I took a chance on something I believe in wholeheartedly. I spoke up and fell seemingly flat on my face. The great thing about this is the direction in which I fell--forward. With a mouth full of dirt I stood up and realized with gentle surprise that I'd fallen over the finish line. (At least for this heat of the race.)

I fell in the right direction, which is to say, I gained spiritual territory smack in the middle of the uncertainty of outcomes. God continues to reveal to me that vulnerability cannot rob me of my future or diminish my identity as His child--with or without skinned knees.

I encourage you to speak the truth in kindness even if it's scary. Re-gain territory in the areas of your life  where you've gazed too long at the scene of your last fall. Look back long enough to recognize where you do not want to be, but refuse to live backwards. Have a sober look at the destructive patterns in your decision making that perpetuate past hurt and trauma. And then choose to move forward. Map it out. Where are you now? Where do you desire to be?

Create a plan that best illustrates not merely where you want to be, but who you hope to be in Christ. And then trust the Divine to direct your steps despite the hecklers in your head that chant: you'll never make it. Stuff a sweaty sock in your ego's mouth. Trust that you can and will make it.

"The human heart plans the way,
but the Lord directs the steps"
(Proverbs 16: 9 NAB).

"I run in  the path of your commands,
for you have set my heart free" 
(Proverbs 119:32)

We do not walk, run, fall, or cross the finish line apart from mercy and grace.

Wendy

Last week I revealed my neurosis with small, enclosed spaces. Specifically, the steam room in the ladies locker area at the gym I frequent. The fun continues. I enter the locker room and there stands a woman without a stitch of clothing on.

(Thought bubble over my head): Shit. 

I apologize for the profanity, but it's my job as a writer to tell the truth as I experience it--and if necessary have a glass of wine to lesson the sting of how it feels to be judged or hated or both for writing what I think or in this case thought.

I'm an adult. It's a locker room. Why would I be shocked and embarrassed to see a woman who's clearly just come from the shower after an intense cardio workout. (A hygienical and courteous choice, I might add.) 

The answer; I'm overly modest. I actually tried to tuck the sheet to my sides when I gave birth to my sons. Does this have something to do with my abusive childhood? Probably. Will I allow childhood trauma to deter me from entering the locker room? Absolutely not.

Imagine me trying to find a way to walk from the shower and to my locker privately in a room already deemed private. It doesn't help that the dressing room affords the square footage to populate China. I don't feel like I'm in a locker room, rather, a restroom with a toddler toilet in the corner and mounting uncertainty about the functionality of the lock.

New Year's phobia #2 to overcome: Remain calm if someone sees me in my underwear. Reminder to self: No one cares. Your dog never laughs when she sees you naked. Christ finds this whole scenario amusing.

What weird thing are you trying to overcome lately?

Baby steps in Christ,

Wendy