What's Food Got to Do with It?

When it's been 2 years since you last blogged, it can be awkward to jump back in again. It's like when you have wanted to call a friend for months (in this case, years - shame!), and you keep putting it off because you will have to spend at least the first 10 minutes of the call apologizing and explaining why it's been so long.

For my 1st post back, I thought it best to stay away from talking about terrorism, guns, and any other politically charged hot-button topics for multiple reasons: 1. While I have thoughts on political subjects, I do not consider myself knowledgable enough about them to write about them well. 2. I would rather everyone gather around, hold hands, and sing kum-ba-ya - I know it's pathetic, but how are you going to fight the counselor in me? 3. For crying out loud, it's my 1st blog post after 2 years. I need to start with doggy paddling in the shallow end. Truth.

So now that we've gotten all of that out of the way, I wanted to share about something that I've recently experienced that has been a game changer for me. I have been on the healthy eating train for a while bc I've wanted to feel good and have a good quality of life. What I've realized is that my version of healthy eating was throwing in a veggie or two in with the meats, breads, and sweets I had always been eating (balanced eating includes dessert! ;)). And y'all to tell you the truth, I have eaten vegetables because I know they're "good for me", never out of a craving or desire. Um...you know what would be so amazing right now? Some cucumber. Oooo, could you give me some of that carrot? Yumm. Nope. I have trained my brain to think - eat this and your heart will be happy.


So what has changed for me is my perspective toward vegetables - this is huge. About a month ago, I joined the produce co-op Urban Acres and will never look back. All of the produce is organic; all of it is locally-sourced; and it is affordable. All of these factors were the hook, line, and sinker for me. I've realized the importance of eating organically, as research shows all the hazards that pesticides and GMOs can pose to our health. I've also been drawn to supporting our local farmers. I really believe that our food industry has some major issues, and part of the reason is because it has become a big money-driven corporation, which has lost touch with what people need. It has lost the human component. Our local farmers are such a treasure, and if we do not support them, our economy will suffer, and ultimately, we will suffer. Lastly, I was able to look at this option as a financially viable option. Buying local and organic does not have to break the bank.

So one month in, I have never felt better. That part was not a big surprise to me. The surprise was how good all the vegetables (and fruit) tasted to me. Last night, we had grilled salmon with quinoa, roasted eggplant, and tomatoes with mint. I made the same thing again today with chicken because we liked it so much (My husband Gabriel is actually the primary cook in our world, so that should tell you how much I wanted to eat our produce!!). The carrots and yellow squash we had in our last shipment were so tasty, we didn't even want to cook them, so we ate them raw. I have never enjoyed vegetables so much!! What gives?!

So upon thinking about this, I reflected on the fact that our grocery stores carry produce from all over the states, even all over the world. We're not necessarily getting what's local and in season. And we're also not necessarily getting our produce the freshest because of transportation time. I have never had organic vegetables from a grocery store taste as amazing as the ones from this co-op do. Every shipment is like this great discovery of produce. Y'all I'm genuinely enjoying eating vegetables. As a girl who grew up eating PB&J almost every day for lunch and whose favorite childhood fast food meal was Wendy's Junior Bacon Cheeseburger with mustard only and Biggie Fries, this is a very big deal.

I started thinking - how would things be different for the next generation if we gave them food that is genuinely good - both for them and in their opinion? Maybe we would see kids who are healthier physically and mentally, who are able to focus in school, and who have the sustained energy to run, play, and have fun. Some things to ponder.

My recommendation to you is that you look into local, organic food options in your neighborhood. Like me, you might be pleasantly surprised with what you find.

Wallflower: The Life of the Unseen

I have these moments of freeze motion in the wake of frenzy, as if a movie scene has opened to reveal a glass vase flying into the air in slow motion. I am watching with no small amount of fear and trembling, anxious that the vase will shatter onto the ground, and I will be shown to be a fool for believing that the rules are breakable in the natural world, like they would be in a movie.

The frenzy is this past year of nonstop momentum. I have pressed onward and upward as a therapist in the trenches and am beginning to experience the rush of weariness that comes with stooping down low long and hard to lift up heavy, broken bodies. I am tired and want to sink deep in the mud and sleep, while the battle rages overhead, bullets blasting by to remind me that the time has not come for sleeping yet.

There is an anonymous, mysterious, lonely air to the trenches. For someone who knows what it's like to dance in the spotlight (literally), it has been a season of bowing low and humbling myself, submitting to the word the Lord gave me at the beginning of the year - that this would be the year of unseen for me. I first understood it to mean that I would be unseen, but later have come to understand that it means much more than that. As I submit to going unseen and unnoticed, my eyes have been opened to the world of the unseen, where God makes Himself known. The God whose face I see in Jesus. 

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen. {Hebrews 11:1}

~September 16, 2013

Such a breakthrough this past year - much more to come.

Isn't it Ironic? Invisible Blog: 3/7/13

Irony is one of my favorite literary devices, probably because it evokes smirks and surprises, both of which I enjoy. Strangely enough, though, irony is an element that one can appreciate much better objectively from a distance rather than finding oneself a victim of it.

Three weekends ago, feeling bogged down by a difficult job and health problems, God put it on my heart to pursue the discipline of gratitude. Little did I know what I was about to experience. The week following this nudge was probably the most challenging week I have had so far at my job, full of conflict and heaviness. Tuesday night I collapsed into my floor, a puddle of tears, and God reminded me of what He had spoken to me the previous weekend. In an attitude of desperation, with an aside of sighs and a furrowed, determined brow, I took an action-oriented approach and drove to the nearest Barnes and Noble and purchased two items  - 1000 Gifts and a journal.

Little did I know that the discipline of giving thanks would be the key to my survival. Feeling tired, weak, and overwhelmed, I decided to take time each day to thank God for the gifts He had given me that day. Initially, it was an exercise that my heart was hardly in. I mechanically thanked God for the hard lessons of loving kids that spewed anger, distrust, and hatred toward me. Then, I thanked God for the simple and oftentimes forgotten wonders, like sunsets and dark chocolate. My observations and reasons for thanks multiplied exponentially. Over time, I began to perceive a change - my joy was growing. I saw God's goodness and kindness cover my circumstances.

And then it hit me today, as I am overflowing with gratitude and awe. I am closer to reality than I ever have been, because I see how small I am and how great God is to shape this little life for imparting love in the hard places. It all points back to Jesus.

Allow me to share some of my breakthroughs of gratitude with you:
1. God is being so kind to take me through this season of being unseen. It's a word He spoke to me for this year. He is humbling me low and taking me away from the notice of others. This is stripping me of a lifelong struggle of finding my sense of worth in other's approval.
2. God is teaching me the deepest lessons in the hard, risky places. Every day is a risk, because I have no clue what I will face in the work He has given me. In that, though, I'm experiencing the necessity of walking in full dependence on Jesus' grace and strength. As each day begins, I'm walking in the reality of "if-He-doesn't-show-up-I'm-screwed".
3. God is answering prayers I have been praying for years for my family for them to have open eyes and hearts and see the reality of His love for them.
4. God is teaching me how to take time to rest, also a lesson in humility.

Just scratching the surface, here.

Freeing to be Small: Lessons from Children and Changes

A dam has broken in me.

It all started with an unwelcome change. I had been plugging away as the adult faith-based therapist at a mental health hospital and was content to stay. Actually, I was more than content; I was honored to stay. I was honored to have a front row seat to people's journeys of recovery and healing; I was honored to share the truth of the gospel with them and pray with them. Then, something changed very unexpectedly. Due to some shifts in the hospital, I was wedged out of my well-loved position and into another. With practically no experience with children in a therapeutic setting, I stepped into the position of latency therapist, working with children ages 5-12 in a group setting, facing their rage and opposition in a way I had never seen before.

I was disappointed, sad, scared, and utterly confused about the change. I questioned God with all my might because in my understanding it made absolutely no sense. Apart from the hospital administration's reasoning, I knew God was sovereign in the situation. But His plan was baffling to me.

I spent six months praying, learning, reading, (sometimes) crying, taking deep breaths, and asking lots of questions. I set my face like flint toward the task of loving and guiding these kids, taking one day at a time and not having a clue what I was doing. Some days, I felt peace and confidence and experienced bits of encouragement. Many days, though, I felt frazzled, scared, and overwhelmed. I feared not helping, and even harming them, with my uncertainty and ignorance.

I experienced kids screaming and yelling at me, spewing words of hatred at me, staring me down, running away from me (and having to chase them down to protect them), lying boldfaced to me, sneaking around behind my back, cursing at me, and trying to hurt me. Many days I struggled to really love them and not just see them as a problem. For at least three (maybe more) of those six months, I was in survival mode and mustered up small amounts of care and concern in my heart for them (which was not much) and begged God for more.

Something, though, changed in me during that period of time. I know that because over a week ago, I was offered the adult women's therapist position and felt torn in my heart. I accepted the position because I knew it was the best decision, but since then, I have faced some grief and sadness about saying goodbye to the kids. Ironically, I  have come to a point of feeling confident in the structure I have established for them and our relationships together. I have grown to love them, and they have grown to love me. Of course, it would be now that I have to say goodbye.

When I first started working with the kids, I made many comments that working with children is difficult because they don't give you feedback the way adults do. But one thing I have learned is - they do; it just looks different. It was so hard to watch their reactions when I broke the news to them that I was leaving - they were very sad and disappointed. One girl in particular, who has had little (if any) support in her life, broke my heart. She had drawn many pictures for me and had become attached to me. When she looked me in the eyes and asked me "Do you have to go?", it was all I could do to keep from crying.

We made cards for each other on my last day.

I can honestly say with all genuineness that I love those kids deeply and will not forget them. I pray that the love of Jesus would guard them and keep them. I am so thankful for the gift they have given me. I am thankful for the opportunity I had to love them through caring concern and discipline. I am thankful for their vulnerability in trusting me and letting me into their lives. I am thankful for the six months that I was ripped from the world that I had known and transplanted into theirs. It was painful and SO worth it. I would not trade those six months for the world.

I am now entering a new unknown season (of many, I know). I will start as the full-time adult women's therapist at the hospital this coming week. And very soon, I will start my new position (which in itself is a gift from God and a very cool story) as a contract counselor with New Friends New Life, conducting sexual abuse recovery groups for abused and trafficked teens in Dallas juvenile detention centers. I am very grateful that God is giving me the chance to represent Him in so many places and know His love in a deeper way. I am a slight conduit, and Jesus is the waterfall. It's freeing to be small.

"Be comforted...it is no doing of yours. You are not great, though you could have prevented a thing so great that Deep Heaven sees it with amazement. Be comforted, small one, in your smallness. He lays no merit on you. Receive and be glad. Have no fear, lest your shoulders be bearing this world."
-C.S. Lewis, Perelandra

On Tempers and Tantrums: Lessons Learned from Therapy with Children

Children are more like adults than we think. They are the raw, unrefined form of us. I can hardly count the number of times I've looked at a child and sincerely asked him/her, "Why did you do that?" Why did you hit your sister? Why did you scream at mom and dad? Why did you throw a fit at bedtime? The responses are typical. "I didn't want to do this...I wanted to do that." Many times I will hear "because I want what I want." Seriously, kids say this to me all the time. In some ways, it's sobering. In other ways, it's refreshing.

It's sobering because kids are clearly plagued by the same problem as adults, a preoccupation with self. This self-centeredness marks their actions and behaviors and has the capacity to do a great deal of harm to their families, just like adults. It's refreshing because they haven't figured out how to lie and manipulate a situation to go their way, or if they have, they're usually not very good at it yet. I can see through their game and call them on it. Unfortunately, adults have the same self-centered impulse as children but tend to be much better at lying and manipulation to get what they want. They may not hit, scream, and throw fits (or they may - many adults do), but they can subtly subvert reality to work in their favor.

I have learned a great deal about love since working with children. Doing therapy with children is so different from therapy with adults that it has taken me on a very unexpected, eye-opening journey. I have realized that clearly establishing expectations and saying "no" are two of the kindest things I can do for children, not to mention practicing discipline. I aim to do formative and corrective discipline. Formative discipline is the instructive component of what I do, training them in appropriate ways of acting and interacting. This is largely peaceable. But when necessary (and it often is), I practice corrective discipline (marks, time outs, etc.) to let the children know their limits, to protect them from hurting themselves or each other. This is when I am faced with tempers and tantrums - crying, screaming, yelling, kicking, biting. I am fortunate to have support staff to help me with these. Strangely enough, I have come to expect tantrums and know that it means I'm doing the best I can for these kids. I want to encourage them, listen to them, support them - these acts show them love. But I'm really surprised by my experience of how much discipline shows them love, as I see them feel safe and comfortable in the structure I have established for them.

Children have taught me a lot about simplicity. They say what they think and mean what they say. In a world of adults constantly trying to say things a certain way or say what they're supposed to say, it is a relief to be in a black and white world with children. God keeps reminding me that His kingdom belongs to little children. While I may be resistant to working with children, because I think my strengths are more useful elsewhere (with adolescents or adults), He reminds me of how valuable my work with them is. I am greeting these kids at a formative time in their lives, and if I can reach them as children, maybe I can be one of those figures in their lives that impacts the kind of adults they become.

One of the sacrifices I have had to make in working with children is letting go of receiving approval or feedback. Working with adults, I could hear responses of how I was helping them with particular wisdom or insight for their lives. Children cannot give me the same kind of feedback. I have to be content to do and say all the good, truthful things I can, hoping and praying that something sticks. That they see love in me, even if they never acknowledge it. My supervisor calls me Johnny Appleseed, an apt description. I'm planting seeds without knowing what growth they will produce, praying with all my heart that God sovereignly gives them growth, guiding and transforming these young souls.

God has told me that I am in a season of being unseen. He is revealing to me that it does not matter if anyone sees or acknowledges me but Him, and in fact, He is purposefully taking me away from being seen in order to prune my desires and motives. This is a painful, humbling process of dying to the self that wants so much to be acknowledged. But I am thankful that the same formative and corrective discipline that I give the children entrusted to me is offered to me from a loving Father.

Letters Unread

Sincere letters written from the bottom of her soul, yet unread

But he was ever in mind, the phantom of her life

The invisible recipient of her secret thoughts

She, little knowing when his presence would materialize

Takes up the pen again after years of silent wanderings

In which truth and righteousness were her sole pursuit

The beauty of love without sight is worth pursuing

Knowing that hope takes flight and sings

When we believe what we have been told

By the Maker of the universe, who has a tapestry to weave

In the details of our lives, not for our own gain

But for the glory of His name in all the earth

Subtle prayers prayed by her parents, who with small faith

And a timid approach to the throne of grace

Pleaded for him on her behalf, when her years were few

And she had no idea what lay in store

How through a journey of laying down her dreams

He would lay the groundwork for their fulfillment beyond

Remembering her youth, the years of adolescence

In which the most beautiful dreams were born

And through the delicate refinement of time and experience

Her spirit was humbled and made grateful for all seasons

An understanding dawns upon her that each new chapter

Promises new hurdles and joys, the anticipation ever increasing

As visions and dreams descend, she holds loosely to the future

Knowing that nothing is certain but the One who is the same

Yesterday, today, and forever - the Father of time and space

Who has spun her around the dance floor one more time

And set her down to write a letter that is yet unread

Knowing that the real loss would be for it to go unwritten

Love. knows. no. bounds.

Goodbye as the New Hello

Goodbye is a word that has lost its potency for me, because it has become a cliche word. Since the day I was born I have been saying goodbye. 

At the tender age of seven, I found a world of possibility on my elementary school's vast playground. Atop a jungle gym shaped like a dragon, a group of us would take turns jumping from one dragon limb to the other, each time stepping one bar higher, increasing the risk that we might not reach the the other side. Somehow even then, we knew the risk was worth it, even if we fell and felt the gravel crunch our palms and shins. No great jump is made without the possibility of a great fall.

The lessons began on the playground and have only multiplied since. To playing pretend and jumping on jungle gyms, I have said goodbye.

At the formative age of 13, I entered into a realm altogether different from what I had known before. I traded childhood games and frivolity for teenage angst and insecurity (kind of a raw deal if you ask me). The games changed focus, but were still present. For the first time, I auditioned for the competition team at my dance studio, and I aimed for a level higher than my age range, a level higher than what was recommended for me. I jumped and fell, missing the mark and scraping my knees. Although I trod through a year of tears and wounded pride, my jumping days were far from over. I would jump again, and not only would I reach the bar this time, but I also would swing all the way around it. Scraped knees then became mementos.

To competing on teams and analyzing my performance, I have said goodbye.

Now, I am a grown woman by all agreed upon standards. My brain is beyond fully developed at the mature age of 26. I have a grown up job with towering responsibilities and expectations. I pay my bills, buy my groceries, and play the part of adulthood the best I can. Transition is the new risk. Jumping into a new job, jumping into a new home group, jumping into ministry opportunities, jumping into change. What if I fall and scrape my knees? If the risk was worth it on the dragon jungle gym, then how much more it is now, when the potential for the bar I might reach is so much greater and full of life-impacting implications. I have said goodbye to one season of life to jump into a whole new one. It's time to say hello.

So where am I going with all of this? We spend our whole lives saying goodbye, and I have noticed that the older we get, the more we anticipate the goodbye. As if we see it far off in the distance and run to greet it, instead of waiting patiently for it to come to us. The fear I have in every goodbye is what I will lose in the process, rather than remembering that in every step I take in faith, God has promised that the gain will exceed the loss. This truth has stood the test of time.

My hope is that goodbye will not be trite for us, that it will not be something we treat casually or something we run to as a way of pushing reset when we're feeling overwhelmed by the circumstances of life. One song's lyrics put it this way: "Sometimes it's over before it begins, no one takes a risk and everyone wins". The truth is - when we anticipate our goodbyes, no one wins. My prayer is that more people will say hello and seek to commit themselves fully where they have been placed. Then, when goodbyes do happen, they can be approached with intention and soberness. The only way we can take a goodbye seriously is by making sure that we say hello and mean it. We must pour our hearts into our hellos, knowing that it will make our goodbyes all the harder. Again, the risk is worth it. And we are promised that someday, hello will be our only word. No more goodbyes.

Eternity will be a haven of never-ending hellos. And the time to start is now. 

Reaching out my hand to you - what will your word be?

Hello,

Ashellen