You Better Work

Remember back in middle school when just about every guy wanted to be a pro athlete? I'm sure there were a lot of girls who did, too, but the memory sticks out more vividly for the boys for me (middle school is also a much more distant memory for some of us).

How many pro athletes do you know now? Maybe one person you sorta kinda remember from school because you had that class together once? Why is that? If just about every boy wanted to be one, why aren't there more.

I'm sure there are countless reasons, but I'm confident many realized this: it's gonna take too much work.

The amount of drive and determination it takes to get to the professional level of any sport is commendable, but rare.

This week, a couple friends and I are headed to Minnesota for the Ezer Collective, a leadership intensive for Christian women led by speaker and author Jo Saxton. She and her business partner, Pastor Steph O'Brien, also have a podcast called Lead Stories. Today, they posted an interview with literary agent and writing coach Rachelle Gardner regarding the intricacies of becoming an author.

This is my calling! I was STOKED!

However, about 3 minutes into the podcast, I felt a familiar anxiety start to rise in my gut, and it usually precedes a powerful bout of insecurity, doubt, and fear. I'm starting to learn my lesson though, because before those nasty voices could even open their mouths, I called out to God to let me hear only what He would have me hear and to help me process it in a way that only furthers His purposes. 

And OH, did He ever deliver.

As I listened to the almost hour-long podcast, one overall theme really struck me: this "calling" of mine is gonna take a whole lot of flipping work. It will require every bit of the focus, drive, and determination of an aspiring pro athlete.

It's not like this is news to me exactly. I'm completely aware that I'll have to do a significant amount of work, but somehow, it always seems like the bulk of the work consists of some vague tasks in the distant future. That, my friends, is how aspiring authors and athletes remain "aspiring" instead of "professional." No one is paying you for work you might do in the future. 

The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing,

while the soul of the diligent is richly supplies.

Proverbs 13:4

Have you ever asked your kids to do something, and, instead of obeying, they continue whatever mindless thing they're doing? When that happens, I might wait a little bit, but at some point, I look at them and say, "Dude. Get it together. I asked you to do something."

Today, when I listened to that podcast, God gently whispered into my heart, "Alissa, it's time to act. It's time to work. Rise up, child. I asked you to do something." (Please note that God is ever so much gentler and kinder to me than I am to my kids...because He's God. We're working on it).

So, as the time for this training draws near, I go into it knowing full well I have a lot of hard work ahead of me, not sometime in the distant future, but in the here and now. It should sound scary, but one thought gives me a lot of comfort: the Law of Marginal Gains.

My friend John-Erik Moseler often talks about this in his coaching. Basically, it's a concept that touts the profitability of very small changes CONSISTENTLY over time and was used by Sir David Brailsford in his training of the British Olympic Cycling team. With it, he was able to transform a program that had only won one gold medal in over 75 years to one that won seven out of ten medals in Beijing in 2008...and he did it in only six years, and all with 1% changes over time.

My point is that no one becomes Michael Jordan overnight. Michael Jordan certainly didn't. He practiced and practiced and practiced for YEARS to become the legend He is today, improving ever so gradually with each failed shot, each brick to the basket, each layup that landed just a bit too shy.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if God has a future mapped out for me, then He will give me everything I need to achieve it...including the will to WORK. 

Commit your work to the Lord,

and your plans will be established.

Proverbs 16:3

And let us not grow weary of doing good

for in due season we will reap,

if we do not give up.

Galatians 6:9

*Source: https://hbr.org/2015/10/how-1-performance-improvements-led-to-olympic-gold

A Winning Wardrobe

I had it all planned out.

Don't most humbling, slap-you-in-the-face moments start that way?

A few nights ago, I lay in bed thinking about exactly which outfits I would wear for the 5 days I'm going to be in Minnesota for the Ezer Collective. I was bubbling over with excitement.

A few weeks ago, I picked up a couple adorable clothing items from a second hand store. I tried them on briefly at home to make sure they fit, and Josiah seemed to think they were okay, so I thought they would fit fabulously into my trip wardrobe. (I tried them on for Josiah because we don't own a full-length mirror; if I ever look jacked up from the shoulders down, you now know why).

One was a plaid, tweed jacket that would look sophisticated and fun with skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. The other was a gorgeous, sheer red blouse (with the tags still on it) with slightly puffy sleeves and a ruffled collar. You just really can't GET more "me" than that.

The sheer blouse had a cami that came underneath it, but the thing was super short. When I tried it on the first time I looked like the female version of Winne the Pooh - NOT a flattering look. After purchasing a replacement cami yesterday, I came home and flew to the room to try it on.

The new cami felt just a little too long for the blouse, so I had Josiah take a picture to show me. It was TOO SMALL. The blouse I just adored felt comfortable but was far too snug, so not only was it a little short for the cami, but the last button pulled around my hips and accentuated my rolls.

NOOOOOOO!

"That's okay, though, right?" I thought. "Because that tweed jacket is going to be AWESOME!"

However, once I put it on again, I quickly noticed something that had completely escaped my attention the first time: that sucker had shoulder pads.

I don't know if you know this, but anything with shoulder pads makes a broad-shouldered girl look like the shortest linebacker in the NFL. It's not a good look.

Knowing we don't really have the funds for me to go shopping for new clothes right now, I fell to pieces. With the board for my "She is clothed in strength and dignity" sign slung haphazardly across the tops of my closet's louver doors (you can read more about that here), I stared into my closet seething, angry, and shattered, feeling clothed in very little strength and not a shred of dignity. Instead, I was clothed in a lot of sadness and boatloads of disappointment. I wailed about how I didn't have anything nice to wear and that I guess I'd just wear my "stupid, ''mom clothes."

Yes, you read that right. With people just hours south of here mourning the loss of everything they own due to Hurricane Michael, I mourned the loss of two items of clothing, which technically fit, but looked hideous. Not my finest moment.

As the hot tears slid down my face, leaving salty trails in my makeup, even I was surprised at the depth of emotion I felt over this seemingly insignificant event. "Why does this hurt so much?" I asked myself. "Why am I so devastated?"

And then, like Jack and Jill on their return voyage down the hill, the fears and insecurities tumbled out of me. They were numerous, but it all boiled down to this: I am afraid of being overlooked or disregarded because I'm old and fat.

I was super excited about the chic and fun outfits because I felt like they really represented me well...and because I feel like I need to do and be so much more to compensate for the fact that I'm truthfully "just" an overweight mom with seven kids. Even now, that makes my eyes sting with tears.

Unfortunately, there's actually some truth there, but it's mixed up with lies - Cocoa Pebbles in a bowl of sour milk.

If two women, one bigger and one smaller, put on the exact same outfit, nine times out of ten, the thinner woman would be taken more seriously, considered more attractive, hired for the job, etc. In many ways in our society, being bigger puts you at a disadvantage. That's the cold, hard truth.

The sour milk in the bowl, though, is the idea that I need these people's approval in order to fulfill my God-given calling. After a fitful night of sleep (or NOT sleep), I rose far before daylight and headed out to the beach to get my bearings. I knew there was truth I was missing, but I needed to be away from everyone with my God to figure it out.

There, in my van, in the dark hour just before dawn, I cried out to God and heard back, "Is anything impossible for the Lord?" I knew it was from the story of Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac, but I googled it to find its exact location (Genesis 18:14) . I didn't expect it to come up in three more places.

Oh Lord God!

You yourself made the

heavens and the earth

by Your great power and

with Your outstretched arm.

Nothing is too difficult for You!

Jeremiah 32:17

Look I am Yahweh,

the God of all flesh.

Is anything too difficult for Me?

Jeremiah 32:27

[Jesus] replied, 

"What is impossible with men

is possible with God."

Luke 18:27

And with those, this one popped into my head:

Now to Him who is able

to do above and beyond

all that we ask or think

according to the power that works in us,

to Him be the glory

in the church and in Christ Jesus

to all generations,

forever and ever.

Ephesians 3:20

My God can do more than I can even begin to imagine in order to fulfill His purposes for me.

• Sarah laughed when she was told she would bear a child because she knew she was too old. God gave her a child, Isaac.
• David was a shepherd boy no one thought anything of, not even enough to bring him in from the field while Samuel looked over Jesse's sons to see which would be king. God made him king.
• Elizabeth was too old to bear children and everyone thought she was barren. God gave her John, he who would pave the way for the Messiah.
• 
  

In each of these cases, God made his perfect plans work through imperfect, unlikely people. Why? To bring Him more glory because only HE could do those impossible things.

God asked Gideon to defeat the Midianites, who were oppressing His people. So, Gideon took 32,000 men with him to defeat the armies of Midian, a force that would probably have numbered in excess of 100,000. But the odds weren't stacked enough for God.

The Lord said to Gideon,

"You have too many people for Me

to hand the Midianites over to you,

or else Israel might brag:

'I did it myself.'"

Judges 7:2

Therefore, God made sure the Israelites knew no one but HE could have accomplished the victory by sending Gideon with just 300 men...and they defeated them not with swords, spears, and arrows, but with torches, trumpets, and terracotta pots - a truly divine upheaval.

Here's the thing: if I'm meant to connect with any of the women attending this thing in a way that will impact my future and God's purpose, then it won't matter if I'm wearing a burlap sac and Birks. 

It is not my wardrobe that will bring me through to my calling. It is not my gifts, talents, or bubbly personality. It is nothing other that the power of the living God working in and through me and my circumstances.

He gave me those tools, yes, but without Him, they still aren't enough to fulfill a God-sized purpose.

God will do what He wants, when He wants, through whom He wants, and if I'm willing to walk in obedience, there's nothing that's going to keep me from the calling He has put on my life.

So, I'm heading to Minnesota in just over a week clothed in strength, dignity, and outfits I already own. I won't be clothed in what I've planned, but now that the fears and insecurities have been dealt with, I can go clothed in what I should have been thinking of all along: the love of my Heavenly Father, the strength that comes from knowing His great power, the power given to me in Christ Jesus, and the authority I have been given as the daughter of the One, True King. THAT, my friends, is a winning wardrobe!

Now, get thee behind me, Satan, and observe this outfit from the back. I've got work to do.

When Ish Gets Heavy

Last week, our family decided it might be a lot of fun to pack a lunch and have a picnic at Buckroe Beach. The new pier has a large picnic shelter, and it's a pretty awesome space.

So, even though babies hadn't had naps, I hadn't showered, and the day just was not going well, we packed like 8 trillion peanut butter and banana sandwiches, chips, apples, and some bottled waters and loaded up the van.

When we arrived, each older kid grabbed a younger sibling, and headed across the field. Since Josiah's back has not been 100% lately, he pushed the youngest in the stroller, and I carried all the food.

To get to the picnic area on the pier, you have to cross a pretty decent sized field, and then, of course, walk the length of the pier itself. It's not a long walk, though, so initially I didn't bat an eye. I just slung the picnic bag across my body, grabbed the bag of bottled waters in one hand and another bag of random goodies in the other.

At first, it felt kind of nice to be carrying all that stuff. Sometimes, when I do things like that, I get an secret sense of pride that my body is capable of carrying heavy loads. It's like it wakes up my inner badass (yes, I said "badass." I couldn't think of another word that carried the same sentiment). I started across the field, back straight, with long, proud strides, rejecting any help offered by the kids. I got this.

Halfway across the field, though, the weight of the strap started to dig in to my shoulder and holding the bags away from my legs made my shoulders and forearms burn. What was an easy load at the outset was getting heavier with every step, and a quick jaunt across a field started to feel like crossing the state.

In that moment, I felt like I heard God say, "This is what it's like to follow My purpose for you carrying baggage you're not supposed to have."

A while back, there was a part of me that I'd come to recognize as extra baggage that I wasn't supposed to be carrying, but it had been with me my whole life. I considered it just "part of who I am." It was damaging, but comfortable, well-worn, and mine.

But when I asked a friend at church to pray for me and told her how I felt, that I just didn't want to let go, she looked at me and said, "Okay, now the next time you go to the gym and get on the treadmill, I want you to strap a ton of chains to your body, and then let's see how you do."

Wise words. (You can read that blog post here).

Here's the catch, like the stuff I was carrying across the field that day, there are some things you're just going to have to carry in life. It's going to get heavy and hard, and you're just going to have to push through, even if you have to stop and rest every now and then to get there. (Or do what I did and go even faster)

But that's all stuff I KNEW I was carrying. This invisible baggage we carry with us has often been handed to us through station or circumstance, and we've carried it so long we don't know it's baggage. Life feels heavy and we trudge through, weighted down, but we can't figure out why or by what. All we know is that it hurts and burns, and we want to go on, but we're Just. So. Tired.

And sometimes, we've identified exactly what needs to be put down, tossed aside, or thrown away, but it just doesn't seem possible. The pain has become part of us. To cast it aside now would be to cast part of ourselves aside, leaving a piece of us behind.

And then again, some of us lay it down, just to pick it back up again. We cast off the chains, claiming fullness and freedom, but pick them right back up again, through coping or custom.

In my life, I can identify the latter two; the former will come with time. Praise God, He accepts us where we are, but won't leave us where He found us. 

My weights are often my "shoulds" (the expectations I or others have put on me that have no business being there), my "ams" (harmful and negative parts of my identity I've long adopted as who I am, but that have no place in my future), and my "am nots" (limits I've placed on myself our of fear and insecurity that don't belong there).

I have been walking with these things for as long as I can remember, letting them slow me down or just gritting my teeth and bearing the pain. But the longer I walk, the heavier they get, and there comes a time when you have to choose: fetters or future, destined or defeated.

The answer is so clear.

Friend, whatever is holding you back and weighing you down, keeping you from the purpose God has for you, I pray you would LAY IT DOWN. Don't wait until tomorrow or Monday or "things get better." Seek God's face and let it go.