from start to finish

When I decided to do the Half-Marathon, I knew it would be hard. But I also knew it was something I had to do. For me.

It took just about as much effort for me to sign up as it did for me to cross the finish line. A very different kind of effort, but very similar all the same.

I have some health issues that I knew would make it incredibly challenging, so I really went back and forth about whether or not I should do it. As soon as I decided to go for it, I announced it publicly.

Which I rarely do.

For lots of reasons.

But I knew that saying it out loud would help with my follow-through. And I knew the accountability would provide some motivation for me.

A lot happened between the day I signed up and the day of the race. A lot.

Several friends expressed their concerns about me doing it. But for reasons I couldn't really explain, I knew I needed to.

On race day, it may have taken more courage to join the crowd at the starting line as it did for me to cross the finish.

But by God's grace, I did both.

And I did both for me.

I needed to tackle an unbelievably difficult goal, and unquestionably complete it.

I needed to feel like I accomplished something.

I needed to see a finish line and actually reach it.

And when I did...

For a few minutes, I felt like I could conquer the world.

And that was so worth every risk and every mile.

What's something you did just for you recently?

what happens in nashvegas...

I'm Nashville-bound today. It's gonna be an eventful week with some incredible friends.

On Saturday I'll be conquering a half-marathon.

(Please Note: By conquering I mean walking.)

(Please Also Note: Remember my commitment to risk more this year? Yeah, this is that health risk I told you about!)

I only have two goals for the Half ---

1.  Cross the finish line. 2.  Have fun along the way.

By Saturday night, I will most likely be aching in places I didn't know could ache.

But I have a feeling the sense of accomplishment will be worth it. I'm hoping so anyway.

It's a risk I have to take.

I'm banking on the boost of strength and encouragement that will come as I cross the finish line. I need it because of the main purpose of my visit to Nashville.

It's the start of an 8-week fundraising trip for Thrive Africa.

(You should seriously see me trying to figure out how to pack for eight weeks! Oi vey.)

There is a lot going on in my heart in regards to this trip. A lot. There's a veritable tsunami of emotions, hopes, fears, and vulnerabilities crashing around inside me.

So it's just as well that I have 13.1 miles to talk to Jesus about it all.

My heart needs the workout just as much as my body does.

Well, please excuse me while I go wrestle a few remaining items into my suitcase.

I'll see you in a few months, Atlanta!

If you're anywhere near Nashville, come say "hi!" on Thursday night.

risky faith

Remember when I said I wanted to trust God for even greater things? Apparently God was listening.

Our financial situation at Thrive Africa is extremely tight right now.

I wrote an email to our partners, letting them know what our needs are and how they can help. It was an unbelievably challenging letter to write, even though I've been raising funds for missions since, ohhhhhh, 1992.

This email took me waaaaay outside my comfort zone.

It's the biggest, boldest ask in Thrive's history.

We are trusting God for $80K in new support by June 1.

And my faith is being stretched to almost-painful extremes.

But I know God has greater things still in store for Thrive.

So we're moving forward in active trust.

I'm working on the details of my huge fundraising trip that starts in just a couple weeks. I'll be in Tennessee, Washington, Oregon, California, Colorado, and Virginia. (Let me know if you want to help!)

We launched a new website that shows how you can impact South Africa, and each week we're going to celebrate 10 Buck Tuesday.

If you've been around a while, you know I don't ask for prayer very often.

But I would really appreciate your prayers right now.

For Thrive. For provision. For my trip.

And for my faith to be strong in the One who is strongest.

Easy Links: Big, Bold Ask Thrive Africa Fundraising Campaign 10 Buck Tuesday Thrive Online Store

four-minute friday: tight

Go. It's been one helluva week.

I've been crazy-emotional. I don't feel well. I'm exhausted. I received some rough interesting emails. I have more to do than I have time to do it in or energy to do it with. I miss my friends. I'm desperate for a real hug.

And that's the short list.

On top of which I went and did something crazy.

Posting about my new normal was by far the biggest risk I've taken this year.

I was scared of being that vulnerable; I was anxious about the responses that would come.

But then there was the hug in the form of a blog post about me that caught me completely off guard in the best way possible.

There were the phone calls, texts, emails, and comments I received from people who care deeply for me.

There was the "I love you" from God that came in the form of "I love you"s from people.

As this crazy-hard week comes to an end, I'm assured that I'm not alone.

He's holding me tight.

And so are you.

Done.

maybe this is my new normal

I still choose indoors over outdoors, even on a gorgeous day. I still come to life when I talk about vision, passion, and Africa. I still make strange faces (and noises) without even realizing it. I still love deeply.

For the most part, I'm still the same me I was before my world shattered out from under my feet.

For the most part.

But there are a lot of ways I'm a different person than I was before my husband left me.

Emotional trauma changes us.

It changed me.

My life is forever split between before and after.

And after-me isn't the same as before-me.

Some of the changes are healthy, good, freeing.

But many aren't.

I "lived tired" before, but I still kept a fast (and full) rhythm in life and ministry. Now I simply don't have the energy to keep even half that pace. I've taken living tired to a whole new level while doing far less in a day than I've ever done.

My heart is more tender and my skin is less thick. Things that shouldn't hurt me, hurt me. My emotions are all over the place. I can spiral from high to low very quickly. And that scares me for a long list of reasons I'll never be able to share in this space.

Trust has always been the Achilles' heel of my life. But now I physically feel the fear of trusting in a way I can't even begin to describe.

I get overwhelmed far easier. By to-do lists, emails, appointments, the pile of books I want to read... everything. It all just overwhelms me. And by overwhelm, I mean incapacitate.

I tell people I have Fuzzy Brain Syndrome. I lose my concentration. I'm constantly distracted. I can't remember things---things I should remember. Things I want to remember. I so often can't even think of the word I'm trying to say. Not just occasionally. Frequently.

I'm just not the same person I used to be.

And, to be honest, I don't like who I've become.

I'm living with diminished capacity.

It's frightening, frustrating, angering, and crazy-making all at the same time.

And I'm starting to think it might not be temporary.

Maybe this isn't something I can bounce back from.

Maybe this is my new normal.

Which means I need to face yet another loss.

The loss of ... me.

Of who I am. How I am.

Before I can accept who I've become, I need to grieve the loss of who I was.

I need to let go of before-me.

And trust that God can still make something beautiful out of after-me.