Category Archives: Finding Hope

Proverbs 3 “Crop of Hope” by Christin Taylor

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Posted by kritzau on March 19, 2012 – 12:02 pm
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope, Poems and Blessings

Christin Taylor lives in a college dorm (in an apartment) in Bellingham, Washington with her two children and husband Dwayne.  It is there that she writes prolific essays and teaches online writing workshops as well as mentors many students who seek out her wisdom. She has currently just solidified her first book contract for Shipwrecked in Los Angeles, her creative memoir filled with insightful direction and beautiful words.  She is a great teacher (take her workshop!) and wonderful human being.  Christin is our last writer for this season’s FINDING HOPE prompt and she closes us out of this season with a lovely take on Proverbs 3. 

 

 

What I’m about to tell you

Will lengthen the line of your days

Will harvest a crop of hope:

“In all your ways”

in every road where you put foot to path

in every street where you pass lights and lives

admit that there is one bigger than you, truer than you,

more real than the very breath you are now taking

 

“and He will make your ways”

straighter than the truth that has pierced your heart.

He will walk the trail you are now treading

And wear in every curve of confusion, every angle of apprehension.

 

“Don’t be wise in your own eyes”

be wise in the eyes of one who peers into your soul,

who sees what is not, and what cannot

be fathomed by those such as us,

dust as we are,

fading from one temporary moment to the next.

 

“Blessed is the man who finds wisdom”

it will be like he found a small child by the road

sat with her and heard the thoughts of God

held in the mind of one so innocent.

Those thoughts are deeper than Time

Simpler than a single note.

 

Beautiful are the traits of wisdom

“Nothing you desire can compare with her”

because nothing you desire brings peace

nothing you desire brings life

nothing you desire brings honor

But wisdom has laid these out like a laurel wreath

Ready for us to take with both hands.

 

That’s how God laid the foundations, placed the heavens, split the depths

That’s how he formed each one of us -

With sound judgment and good sense.

Cherish wisdom and know this:

 

The One, whose beginning and end meet on the other side of existence,

“He will be your confidence”

Though you fall, stumble, blunder, trip

He will keep you from breaking beyond repair.

Hope in failure by Kristin Ritzau

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Posted by kritzau on March 16, 2012 – 2:04 pm
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope

Kristin here, I haven’t posted yet about hope. This post may have come from the first caffeinated latte’ I’ve drank in three years, but Brene’ Brown led me to hope today, so I felt I needed to share.  Thanks for letting me.

 

I am obsessed with TED talks.  (click here to learn more).  I have input as a strength and that doesn’t mean I like to interject with my opinions, that means I like to take in a lot of information.  TED feeds this cute little gremlin inside of me.

In the last year, for some reason, people like posting this talk on my wall and three separate people have said, “This reminds me of you.”

It’s Brene’ Brown. It’s her talk on vulnerability.  I show it to every class I teach and I watch it almost every month. I am flattered, but it also scares me a little bit.

Good news is she posted another talk this week.  Bad news, it reminded me of me – that might not be so bad because it forced me back into what I know I’m good at, pulling the sheet off of myself.  And I pulled out my notepad.  It is a talk about shame.  Not about the action of it, but what it feels like at our core.  What we are taught to value and do and not the empathy that we desperately need to function holistically.

I had a meltdown last week.  Like the kind Heather talked about.  I got into my Ph.D. program and I didn’t get a scholarship.  Did I feel entitled to one?  I’m not sure, but I felt it said something of my worth, of my ability, and I felt an overwhelming amount of another gremlin named Shame saying, “Maybe you shouldn’t go back to school.”

Unfortunately, this kind of second-guessing hasn’t come just from inside me. Brene’ has some hard words to hear – words like “women are harder on people than others.”  I have heard the most doubtful questions from women about my changes in my life.  I don’t know what to do with that.  I appreciate the life-giving questions even if they are tough, but I am not talking about those.  I’m talking about the critical eye, the working moms versus stay at home moms debate that I am scared shitless of entering into when we start trying to have kids. Let’s be honest, I’m already a front row spectator to this debate just as woman.

I’m also scared about other things: That my voice won’t be good enough to be an expert in something; that I won’t get a job; that money will be wasted; that people won’t invest in me: in what I have to say, in developing me, in helping me, in letting me help them.  I’m wondering if people are asking, “When will she fail?”

My mom’s words when I told her I got into my Ph.D. program after she told me she was proud and she loved me were, “You do everything right.”  And it scared me so much because I thought, Does she see me?  I don’t want to be told “you’re great” – I want to be seen.  But have I also “engineered a life that keeps me small – keeps me under the radar just enough to still be pretending I’m okay,” as Brene says.  Am I limiting my own God-given abilities because the cultural narrative says stop trying so you don’t fail? Only let others, including those who birthed me, see my good side?

Does one desire failure? Desire for others to know the truth? Especially when it isn’t perfect or successful? I’m not talking about Eeyore syndrome where you spill yourself all over everyone all the time.  I’m trying to find what is true. I watched my parents fail and never admit it.  I’ve watched friends fail and turn to addiction.  Most of all I’ve seen that in myself.  Perfection is my addiction, now more than ever.

In raw honesty – baby showers scare the bejesus out of me right now, because they play directly into my addiction to perfection.  All of the stuff and advice and I did it this way, I did it that way – the permission for everyone to give advice, for the men to absent, for the diapers versus clothe things, for the breast feeding, the discipline models, the nurseries on pinterest… it’s enough to already feel like I’ve done it wrong and we haven’t even started.

“You’ll figure it out…You’ll be a great mom,” Some friends say, and I appreciate that, but I need to know that people will be there when I can’t figure it out and when I’m not a great mom (and IF I am a mom). I want to tell my kids the truth.  I don’t want to be by myself with spectators to my life saying you do it right all the time. I feel this way about school, babies, farming, the workplace. That’s what leads to numbing emotion for me – the need to feel like I have to have it all together before I’ve even started.  Vulnerability is my only way out of this cycle.  Failure is my teacher and hopefully being honest about it will provide safe spaces for others who feel this way.   I know that’s the hope that I need. I don’t need pat answers or exclusive clubs, I need authenticity.

I had an honest conversation my 20 year old self this week and what I told her surprisingly is that she will learn more by failing than anything else.  I met with someone this morning who feels like she has failed; I talked to my girlfriend last week who thinks her work is a failure.  And I as I told my friend, I have to tell myself, you’re right – you did… but not in the way you think.  It’s death and rebirth – it’s failure that is learning.  Too often I was told to not fail, to not cry, to not be seen – and what did that do to my soul?  I have been starving for truth.

My shame has taught me to move on and power through instead of being exposed and honest. My biggest fear is that I will wake up in 10 years, be 40, and have missed it all because I was so worried about exposing myself and embracing the mess…still. So I must keep writing.

Brene’ talks about how we try to make ourselves bullet proof and perfect before entering the arena of life, but when we get there people want to know our vulnerable stories.  So true.   When I tell my students stories of my life, they stop texting.  And they are not success stories.  They are just real stories.

Thank you Brene’ for reminding me of that. Of pushing me once again to expose these voices in a public place because if all of this is for one person, then it’s worth it… I just might be that one person.    If I can’t deal with these voices, they will haunt me and I will miss the life I’ve been given because I was trying to be skinny and perfect and nice.

I wrote a book about perfectionism when I was 27 because I wanted a different model.  And I wanted to be seen.  I don’t think I have figured it all out, but if there is one thing I do know, there HAS to be another way.  Hopefully authenticity will lead us there.

So it would be nice to know – are you with me as we move into our true stories?

Finding Hope by Nicola Gayle

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Posted by kritzau on March 14, 2012 – 8:07 am
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope

Hello My name is Nicola Marguerite Gayle….aka Nikki …. I was born and raised in Brooklyn New York by Jamaican Parents who as young adults  moved to England where they met and got married, then moved to New York where life began for both me (Nikki Gayle) and my older sister. Then when I was 6 we moved to California.

I currently live in Pasadena, California. My hobbies and interests have changed throughout the years but, what I found that has stayed consistent has been my love for the arts……especially dance.  I love traveling, eating/ snacking and cannot resist a good dessert!!

Writing is a tool that gets me to communicate more clearly with others but, I would never consider myself much of a writer………this blog entry is an experiment of my continued journey and adventure…..

Now I am rejoining self… reaching out for another thing that will or has fallen through or been rejected or even another  “failed” attempt …… but one thing I have discovered… I am still alive breathing and more alive than I have been in years. In the past, things were definite, for sure, consistent, constant, moving, shaking happening legit and “alive”. Things “made sense” (or so it seemed at the time) but inside I was dead, dying and scared… scared that I would do the “wrong thing” or that I would be “found out” and dead because I was not living up to whom I was and who I needed to be. The real me was beaten out by doing what “looks good” and won’t get me seen or heard or better yet “in trouble” because me and my individual thoughts, ideas, dreams, mistakes did not matter… (Mistakes were not allowed) or not accepted or I just did not know how to manage or accept or realize how to funnel it to a place of growth. I lacked a place and time for discovery because I filled it with others. Others dreams, others expectations, others hopes and others demands. That put me in a place where I did not have room for me.  No place to feel, escape experiment or just choose… I was constantly in a place of being told “ this is not you” and when I choose to speak it would come out “wrong“ or did not fit into a category that others would not/ could not understand or it was just not the space and time for me. I felt like I was suffocating. I made myself a victim and I didn’t realize it or even care.

A friend summed it up perfectly by saying to me once, “Nikki, people love/ like you but they just don’t know what to do with you”… ahh yes…. And that is where I began…. Or just started to begin. Beginning to understand the meaning of just being to truly understand me or just being/ my human existence, place and purpose in this world. Others may not have a place for you but you need to feel a place with ones self… what does that have to do with hope? Well hope believes in something greater/bigger than you. Well that’s my theory/ belief at least…that’s what keeps me going…  keeps me “on track”, keeps me from dying mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

I think I lost hope for a while…. Hope in trusting my self and others. I have my moments where I need to regain my hope but I know that hope /faith (whatever) that maybe keeps me going. So whether it is in keeping myself sane by going for an indulgent little treat or trying for the new job or new (or old) hobby or a new place to pray/journal/ explore it’s the little things that I enjoy that keeps me going… I can only do that if I know that I have hope in something bigger than me…. Hope gives me a break from trying to make up for things or keep trying for things that don’t really matter or are just a plain waste of time…. Hope is the help that gives you “wings” (Cheesy right) to keep flying so to speak…. Hope can look like a lot of things…

Like the scripture says we are made in his image…  and that’s a pretty big image… so guess what, there is a lot of room for all us and we all have and are all made up of unique pieces of him that add up to the big picture…. that to me, that image is my bench mark of hope…. and when I am rejecting myself, denying myself, ignoring myself… I am denying the very thing that I am created to be. No wonder…. when one is ignoring oneself you seem to disappear and parts of the big picture are missing…. That can leave you empty, lonely helpless, angry, frustrated, not at peace (the list goes on)… that makes a bit of sense to me because in my case when I am trying to be or copy something or someone that already exists (that’s not really who I am or what I am about) I am denying my place and purpose because a piece of the big picture that I am ceases to exist and what a tragic thing for oneself and for the entire picture or even the world for that matter.

Finding hope…for me is truly being me or searching for what makes me tick and when I am focusing on my true meaning… whatever that may be… I am filled and strengthened to pour out to others so they too can find their place in the big picture. What a tragedy, what a bore if all of our lives, dreams, talents, quirks, strengths and weaknesses all looked the same…. No wonder people loose hope when there is no variety.

So I leave you with this (you know I am speaking to myself when I say this)….freedom lies in feeling hope… hope that you have a purpose that is unique only to you. That YOU can contribute to this world… you are here for a reason for your particular ways, gifts, quirks, desires and dreams.  Leave room for yourself and others to explore…..

Stop comparing yourself to others…. Once you are living your life intended  (no matter how big and or small you may think it is that doesn’t matter) YOU have a purpose, YOU matter and in this life that is only unique to you and that can bring hope not only to you but also, to those around you……

Jesus, Sex, and Hope by Brittany Machado

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Posted by kritzau on March 8, 2012 – 4:28 pm
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope

Brittany Machado is a woman of many talents.  She recently graduated from University of Chicago with a Master’s degree in sociology.  She is an avid DIYer and adjunct faculty member at Azusa Pacific University.  Most recently she has found herself as a film producer, which you can read more about here.

 

 

 

I’ve always wanted to work on a documentary. It was a secret desire, one that I only entertained while I watched outdated “social and cultural” documentaries on Netflix streaming. I’ve met documentary film makers and quietly yearned for the excitement of their projects, to know the fierce excitement they feel about their work.

Lo and behold, my dreams have come true.

“Jesus, Don’t Let Me Die Before I’ve Had Sex” is the name of the new documentary I am working on with two phenomenal people, director Matt Barber, and co-producer Chris Pack. It is a film about the sociological and historical underpinnings of the current implicit and explicit messages of the evangelical church on sexuality, and how these ideas impact believers.

Sex is a difficult subject to talk about in the church. With abstinence rallies on one side and Gossip Girl on the other, how can one ever have a hope of finding grounded and reasonable conversation within the quiet trepidation of the church? In the last few years we’ve seen some painful divisions among various American denominations. It’s not so much that sex is just taboo any more; more importantly, it is violent and divisive.

And when divided with no hope of peace talks, we as sexual beings with a stake in the conversation promote the downward spiral.

There is much yelling these days. Contraception and freedom of religion; angry shock jocks calling politicized females “sluts”; reinvigorated abortion debates; signs reading, “God Hates Fags;” glitter bombings; Mark Driscoll; love the sinner, hate the sin; Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell; the San Fernando Valley condom legislation.

Sexuality is on the airwaves, in our relationships, and marking who is in and who is out.

How is it that a conversation about the most exciting, unifying, pleasurable, and evolving thing that is sexuality has become so dehumanized?

Getting to the point of being able to work on this documentary has been a surprising process for me. I grew up as the poster child for evangelicalism and introduced purity rings in to our missions trip outreach, a decision I deeply regret (as a sociologist, I am now acutely aware of how hegemonic that was). I was completely unaware how my very privileged, very not self-aware, very under-developed world view could impact others. I was the girl running around my high school telling everyone to save “it” for marriage without consideration of their stories, their contexts, or their beliefs. I believed I had it all figured out and that everyone would agree with me if only they would listen and really try.

I too, took part in the sexual dehumanization. This is not a “one size fits all” issue, and yet the urge is to make it so.

Sometimes when I think about my sexual journey I want to hide my head under the nearest couch cushion. Other times I literally laugh out loud because it has been just so funny. And more recently I have been practicing a lot of empathy. In the process of this documentary we have received many emails, messages, twitters, and blog comments about how their sexuality has been so skewed by conflicting and condemning information. Sometimes we as a production team sadly shake our heads, other times we make jokes while remembering similar experiences.

This is an exercise in listening, remembering, emoting, and responding. Gently, with humor, and with eyes wide open.

Some of the stories sent to us are angry; these usually include a clear statement about how the writer is no longer a Christian. These stories are sad, hurt, devoid of hope for reconciliation between faith and sexuality. When I read these stories I can honestly remind myself that I understand, that I totally know how for some people the differences between their religion and their body knowledge are incommensurable in the dualistic heritage of Christian sexuality.

It is out of these stories that my hope emerges.

Some of the comments and letters we get are zealously supportive of the project, and they give me a quick, sharp boost and I feel affirmed. But it is the angry, hurt, and distrustful from which I gather my hope and my energy. It is for these people and those in danger of alienation from some important part of their self that compels me to complete this project, and to complete it well.

A few days ago Matt and I did a guest spot on an atheist podcast. There will be more to come in the next year, but it drove home the reality that this is a bridge-building endeavor with a long-term vision for peaceful and humanizing conversation. You can’t shake your sexuality. You can repress it, exploit it, reduce it, and spin it in to dogma, but however you treat your sexuality, you must live with it.

This is a project about embodiment and hospitality to ourselves and others. This gives me a lot of hope for myself and for our communities.

 

 

 

Lessons From Therapy by Megan Lundgren

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Posted by kritzau on March 6, 2012 – 4:32 pm
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope

Megan Lundgren is a Licensed Psychotherapist and a professional Photographer. She is also our neighbor and a member of our chicken co-op.  Megan’s fantasy is to have crème brulee French toast at Julienne with Steve Martin, Tina Fey, and Amy Poehler. 
 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my therapy clients, it’s hope.

Hope may not seem obvious if you’re not looking for it: sometimes clients are in despair, other times they have suffered a trauma. But there’s one clear sign – one blazing, neon sign that flashes HOPE! when they walk into my office:

They showed up.

Trust me, I know. The hardest thing to do when you are tired, angry, sad, anxious, lonely, or confused is to be present. The temptation is to run away and hide, and to forcibly push people aside on your way out.

The temptation is to be alone.

When I was 8 years old at Yosemite Sierra Summer Camp, I overheard two girls gossiping about me. I had thought these girls were my camp buddies, and I was deeply hurt by their words. It stung; I felt betrayed.

So, what did I do? In a fit of anger I picked up a pebble and hurled it towards them. THWAP! It ricocheted off one of their shoulders. They turned around, and saw me red-faced with hot tears streaming down my cheeks. So I ran. I ran and hid in the bathroom, and sobbed. I felt so alone.

Our camp counselor, Dakota, heard my choked up tears and asked me to come out of the bathroom stall to talk. I remember being scared to come out of the safety of my stall, scared of telling her what happened – I was afraid of being rejected all over again.

I had a choice. Remaining secure in my bathroom stall would mean that I was in control, but that I would suffer alone. On the other hand, telling Dakota about my pain meant that I had to risk judgment – but it also held the possibility of receiving comfort and care from my counselor.

Sometimes I wonder if my therapy clients have to overcome an internal battle of wills before sessions: the will to stay at home, complacent, or the will to come to therapy and work towards change.  When they walk through my office doors, I fight the urge to cheer them on: Congrats! You’re here! You’re so brave! You’re not alone!

What I am learning from my clients is that they’re not ready to give up. They’re willing to face pain because they have hope for their relationships and hope for transformation.

When I was an 8 year-old girl at Yosemite Sierra Summer Camp, I had a choice: to escape, or to enter into a mess with the hope of healing and companionship.  I left camp that year with a memory of hope:

I don’t remember what Dakota said, but I remember her arms around me.

Hope in Letting Go by Amy Vogt

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Posted by kritzau on March 1, 2012 – 8:32 am
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope

Amy, her husband Danny and their soon to be three kids live in snowy Colorado. Most days she is a wife, mom, neighbor and friend who values genuine relationships, pursuing the extraordinary in the ordinary, and most carbohydrates. Amy desires to make life memorable, and loves to capture moments from behind a lens, namely her 50mm. She shares more of her family’s story on her blog.

 

 

I am proud to claim my oldest child title. Of course I am, right? My love affair with being bossy started at a young age and peaked in marriage…I mean motherhood… Okay, I’m working on the bossy thing. I am motivated, action oriented, relational, type A, mostly responsible, and many of the other things that you probably associate with oldest children. If I’m honest, I am also, at times, too goal oriented, controlling, self-absorbed, and particularly self-dependent.

Perhaps a more interesting fact is that I am also married to an oldest child, and for 2 years we only had one child, a boy, who by default was also an oldest. As you might imagine, the battles of will in our home are fierce! Thankfully, our baby girl arrived soon enough to add a little grace and balance to our mix. God, protect her!

I am blessed with two beautiful children and one on the way. I have experienced success in the workplace. My husband walks with God, has an amazing job, the highest level of integrity, and a passionate devotion to our family. I am not going to lie and say that we have not spent many hours over the years working to shape our vision for where we want to be, creating a path of how we think we can get there, and then working our tails off to make sure that we did. We are driven by nature – go-getters from birth.

Oh, Lord, give me faith to trust you more.

I am challenged daily to fully grasp how to function as my driven, make-it-happen self while serving a God who desperately wants to direct my destiny toward His standard of success and perfection.  I am pulled by a world that woos me to create my own future in a country and era where success and happiness seem dangerously within my reach.

While my opportunities to pursue joy and satisfaction on my own terms are seemingly endless and astoundingly tempting, it is my experience that my greatest hope and ultimately my greatest contentment comes in my release of control and usually from the greatest depths.

Someday, Lord, may I be strong enough to relinquish control on my own. For now, thank you for taking it from me at just the right times.

Not even three months ago, our driven spirits were quieted as we watched the projection of our precious, unborn baby girl dancing around on a screen during an ultrasound. Her amazing life was on display giving us joy and confirming a fear. Our baby girl will be born with a bilateral cleft lip and palate. And amidst our joy, tears streamed down our faces, and my belly shook as I cried a violent, silent cry. We clearly saw, for the first time, the deep grooves in her lip and palate. And, while there was so much to be grateful for, even in that moment, we eventually let ourselves succumb to the despair.

We had lost control.

Over the next few weeks we mourned the loss of a low-risk pregnancy, the addition of the many surgeries that lay ahead for our baby, all of the doctor appointments we would be scheduling, and the medical decisions we would make, the challenges our family will face as we welcome our precious daughter and sister into our lives.

The grief I have felt for my child is so much deeper than grief I have ever felt for myself. But, more importantly, I can now say that my hope for this baby is exponentially larger than my grief. Hope has a way of growing from dark places, and I have to release control to gain a grasp of it. Hope grows, and then comes the joy, contentment, and peace. I don’t believe I could have planned it this way.

Father, I praise you for you are all-knowing.

In a cathartic twist of fate I am reminded that my ways of planning, striving, and directing my life seemingly limit my ability to have the deepest, most true hope – a hope that is rooted in faith and trust in God instead of myself. I can only get myself so far. And, thank God, because I’m pretty sure that the places I want to be headed, the places I want my baby girl, children, and family to be headed, are places that are much better than what I can meagerly conjure up on my own.

I am driven, but my God is mighty.

Baby girl is due in April, and it feels so close and so far away. I know that things will be challenging, and I am sure that our planning, driven, controlling natures will be ever emergent. But, in my heart is a prayer of surrender; my spirit is filled with hope and peace.