We had a minor setback with Chloe’s Behavior Modification Plan For Anxiety. It was my fault. It was way too late in the evening to be walking the dog, at least by Chloe standards. And it had everything to do with the sound of death rising from various automobiles, and their headlights, which was the worst part for Chloe. Actually, the worst part of the nightwalk of terror was a certain siamese crouched and (hardly) ready to pounce or strike, all just a half-block from home.
Let’s be real. There was nothing scary about the kitty, except that it was to Chloe. The siamese scared the crap out of my little dog. Literally. Right there on the sidewalk. My ten-year-old says I need to examine my word choice. She suggests I write that the kitty scared the daylights out of Chloe. My Apologies.
Chloe was given a few carrot pieces and all is well now. And she performed just fine on this morning’s walk with Lauren and me. Not that anyone cares. Really, the only thing worse than tales of a cat lady is that of a dog lover.
But human anixety and real-life panic attacks, well, they don’t exactly come with a simple fix like Chloe’s bag of carrots. I should know. It’s more like one step forward and three steps back. Or is it two steps forward and one step back? I really can’t say.
The essays I’m about to share are a little on the heavy side. If anything, writing has taught me not to be afraid of going deep. So on this Friday afteroon in the middle of the summer, go ahead and kick off your flip-flops, or Birkenstocks if you’re like me and have issues with your feet, and pull up a chair. We’re about to get real.
I’m glad I came across Kaitlyn Bouchillon’s essay, You haven’t been buried, you’ve been peen planted. Kaitlyn writes, “I won’t pretend to know God’s timetable. I won’t attempt to put words around all He’s up to. But I can tell you this: You haven’t been buried, you’ve been planted. He’s weaving together a story that will tell of His faithfulness.”
The next one up is Tara Dickson’s I will not be shaken. I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ve shared this essay before. I’m pretty sure I read it somewhere else. Yet her tagline caught my eye: Bruised But Not Broken, which pretty much sums up my life right now. I’m sure you can relate. Earlier this year I wrote this essay about being scarred and how there’s beauty in suffering. Our stories are more than profound, pain and all. We’re shaped by them.
Mary Carver, a blogger whose work I’ve followed for the last year or so, well she wrote about what happens When You Find Yourself Caught In a Current. Notice a theme with today’s shares? And just for fun, go ahead and read this one about Wonder Woman, and why she’s the hero we need right now. It wasn’t a Hope*Writer share but it caught my eye when I was copying and pasting the URL for today’s share. I don’t remember reading this one, which means it’s probably lost somewhere in my overflowing email inbox.
Here’s another one from Glenna Marshall. Glenna made an appearance last week when my Weekend Roundup was still called Friday Share Day. So much can happen in a week around here (rolls eyes). I know I’m kind of a downer this week with all these shares about brokenness and anxiety. But really, the more we talk about and write about our struggles, the struggles are prevented from having power over us. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep on saying it until it sinks into this stubborn heart of mine. Sometimes our brokenness is what God uses to set us free. I believe it, as crazy as it sounds.
Oh, and here’s another essay on anxiety! Aren’t you glad you decided to stop by? Just call me Ray of Sunshine Gone Wrong. Anyway, in How to Answer Anxiety, Elli Johnson pretty much writes what I just said about personal struggles, in her case, anxiety, and how it helps to talk about it, to say it out loud. She has much more to say about the subject, so go read her work.
By the way, I know that you know I’m not a medical professional or a trained psychologist. Neither are these folks. But it matters that we share our stories. It means we’re not alone. Get help if you need it. We all need to deal with our stuff.
Here’s a guest essay from my friend-in-real-life Emily Sue Allen, the visionary behind Kindered Mom. I can’t stop gushing about Kindred Mom, an upcoming blog about flourishing in motherhood. This essay is technically not from Kindred Mom. Whatever. Emily’s essay is about infertility, but not her own. It’s about being a friend when life is hard.
Another friend-in-real-life, Kate Laymon, wrote this post about why we don’t want to make time for God. I’ve experienced this, in the past year even. Hint: as Kate mentions, avoiding God has precious little to do with time-management. In my experience, me running from God had everything to do with a deep hurt I was holding onto. I wanted to link to my essay but now I can’t find it. Back to Kate. You’ll like her. Kate is a tender-hearted mama, lover of Jesus and a kindred spirit.
And finally, Erin Whitmer wrote this stunning and frank essay about faith and prayer. I didn’t want to read this one because it’s about the beginning of Erin’s journey as a mama of a very sick little one. I’m glad I had a change of heart. In Erin’s words, “When we can’t pray, when we’re really little more than a quivering, sputtering, salty-teared mess, if we believe just a little–we’re talking poppy seed, grain of sand size of faith here–the Holy Spirit will pick up the depth of our desires directly from our heart and He’ll translate all that mess for our Heavenly Father. And then He’ll go beyond that. Requesting even more than we know to ask for. Because that’s who He is.” Enough said.
That is all lovelies, that is all. Greg just walked in the door from a long day at work. And it occurs to me that I forgot to make dinner. I constantly miss the mark and will never attain Domestic Goddess Status as a wife and mother, but I’m a happy writer, even joyful. I’ll be a starving writer if I don’t get my act together soon. Thank goodness I have an understanding husband. The kids, not so much. Have a wonderful weekend.
