Have you heard my new song yet? As a fun twist, I made a music video with the release!
“Back When I Believed in You” is a heartfelt song I wrote about facing the hard reality that sometimes a person (or thing) you love, trust, and believe in just isn’t who you thought they were. The version of them you once believed in no longer exists. Maybe it never did.
As painful as it is, no amount of love and support can make someone choose you. We can keep trying to force something that isn’t a fit, or we can let it go.
Sometimes we make excuses for toxic behavior, miserable living situations, and terrible bosses because we’re holding on to hope that it will change. But there comes a point when we need to wake up from the delusion and admit that the other person has made their choice.
As a Christian, this can be difficult because I believe in grace, second chances, and miracles. But I’ve learned that the Bible is also about truth. I can still believe God can change a person or situation and also admit the truth of how they really are at the moment.
Besides, we’ll never truly appreciate a miracle if we don’t first face the stark reality. And we don’t need to blindly stay in the crossfire of something chronically bad.
“Back When I Believed in You” serves as a reminder that it’s time to wake up from our delusion and face what is. Maybe that’s a relationship you’re convinced will turn around “someday” with little to no evidence the other person is even trying; maybe it’s a job you’ve told yourself will get better in 3 months for the past 2 years.
Whatever false belief you’re holding on to, choose courage and move forward in truth.
You took off for the forest, thought you lost your wayYou took off for the forest, thought you lost your way I was leaving breadcrumbs, to lead you back one day You weren’t looking for me, you were thinking of yourself Now I’m trapped inside the castle and you’re nowhere to be found
Stories from my youth, shredded with the truth All the tales you told have finally gotten old I dreamt that one day I would dance like Cinderella with you But that was back when I believed That was back when I believed in you
Now I don’t believe in fairytales, don’t even know if love is real Cause I trusted you and then you failed You’re no knight in shining armor, not the hero in this story Another mountain I’ll climb over, you were never coming back for me
Caught you wrapped up in your lies and you won’t apologize It’s messing up my mind and I’m stuck here paralyzed I dreamt that one day I would dance like Cinderella with you But that was back when I believed That was back when I believed in
Someone who won’t even come home to face the mess he made, try to straighten this out Well I’ve found a strength I’ve never known and I’m learning to be brave I’m done waiting in my tower, I’m done waiting on coward
Should’ve danced with her while you could Instead of trading her in for a witch in the woods Let’s stop playing pretend, save your excuse Cause you know that I don’t believe in you (yeah)
I dreamt that one day I would dance like Cinderella But that was back when I believed That was back when I believed in Back when I believed in you
After I lost my angel pup Maddie at the beginning of this year, I started struggling with moving forward. It felt like I froze while life kept spinning around me.
It’s hard admitting that season is over. I miss Madds so much. Sometimes I still break down sobbing like I lost her yesterday.
This week, I took a brave step by letting our “adventure mobile” stroller go.
This silly pink stroller meant Madds could comfortably go on longer walks, come to my gigs, and sneak into grocery stores and restaurants.
She wanted to go everywhere with me, and I was able to make that happen most days.
But for nine months, that stroller has been collecting dust, a sad reminder of what once was.
I wasn’t ready to lose Madds when I did. Nine months later, I wasn’t ready to let her stroller go. I’ve been afraid to move forward because facing the loss is so dang hard.
But I’m forcing myself to move forward. I’m forcing myself to accept the present, to accept that in a year it won’t be any easier to let some of Maddie’s things go, because I’m still just going to wish she was here.
I don’t want to move on, but I have to. Everything else in life has moved forward.
And so… a fluffy tabby named Butters will be exploring Havasu with his new wheels. 😹 I’m glad someone else will get to adventure with their beloved pet, and I hope it enriches their lives like it did mine.
Letting that ridiculous stroller go brought up all the sad feelings in full force. I let myself grieve.
What I’ve found in letting some things go is that the memories are still there.
It wasn’t the “adventure mobile,” it was Maddie’s spirit of adventure that made each day special.
It wasn’t about the sweaters, but the sweetheart who rocked them. And her precious cuddles.
It wasn’t her beds in every room, but the fact that she always wanted to be close. 🥰
Her spunk lives on in my heart, not in her things.
I love you forever, Madds. Thank you for over 10 years of spunky joy.
In the studio yesterday I connected with an up-and-coming musician in OC who was looking for advice, and I realized the only encouragement I could offer carries on to all aspects of life. I’m calling this an “Artist Pep Talk” but I’m pretty sure it applies to everyone.
Here are 7 things I have learned to live by:
Find out your WHY, and let that carry you through when it’s hard. (And by the way, “because it makes me feel alive” is a good enough why!)
Everything important is on the other side of fear; therefore being afraid is not a good enough reason not to do something.
Art is meant to be shared. Do what you love first for you, protect a few pieces if they really are too intimate, but otherwise let others be moved by your creations, just as you are moved by the art of others.
If you’re nervous or feel lost, start small. Then take the next step. Then the next.
Don’t flatter yourself—most people aren’t thinking about you as much as you fear they are. If you make a mistake, most people won’t notice, and the ones who do notice rarely care.
The few who really have a strong negative opinion of you and take time to bring you down with it are not the kinds of people whose voices should matter to you. Let. It. Go.
Be yourself and do your best—that’s enough!
I have sooo much still to learn as a person, as an artist, as a musician, as a functioning adult! 😅 But I have found the above to be true. Whatever your art is—whatever makes you feel alive—I hope you do it boldly!
What advice would you give someone who’s embarking on a new creative or professional journey? Comment below or tag me on social media!
[UPDATE: I realize this is a really long post, so if you don’t have time to read but are still curious, here’s an audio recording of the same thing. If you have kids around, you may want to browse through this post first to decide if it’s something appropriate for them to hear.]
I’ve decided to share something very personal, something I’ve never shared publicly before. I’m not one to dwell on the past—I’m not there anymore—but, there are some wounds from the past that carry into the present, and I have a few.
You’ve probably noticed many of my songs seem to stem from deep pain. I’ve found great comfort and healing in some dark places, and sharing it in my music has helped me move on.
But there’s something that’s eaten at me for years that I’ve never before had courage to share on such a grand scale.
I struggled immensely writing this. Why do I have to say something? Why can’t I just heal quietly about something that has—quite frankly—embarrassed me most of my adult life?
I don’t fully know why I need to speak up, only that I do.
Every time I try to heal on my own without being completely honest about my story and the real pain behind some of my songs, I can tell I’m holding back. I feel completely restrained. People have noticed, too.
I’ve wanted to scream so many times and just let the truth ring out, but each time fear presses its hands deep on my shoulder and I’m silenced once again. Shame cozies up to me there too.
It’s time to put fear and shame back in their place.
So here it goes…
I’ve struggled with depression throughout much of my life, the culmination of which seemed to take place in my teenage years. I didn’t know whom to confide in with those emotions, so I kept many of them to myself.
The summer going into my freshman year of high school, I decided to try self-harm as a means of expressing my pain. The very first time I hurt myself at fourteen, someone knew within days.
That someone was an adult, someone I looked up to, a leader at church and high school, and a friend of my family. She suspected I’d hurt myself and it was confirmed. After promising I’d never do it again, I begged her not to tell anyone. So she didn’t.
I look back at that single act of silence as a turning point for me. I’ll forever wonder what would’ve happened if I’d gotten help sooner, if that person had acted as a responsible adult in the role she was given instead of the one she wanted. For a year and a half I hurt myself regularly, this young woman knew within days, and she never told anyone. Instead, she tried to help me herself. It quickly grew into a codependent child-adult “friendship.”
But that’s only part of a very complicated puzzle which transformed into a number of blows to my heart. The really difficult truth is…
I was sexually abused through most of my high school years, and I didn’t even know it.
My sexual abuser was this same adult “friend” I had begun confiding in about my depression and self-harm at fourteen. But since the majority of our friendship revolved around God and the Bible, I genuinely believed everything else was part of that “spiritual friendship.” Besides, it took years before the friendship developed into something physical.
All abuse is complicated; my story is no exception. But even for sex abuse, this story doesn’t get told too often. I know my circumstances have happened to other people—I’ve met at least two girls who can relate. But we usually stay quiet because our stories don’t fit the mold of “sexual abuse.”
In fact, until I was a high school leader with the exact age difference (in reverse) with some of the girls in my small group, I had always taken responsibility for the events which took place during my adolescence.
I realized as a youth leader that as much as I loved those girls and would die for them to be healthy and happy, I would NEVER do some of the things that were done to me in the name of “love” or “Christianity.” I also realized that if anyone in my position did those things to my high school girls, I’d have the police throw them in jail as quickly as possible, and I would spend the rest of my life reminding those sweet girls that the adult was 100% responsible—not a 15 to 17-year-old high school student.
Yet for some reason it was difficult for me to process I wasn’t at fault when it was me who was the “victim.” I always felt like the exception to that rule and felt an unbearable amount of shame. I guess that’s just the nature of sexual abuse, because I’ve heard similar feelings from every other survivor I’ve spoken with.
There are SO many reasons why I’ve felt shamed into silence, I can’t list them all here. But I don’t want to protect this person anymore by being quiet, nor do I want her actions to define me.
I want people who enjoy my songs to know why I’ve held back, and to know I’m not holding back anymore. I want those who see my passion for organizations like Fighting For Me to know why I’m so deeply moved into action. I want some of my friends and family—who had to watch me go from free and bubbly to chained and timid—to finally get some insight as to why, and to be a part of my journey as I explore this new freedom. Mostly, I would love for people who have experienced similar situations to know they weren’t at fault, they’re not alone, and their story isn’t so unique nobody could understand.
What I’m about to do is something I never could’ve done without the strength, comfort, and healing I’ve found through Jesus. It is the last thing I’d “want” to do if it weren’t for the hope of freedom not just for me but for someone else who has Googled terms tirelessly to see if ANYONE has a story like this. This will likely be uncomfortable for the reader. I’m hopeful it’s at least educational, and at best a tool towards healing for someone who needs to hear this.
Without disclosing too much, here are a few “unique” aspects of my story people don’t typically expect when they think about sexual abuse:
1. MY ABUSER WAS MY BEST FRIEND. I wanted this person in my life. Anyone who knew me then knows how close I was to this woman, how much I wanted her to be around. I was a very unhealthy teen—desperately looking for love and comfort, some sort of nurturing. I found it in her, so I did everything I could to protect what I believed was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
As a young teen who already struggled with depression, I was SO blind; I could not see that my self-harm and suicidal tendencies were amplified and even spurred on at times as a result of this codependent “friendship.” All I knew was she was my best friend, and she happened to be an adult. Or, rather, that I unfortunately happened to be a teenager. I hated that my age made people dislike our friendship and couldn’t wait to grow up so people would stop talking about it.
2. NOTHING VIOLENT EVER TOOK PLACE. I didn’t know why certain things happened, but I have very few memories of saying “no” out loud. Some of the events were guised as medical help, so it wasn’t even obviously “sexual” to me. I sometimes refer to my story as “the mildest case of sexual abuse” because it honestly doesn’t compare to so many horrific stories I’ve heard. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t legally or emotionally sexual abuse.
Did you know an adult making out with a minor is sexual abuse? I didn’t learn that til I started working with Fighting For Me. Until then, all I knew was the moment I got home after the first time it happened at 15, I made myself a concoction of poison and started chugging. I felt disgusting, betrayed, and such intense shame I didn’t want to live.My abuser drove down to my neighborhood, met me in a park so my parents wouldn’t know we were seeing each other, and tried to diffuse it on her own. She apologized and promised it wouldn’t happen again, but of course it did—almost immediately. And it got worse.
Eventually I became numb to all those alarms going off in my head.
3. I WAS SEXUALLY ABUSED BY A YOUNG WOMAN. Aren’t sexual predators supposed to be creepy old men? Not young women in youth leadership! But my own experience has taught me females of all ages can hurt children, too.
This isn’t an official statistic, but of the closest people in my life who have opened up to me about being sexually abused, almost all of them have been abused by both men AND women.
4. MY SEXUAL ABUSER WAS THE SAME SEX AS I AM. Oh the stigma that comes with that—especially in Christian circles. When I was being sexually abused, I was 100% convinced it was out of friendship. (More on that later.) I genuinely believed other friends just weren’t as close as we were. (In hindsight, that’s probably pretty accurate. We were alarmingly close to the point where even people my age were concerned.)
When I finally ditched the friendship completely, I was too scared to tell anyone what had happened in case they’d think I was a lesbian and blame me for what happened. I stayed trapped in my mind for years to avoid that suspicion. When I finally did open up, most people were kind and supportive, but you better believe some people asked! Never mind the trembling voice, shaking legs, or sweaty palms as I disclose the scariest secret of my life—let’s discuss how this may or may not have affected my sexual preferences. (I survived, but please don’t do that to anyone!) Sexual abuse where perpetrator and victim are of the same sex is more common than you may think. As with any sexual abuse scenario, any and all shame belongs to the abuser, NEVER the victim.
5. THE WHOLE THING WAS SUCH A MIND GAME. This person was in my head so strongly. I wasn’t really given an explanation as to why things happened, but I came to understand through subtle cues that much was done out of “friendship” or “concern” for my health. It was never mentioned again. I was never told to keep what we did quiet; I chose silence to protect my best friend.
In her own way, she made sure I knew to pretend nothing ever happened, either out of denial or manipulation. For example, when she got a boyfriend she told me she was nervous because she’d never kissed anyone before…🤔 You can imagine my confusion, but I could tell by the way she said it I needed to play along. And when the song “I kissed a girl” came out I took it as a lesson that other straight girls had also kissed their friends, so maybe this wasn’t so weird. I told her I thought it was catchy. She got a disgusted look on her face and asked, “Why would you want to sing about kissing a girl?” I knew I had to pretend nothing had happened, and I was left as a child to try to figure out WHY it happened.
But it wasn’t just crazy confusing that way. I was emotionally unhealthy and immature paired with someone perfectly willing to manipulate my trust in many ways. My abuser honestly controlled or strongly influenced just about everything else I did or believed. We talked almost incessantly every single day via e-mail, instant messaging, phone calls, and text throughout my entire adolescent years. She helped convince me that nobody else loved me like she did, that my family was always wrong, that most of my friends my age were weird and immature.
I didn’t just want to be her friend—I wanted to be like her in every way. My identity was washed over with hers and nothing about her actions discouraged that wildly unhealthy pattern. When I couldn’t be exactly like her, my insecurity flared even more. Eventually I turned into a controlling psycho, equally impulsive and manipulative. We fought all the time.
6. I MADE RIDICULOUS EXCUSES FOR WHY THIS BEHAVIOR OCCURRED. My abuser was in college while I was in high school and she had ALL the power. I really was just a kid trying to sort through it all. I justified EVERYTHING she did that was wrong because I couldn’t possibly believe she would hurt me on purpose. I blamed and condemned myself because I could never blame the “only person who loved me.” What would that mean for me?
Since no explanation was given to me and I couldn’t possibly believe it was because my best friend was an unhealthy person who was “used by the devil” as she once told me after I confronted her—I came to bizarre conclusions:
“Maybe she’s never seen a body other then her own and she needs to practice for athletic training.”
“Well, I guess this is better than a doctor examining me because I wouldn’t want them to touch me this closely—but I can trust her.”
“Maybe the high testosterone levels that cause her hair to be dark and thick on her face and other areas makes her do this.”
“Maybe it’s my fault she kissed me because I had talked about kissing my Jr. High boyfriend.” (Never mind the fact that I said “no” as I pulled away crying, and was then “comforted” by more of the same behavior.)
“Maybe I accidentally spurred this on by asking [this] question.”
“Maybe this is because we are such good friends, and other good friends don’t have mature friendships like us.”
Nothing about my reasoning made much sense—It was the thought process of a manipulated child.
7. MY ABUSER WAS WELL-LIKED IN SOCIAL CIRCLES. This woman was highly involved in both my school and church communities. At first nobody suspected anything. She served in ministry with her friends, some of whom she’d known since childhood. Her mom worked at my high school, the same school my abuser had graduated from years previously, and where her brothers were also students the years I attended.
I remember her pulling me out of church youth group to talk one-on-one. She would visit me at my high school campus without having to sign in and out like every other adult. She even wrote me a “late excuse” note when we had talked past the lunch bell (probably her trying to encourage me in my depression, as this was a constant part of our conversations.) She was NOT authorized to sign for me but that teacher accepted her note, probably because both of our families had notoriety in this school.
8. VISIBLE RED FLAGS WERE JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG. As our mismatched friendship grew closer and closer, adults in position of power DID see red flags; some even suspected the worst. I found out recently my abuser was asked to step down from church ministry as a result of our weird attachment. The youth pastor even felt compelled to ask her if she’d ever touched me, which she denied. My parents were never notified of this information, nor was I questioned about our friendship.
Meanwhile I was reserved, quiet, extremely timid, insecure, and emotional. We were constantly talking or together; she’d even come to the homes of friends my age when I was hanging out with them. And because I felt incomplete without her (textbook codependency), I was glad when she came. Many noticed she was “weirdly possessive of me.” These and other eery clues I refer to as the “tip of the iceberg” rubbed some people the wrong way. Even my high school peers were creeped out and would warn me about her.
If what you see is odd or suspicious, you don’t want to know what goes on behind closed doors. I don’t hold grudges for the many parties who failed to protect me, but I do wish more people felt empowered to go with their gut, especially when it comes to protecting children.
9. “SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES” WERE NOT COINCIDENTAL. For so long I attributed what happened between me and this person as a “special circumstance.” I truly believed that I was mutually responsible, that “one thing accidentally led to another” because we were particularly loving and close. But looking back, I realize that every “one thing” was placed there and initiated by a person with significantly more age, power, and control than I had. It didn’t seem that way at the time because I was a teenager and quite naïve, but now it’s startlingly obvious.
I don’t know why a college athlete planning her career was interested in hanging out with a 13-year-old girl going through a Jr. High breakup, but the grooming process began there. She could drive, work, and enjoy a life without parental curfew while I was battling acne and getting braces. There was incredible manipulation and building of trust before it was finally betrayed again and again. She began the process of long hugs, holding hands, cuddling, holding me and then telling me it’s what close friends do when I had questions—for over a year before it became blatantly wrong.
While I don’t believe she intended to abuse me, her lack of healthy boundaries, perverted view of what it means to love, warped understanding of mentorship, and confusion as to who the real Savior is ultimately led her to cross one line after another. Eventually it crossed over into codependency and sexual abuse.
10. THE SCRIPT EVENTUALLY FLIPPED. At first I was uncomfortable with things, but I got to the point where I needed it to feel close. I felt desired when she’d hold me, and when she didn’t, I felt worthless. I learned to rely on that touch to feel like I had some sort of value. I was always confused by it, but I trusted that, nonetheless, this was love.
Eventually I started initiating things to feel loved again—a detail that haunted me for years after I terminated the friendship. (I’ve had to remind myself again and again that it’s always the adult’s job to say no even if a teen or child initiates something. I also remember that I wouldn’t have ever initiated anything if the groundwork hadn’t already been laid that this was an acceptable way to show love.)
It’s been a battle not to judge myself for parts of my story, or minimize the events and resulting pain. So many younger children were completely helpless in their sexual abuse. There are people who hated their abusers and tried to avoid them as much as possible. But that wasn’t my story. Convinced this was the only person who really cared about me, I would’ve put up with ANYTHING in order to keep my EVERYTHING. I did whatever I could to make sure I was “special” to her.
11. IT STOPPED INEXPLICABLY. Just before I turned 18, all the physical stuff mysteriously stopped—a detail that can haunt me if I start questioning why. Shortly after that, I was finally convinced by another church leader that our friendship was emotionally and spiritually unhealthy. When I took a step back from the constant communication and began listening to God’s voice over hers, the friendship completely unraveled and I experienced what was to this day the most excruciating season of my life. The manipulation and games that were played with my heart during this “breakup” of sorts was enough to make me feel God hated me. In reality, God loved me; but the person who had replaced Him in my heart all those years was acting cruel.
When it was all said and done, I had no idea I had been sexually abused. But the events which took place throughout my teen years haunted me every single day. I would get waves of shame that would debilitate me. I remember thinking, “I can’t believe it’s been [6, 7, 8] years and not a single day has passed when I haven’t remembered.” Flashbacks and nightmares were routine. I even begged God to let me get into a traumatic accident that would wipe out that part of my memory.
I gradually cut off all my friends and teachers from high school, anyone who had ties to my abuser in an attempt to avoid news of what she was doing, or people asking if we still hung out, and why not? Her name became an instant trigger, sending every nerve in my body on full alert. There are places I’ve refused to set foot as a grown adult in case—by some random chance—we’d both be there.
Time passed, life moved on, but I was held hostage by a person I hadn’t spoken to in years.
For much of my adult life, I’ve lived with a seatbelt grabbing me whenever I’d get too crazy or free. I’ve tried to fly with shackles on my ankles and could only rise so high before being jerked back down. It’s time to let that all go.
Healing from wounds this severe doesn’t come from a public announcement. What you won’t understand from this post is that I have done the vulnerable, painful, and deep work to allow mending in this area, most of which came from going to God with the mess. This post is just the next step in my journey towards healing, and I’m taking it.
I want to be me, to be honest, to be FREE as the person I was created to be.
When I initially wrote this blog over a year and a half ago, I was just starting to believe I’m worth that kind of life. Now I know it to be true.
I’m sharing this post for many reasons, but I think most of all I wrote it for me. To rediscover a voice that was silenced at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and every year after the abuse stopped… and to take the next step toward being the person God intended me to be. I believe sharing this post will be healing for me as I renounce fear and shame, and I believe there are more survivors out there who will connect with my story to find another layer of freedom in their own journeys.
I am a work in progress but also a walking testimony that God never leaves anyone in their broken state. He has provided the right people to talk to, the best friends to support me, and the constant truth of His Word through all of this. I have never been forsaken, and I have come to know a compassion and kindness in Him I didn’t know existed.
If you want to hear more about the incredible healing I’ve discovered, I’m happy to share that part of my story with you. If you’re uncomfortable reaching out but are still curious, browse through the songs I’ve shared on this site and on Youtube–they’re about hope and healing. I have more blog posts to come, and a debut album set to release later this year filled with all original songs (subscribe for updates on that project). Many of the songs on the album stem directly from healing these and other deep wounds. Better yet, crack open a Bible and see for yourself the beautiful ways God heals. He offers that same freedom to everyone.
If you were sexually abused, or if any person ever made you feel uncomfortable and you’re unsure if it was abuse–it’s NOT your fault. You have every right to be angered and hurt by this injustice. And thankfully, there IS healing available.
If you’ve been sexually abused and need a community to help you through this fight, please check out Fighting For Me, a non-profit organization which provides FREE professional counseling to men, women, and children (and their families) affected by sexual abuse. I am on the board of directors, but I do not handle patients. Your email/phone call will be completely confidential. If you want to get better informed about the INSANELY prevalent crime of sexual abuse, Fighting For Me and RAINN are excellent resources.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading this.
Farewell 2017! When I reflect on this year, it has been marked by simple joys, dear and sweet gifts, and heart strings touched that no one else can see. I did the least amount of traveling this year I think in a decade (I was only out of the country for 2 weeks!!) and yet, my heart has been so so full.
I went looking for pictures to sum it all up, and I narrowed 317 “highlights” to just 10 images. Funny enough, my guitar isn’t a focal point in any of them. Even chasing my dreams can’t compare to the joy of connecting with people.
These pictures and memories mean so much to me, and I’m not sure if they will to anyone else. But if they don’t touch your heart the way they do mine, I hope you are at least reminded of the beautiful gifts in your own life, which I expect will look much different. Nevertheless, here are 10 of my biggest highlights from 2017!
1. Soaking up the sun and the Son. This year I made it a point to see more sunshine. You can’t tell by my chronically pale skin, but I found joy in connecting with my Creator in the warmth of the day, the shade of my garden, the softness of grass beneath my feet.
I fell back in love with reading the Word of God, an answer to prayer! After a lifetime of studying the Scriptures I had honestly just felt “over it” most days. My perfectionist mind kept getting in the way, but I finally got the breakthrough to ask God to speak and just read anything. I kind of ditched a regular “studying” and didn’t worry about “getting something” every day. I learned to trust that it was worth the time spent and that God would bring verses to mind when I needed them.
Also, this year many “seeds” sprouted, and a harvest of flowers seemed to pop up in my heart (and in fields!!)
2. Soaring together. I got a front row seat (and sometimes claustrophobic, bumpy back seat) as my best friend’s dreams of becoming a pilot came back into sight. Miracle after miracle has put her back in the path she was born to fly in. Perhaps the most beautiful of all has been seeing her soar to new heights mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. Life is better when we journey together, and that was definitely evident this year.
3. This stinking girl!!! Spending time with Ari and my family in Peru was an incredible gift of joy. Never a dull moment with a girl who loves to paint, laugh, splash, wrestle, cook, organize, build, and “fix” things she’s taken apart.
When my sister first said she was pregnant years ago, I grieved for about a month knowing I’d have another life to love so far away. I desperately wanted Ari to know how much I love her, and I worried the distance would be too big for a babe to break through. This year has done nothing but prove my biggest fears completely wrong. Whether we FaceTime or hang out in person, we love each other and have a relationship that is completely our own.
Watching my sister as a mom and Jonathan as a dad has been healing, inspiring, and life-giving. Ari is in fabulous hands, and she is thriving as the person she was created to be! I’m so proud of all three of them.
Also, while I was away in Peru this year, I got some perspective that has changed my life. It was complex and revolutionary to me at the time, and now it’s quite simple. Getting away and reflecting helped me realize what contributes to my life in the best ways, and I made changes to include more of the good and less of the toxic once I got home. That has included changing my mindset, habits, and people I surround myself with. And for a pretty dang good life, it has managed to get even better!
4. Friends through whatever weather. I watched a great friend gain a husband and family. The four of us got to share in each other’s joys and burdens for another year, and I don’t cease to recognize the treasure in this sweet and spicy crew. Grateful for the love we share for each other.
5. Rest and healing. God provided little getaway gifts throughout the year, and restored my heart in the process. Breathing fresh and foreign air, times of reflecting, exploring, growing. Complete with accommodations well beyond my budget, taken care of by my Heavenly Father one way or another. These small trips I treasure in my heart and could never fully explain how much they mean to me—but I hope you enjoy time with God in your own way, because His personal love is just too good to miss!
6. New life. Celebrating the arrival of precious little loves into this world. Both of these babies are complete miracles, whose strong mommies fought extra hard to bring them here safely. What a treasure to hold their tiny, healthy, miraculous lives wrapped in a warm baby bundle. They are destined to do great things! Can’t wait to see where they go!
7. Baptism. And the events leading up to this day. (A tea party for women pilots, a worship night, a church service or two.) Too much to even write in a small post, but this day was one of redemption, glory, joy, hope, family, restoration, pure beauty, and the thoughtfulness of God.
Four amazing people who are so special to me for different reasons got baptized in a day that couldn’t have felt less religious, and yet was so full of the supernatural love of God. Everyone who was there experienced something special, like a hand-wrapped gift from God unique to them.
We got to share this day with the new church family God blesses us with in 2017. So many answered prayers wrapped up in this group, in this photo.
8. Bible Babes. At the perfect time, a tribe of God-loving, bold, daring lionesses entered my life. Together we have encouraged, sent out, and uplifted one another. We have a beautiful sisterhood committed to speaking into each other with the love of God. Can’t wait to grow deeper in 2018.
(Also somewhat showcased in this picture—our home has been used to host worship nights, birthday parties, baptisms, and more!! It’s a place of joyful celebration, quiet rest, and peaceful healing for not only me but many others.)
9. Family time. For 5 1/2 weeks I did nothing but adventure and play with both immediate and extended family. My sister, her husband, and their daughter were at the forefront of attention and the reason I got to visit many other family members I wouldn’t have otherwise seen. It was a blast seeing the world through a 2-year-old’s lens of awe and wonder, and then sharing the joy with others. And WHY do families never seem to get together enough?? Thankful for the way this visit brought us all closer.
10. Running free. This year wasn’t always picture-perfect (do you feel misled!?), but I’m going into 2018 with a light and joyful heart, focusing on the plethora of good I was gifted with. Moments like this are simple and can happen almost any day if you make time for them, and I intend to next year.
Here’s to more adventures, more connecting with people off of the stage, more snuggling my fluffy pup, more bold and daring moves, and growing more in love and wisdom this coming year!
Wishing you all a joyful and fulfilling 2018! Have a blessed New Year!!
I’ve learned the hard way recently that these two verses can actually go hand in hand:
“Walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm.” -Proverbs 13:20
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” -Proverbs 4:23
Sometimes I walk with the wise, surrounding myself with people I admire. Those times I typically flourish and find joy. Sometimes I surround myself with people who believe foolish things and act accordingly, and it does hurt me—deeply.
But I think the worst is when I’ve acted foolishly, and my companions have “suffered much harm.” I don’t just mean acting like an idiot and hurting someone once in a while, only to apologize and behave better afterward. I do my fair share of that, and unfortunately I’ll never be perfect in that regard.
I’ve learned recently that by systematically not guarding my heart, I’ve ultimately hurt not only myself but others. I’ve always heard to “guard your heart” but I didn’t know what that looked like in friendship, or that it even mattered until recently. It’s a terrible feeling to know you acted out of ignorance and it resulted in pain for both yourself and others.
Sometimes foolishness in friendship is subtle…
It’s giving someone the keys to your heart and home before they’ve proven they can cherish them properly.
It’s being committed to someone before getting to know each other, only to later realize that your expectations vary greatly.
It’s excusing unacceptable, harmful, or destructive behavior and expecting the end result to be ok.
It’s ruminating on the way someone “close” to you hurts you and displays their immaturity instead of addressing it, forgiving, and moving on.
It’s so easy to point a finger at the other person, but I have to admit I’ve been an ignorant fool when it comes to my heart and friendships. The result has been unmet expectations and a lot of pain for not only me, but other people I care about. They’ve had to be cut from a place they never really belonged (or they’ve cut me), and that severing is painful for everyone. What could’ve been something beautiful—even a distant friendship—becomes an abandoned rose garden, former beauty wrapped in thorns.
One of my wisest and truest friends once told me, “Christine, people will tell you who they are. Are you going to listen?” For much of my life I’ve been in such a rush to trust my first impression of people I like, I haven’t given them enough time to tell me who they really are, what they want, where they’re going. I foolishly haven’t waited for them to get to know me either. The more we learned about each other, the less we liked, the more we felt slighted when our needs weren’t met, and the more bitter we became. By the time the stark differences in our values fully emerge, we’ve had no choice but to let each other go.
I don’t mourn for releasing the companions who never should’ve been. In fact, in that regard I am relieved and joyful. By the grace of God we were able to wish each other farewell and harbor no bad feelings. I feel light knowing that my heart and home are once again protected.
But I do grieve for the pain leading up to the parting. For the ways we hurt each other without being mean or rude, but by operating on a false sense of reality. It was preventable pain caused by the foolishness of not guarding my heart from the beginning, which consequently would’ve protected theirs.
I’m grateful to have learned about letting a friendship develop gradually instead of letting every wall down from the start, allowing both parties to disclose who they really are and what they want. And I’m really glad to be moving forward. This lesson is one I will regard highly in order to prevent similar pain with other good people. I’m pressing in to the perfect Friend (Jesus, God, Holy Spirit) to heal, grow in wisdom, and continue with healthy friendships.
Today I am thankful for grace in my personal situations. I’ll spare the finite details of it all, but the summary is that God is beyond faithful in all of my shortcomings. (If you want to roll your eyes at that cliche—test it! It’s true!)
In humility I’m sharing this lesson with hope that others can learn from a blog instead of painful experience. Don’t be a companion of fools, and don’t be the foolish companion who causes harm. Seek wise friends and guard your heart—even in friendships.
I’m noticing a shift in the songs I write, a turning of a new leaf. I always write from my heart, and for years my heart was badly hurt from wounds I didn’t choose, and even mistakes I made in misguided attempts to move forward. Many of my songs originally existed to express the feelings trapped inside, to help me process through all the pain, and to remind myself of truth along the way.
I now have a trove of relatable songs which I can’t wait to share with you in an upcoming EP. Through this music I hope to be that hand reaching out in the darkness, because the darkness and pain are real, and stuffing or ignoring them won’t make them go away.
That being said, I’ve recently found myself in a markedly new chapter in my personal life, stronger and more joyful. I believe it’s an indication that through pressing on in this journey–even though I may have merely limped along at times–I really am healing. I am reaping with songs of joy that which was sowed in seeds of tears.
Stay tuned for music updates and an EP launch date. I cannot wait to share these songs with you, and I pray you find encouragement in them too.
And to those currently hurting—There is joy yet to come. Sometimes only a tiny fiber of my being could believe that, and somedays—like today—I realize just how true that verse is. Dear Heavy Heart, keep going. You too will have a day of rejoicing.
Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.
Like so many of you, 2016 has been a whirlwind. I’ve felt pain, shame, heartache… and also unimaginable strength, joy, hope, and freedom. Fear has played a prominent role in this year’s script, but more than any year before, so has courage.
When I first started this year, my only resolution was to do something that scared me EVERY DAY in 2016. I had completely different expectations than what actually happened. I planned to do some epic things like skydive and maybe backpack to some remote spot. I hoped I’d finally feel comfortable performing in front of big crowds by getting on bigger and bigger stages.
Well, my plans to skydive fell through and I have yet to reschedule them. I spent most of this year performing more—and on bigger stages—hoping that for once what other singers promised me would come true: “The more you do it, the less scary it is.” I kept facing my fears, but I got sickly nervous every time.
Early on in the year, I kept a record of each day’s fear I conquered. But after about a month I realized my “fears” just weren’t that impressive. Much of what scared me were things so simple, not even I would enjoy reading about it at the end of the year. So I stopped keeping track, but I made sure to do something each day.
It became a habit to do things because I was afraid. My inner dialogue began to look something like this: I don’t want to do _____ because I’m scared. Great! That’s exactly what I need to do! At first it was about checking off my fear for the day, but it soon became about living. I started going straight towards the things that made me want to crawl out of my skin, knowing they were the very things I had to face in order to keep fear from ruling me.
I’ve had some very real “conqueror” moments this year—some that many of you have witnessed, some I can’t wait to share with you in the New Year, and some that only my closest friends and family get to celebrate with me. In 2016, I did amazing and horribly frightening things like:
Having incredibly uncomfortable yet necessary conversations with friends
Owning up to embarrassing mistakes and offering sincere apologies for my poor behavior
Sending emails I feared would result in “no’s”
Posting videos I knew weren’t perfect
Reaching out to people I was afraid would reject me
Choosing honesty and vulnerability with trusted people
Taking on work I was afraid yet fully capable to do
Performing on stages big and small throughout Orange County
At first, the voice of fear was just as loud as when I started. Sometimes I gave in to it. Most days I chose courage at least once. By the end of the year, I started noticing most of my fears didn’t happen. Even when my fears came true, it didn’t feel nearly as bad as playing it safe. Giving into fear only forfeits the chance to truly feel alive. The voice of fear just didn’t carry the same weight after a while–I knew the promises of safety were not only empty, but debilitating.
By far I gained so much more than I lost by taking chances. My friendships developed from good friends to bonded sisters. I got some “no’s” and a decent amount of rejection, but I also got some yeses that resulted in amazing opportunities. I learned as I went on some jobs, and my clients were happy—I even got paid!
The greatest takeaway was finally noticed in the last couple of weeks. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t nervous to perform! It wasn’t because I finally had performed enough. It was a total shift in my perspective.
Through choosing courage in my personal life, I gained the paradigm shift I needed to face “bigger” obstacles head on. All those sent emails and persevering through uncomfortable situations helped me learn I am far more capable than I typically give myself credit. I realized that if I can have an incredibly difficult conversation and deal with the aftermath of those emotions in a healthy way, I can easily show up the next day and play a few of my favorite songs. I also began to see myself as someone who has something really special to offer.
I never could’ve anticipated this kind of result, that I would feel more like myself rather than have a cool list of things I’ve accomplished. To loosen the grip between fear-based living and who I really am truly is the greatest gift of freedom.
Not every day went perfectly, but because I chose courage more times than not in 2016,
I CONNECTED. I LIVED.
It is my plan to do the same in 2017—and for the rest of my life.
I can’t encourage you enough to kick fear’s butt and truly live! Send the dreaded emails, have the scary conversations, and try new things you’re afraid of!
May you have a wonderful and FREE 2017! Happy New Year!
In my (albeit short) lifetime I’ve never seen the U.S. so divided. It’s not just a split between two parties; it’s egocentrism for many people on differing sides. It’s a complete disregard for the thought processes, values, and everyday realities of others. It’s the absolute refusal to admit that you may be wrong in your conclusions, or that someone else may be equally right in a different way. I’m seeing people threaten each other, put people down, and “unfriend” people because they’re voting for someone with different convictions.
I’ll be the first to admit it’s frustrating to hear rhetoric I disagree with, read news stories that are clearly spun (at least in my opinion), and not judge people who seem to lack basic critical thinking skills. But it’s equally important to try to understand where people are getting their information, why they think the way they do, and look for their heart and soul in it all.
What I’ve found is that the majority of people on any side want similar things; they just have very different ideas on how to accomplish them. I don’t think we need to be so divided.
Everyone thinks they’re right. But obviously it’s impossible for everyone to actually be right. Odds are, you’re probably wrong about at least one voting point. I suspect I am. I think leaving room for the possibility of error even in our own thought process is key to uniting as Americans and people. I know this is a very “threatening” opinion to people who feel so passionately about issues in this election, whose livelihood and freedom seem directly left in the hands of the winning candidate.
I completely support voting for what’s best for YOU and YOUR values, but try to understand other people are doing the same. (My favorite example of this is how many of my Christian friends and family members are praying for opposite candidates to win the election. Both have extremely “Christian” and “biblical” convictions to support their personal choice, and yet overall it seems to be split.)
The golden rule is “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” Don’t you want people to hear you, consider your perspective, and respect you even if they disagree? Don’t you wish more people would admit that maybe their ideas won’t be as beneficial to society as they imagine? I believe we have to first practice that ourselves.
At the end of the day, I’m choosing to love people by respecting their values and understanding that what’s most important to me isn’t always as important to everyone else. Certain policies which negatively affect me may benefit someone else, and vice versa. Maybe I’m wrong about the effects of the very policies I firmly support and oppose.
We will never all unite on policy, but we can unite as humans.I’m trying as hard as I can to understand where others are coming from and to maintain a loving perspective. After all, isn’t love what life is all about?
So here’s my attempt at accepting my propensity for error. Here’s my commitment to search for the perspectives of people I don’t agree with so I can truly hear them—not try to convert them. I encourage y’all to try it too. I’m pretty sure I’m right about this, but—hey—I could be wrong. 🙂