5. we kick down the walls; He does the rest.

My husband is in the Military, and anyone who knows anything about our military is that they are gone.. a lot. My husband has been gone for seven weeks, and it is coming to an end very soon. It may surprise you when I tell you that this time has been some of the most cherished time of my life. Not because of his absence, of course, but because of the presence of those who came around me to hoist me up amidst the lingering void. 

One day, before my husband had left on his seven week Arizona adventure, we were telling some church friends on "the patio," where all of our church people hang out after each service is over, about his upcoming training. At our church, I will have you know, they serve us DONUTS. And bagels, and coffee.. but donuts. Like good ones, from some delicious bakery with bakers who were trained in all things heavenly and divine, which I would like to think includes donuts. So, here we are, Husband and I, lingering sweetly on the patio, discussing his future mini-deployment with some friends of ours, a couple and their 12 year old daughter. I was expressing my dismay in some shape or form when they said these words, "Well, move in with us!" 

I feel like that's what every friend says when they know you're going to be alone, especially if you have expressed this dismay in their presence. "Oh yeah, move in with us, we have plenty of room and we would love to have you." To be honest, most of the time I simply do not believe people when they say that. I kind of blew it off until the next patio hang out session came around. They approached me again and said, "We heard that the bed in our guest room is uncomfortable so we gave it away and are ordering you a new one, you know for your room." I started to believe them, a little. The following encounter went like this, "Your bed is being delivered this week, we'll let you know when it arrives if you want to come visit it." I loved how they kept saying "YOUR" bed, because this developed a sense of ownership in me. I really wanted to meet this bed of mine, it sounded delightful.

I finally decided I should start believing them, but still felt anxious. Aren't we anxious people sometimes? It really bogs us down. I was fortunate to spend the first few weeks of my husbands little military get away at his parent's house. They are genuine people who are full of love, the type of people that they don't even have to say "I love you" for you to feel loved, it's just an effect of the way they treat you, but they say it anyways and that really seals the deal. My time up there was short lived and the anxiety began to build. I have a little princess dog named Madison. She's half boxer, half angel. But for some reason, when I think of situations where I am bringing her to someone else's house, in my mind she turns into this little flesh eating demon dog that everyone will hate and think of as a burden. I was scared, thinking "What if it ruins our friendship?... What if the dogs don't get along? What if ... What if..." By the time all of those thoughts were running through my head, I was 100% anxious and talking myself out of getting to know a new family and sleeping in my new bed. I was devising a plan of who could take Princess Madison so that way I would avoid cut ties and the burned bridges and the disaster she was going to make and.... 

But then, I remembered how big my God is. I remembered that by not going, I was deciding I was going to go ahead and take control so God didn't let the inevitable happen, you know, our friendship ending and the dogs eating each other and my bed breaking into a million pieces. However, I somehow made the following decision, "I will go to my friends house. They love me, and my dog is a good dog. I am going to trust God and see what He brings."

Here is a summary of how my month went with my extended family, as I now see them:
1. Their dog and my dog are best friends. Every morning, when they see each other, they do this little nudge motion to each other, which I like to think of a dog hug. They are in love. 
2. I became part of the family, and they became part of mine. We have family dinner, family breakfast (which I'm rarely a part of because this happens earlier than any human should be awake, especially any human named Emmy), and family movie night, which I get really upset if I have to miss because movies are my favorite. 
3. I learned valuable life lessons about leadership, love, father/daughter relationships and technology. Yes, technology, but that's probably a separate blog post. 
4. I learned, from Susan, the mother, a valuable Woody Allen quote. "80% of life is showing up." She encouraged me to show up frequently. Every single time I was uncomfortable at first; it pained me. Refer to post 4 for when I "showed up" to the dysfunctional family small group. I would have rather licked dirt off of pine cones than showed up to that meeting, but I went.. and it was remarkable. 

I showed up when someone offered me their home, their life, their family. I showed up and slept in my new bed, which I will have you know is the most comfortable bed on the face of the planet. I showed up to let my dog make a new friend, and prove to me that she doesn't morph into a demon dog around other people. See for yourself what Madison is up to as I write this post:

Napping, basking in the sunlight of her favorite patio,
you know...  typical demon dog things.

Today is my last day with my extended family. At the end of any big change, I like to look back and ask myself these reflection questions, "Was God here? Did He work on this with me?" I leave here changed. My heart is literally no longer the same. I have confidence where I felt shame and fear. I feel full in places where I felt empty. I gained a family, I gained a perspective. I gained the story of a Big God.

But first, I had to knock down the walls I had around my life caused by useless anxiety. They were blocking my view of the endless possibilities God had in front of me. My walls made my vision fuzzy, demised, saddened. Knocking them down gave me great vision, hope, the spectrum of a divine God who wants to make my life something worth writing about.

Here is the story from behind the man made walls:

I limited myself and God, so I stayed at home when my husband was away. I spent the nights alone on my couch, and the days wishing I had more to do so I forgot about how lonely the night would be. Poor Madison would be cooped up in our house all day, festering in my dimise. Instead, she gets to run free with her best friend, accepted into a family that loves her. I am not alone, and not sad. I still feel sad when night comes, but only because that means the time with my family for that day has come to an end. I can't wait for the new one to begin. 

Which story would you want? Which story are you choosing for yourself right now?

We kick down the walls; He does the rest.