THIS TIME LAST YEAR, I was working for a church but felt I never had enough time for people. I hated this fact. Why did I GO in ministry in the FIRST place? I was constantly finding myself never having enough time to meet with all the students I wanted to or that wanted to meet and was like, okay what is wrong with this picture.
Something needs to change.
The thing I grieved the most was I felt like my two burning passions that drove me into going into full-time ministry, my heart for women's ministry and my heart for the hurting/counseling/recovery ministries, seemed to get more and more inched out of the schedule each week due to the other demands my job required and some of the other needs of the church.
I mean, I was still spending time with people and many of my roles revolved around leadership development and mentoring young leaders, but I longed for so much more time with our young women.
I told my small group on Thursday, you know and now I am in this season, where I am technically “not working” and on long-term medical leave for my job, but you know I'm still doing modified hours, where the times I'm able to meet with students during the week.
I feel like I have been given this gift of time.
And there is a simplicity that this illness has brought into my life that is a BLESSING.
God has been renewing my heart and passion for women more and more in this time, and I have been able to spend time with MORE women from all ends of the spectrum in our church this semester. Women even that had I been working my normal hours and still have all my normal responsibilities and roles, I would not have been able to get to know. And it's cool to wait and let God do it, let Him put girls on my heart and then me pursue them. How it's always supposed to be right, well somewhere in the mix of ministry structures and modals and then needing to spend the majority of my time with those in my home group or the leaders under my wing, or what have you...
The beauty of it all now, is all those structures and systems have come crashing to the ground, the ones I hated anyway and felt were suffocating me and choking out more and more of my passion, so less charging ahead and more waiting on God. More His way, less mine or man's way.
And I love being able to open up my house now. Even just the circumstances of needing to be at home and having girls come over for tea at my house, has been ushering in something new. There is a different dynamic when you invite someone into your home. And it is crazy how much so many of the girls just love coming over and feel at home in our place, a refuge from the world of campus or their busy apartments. And that, if this was this time last year, I would've not suggested meeting at home first, we would be hitting up our nearest coffee shop.
But God has been re-igniting my passion for women... to know who they are and to know more of who God really is.
It is interesting that in a season where it can seem so much was taken away, that instead of finding I have less, I have more.
But isn't this the way that Jesus works?
He is always turning the way we see or do things upside down, so that He can TRULY be glorified and we find His way is better.
His way is good. His way leads to freedom and He is always doing something new.
So with that, I feel I can relate because I may have never voiced it out loud, but while I knew I always wanted to have a family some day and wanted to be able to stay at home with the children at least when they're really little... just the mere THOUGHT of being a stay at home mom was something I was like, I do not know how I will SURVIVE.
I wasn't MADE to stay at home, I've always been and out and about kind of woman! How in the world would I do that? And I resolved to be like some of the moms I've interacted with over the years who would work a part-time job even if just for five hours a week to get out and have something of their own still.
But, you know the crazy thing is. It has been a little more than eight months of being mostly at home and I have not been bored a single day in this.
Apart from the physical pain, symptoms and limitations I experience daily, this shift has actually been refreshing in many ways, still hard in others, but surprising.
And I ENJOY being at home! I never thought I would be able to say that. I always feared when I lived with roommates, that as I was always one of the roommates in any of my places over the years, who was “never there,” that what was it going to be like when I'm married?!
I mean, don't I need to kinda be home to SEE my husband?
I love being at home. I love being here with Ben. Ben and I love it here.
*Pic from the night we got engaged!
Home has felt safe. A refuge. A place of peace.
I ENJOY being a little homemaker... yes, cooking, cleaning, baking, decorating, what have you. Not because I have to or feel like this is a part of being a wife, but because I WANT to.
Ben and I share all the chores around the house, but especially since he's the one out there working hard, on the days he is working, I love being able to serve him by being able to do more things around the house.
I never knew it would be this way. But I truly enjoy doing it because I love him. And I know it blesses him, blesses US, to have and create and environment where our souls can be free. To keep the house picked up and the sink clear and the dishwasher unloaded and the living room tidied up, not because I have to or he doesn't also do those things, but because I enjoy taking care of our home we have together and making home feel like home.
I never saw that one coming. If you would have told me that this was how it was going to be a year ago I would have laughed at you, but love is a mysterious thing :)
And I love being a wife! It was always a longing and desire of my heart and this gift is not something I deserve but is just another piece evidence of His grace in my life.
Apart from our home, I feel at home with Ben.
John Eldredge calls love,
“Finding someone only your heart recognizes.”
There was a soul connection that grew deeper and deeper from our first few weeks of dating and till now.
My heart knew that this time it was different. That there was something more going on.
That our souls were uniting.
Each day I find myself thanking God more and more for bringing Ben into my life.
I never knew love could be this way.
Ben has and marriage has been everything I dreamed of and more. As cheesy as it sounds, I don't know how else to say it. Both are nothing short of a gift, let me give thanks and praise the Giver.
::
It still gets me all the little things, even from the beginning that Ben says or does that are straight from the heart of the Father and things that the Lord knows I need most specifically to be loved... or the little things that I never told Ben, but that he just says or does that remind me again and again, that my Father knows me so well and has chosen and brought the perfect partner for me to journey and live life with, the perfect partner, soul mate, for me.
Even like how he never calls me by my name, but answers every phone call, every text, or anytime he is speaking to me, the first words out of his mouth are “Hey beautiful...”
I asked him a few months into dating why he chose that word. I mean, of course the guy you're dating or marrying is going to think you're beautiful and tell you that you are... but like, I always say, “Hey sweetheart...” when I'm talking to him. He could've picked any word or “pet” name.
“Beautiful is what you are,” he answered me. “More than just your physical beauty, but your heart. You're beautiful.”
But before I could ever hear and even receive these words from any man, they had to first be heard and received from my first Love. The Lover of my soul, who wooed me and pursued me and won my heart and first spoke those words as He ransomed and redeemed my heart.
So, my home with Ben, and a feeling of being at “home” with him... where again,
I feel most free. Safe. Fully myself. Fully loved and accepted, wholly and unconditionally.
Where I feel cherished and valued, fought for, and not loved because of anything I can do, but because of the woman he sees deep within, because of who I am... yes, home. Home is truly where we feel most alive.
Anyway, like I was saying, I feel that now my life is more similar to the stay at home moms, where our day to day battles and experiences are more similar than when I was on the go and working from 9 am till 1 or 2 am, that being able to see the value in being home, in things being at a much slower pace, and find I have more things in common as I could never relate to marriage, or having time for crafting, homemaker, baking, etc talk, that now I see that staying at home is NOT a prison, not being stuck, but that there is a purpose and tremendous value to those seasons...
I'VE BEEN REMINDED that loving is really just about sharing life together.
And as the ladies in my small group reminded me again on Thursday, there is so much we all have to learn from each other, and to be in an environment where women are alive and thriving, flourishing, being real with the crap in their lives yet just as real with how they are fighting to believe truth and trust and believe God and who He says He is, and who we are as a result, is just refreshing. Life-giving.
We all have something to say. Something to share. Something of value and of worth.
I look around the room and just hearing all the stories of everyone's week and seeing the hand of God in each of our situations and daily battles, however ordinary and mundane, just encouraged my heart so much.
We are all beautiful.
I just wanted to tell them all.
The last couple weeks in conversations with the college women in our campus church or the women of all ages at Woodcrest, I have been struck, once again by their beauty.
You are beautiful, girl. No, listen to me... you are BEAUTIFUL.
I told one of our 19-year-old girls that this week and wouldn't let her continue her self-abasement as I listened to her and wanted to hear her, as all the lengths she is going to, to be loved, are coming up dry. Leaving her more empty and feeling less alone. Feeling like less of a person. And rejected. Through all she shared, I could see a heart desperately wanting to know she is wanted. Has value. Has worth. Life and unfortunately, people have lied to her for far too long. I couldn't take it anymore.
I needed her to hear the truth and hear it loud and clear. I will never forget the look in her eyes. As she stared at me with tears and her eyes.
No one had every told her that before. I knew the feeling all to well, as the Enemy had used people and life to assuage the same assault on me as well.
She needed to know she mattered. And that she was enough. Just the way she was.
It has hit me so many times, as I see no difference in the 46-year-old or the 19-year-old, we are ALL beautiful and we need to know it. Not just outwardly, but that we carry within us the gift of the feminine soul, as Jonalyn Grace Fincher says, that we were created in the image of God, and within women, there are qualities of the invisible God that are made visible, in some of the most brilliant and beautiful ways.
We are all beautiful.
Like I said, I was struck again on Thursday.
I thought to myself, I am sitting here, SURROUNDED by beautiful women. Women who are confident. Women who are bold and not afraid to tell you what they think, women who make me want to be a better woman. Women who make me realize that I am already enough.
That I matter. That I bring something to the table. That I mean something to the place. Not that we gain our value from how much we mean to the place, but to acknowledge that it does matter when we're there, because WE matter. And that it is different when I am not there, just as it is when any of them is not there, because there is something He has created me to be and that He has created us to do, that is unique from anyone else.
That, as one of our challenges has been from early in the semester, that it would be a “no comparison” zone... instead of sizing one another up and seeing who falls where, we can CELEBRATE and call forth one another's beauty, soul, heart and passions...
*Photo with two of my beloved Amandas, Amanda Bell and Amanda Schomaker, (Our church literally has like 16), at a Rock women's dinner last year
ONE OF THE COOL THINGS that also happened Thursday is three of us who enjoy writing came out of the closet.
We all even hesitate to even agree when someone says, “Oh, I didn't know you were a writer.”
Nothing scares me MORE than if someone says that, I noticed, much like these other three ladies, I am quick to disagree and interject,
“No, I'm NOT a writer... I just LIKE to write...”
I was intrigued when one of the ladies started sharing she has been writing again.“What do you write?” I asked her.
“Well,” she said rather reluctantly, and very much not like her, this woman in her mid fifties, now entering a new stage of life, having nearly all the kids out of the house, a successful businesswoman and someone I've always viewed in previous classes with her, as a very strong woman, she finally eeked it out, rather sheepishly,
“I'm writing a book on prayer.”
I felt like I could literally see it on her face, as if she was saying to herself, I wish I had never said anything!
But we kept asking her questions, drawing her out further and she began to grow more comfortable again and explained more of the process to us. And I was like, that's awesome I love to write too.
Then another girl piped up on how she's been blogging about each chapter with five of her best friends from college, they have a private blog just for them all to communicate. Then the lady writing the book, said, *”Janelle, you're a writer too...” to another lady.
Just hearing the lady writing the book, share about her journey and fight with herself to write again stirred something deep within me that has not been able to die.
She said some things that resonate so deeply within, I felt like she had somehow gotten a sneak peek at everything I've been writing about in my written journal lately.
But it inspired me and was another whisper from God pushing my heart forward.
So, three of us “writers,” who are still deathly afraid of that word, we are much more comfortable saying we just ENJOY writing, came out of the closet yesterday.
We talked afterward about how hesitant we all are to even call ourselves “writers.”
“Well I think it's because when you say that,” *Karen, the lady writing the book said, “Everyone's expectations shoot through the roof and then you never want them to see anything you've written.”
EXACTLY I told her. And felt so known and understood, less weird. Those words were spoken with the strength of a woman who has fought this battle for more than twice as long as I've been alive.
But the Lord has been speaking to me about several things related to writing, and Thursday was more fire being ignited within me.
Then it hit me.
Why do I get self-conscious sometimes about my writing. Why do I compare myself to others? Or secretly wish I could write shorter blog posts or emails, why can't I be like everyone else?
But, then it hit me again,
We are all UNIQUE.
There is no one else LIKE me. There is no one else LIKE you. Whose standard am I trying to meet that says there is something even WRONG with that?
I began to gain steam as I felt my perspective shifting...
Why do I sometimes think what I have to say is stupid or dumb or no one cares.
Or why do I fear sending emails sometimes because I'm worried what people will think of me?
Or allow shame to hold me back. That I'm different. That there's something wrong with me. That no one else writes that long of emails, what is WRONG with you???
::
Yet something hit me last Saturday when I was out running errands.
I realized why not being able to drive has been so hard on me the last few weeks.
For whatever reason, the minute I step into the car, it's like this scrolling marquee goes off in my head, ideas and thoughts and this onslaught of words and things I'm pondering start hitting me.
I learned a few years ago that the worst thing to not have in my car is a pen.
I always get random ideas in the car. And jot things down on random pieces of paper I can squander in my purse at stoplights.
Usually it's maybe the back of a few receipts or note cards with verses on the other side.
But this time, I had written on the back of nearly 30 note cards. I kid you not. Of 8-10 different things I was planning to blog about.
What is WRONG with me?! I thought. As literally every stoplight or when I'd get to a parking lot, I'd be jotting down the words as fast as I could write to keep up with my mind, and sit there wondering why I had just written five blog entries in the last 30 minutes of driving.
Many that never make it to getting posted because, for some odd reason, all my emotional energy is tanked by the time I get home lol.
But, as I was sitting there thinking, WHY in the world do I DO this?
It hit me.
What if you're asking the wrong question... What if there is NOT something wrong with me, what if this is the way I've been MADE?
Instead of something WRONG, what is this is how I AM?
What if this is who God created when He made Mazvita.
Instead of trying to figure out why I'm so weird, maybe this how it was supposed to be, as my mind raced to the box of chapter books I wrote in third grade, a box that has been unearthed by my mother to give Ben more embarrassing things from my childhood now that he's seen all the baby photos... you know, the stories you're supposed to write in class in second and third grade.
Well, I was writing stories with 16-20 chapters, when I guess the norm was 3-4. Shame was internalized then, at such an early age, why don't I write like everyone else. But it is interesting to go back and see how this has begged for another look.
My mom began looking for the books and told me one day recently. “Your imagination and insight in these books... I can't believe you wrote these when you were so little...”
(Now, trust me, they are not masterpieces, I only share this because it makes the rest of this make a little more sense.)
But as I started thumbing through them, it was like re-entering the mind of little eight-year-old Mazvita.
I remembered drawing some of the illustrations. Story lines were coming back to me.
It was then, in the last few weeks reading some of those stories, I realized writing has been with me for a while. Something to help me make sense and respond to life, even when I was a little girl.
::
It hit me again, when I heard these words...
“I made you to write.”
There was no mistaking the words, even though I even asked God to repeat Himself.
What did you say?
“I made you to write.”
Now, even just typing that I want to erase it. It sounds so vain and conceited. Full of myself.
But let me explain. Not like I'm going to be some big author or anything like that or that I think I could even say I write well... it had nothing to do with any of that or any opinions of myself or how others may think or feel about my writing.
I heard the Lord ask me again, “What if this is how I MADE you?”
Huh? I kept asking.
I mean, one of my wildest dreams would be to author a book some day, but I knew that wasn't what He was talking about.
I heard it again,“What if this is how I MADE you?”
Then it hit me. Again. (As I realize I have written that “it hit me” now nearly five times lol)
I WAS REMINDED OF THIS... not in my original revelations, but just in the last couple days as I've been putting all of this on paper, I was reminded of one of my favorite stories and one of my favorite tellings of it, of a runner in Chariots of Fire,
“The film [Chariots of Fire] won the Oscar in 1981 as the best movie of the year.
It dramatized the story of two British runners, Eric Liddell and Harold Abrahams, who captured gold medals in the 1924 Olympics. Heavy underdogs, the pair triumphed through a remarkable display of character, discipline, and courage.
One scene moved me in a profound way:
Liddell, an uncompromising Scottish Congregationalist, has been called by God to serve as a missionary in China at the conclusion of the games.
However, his deeply religious sister fears that if her brother wins the gold, he will be so enamored of the fame and glory of an Olympic victory that he will opt out of his missionary vocation.
On the eve of the race she pleads fervently with him not to run.
He looks at her with great affection and says,
“But God made me fast, and when I run I feel his pleasure.”
- Brennan Manning, in Ruthless Trust
When I write... I feel His pleasure.
More than anything, it can be seen or unseen by people, most of the time, I am writing just for me. For my heart. And soul. But I write because when I do, I sense His pleasure.
So then, we come back to, maybe instead of something being WRONG with me, and that I have a passenger seat full or half written writings on the backs of grocery receipts or note cards.... that He MADE me this way. He gives me words and allows this connection with Him, from His heart to mine, as He speaks and I write, I sense, I feel His pleasure, His delight in me.
I cannot describe it, but Beth Moore comes the closest I've found to explaining it. She says, she doesn't even know what all is in there or going to come out when she sits down to write.
“I write by faith,” she says in the intro of her latest book.
I had never heard it put that way before but instantly knew what she meant.
It is a way I experience God.
And MAYBE, just maybe, this is how He made me. This is a way He has allowed me to communicate and experience Him. To feel connected, intimate and close.
What if He made me this way for a reason?
The shame is gone, and that part of myself I try to shoo away so often has been called out of hiding, no longer flogged, but embraced. For it is simply a part of me.
And a way that I am able to be a part of Him.
Plain and simple.
So less about WHAT am I going to write or AM I a writer or will I ever BE a writer, He calls me one now simply on the basis of the fact that I write because when I write, I sense His pleasure. I sense His delight.
I experience Him in ways I cannot explain.
It is like this sacred dance in putting together ideas and what is churning around in my head and my heart,
It is one of the ways my soul speaks. One of the ways God speaks to me. One of the ways my soul speaks to Him
One of the ways I am able to engage in relationship with Him, as through the process of writer, He takes me on journeys with Him I never realized were so valuable.
But it is not something to be ashamed of, yet embraced. I may never write a book. I may never write anything anyone feels is worth reading. I may never write things that make sense or touch others, or even be able to form anything of coherence... yet He calls me to write because this is a part of who He made me to be. It doesn't matter what the end result is. All that matters is that I write.
Part of how His deep calls to my deep. Part of how His heart ravishes mine. Part of how I am made alive again, renewed. Made new.
Part of how my soul feels most at rest and at home in His.
Where I feel free.
Where I feel most alive.
::
Yes, home is not where we first lived, home is where we feel most alive.
Oh man, if there are words I wish I could say to every woman in my life, and even women I don't know it would be...
You are BEAUTIFUL. No, really. You are.
You matter. Your HEART matters. Your LIFE matters. You are unique.
There is no one else LIKE you.
You are ENOUGH.
You are altogether lovely. You are a DAUGHTER of the KING.
You are precious, ransomed, redeemed.
You are DELIGHTED in. Seen. Known. Pursued.
CHOSEN. Graced and made beautiful. Blessed.
Or as Bruno Mars says, (I love this man and his message to women)
“Girl, you're amazing... JUST the way you ARE...”
Or as Jonny Diaz attests to along the same lines,
"There could never be a more beautiful YOU."
::
Rob Bell puts it this way, plain and simple as he captures the heart of the gospel with these words:
“You are worth dying for.”
For all the beautiful women out there, the ones I am blessed to know and all the others I do not,
Yes, you are beautiful.
There could never be a more beautiful you.
Yes, girl you're amazing... just the way you are.
As Beth Moore adds,
“We are all living miracles.”
Just thinking of all the roads in our lives that have brought us to this place, we ARE miracles... living, walking reflections of our King and His beauty, of our King and His strength... His glory... His heart... His life... and the power of His redemption.
The Book of Isaiah tells us we are called, “mighty oaks of righteousness...
A planting of the Lord for the DISPLAY of His splendor.”
So yes, you are beautiful. Yet your beauty goes far beyond that. It reaches far into the depths of a heart dead set to rescue you. Save you, save US from ourselves. It reaches into the depths of the heart of a man that would stop at nothing just to win us back, not let anything stand in the way just to have our hearts' affection.
Okay, so this is one of several reasons why I love Woodcrest... And their love and appreciation of the arts...
And my Woodcrest women... Oh, and not to mention, I am an unashamed, out of the closet, Glee fan...
Put all of this together and there really couldn't have been a better break in my day, when I stumbled upon this on facebook while looking up a friend's birthday. (Woodcrest Chapel is a community church here in town that partners with our campus church, The Rock, in a number of ways.)
Not only has their Thursday women's ministry (called Take T.W.O, which stands for Thursday Women's Outreach) featured several “Glee Moments,” this semester, (when those within the Take T.W.O. creative arts team kicked off the morning with little skits and breaking out into song and dance when you least expect it during the large group meeting where we all gather to hear an opening speaker before going to our separate small groups), but Glee took center stage at Woodcrest again.
But this time, not in front of 200 women on a Thursday morning, this time, Glee went prime time, featured in a weekend service a few weeks ago.
I just caught a glimpse of Niki Harris' profile pic and it immediately grabbed my attention and asked myself, "Hmm, was she in a show recently or maybe this was something for Halloween? ..."
After a bit of successful facebook stalking, all my questions and curiosities were satisfied.
No, this wasn't just a cool costume or a show, this photo captures her debut in Glee.
Well, okay, in GleeCrest, a video featured in a weekend service called Dreams.
(More glorious photos below.)
Well, there's always a story. It seems in all my attempts to just post a song or video without any explanation, something within me never lets me get away with it. There is always a story. Context, they say, is usually helpful.
::
So, someone made the mistake of introducing me to Susannah Welch a couple years ago and also mentioning to her that I was also a dancer.
I don't even remember who else was at our table that first time, all I remember is the rest of the dinner, this person I didn't know who I had randomly sat next to, was truly a kindred spirit indeed, as we talked there for quite a bit. Hardly even noticing everyone else had left the dining hall.
It was my first overnight experience with Woodcrest women. I had been involved with some of their women's ministries since that fall, but when I was invited to a private retreat for women, called “Created Female,” for women seeking their unique place in God's Kingdom, while the invite in the mail and all the correspondence thereafter seemed all too good to be true, something wouldn't let me go... as much as my doubts and fears matched my desires to go, deep within I knew I should go anyway.
I found out there were 25 of us women asked to go. It was led by a team of five women, two of which being some of my most beloved role models and women who have been a huge part of my life and who had taken me under their wing as a woman in ministry. Part of the retreat was going to be directed by author and speaker Ruth Haley Barton, one of many women leaders in ministry, along with Nancy Beach and Nancy Ortberg of Willow Creek, that we would meet in our next retreat at Willow the following fall.
I didn't really know why I was asked to go.
But God had plans for me that weekend. Looking back, that weekend still stands as a defining moment and the start of a journey of discovering more of myself, more of the woman God created me to be and who He desires me to become, and more of Him.
It was an awakening of sorts.
I discovered I wasn't alone.
I was in a room full of women who have fought the fires of how lonely it can be sometimes to be in ministry as a woman. Women who have fought and were fighting the same battles I was, in a world of ministry dominated by men, but this was a time of calling forth, of saying, we are valuable too. Not only that. But needed.
It was calling us from the sidelines.
But, I was nervous to go. I knew only one other person going apart from the leaders, but otherwise, when I walked into the room, I remember feeling sick to my stomach. Seeing a bunch of faces of women so confident, so beautiful, so "hip" and "trendy," that I felt intimidated just being around them.
I don't belong here, I remember myself thinking and kicking myself for the first 30 minutes as I tried to make awkward small talk with a few vaguely familiar faces.
The purpose of the retreat was to provide a space for young women like myself just starting out in ministry or pursuing various dreams, to be strengthened and encouraged on our journeys and to see that what we were fighting for was worth it. And most importantly, that we were not alone.
::
So many things to tell about that time, but alas, I digress. Back to Susannah.
So, I'm at this retreat and I feel self-conscious all of a sudden and wonder why I'm there with so many women I've seen around Woodcrest, the young, hip and trendy moms that come all decked out at 9:15 in the morning, somehow looking ridiculously cute after getting a 5 and 7 year old dressed, fed, and off to school, chased around their three year old, and managed to make it there on time, check their toddler off at childcare, get their coffee, visit with friends and find their seat in the auditorium, while I struggled to roll out of bed those mornings and was lucky to leave the house with socks that matched.
That semester was the beginning of my appreciation and adoration for moms. Moms are heroes, they truly do it all and are LIVING sacrifices, daily laying their lives down for their families.
And not to mention, I felt incredibly young. There were only two other girls under 25 as I was at the time, but even they seemed to blend in with the rest of the mostly late 20s, 30s crowd, seamlessly.
I didn't feel good enough. I felt like a baby around them. Not really a woman. At that point, I had only been in community with women my age and older for about a year, since I started support raising that previous May.
I felt the reality every time I stepped into a women's group, as I was a part of several in that time period, that working in a campus church, you really are like a missionary in a foreign country, as Jessica Ellingsworth pointing out to me one time.
I told her that was so true, it was like stepping into a different world, and you don't realize how different that world is until you step out of it. But by that time, I had been so immersed in college culture and being around 18-22 year olds, that that first year, it was like I was in kindergarten, learning social skills with adults for the first time.
I mean, of course I had girlfriends that were my age, and had older women in my life at that point too, so it wasn't like I never talked or hung out with people my age, but to be fully immersed then in a world where everyone was my age or mostly older, was definitely like a fish out of water experience. To go from being the "old" one to the baby was a rough transition.
And I tried so hard to measure up.
And I had no idea what two nights away some five hours away in Kansas would be like. But I took the risk.
It wasn't long into the retreat where I could honestly say, man am I glad I did. God didn't waste anytime in reassuring me why He had brought me to that place. There were experiences and conversations and times with others and with God, that I will never forget.
But alas, I digress again! So, I was trying to act all serious and mature. Trying to fit in, but act confident as they all were. But inside was secretly insecure.
So, after a powerful night of the leaders explaining why each of us had been invited and then each of us going around and saying why we were there, after many tears and nods and shaking our heads in agreement as we each found something in one another we could connect and relate with, we were set free for the night and asked to return the next morning, 8 am.
This is where the anxiety REALLY kicked in.
Great, now everyone is grouping off into their groups of friends, they're all going to hang out somewhere, God rescue me PLEASE from this social suicide.
So I wandered out in the lobby area of our retreat center, where several ladies were hanging out on the couches.
Somehow, some way, I don't even know all of HOW, Susannah and I started talking.
Then, somehow, someway, as we were tossing around what some people were doing, oh, there's a few people who are going to so and so's room to watch a movie, some people are going to bed, some people are out there playing cards... we decided you know, none of that sounds exciting.
Let's do a musical.
I seriously do not remember how we got there, but within minutes we had cast 12 women for our production and the choreography began.
I saw women of all ages, some of our highly revered leaders, moms and working women in their 40s and 50s, come out into the room for their “audition” in their pajama pants, (which consisted of them merely daring to walk into the room where practice was underway) I saw the young hip and trendy women in their 20s and 30s, reveal they used to be dancers or cheerleaders, they were all over this.
It was hysterical. I remember we were all laughing so hard our sides hurt.
Susannah and I realized we truly were kindred spirits and choreographed our masterpiece and put on a show for the remaining women in an hour.
Here I was feeling like I wasn't going to fit in. Or I had to act like something I was not.
Or as I found myself thinking that night as we went to bed after our big show, how a few hours ago, I thought there was no way would those women ever do something like that. OMG, it was SUCH a hoot.
It was such the perfect thing God knew I needed cause I was able to build relationships with these women in an area where I was totally in my element. When it comes to dance, any insecurities, shyness goes out of the window for me, and it was great to just feel free. See more of their personalities come out and allow them to see more of who I really am.
I love how God can use ANYTHING in a group of women to get all the barriers and walls we as women can so easily put up when we're around other women, to come tumbling down. By the end of the night, we became simply women. Just women. Human. Like one another. All social, racial, socio-economic barriers, job/ministry status and ego, and the comparing and measuring up had flown out the window. It was great. Bonds that were created that night still remain strong today.
::
Actually, that night as well as dying of laughter every time I would see grown women get on stage at our women's ministry Thursday mornings shakin' it with all they've got to some parody making fun of a topic from a previous week or upcoming one, or one that was just plain goofy... were the inspiration for what we'd hit our girls with our first women's retreat a couple years ago.
Imagine the faces of my women's retreat team of Cassie, Peggy, Jessica, and Aimee, as I told them I wanted us to start off Saturday morning, before the first speaker, before even the first service, but right after breakfast with a choreographed lip sync.
All five faces stared back at me with a look, like, do you KNOW I can't dance?! Except for Aimee Swift, former cheerleader, who landed the role of Beyonce as we kicked off the morning in full military grab and camou, to Destiny's Child's, "Survivor."
Everyone finally got on board as I promised I'd make the dance super easy and it was just more going to be funny and get all the girls, for SURE woken up and would set the tone.
So needless to say, just as the girls were finishing up their breakfast and waiting the start of the next session, when we bust in the back of the Valley View fellowship hall, music blaring and the girls looking around what's going on, that this was definitely the LAST thing they expected, as we worked our way up to the stage, not before dancing and singing and serenading several girls as we weaved through the tables.
And as soon as they saw five of their staff women (we are old women to them, ANCIENT), so it had a similar effect of me seeing all these grown women on stage without a care in the world, the girls were all rolling and could not believe their eyes. The comic relief after an intense opening night with one of my mentors speaking and another couple of intense talks from more Woodcrest women coming up, was a good break.
PLUS, we had to show these girls, we may be “old,” but we still know how to have fun, we still got it.
So do the Woodcrest ladies.
::
So as you can imagine, (after that LONG back story)... how super excited I was and how much joy it brought to my heart when I caught a glimpse of Niki's profile pic and immediately knew they had been up to something. First I saw the pictures and felt like I was there. Then, minutes later, I had found a video. Even better.
It had Susannah written ALL over it, OH, brought so much joy to my heart! And their video team, never ceases to amaze me. They really did an AWESOME job with this project.
Susannah is the Creative Arts Director at Woodcrest, as well as the Dance Ministry leader. We found we had a lot in common, as during that time I was still leading our programming team and was able to shadow and sit in on several of their programming meetings to see how larger churches did it.
She is a riot. Sadly, I've had to decline the last few times she's asked me to dance with them, but I know there will be a day where I'll be able to dance again. The dancer in me hasn't died. An even though I can't dance write now, somehow I've found ways to still choreograph random dances when I'm driving around or feeling especially inspired by a certain song and mark the dance in my head since my body can't do all the movements.
And I have to say, as epic as our Xanadu performance and ode to Olivia Newton John was that fateful night at the retreat, a dream come true for Susannah as she has always dreamed of starring in Xanadu (I had never even heard about it till that night, but it doesn't take long to catch the spirit of all that is Xanadu)...
She has outdone herself this time. And I couldn't be more proud.
And it is so hilarious watching it because this is like her dream coming true. We talked about how both of us wished some days life was like a musical, you know, where you can just break out into song and dance at any moment.
But who needs dreams when we've got Glee? It's like they stole our idea.
And what kills me the most is seeing Susannah and this guy named Kent, the kid who is rumored to be sleeping with the director, in this. (Kent, also part of the creative arts team and one of several vocalists at their church, is her husband in real life.)
This is like them in everyday, REAL life, they are a hoot to be around. And it's way fun seeing them sing together. I LOVE IT!
More of GleeCrest:
Meet the stellar cast- The dudes: (from left to right) Bradley, Kent, Alan, Jeff. The gals: (from left to right) Susannah, Mindy, Niki, Meredith
This photo brings me so much joy. SO fun! And the most amazing part of it all is they are all legitimately having fun and being totally themselves. I felt like I was there sneaking around and watching them just looking at the photos!
Another one that brings a smile to my face, Susannah and Kent Welch, living out their ultimate dream :)
A-maz-ing shot! Check out those dream girls!
Yes, this is KMIZ's meteorologist, Jeff Huffman, who knew he had this hidden talent up his sleeve!?!
LOVE it!
And it wouldn't be complete without their photo they've dubbed as their yearbook pic. Yessss.
THIS TIME LAST YEAR, I was working for a church but felt I never had enough time for people. I hated this fact. Why did I GO in ministry in the FIRST place? I was constantly finding myself never having enough time to meet with all the students I wanted to or that wanted to meet and was like, okay what is wrong with this picture. 
