times you have held my heart, kept my secrets, and prayed over the hopes and dreams of me, my marriage, and my family. I love you more than you will ever know.

If you have a favorite Sara story or blog post of hers please leave it in the comments below so we can all reflect on her well lived life.

This made total sense to me. The world, both secular and Christian, has created the perception that we (women) need men to be strong, UFC watching, wild at heart, alpha male providers. And it wouldn’t surprise me if this expectation stresses men out.

Where do we put this when God (either Himself or by angelic proxy) is constantly showing up saying, “Do not fear!”? How do we obey this when there is so much going on in our lives that half of the time we’re scared to death?

The Bible has some great things to say about perfect love driving out all fear (1 John 4:17). Men living in the shadow of fear, even when the fear is about important things, isn’t perfect love… it’s a perfect mess.

So, here’s my post-father’s day message for all of the husbands and dads:

It’s ok if you fail sometimes. There’s grace for that.

It’s ok for you to need help from other men. There’s strength in that.

And it’s ok if you go though a season of living from paycheck to paycheck. God makes provision for that.

Your ability to be a strong man/husband/father isn’t measured by how well you do “manly things” or how much you accomplish, It’s measured by how well you obey and how perfectly you love.

My father’s day gift to you is the often overlooked, yet vitally important Ephesians 5:28b. We all know that you guys are commanded to love us as Christ love the church. That’s some good stuff. But don’t forget the rest of the command, “He who loves his wife loves himself.”

Husbands: Love yourselves.

Of all the things you could do, or accomplish, or provide, or kill and drag home, love is what we need the most. Be a good husband/father/provider by loving God, loving your wife, and for heaven’s sake loving yourself.

P.S. Happy Father’s Day to my husband who is courageously learning to love himself more and fear less every day. I love you.

Is loving yourself difficult? Why or why not?

I think that Tom Davis may the the only friend that could bring me out of my extended blog break. And I know that he is the only friend that could get me to drive to KENTUCKY on a whim. Seriously though, I love Children’s Hopechest and it was my honor to meet up with Tom, Desperation Band, and Meredith Andrews last night for the launch of the Free to Live Tour.

This tour is “a night of worship, speaking, a call to action and an opportunity for you to become part of the family and movement to protect victims of the awful sex trade industry.” It’s a great night and it’s FREE (my favorite four letter word).

I loved spending an evening immersed in an amazing worship. I loved having this time to allow the Spirit to continue transforming my heart and adjust my sights away from myself and on to His passions, His desire for us to serve Him by meeting the needs of “the least of these”. Good stuff.

Here are my 5 takeaways from Free to Live (and reasons you should check it out!):

• I hadn’t known Meredith Andrews music before last night- wow… girlfriend can sing.
• I did know that Jon Egan can sing. I didn’t know that he can preach! The words he shared about Jesus’ heart for the oppressed and the necessity of our response were excellent. I was especially moved by his statement that “Truth triumphs over emotion. Jesus is our truth.” Preach!
• I love worship. Love. Jon Egan shared that “worship without action isn’t worship.” That is some serious truth. Spending the evening doing both – worship and action – was good for my soul.
• Tom shared that there are now 150 million orphans on the world. While that statistic seems overwhelming, doing something as simple as buying a pound of coffee can feed an orphan for a month. Even I can do that.
• The sign below was posted in the Orphan Experience exhibit (don’t miss it if you go) and it really, really spoke to me. It spoke to me as an orphan, a mom, a teen mom, a woman… it sung to my heart on every level. Last year we raised over $2,000 to help HopeChest build a counseling room for trafficking victims in Moldova. This may be the next push… detail to come ;)

You can find out more info on the tour HERE. Tonight the tour hits Atlanta (tickets are still available. And free!) then it moves on to North Carolina and two stops in Alabama. West coast tour dates will be out soon.

You can find out more about HopeChest HERE.

What is the one organization the makes your heart sing? Leave a comment and link them below so we can check them out!

My friend Alece started a non-resolution revolution of sorts on her blog. Basically, her challenge is to ditch lists and the regret of unkept New Year promises. In exchange she asked that everyone choose one word that they would live, eat, breathe, and walk out during 2011. The only new year’s resolution I have ever kept was to watch more reality TV (I was a smashing success!) so this sounded like a better option for me.

I love the one word idea and I’m thrilled to be focusing on one thing this year. So, here is my one word for 2011:

Submit

This is so fitting for me right now. I’m just returning from a long blog break. I shared that I had to step away from the blog because I felt like I needed to be quiet and listen. What I haven’t shared is how specific God was with me during that time.

When I was at Idea Camp in Las Vegas last September, I facilitated a workshop on the power of confession. I had intended to attend the conference, participate on a panel, do my workshop, hang out with my friends, then return home and blog all about it. I never got to the blogging part. Some of the things that were shared in my workshop hit me in unexpected ways. That was the start of the season of silence.

Basically, during my time away I realized that God was giving me a glimpse of what he wanted me to be doing. The opportunities to speak, write and share my story were only a taste of what he had in store for me. But I realized that I would never be able to experience all that he had for me until I was ready to submit completely. Everything.

Most of what I share is centered around addiction and our recovery journey, about a broken relationship and restoration. However, the truth is there were two specific things that God revealed to me after that workshop that I needed to address:

First, I had gained over 100 pounds during the darkest days of our marriage. Yes, 100. And I’m still carrying that weight around.  Second, I had lost faith in the church after we were asked to leave the church I had attended for years. We were asked to leave because of my husband’s addiction, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to fully trust or engage in church community again.

God has been very clear with me… if I want to experience all that he has in store for me I have to address these. If I want credibility when I talk about recovery, I need to surrender and submit.

I came to realize that as long as I still struggle with these two things, I haven’t really recovered.

Here’s the problem: I have a MAJOR pride issue. I’ve spent the last few months looking at the pride in my life and all of the complicated, subtle ways that it manifests itself. Ways that reach far beyond these two things and stretch into almost all that I think and do.

Needless to say, it’s complicated.

So, this year I am focused on submitting. Submitting to accountability about my weight. Submitting to pastoral care to address my church/trust issues. Submitting to the church and other women so I can build and flex my severely underdeveloped trust muscle. Submitting to a process of recovery that may or may not include a therapist and/or a personal trainer. Submitting to a select group of people that have full access to my marriage, my finances, my thoughts, and my actions.

I’m surrendering to God’s will.

I am submitting to his plan, his process, and his people (by the way, that last bit scares the crap out of me).

Submit. My one word.

Pushing past myself.

Leaning into others.

Embracing the truth.

Pursuing God.

Submit.

What is your one word for 2011?

I loved reading this tweet over the Christmas holiday. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell needed to go. Needless to say, CitizenLink (a division of Focus on the Family) doesn’t agree.

CitizenLink posted a video interview with Stuart Shepard and U.S. Air Force Col. Bill Spencer discussing the issue. There are a few quotes from the video that I MUST comment on. You can read the quotes and my responses in blue.

“People [in the active military] will look at this issue and say…’I know what I feel morally about homosexuality and having to serve alongside people who now may want to put themselves ahead of that mission, might want to to have their identification come to the forefront as opposed to serve, just to serve as anyone else.’ On the front lines that’s important. When you’re in close quarters, when you’re in combat and bullets are hailing at you, that can be really problematic. You don’t want those second thoughts coming in on the front lines when people are shooting at you. You don’t want anybody having to hesitate wondering about the mission orientation of an openly gay person standing or sitting next to them.”

Now, I will be the first to concede that I have never had to dodge bullets, military or otherwise. However, I don’t think it’s a stretch to think that, should I be in that situation, I’m NOT thinking about your orientation. Again, I’ve never been shot at, but I think it’s a fair guess.

Steward Shephard: “By passing this repeal, essentially there are now going to be folks in the military where self is being placed slightly above service, that they’re being given a little special cover there that they can be open about their sexuality. How does that change the dynamic in the military?”

I have no idea how repealing DADT equals gay service members placing themselves over service. By that are we to assume that openly heterosexual service members are placing their open heterosexuality above service? Sheesh. Col. Spencer’s response is priceless…

Col. Spencer: “Well, really nothing’s changed, homosexuals have probably already served. (Really!? Yes, I bet they probably have.) I served for nearly 29 years, probably alongside some who were gay. I just didn’t know who they were. They put mission ahead of self. Now it’s not just about inclusion. We’ve already had inclusion. Those folks have already been serving. Now it’s about some self-identified label that’s come to the forefront. When you’re in a military that is supposed to fight and win our nation’s wars, that self-identification doesn’t contribute to mission effectiveness. It alters unit cohesion.”

Okay, where to begin? Let’s start with this… Are you kidding me right now?

On inclusion: Yes, we have already had inclusion. Remember when the military was segregated? Harry Truman took a lot of flak when he undid that. I don’t see this as that different.

On self-identified labels: Well, I agree with Col. Spencer on this one. Self-identified labels really do have a tendency to get in the way. For example, here is a list of some of the words I have used to self-identify. More than a few have gotten me into a pickle from time to time: Woman, Mom (and gasp, Working Mom), Wife, CHRISTIAN, Asian (I though about adding fat girl but I won’t go there).

Anyway, the idea that professional military men and women would place orientation (gay or straight) over military service and combat missions makes me sick. Gay service members love their country and take their call of duty just as seriously as their straight counterparts. To assume otherwise is both naive and bigoted.

“If you entered the service knowing that you are a homosexual and that homosexuality is incompatible with military service, then there really wasn’t an issue where you discovered suddenly that you were gay and in the military. It was something that you knew about going in; it was a condition that you agreed to, frankly, when you signed up”

So, according to this logic if you were an African-American looking to enlist pre-WWI attending a segregated Negro Training Camp, filling positions that black soldiers were allowed to fill, and living in segregated living quarters were all conditions that you knew you would have to submit to prior to enlisting. Should these men have continued under these conditions even though they knew what they were getting into before hand? Should segregation not have ended? I don’t get it. Just because DADT existed doesn’t mean it was ever the right thing to do.

You can watch the entire video below if you’d like (or if you want to verify the context).

At the end of the day here is my bottom line (for what it’s worth): I believe that these types of comments are hurtful. And harmful.

They are hurtful to the gay community and most importantly they are harmful to the Gospel message.

In the video Col. Spencer discusses that there is no data to measure whether or not repealing DADT will help or improve the way the military approaches and completes it’s mission. I think the more important question is, will this type of rhetoric about DADT help or improve the way christians carry out the cause for Christ? Will it help us to better share the Gospel message in a fallen world?

I say no, it won’t.

What do you think of the repeal of DADT? What should the christian response be?

Before I launch into all of my new stuff, I thought I would catch you up on a few of the things that I’ve been up to (and a few things that my friends have been up to).

~

I spent some time with my friend Mark Horvath (@hardlynormal) while he was in town for his Invisible People road trip. Check out his new website, We Are Visible. Inspiring!

I hung out with my girls (and some pretty awesome guys) at Idea Camp//Sex in Las Vegas. More about Idea Camp (and Dirty Girls) in a later post :)

Speaking of being a dirty girl, I also had my first In and Out burger on this trip. Wow.

I got to hang out with friends Matthew and Jessica (@jesusneedsnewpr and @jessicanturner) over Thanksgiving weekend. While I was on my break Matthew launched a new blog called “My Daddy Blog,” and Jessica launched a new baby :)

Matthew is also releasing the audio version of his book Churched. It’s fantastic! You can check it out a sample here:

I got a new puppy, Scout, whom I love and adore!

I spent a few days in the Boys Town neighborhood of Chicago with my friends Brenda and Andy Marin (@andrew_marin). The Marin Foundation is continuing to do things that inspire me. Please take the time to read more about Andrew and the foundation HERE.

I also had my first Chicago style hot dog while we were together. Better than my first In and Out people.

And last but not least, I had a wonderful Christmas with my family.

All of these picture were taken on my iPhone with the app “Instagr.am.” It’s definitely my favorite app of 2010. I love it!

What was your favorite app of 2010 and what have you all been up to?

Well, well, well… here we are again.

It’s been a long time since my last blog post. And while I realize that I have broken every written (and unwritten) blogging rule by abruptly abandoning my second love, it was just one of those things I had to to.

In September I traveled to Las Vegas to facilitate a few sessions at Idea Camp: Sex. While I was there I was challenged to consider some new things, and to reconsider some old things. I went to Vegas to facilitate a session and share a little bit of what I know. I came home with an overwhelming sense that I needed to stop talking. Immediately. I was being called into a season of listening.

Now, if you knew me well, you would understand that walking away from blog posts and Google Analytics graphs and running my mouth about my myriad of opinions is almost as monumental as the parting of the Red Sea. Almost. Er, well, not really… but I do like to talk.

Anyway, I walked away and committed to listen (to God and a few other people) for 40 days. Two words: Game Changer.

So I’m returing to my blog with a fresh perspective, having refocused, recommitted a few areas of my life and my ministry, sought Godly counsel from a few women that I adore (thank you, girls), rested under the Godly leadership of my amazing husband, met face-to-face with some people to confess a few things that I learned I was holding onto, called myself into account, was called into account by others, and submitted to what the Bible refers to as a refining fire for the first time in my life without kicking, screaming, or calling God a bad name.

And it felt really, really good.

So before I jump back into sharing my opinions on everything from Beth Moore to same-sex marriage to solving the world’s orphan crisis by becoming the Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe, let me leave you with these ever so inspiring words that were impressed upon me during my break:

Listening is good. Shutting your mouth is hard. Abandoning your selfish desires is freeing. And resisting the urge to eat an entire tray of sour cream doughnuts is the definition of self-control.

And, yes, that was worth losing 40 days of blog traffic for.

What have you been up to during the past few weeks? Catch me up on your life!

The smell was like a basement. Or my grandmother’s attic. After she died we drug an old steamer trunk out of her attic that no one had opened in decades. When my father unhinged the heavy brass latch and lifted the lid the smell of dry rot, dust, and old newspaper filled the room. That trunk was full of treasures. Letters that my uncle had written from Pearl Harbor. Pictures of my aunts and uncles wearing party hats made from folded paper. An old ledger book handwritten in my grandmother’s looping Palmer print that recorded everything from the first payment made on their farm house on Camden to the last entry that read “paid in full”: evidence of my Grandpa Joe’s hard work.

This wasn’t my grandmother’s attic and there weren’t treasures behind this room’s smells. There was just a few stacks of ancient waiting room magazines, brochures with smiling faces of young girls standing with their arms linked against a summer sunset, and long rows of large manila file folders that lined the wall behind the desk. Everything looked and smelled old.

I sat in the tiny room for a few long minutes staring at the swirling pattern in the cheap paneling and rereading the hand washing sign over and over. There wasn’t anything there that could distract me from the night before or from the the frantic search of the Yellow Pages that morning. All I could think about was the pain in my stomach and my strong desire to lie in my bed.

I sat there even after I was done filling my dixie cup, fearful of what could happen next. There was a small window cut into the wall next to me that had a small ledge and a flimsy piece of plywood on a track that covered an opening. Someone with a soft, sweet voice tapped on the door and asked if I was ok.

“Yep, I’m just about done.”

“When you’re finished put your cup on one of the plastic trays and pass it through the opening for me.”

“Ok, I’m finishing now,” I replied.

I sat in the small, wood-paneled room and slid open the door that covered the hole in the wall. The window opening was almost eye level from my spot on the edge of the toilet seat, and as I slid it open it gave me the strangest feeling of deja vu. It reminded me of sitting in the confessional booth years before. I hated going to confession. I hated sitting in the dark closet waiting for the priest to slide the window open and pry into my soul. I would always make up a sin to confess because I was too ashamed to tell Father what I had really done or thought. As soon as the confessional window slid open my stomach would sink and I would twist my glassy pink rosary beads in my sweaty palms, praying that we would get to my penance quickly so we could be done.

I placed my urine filled plastic cup on one of the little trays and slid the window open so I could pass it though. As I pressed my hand against the wooden door my stomach sank and I felt like I was in the confessional again. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

When I was done, I waited in the outer office until they called me back. The doctor or nurse practitioner (I’m not sure which) had a large smile and rubbed my back as she told me that the test was negative, I wasn’t pregnant.

I walked out of the office that Friday afternoon with my morning after pill in one hand and one of the Planned Parenthood brochures with the happy young girls in the other. And in that moment I felt pure relief, believing that I could put my one night stand behind me and that I was ok.

To be continued…