Praise Report

I started writing this blog post yesterday, and it was a completely different post. Feelings of frustration and anxiety overwhelmed me. I felt like I had all this pent-up (negative) energy that I needed to get out. Get the feelings off my chest and onto the page. I wrote two hundred or so words.

Those words are dark. Harsh. They come from a place of anger and irritation—a place we all sit in on some days. But I read those words back today, and I’m thankful I didn’t publish them. They don’t tell the truth of where I am in this moment, how I feel, and how the Lord is working in my life. Today my disposition is different. Maybe I’ll dig out that draft to turn it into a full post one day. But right now, it’s not an accurate depiction of my heart.

My hope is that this blog is an outpouring of exhortation, encouragement, and light. Yes, sometimes I’ll be brutally honest with you and tell you, I’m mad at God right now and feel like a mess. And that is totally okay. It’s real. We all go through those seasons, however long or short.

Yet I don’t want to sit here and complain about the little frustrations I’ve had in getting settled when the reality is that God has been unbelievably faithful. He’s showing me (yet again) that I don’t need to worry or stress.

God’s bigger picture is so much grander than my small anxieties.

He’s provided in countless ways, and I think sharing that with you is important. I don’t know what you’re going through in life right now. But what I do know is that He is working, even when things look hopeless. Please trust me in that.

Two weeks ago, I was upset with God. My subletter for my NYC apartment decided she was moving out—10 days after moving in. I instantly went to a place of fear and distress. I couldn’t afford to pay rent on that apartment, in addition to my rent here in Nashville. And I got mad at God because all I wanted was to feel settled here. How could I root into my new life when I was still so physically and financially tied to my life in New York?

I did what I do best and strategized my way through the problem. I posted about the apartment on every platform possible, spreading the word to everyone I knew. And the demand was high. Countless women from countless walks of life wanted my room. Still, I worried these women wouldn’t be the right fit for my old roomie. The situation was a dark cloud looming over me.

And the thing is: I could do very little. I had to trust God. I had to let Him work while I prayed and believed in His provision.

I was reminded by those closest to me that the Lord so clearly called me to Nashville. He wouldn’t leave this major piece of the puzzle unsolved. He provided once; he would provide again.

Provide He did. He went above and beyond this time, giving my old roommate a fellow Believer, a sweet girl that she clicked with right off the bat. He provided this within a week of starting the search. I didn’t have to pay double rent because God came through.

Why did I even doubt in the first place?

The Lord keeps showing up. It’s a cycle of me worrying, Him providing, and me being all, Wow, why did I ever distrust Him?

I live alone here in Tennessee. I thought it would be hard to be myself, yet it’s actually been refreshing and fun. My apartment complex has a tennis court. I’ve hit the pavement for the first time in years. And it feels awesome. I also now drive a car—I own said vehicle. I own a car! It is crazy and awesome. God brought me to a dealership full of fellow Christians who truly wanted to help me and not wheel and deal me. I love my car, I love driving, and I no longer fear the road like I did when I first moved here. Huge praise for that.

I am meeting a lot of wonderful people here in Tennessee. They are genuinely kind and welcoming, and I believe strong friendships are on the horizon. I’ve prayed for just one Godly man and one Godly woman to enter my life and my boyfriend’s life. People we can be friends with but who also hold us accountable, challenge us, and strengthen us in our faith. He’s putting people into our lives with the potential to be those very people for us. And he’s put us in a church body of incredibly strong men and women who believe in the Bible and strive to walk in it every day.

Praise God.

One month into my job, and I couldn’t be happier. While working in ministry is a pretty big shift, the transition has been easier than I anticipated. It feels like this is where I was always supposed to be. I’m using my giftings to engage the church, share the Gospel, and be salt and light to the world. I know there will be plenty of challenges in working at a church, but right now I am thrilled to have the opportunity to do God’s work in my 9-to-5.

In transitioning to Nashville, I knew it would be important to have a counselor near by to help me continue on the road to full freedom and be available whenever new temptations and stressors arise. After weeks of frustration over connecting with someone who is qualified, accepting new patients, and the right fit for a counseling relationship, I found someone. A new friend of mine recommended her nutrition counselor to me, and I can already tell meeting with her is going to be a really healthy step for me. She’s an expert in her field, and we connected instantly on the phone. Oh, and she’s a Believer.

I prayed about each of these things. I wanted them to happen on day one of moving here. I wanted to essentially take my New York life and transplant it here. I expected friends, community, a counselor—heck, even a fully furnished apartment—on day one. That’s not how it’s worked out. And that’s okay. Life is slowly coming together. God’s making me turn to Him and abandon my own control. Yes, that can be annoying at times. Of course, I like to be in charge and d0 things my way. But there’s something so sweet about this process. It’s freeing.

Friend, hear me when I say we don’t have to worry because He will come through. We just have to know that His provision often looks different than what we want or expect. It may look different than what we pray for. I can tell you I never would have asked to struggle with an eating disorder, or to enter treatment eight years ago, or miss my first semester of college. But now that I look back, all of that was truly a blessing because it changed the course of my life. God used that terrible pain and suffering to bring me near to Him and shape me into the woman I am today. He used all of it to take me to Nashville, this job, and this place of growth and gratitude. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.

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If you want to talk more about Jesus Christ and faith and what-the-heck-is-all-this-stuff, shoot me a message. I love meeting new people, whether virtually or in person, and gabbing about life. 

And if you'd like to know more of my story, you can read my testimony here.

Truly, He makes beautiful things.

Be Still

I have overslept three times in the past two weeks.

Three times.

You might be thinking, What’s the big deal? Or Three is nothing; I oversleep every day!

But for me, three times in fourteen days is a lot.

Three times, I woke up, noticed the clock was way past the time when I needed to get up, and immediately felt a surge of adrenaline and anxiety. You know that feeling: the one where you bolt out of bed, move through the house like a tornado, and start your day in a scramble.

It’s not fun.

It happened this morning, and I missed a coffee date I was so looking forward to. But when my friend texted back that she was thankful I got the rest my body needed, she made me think about what my body actually needs. I have been operating on full throttle for the past four years. Maybe even longer. Ever since graduating college and moving to New York, I’ve been in acceleration mode, constantly pushing to go further and faster and harder.

What would it look like to take a deep breath? To push pause on the flurry of activity in my life and enjoy the present moment without hustling through it?

These are questions I am currently wading through and exploring as I settle into life here in Tennessee.

In New York City, I walked everywhere. I walked up and down six flights of stairs just to get to my apartment. I walked up and down more stairs each time I rode the subway. I lugged 20-plus pounds of groceries block after block whenever I went shopping or visited the farmer’s market. (And probably a lot more if I went to Trader Joe’s because I can’t resist.)

Seemingly easy tasks often became far more complicated simply because I lived in New York.

The week before I left the city, I put together a garbage bag full of clothing and shoes to take to my local Salvation Army. I finally found time to transport them—on a day when it was raining. So I ordered a $5 Uber to drive me the 10 minutes to the Salvation Army. The driver ended up yelling at me about slamming his trunk too hard after I put my trash bag in there. He got so angry with me, in fact, that he scared me. I got out of his car before the ride even started and attempted to take a cab instead. Unfortunately the cab I hailed told me he was only going to Brooklyn. I left the cab with my giant trash bag and stepped back into the rain. I burst into tears, leaving my donation bag on the street and walking back to my apartment.

It’s a silly example but an example nonetheless: Everyday life in New York City is serious work. It’s hard, and it’s not for the faint of heart. It will knock you down time and time again. It will make you push the gas pedal harder and harder until eventually you’re running on empty.

Despite all of this, I loved it.

I loved the thrill. I loved seeing how much I could handle and accomplish and excel at. I loved having a packed calendar and knocking things off my list. I loved seeing the number of steps on my iPhone hit 8 or 10 or 12 thousand every day. I loved the constant movement. And I loved the sense of power I got from living a life that many people told me they could never handle.

I let “New Yorker” become part of my identity.

Now, I drive pretty much everywhere. I have a Walmart, Target, Kroger, Publix, you name it within a five to 10-minute drive of my apartment. I have a 15-minute commute instead of a 50-minute one. I live on the ground floor. I have a dishwasher and a thermostat. I have convenience in a way I haven’t experienced since college, and it’s amazing.

It’s also really challenging for me. I think part of what led to my eating disorder years ago was this internal desire to push myself and be better. Ultimately, it wasn’t about the food—it was about control and maximizing my own control. It was about approval and accomplishments. It was about being the best. Having success.

My definition of success became entwined with busyness and movement. If I’m honest, it still is. I still see a full life as one that’s very busy and active.

Yet in the past two weeks, God has been showing me how completely false that is. He’s forcing me to rest. I’m oversleeping because I’m tired. My body is craving the rest. For the first time in years, I’m not walking everywhere and collapsing into bed at the end of the day. I’m not pushing myself with a new fitness or yoga routine. I’m not scheduling in a million coffee dates, dinners, and parties.

I want to keep moving and pushing, but the Lord is all, “Be still and know that I am God.”

He is stripping me of control. My ability to wake up to an alarm is not so hot right now, and the step counter on my iPhone is broken. I don’t think either is a coincidence. I talked a lot about rest and stillness while living in Manhattan. I even wrote a blog post on practicing a Sabbath. The little ways that I rested as New York City resident were really just the practice round. Now I’m in the game. Now I have put those stillness strategies into play for real.

I found out this week that my NYC subletter is moving out. I’ll need to find a new apartment-mate for my old roomie, someone who is a good fit for her and who’s also willing to stay. Otherwise, I’m liable for six month’s rent. Yikes.

There’s very little I can do from here to find this new roommate. I put up ads and am spreading the word, but I don’t have much control over the situation. The thing is, God called me here to Tennessee. He won’t leave this big piece of the puzzle unsolved. He provided before, and He’ll do so again. This time, he’s doing it without my control. He’s doing it while asking me to be still.

It’s evident to me that the Lord knows what I need and is using everything from broken alarm clocks to a subletter falling through to show me that what I need is rest.

God put a verse on my heart this morning. I keep hearing Acts 17:28 over and over in my head:

“For in Him, we live and move and have our being. As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are His offspring.”  

I move and I have life because of Him. Period. That’s encouraging to me. My identity is not rooted in being a New Yorker, in hitting 10,000 steps a day, or in crossing things off an endless checklist. I’m a child of God. My identity is complete in Him. I pray I remember that every day.

Thank you, Jesus, for giving me life and the ability to move. Thank you for reminding me that you are in control, and life is so much better that way. Thank you for showing me stillness. Give me the courage to practice all you’re teaching me.

I pray that you, too, would see the beauty of stillness. Surrender to His plans and provision. Let Him do His work, and I know your life will be a glorious adventure because of it.

A One-Way Ticket

I write this from a Southwest Airlines flight, somewhere over the southeast United States. For the first time in my life, I bought a one-way airplane ticket. One way to Nashville, Tennessee. One way means this move is really happening—there’s no turning back.

When I flew over the island of Manhattan at 7:30 this morning, it was for my final time as a New York City resident. My license, my voters ID card, my library card, my mailing address—all have got to go. A new chapter is upon me.

I’ve lived in this city for just about four years. I knew after interning here in college that this was the place for me, in all its busyness and hustle and coffee-soaked dreams. I would be a magazine editor. I’d work at a women’s glossy and climb my way to the top, racking up free beauty products, fashion closet giveaways, and exclusive event invites along the way.

I’d see my name in lights—or rather, inside the pages of my favorite monthly magazine as a member of the masthead, a valued editor and regular contributor. I would not only meet but exceed the potential I was told I had in journalism school. I’d go beyond everyone’s expectations of me. I’d put that journalism degree to work and demonstrate the definition of success. If I could make it in New York City, I could make it anywhere.

And make it, I did. Magazine job, check. Manhattan apartment, check. Nights on the town, check. In some ways, I felt like a young Carrie Bradshaw (minus the Manolos and walk-in closet). Life wasn’t perfect by any means. But I was living the life I’d envisioned, a life I wanted others to see and admire. I felt good.

Around year two, things shifted. I lost my magazine job as the publication folded. New relationships blossomed while others faded away. The biggest shift: Old destructive habits resurfaced and my restrictive eating tendencies came back into play. I was relapsing in my recovery. I knew my life had to change.

I became more intrigued by church and my Christian community. I started to really hear what living for Christ meant. God placed a few women in my life who came alongside me in all the messiness. They loved me and showed me how life could change with a relationship with Jesus at the center. The more I invested in the Lord, the more parts of life that didn’t really matter began to fall away. His hand was on me then—and I saw how it had always been. He was calling me to a life of serving Him, loving Him, and ordering all other loves after Him. Slowly but surely, work took on new meaning. I no longer defined success as climbing the top of the career ladder. Work was a way to use my gifts to further His kingdom. The allure of the Carrie Bradshaw life lost its luster. I craved a simpler, quieter, and more peaceful existence. And God amazingly provided that in the craziness that is NYC.

For every year I spent here, I felt Him asking me to root in. He wanted me here. That was clear. So then why the move away?

Because I believe He is calling me to Nashville, Tennessee. It’s that simple and that complex.

I’ve known for a while that New York City wasn’t the place I wanted to stay forever—but I was open to that possibility should God ask me to. I continued to invest in New York. I called this city my home. I made friends here who are like family. I became a Believer here. It’s a place close to my heart.

I knew I’d need a clear and bold call from God in order to leave it. And that’s exactly what God did.

A year ago, God brought a man into my life who selflessly loves me and encourages me in my walk with Him. This man has done so despite 888 miles between us. As we grew in our relationship, Nashville—his home—became more of a reality for me. Yet I wasn’t convinced. How would I know if this was the right choice? How would I leave behind the community and passions the Lord cultivated in me in New York? I prayed about it almost daily. We prayed about it as a couple and sought counsel from those far wiser than us.

My journal entries for the past few months reflect this longing to know what would be next:

"God, place me where you will use me most."

"Father, help me listen to your call. I pray you light my steps. Grant me wisdom and confidence in my decisions, always running toward you."

"Father, I pray for trust in your plan. Help me trust in you. You have me in New York City, in this particular job, in this long-distance relationship, for a reason. You’re growing me and showing me more of your goodness. I praise you for that. Give me courage and help me to listen to your call for me. I need clarity in it, but I trust you to direct me. Help me to surrender, to find true freedom in you."

"Lord, keep me humble, keep me small, keep me reliant on you. I pray you place me where you’re going to use me most. Grand me wisdom and clarity in my decision-making. Help me to trust you and surrender to you in all things. I pray for protection in this process and for peace. I praise you, Lord. Amen."

The prayers poured out of me.

In August, God pointed me to a job at a church in the Nashville area. I was on the church’s website, looking around and about to listen to a sermon. Somehow I found myself on their jobs page—with a communications position staring right back at me. As I read through the job description, I swear my heart skipped a beat. Communications, marketing, social media, storytelling, ministry. The job seemed to be describing me. I applied immediately, and I interviewed on the phone three days later. I’ve never felt quite so encouraged, believed in, and supported during an interview. (And I’ve had some wonderful jobs and bosses.) My potential employer had read through my blog, even my testimony. He told me how it was an encouragement to him and how I clearly have a gift.

My excitement for the position grew. I completed an edit test and more interviewing. I prayed, and I journaled. I talked to those closest to me. I also doubted. I doubted that this was the right job for me. I doubted that I would be able to make a decent living in this role. I doubted that I would like the city, the church, the culture. I doubted a lot of things—all things that ultimately don’t mean anything if this is where God wants me. If this was God’s will, He would provide.

I was offered the job in a phone call a mere two weeks later. Not only that, but God went above and beyond in providing a salary, a title, and all the other material benefits of a job that I had hoped for. As I listened to my future boss offer me the job and explain why he wanted me on the team, I burst into tears. I cried the sort of crocodile tears that run down your chin and neck and smear your mascara. The tears that make a passerby stop to give you an entire tissue box (yes, really). I sweat completely through my shirt, and I felt like I might throw up. My reaction was one of pure joy, excitement, and disbelief. I was overwhelmed with God’s goodness in providing for me in every single way. I couldn’t quite believe the offer was real.

I went to visit the church and meet my potential colleagues that weekend. As happy as I was, I’ll be honest: I was uncomfortable. This Southern church is the complete opposite of how I grew up and totally different from my home in New York City. I wasn’t sure I’d fit in. I wasn’t convinced this was the best move for me because it was such a stark contrast to what I was used to. Leaving a great life behind seemed crazy.

This all felt crazy.

But the more I prayed, the more I understood how God wanted me to take a step of obedience. He wanted me to boldly walk in faith and courage. He’d be there with me through it all. He orchestrated it to begin with. All summer, I’d been leading women through a book study of Wild and Free—and how we can only live that way through Christ. This job opportunity is about as wild and free as it gets. God opened a door for me in a major way. It was time for me to go through it.

So on September 5, I accepted that job. I made the decision to move across the country—for a job, for love, and ultimately, for Jesus.

God has provided for me abundantly since then. He brought my roommate and me a great girl to take over my room in our apartment. He helped me sell all my furniture. He opened up my best friend’s schedule, allowing her a whole Saturday to travel from Pennsylvania and spend with me in the city. He gave me brothers in Christ who used their muscle to help me pack up and ship 50-pound boxes with all my belongings. He opened up a one-bedroom apartment for me that’s 15 minutes away from work, 15 minutes away from my favorite coffee shop downtown, and 10 minutes away from the man I love. He connected me with trustworthy car dealers to help facilitate that next step in the moving process. He gave me time to leave my job well and bid farewell to friends in the city.

God has tied up all the seemingly loose ends in a matter of three weeks’ time. The crazy decision to move doesn’t seem so crazy any more.

I’ve cried only a little bit about the move, and I praise God for that. My excitement is pure and deep. I know there will be growing pains with moving here. I know there will be moments of “What am I doing?”, times when I feel out of place in the South, when I dislike living in an apartment by myself, when I wish I could just walk to a coffee shop without getting in my car. But I believe in my heart God wants me to press into those feelings of uncomfortableness. I am not here by accident. God has me placed me exactly where He wants me to be, where He will use me most. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lord.  

I can see the landscape of Tennessee as we fly closer. It’s beautiful. 

“Folks, we should be touching down in about 15 minutes. Weather in Nashville is a little bit of misty skies but nothing too terrible, temperature of about 78 degrees Fahrenheit. We’ll be on the ground momentarily.”

Okay, Nashville, I’m ready for you.

There Is A Season For Everything

Seasons come and go. Change is a natural part of life. The world ebbs and flows, and we have the choice to move with it or swim against the tide. I’ve experienced plenty of change during my time in New York City. All the geographical changes of the past 3.5 years alone are enough to make my head spin:

In December 2012, I packed my entire life into my 2001 Ford Taurus and moved from small-town Pennsylvania to the heart of Brooklyn, where I stayed on a friend’s air mattress for six weeks. Eventually, I found my first official New York City apartment and roommate through Craigslist. Fast forward almost two years later, and I moved again. This time to a three-month sublet in a new neighborhood with a new (random) roommate. At the end of that stint, I moved into another new place in yet another neighborhood with two more new roommates. Six months later, one roomie got married (yay!) and a friend of a friend took her spot in the apartment. This year, that friend of a friend—now my friend—and I found our very own two-bedroom—hooray! I signed my name on my own New York City lease for the first time. And despite the six floor walkup situation, I’m happy.

In the midst of these physical changes, the community around me changed just as much. New community in each new location. As I came into my own as a woman and learned more about who I am (and who Jesus is), my circle of friends shifted, too. I think that’s a perfectly normal and healthy part of life. We’re often scared to lose people, but sometimes we’re not really losing them. We’re both moving forward in different directions.

New friendships developed when I moved here, and those new people became my family. That’s the thing about New York: Most of us aren’t from the city. When you meet your people, they can become your lifeline. They make the city less of a crazy place and more of a home. My community in New York is a gift, and I firmly believe people come into our lives at certain times for a reason. Yes, they might leave our lives, but I know it’s no coincidence that they ended up in contact with us in the first place.

Last week, I said “see you soon” to my best friend in New York City. She and her husband and their one-and-a-half-year-old have moved on to a new adventure in Austin, Texas, and I couldn’t be more excited for them. (Read their story here—totally worth it.)

It feels as though I’m in an extended season of bidding farewell to friends.

Anyone who has lived in New York for at least a few years knows what I’m talking about. Since year one of living in this city, I have bid farewell to five dear friends, and attended more goodbye parties than I can count. Moving is the nature of the beast that is NYC. I had to push past the initial feeling that I was being abandoned or that I was making a mistake by continuing to hold down the fort in the Big Apple. Those are lies.

These friends were in my life for a reason, for a season. God has taught me something through each relationship. He uses the people around you to mold you and make your who you are today. I know the Lord has used my moves, my heartbreaks, my friendships, and my falling in love to show me more of Him. For that, I am so grateful.

The Lord uses us where we are, with what we have. There’s a season for everything. He’s working at all times for our good. That brings me great comfort.

Sometimes we’re in a season of stability, security, and lots of friends around us. But that’s not always the case. I’m in a season now that’s in flux, one in which my dearest friends are scattered throughout the country. It’s a time of change, but also growth, maturity, and peace. A season that looks like a little bit more alone time is not necessarily a bad thing. I’m learning that being by myself doesn’t mean being lonely or depressed. At times it might seem that way, but I know at this point in my life, there’s great value in spending time with just me.

““There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens… God has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in their toil—this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that people will fear him…””

— Ecclesiastes 3

Everything God does will endure forever.

This is a season of independence—yet total dependence on God. I can feel He is close, helping guide me through wave after wave of change. The passage is a reminder that a season is temporary—we have no idea what God has in store for us next. That’s amazing and scary and awe-inspiring all at the same time.

I’ve been thinking over this idea of seasons of life, and how I am in a season with fewer friends directly around me. Did you know that, although Jesus had 12 apostles and even more disciples, he had just three besties? Peter, James, and John. Those were his bros, the guys he developed a deeper relationship with than anyone else. Even Jesus knew he couldn’t have a million best friends around him at all times.

We’re called to be a friend, to live in community, and to make disciples. But we’re not called to have dozens of friends on our social calendar at all times, or to amass 500 Facebook friends, or to rack up thousands of Instagram followers. We’re wired for intimate relationships—to be a close friend to a few or even just one.

And more so, we’re made to be in the tightest knit friendship with Him.

I think about the story of David and Jonathan. Jonathan knit his soul to David. They became one in spirit. He loved David as he loved himself. That sort of friendship doesn’t happen overnight. It doesn’t happen at raucous house parties. That’s the friendship that comes in seasons of rest, in experiencing the ebbs and flows of life together, in trusting of ourselves, and trusting in the Lord.

I feel thankful for the few dear friends I have, even if they’re located hundreds of miles away. They’re people I can turn to for encouragement. Who can rebuke me and ask the hard questions. Who can work through a cycle of repentance and forgiveness with me. Who are loyal to me and I to them. Who want to pick up the phone to talk to me because they love me that much. Those are the friends we are asked to be and asked to walk in step with.

This is truth I’ve only come to realize because I’m in a season with fewer friends around me. And you know what? It is okay. I’m okay with that. It’s made me grateful for the sweet friends I have and relationships I’ve developed over the years. Not to mention I almost always have a place to stay when I am traveling. But most of all, this season has reminded me that He is the best friend there is. No matter what the season of life I am in looks like, He’s present, he’s active, and he’s working.