I’m proud to say this article was first published on The Anchor, on October 8, 2024. The Anchor is a Christian organization based in Gig Harbor, WA that supports women facing storms without an anchor. This vibrant tribe shares the hope we have in Jesus to encourage and anchor one another in faith and friendship. Definitely check them out.

“Clutter and mess show us that life is being lived…Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation… Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend. What people somehow forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here.” ~ Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

I’ve been asked twice to write a post for The Anchor. Eighteen months ago I was flattered and replied “absolutely” and then quickly filed that thought under “No Way”!

The “I’m not worthy, I’m not the ‘right kind’ of Christian” quickly took over. I took a peek at the website to read what the worthy ones had posted and recoiled away from the thought and plan to tell you my story.

However, my faith is rock solid. Jesus is my constant companion. My confidant. My go-to Guy throughout the day. But I’m messy. My faith is messy. My life is turbulent and constantly on the edge of chaos. I moved to Arizona two years ago and haven’t found a church. In all honesty, I haven’t really looked. Life has been chaotic. I literally just found an unpacked box of books and there my trusty Bible sat. Name engraved on the front. I hadn’t even noticed it was missing. I tend to feel more like the woman at the well than someone that should share their story on a Christian website.

Yet here I am.

Two weeks ago, my best friend sent a text. “You need to do this! You can do this! You are worthy!” I’ve procrastinated. Brainstormed some ideas. The most obvious is to write about my breast cancer journey. It is Breastober. I already write a blog called Pink Everyday. It’s an easy essay. But when I attempted to write, the words seemed bland and my heart was unmoved.

I sat with my computer open, page blank and closed my eyes. I asked for help.**

**My prayers aren’t at all like the ones I hear at church. Beautiful, like poetry. Eloquent and laden with the perfectness that Jesus deserves. A dear mentor once told me, “Just show up and be you. Talk to Him like He’s your best friend.”

So with my head bowed in front of my screen I said, “DUDE! HELP! I’m freaking out! Why do I need to do this? I don’t want to do this! I don’t have anything to say! Why did you put this in my path?” 

And then I sat quietly. Something that is extremely hard for me and my ADHD brain to do. And if I’m honest, I woke up at 4:30am to write the article so there’s a chance I might have been falling back asleep. It was in that stillness that I heard the whisper, “Just Tell The Truth. Just be you. That will be enough.” 

So I’ve ditched the article about surviving breast cancer, but you should totally go get your mammogram. I also tossed the story about how my husband died in my arms 6 months ago when he survived an almost fatal Widowmaker heart attack and the story about how my family was involved in a brutal home invasion 4 weeks after my mastectomy. How friendships can end in heartbreak, divorce can divide, how I struggle every moment with being an empty nester and trying to figure out how Momming works with adult children. 

That’s just life. We all have life. It just happens. All very important topics but my heart struggled.

What I really want to tell you is how I survive the big and small moments: the terrifying and the happy. The never ending roller coaster I can’t seem to get off. How my messy belief in Jesus has made joy, has been my salvation and the reason I can get out of bed everyday. And if I choose to not rise, how I let my faith provide the grace needed to rest. How I find silver linings and humor in the worst of the worst. 

“In our own woundedness, we can become sources of life for others.” ~Henri J. M. Nouwen

I am inspired by words. They can be simple and complex. Tangled and messy. In my world words must match action. “Mean what you say, say what you mean”. I find conflict within when words and action are not congruent. 

I do not have a specific date and time that I discovered Jesus walking beside me filling my heart. I was raised in a Christian household. Went to church. Said prayers before meals and bedtime. I followed the program.

Becoming a messy Christian was a slow progression as God provided his proof in my life with miracle upon miracle. Glimmers. Silver linings. 

He’s thrown in angels and thunder bolts. He has taught me to listen and given me a voice. I have an actual relationship with Jesus. I’ve found He’s super convenient and He goes with me everywhere. He listens to every word and every breath. He holds me when I cry, carries me when I’m scared and celebrates my joys. He has shown me the beauty in my brokenness.  

What my faith truly boils down to is my relationship with Jesus but I only discovered it through my relationships with others. Other broken people.  Others that have shed the pretenses and shown me that there is no need for shame. That letting go of shame and unworthiness creates space and allows for compassion, kindness and love…for me and in turn for others.  

I have spent so much time running from trauma, sadness, fear, emotional pain and chronic illness. I have learned to stop, turn around and examine all the wild chaos and let it go…for the most part. It’s a process. A huge process. I couldn’t have done it without support. I believe Jesus calls us into relationships with others because he knows that is how we heal.

I’m a very visual person and am not very good at hearing God’s subtle whispers. He knows this and usually has to drop a bomb when I go astray.

When my relationship with Jesus first started an angel was sent. Someone that spoke a Christian language that I understood. She tore down my veil and showed me a Jesus that is just my kind of person. On a particularly hard day, I called her and told her that I was throwing my Bible in the garbage. I was done with religion. She replied “Okay, good, do it. Just make sure you tell Jesus how angry you are.”

Now you have to realize I didn’t even know I could write in my Bible much less throw it in the garbage and then yell at Jesus. For 2 weeks I had a full blown tantrum. I believe it was during those 2 weeks, cursing God and raging at all the injustice, that my relationship with Jesus was born. I had no idea that messy was allowed in Christianity. That was twenty years ago.

I have so many amazing examples of how Jesus has woven himself into my days. Other angels have approached me in doctor’s offices, claiming they were from “Up North” and asking if they could pray for me. My best friend, who always has the perfect words and sends the perfect verse to remind me that I am enough, has been my guide as I stumble through my messy life.

I believe our lives go down many paths with and without God. Eventually we start stumbling upon people that we relate to and then Jesus does miraculous things through them to reach us. I’m so grateful for those that have walked with me through my messy life. Some have moved on and others continue to walk beside me. We do life together and that is the most beautiful gift. I’m really hoping the next event involves a lounge chair, an ocean and an extended period of boring!

My go-to verse that represents my God in my life is Psalm 139:1-12:

You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,

Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,”

Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my innermost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

I know that full well.

My hope for you, dear reader, is that you see the silver linings and glimmers in the small and difficult moments and find the grace you deserve. Go in peace. In the end love wins. Always.