Loud and clear

Landmark week.

I met my 100 pound weight loss goal, and a few pounds later met my goal of weighing less than 200 for the first time since I was 13. I am scared of losing my 28-year "fat" identity. What can I blame my failures and fears on now?

This coming Tuesday, I will have gone 12 weeks without a cigarette. I have repeatedly found myself in my MOST tempting situations: not one drag. This is HUGE. I have been poisoning my alienated body, ruining my truest joy in my voice, since I was 15. I have failed at quitting using every method on the market. My attempts never worked until my two-word, simple and heartfelt prayer: "Heal me." However, I am scared of owning my power in this: loving myself enough to release my addiction.

I reached a breaking point in my thinking regarding my marriage. I am afraid I will never find my heart's desire. I am terrified I will never be a mother. I become almost paralyzed, believing that alone, I am not enough. I have felt like a failure as a Christian for not making my husband into a believer. Until Nichole Nordeman said last night, "...I realized it was not my job to 'argue' my friend into Heaven..." Never minding my endless sacrifices and understanding on his behalf, most of me believed my husband last year when he told me that I couldn't go back to school for music unless I could prove to him I'd make "us" more money doing it. I believed him when he said that I basically didn't have the right to make "our" life harder for him. Basically, I had no right to be anyone or anything other than "us." Believing him was easier than honoring my heart...easier to deny it, and fall back from a dream.

Mark Hall (Casting Crowns) also spoke last night of not having to be the best, of it not mattering if other people are already doing what you want to do, and doing it well. Each one of us is created with the exact gifts we are meant to use. When I walked into church this morning, I was besieged with people thanking me for sharing my voice on Easter. After the message, a stranger leaned forward one final time, squeezed my arm and whispered, "You need to sing more!"

Then my uncle called my mom this morning. He's a long-time studio drummer. Until today, I hadn't known that my uncle is a songwriter, selling two to Van Morrison a few months ago. I also learned that he has been hired to manage a recording studio in Maple Grove, and has been hired to drum on Bonnie Raitt's upcoming album. (Where have I been all these years?) Finally, he mentioned that he would love to get me in the studio to do some background vocals.

I drove out to my favorite thinking spot out by the dam and cried from my most painful place while I told God how scared I am let go of my life and any plans or ideas I had about it. How scared I am of not being good enough to use what He gave me. Just SCARED, all the time, of something I can't even identify. How blind we choose to be when it suits us, or when fear is ruling our lives. How many times does He have to hit me over the head before I finally listen?