Read this when life gets funky.

Friends, it’s been over a year since we moved to St. Louis. That’s crazy. And at the risk of sounding like an old fogy, I’m sitting here wondering where the time goes.

We moved to St Louis in August of 2014. It was tough. I can’t say I was depressed when we got here; I know what depression feels like and I wasn’t feeling depressed. However, I was definitely in a funk. Things were mighty… funky.

Los Angeles had been my home for five years and I had a job that I didn’t love but one that I was super good at. My joy and how I felt about myself were tied to my students’ achievement and my formal observation scores. But I felt I had a purpose and I was successful. Under the leadership of my school administrator, I figured out how to raise reading levels significantly and empower students to do the work to get the results and be college bound. (#gititgrrrrrl #TeacherOfTheYear #justkiddingTOTYneverhappened)

I love and loved my pastor husband and we went to church and life was good and then things got nutty and we went on House Hunters Renovation and bought a house. (IKNOWRIGHT?!) The truth and the very short story is that we got extremely lucky. Right place. Right time.

And the only thing crazier than auditioning to be on the show was getting accepted to be on the show. Turns out they thought that the handsome young pastor and his teacher-wife were entertaining enough to be on TV and have the episode replay 7 more times.

I’m going to fast-forward a number of months because this blog post isn’t about the show. When all was said and done and the show wrapped and the camera people went home, or to someone else’s home to film something else, our house was beautiful.

It was beyond beautiful. Every surface was painted or remodeled. The ceilings, floors, walls, doors- everything. I had a pinterest-esq farmhouse sink and white cupboards. I had white granite that was to die for. I had light fixtures that looked so industrial and shabby chic and fancy. We added a bathroom to the master bedroom and it had darling subway tiles and a granite sink and black and white hexagon floor tiles. Our bedroom had an accent wall painted a very romantic shade of purple. We had a view of the hill in Burbank and I was going to bring babies home from the hospital to this house. I’d raise my children here. This was the house where I’d make my first Thanksgiving turkey and have my first very own Christmas tree.

And then we felt God speak. On a very hot Saturday afternoon in late February (because California), God asked me if I loved Him more than I loved this house. He asked me if I was willing to leave my house for Him.

And God didn’t say anything else after that because He’s not in the business of begging.

And God asked the pastor the same question at the same time. We started looking for jobs that day. A month later we came out to St. Louis to check out the church and a few months after that we drove east to our new home in Dardenne Prairie, Missouri.

Here’s a fun fact: When I told my friends that I was moving to Missouri, one said that a perk of living in Missouri would be that all the produce would be really fresh because Missouri is right next to Mexico. Another friend corrected friend one by saying that Missouri is basically a frozen tundra because it’s right next to Canada. And I corrected both of them saying that it’s right there somewhere to the right of the middle, bordered by… some states… somewhere. (#lesigh)

 

And that’s when things got funky for me. If you’ve ever made a big move, you know that moving is more than going to a new place and leaving an old one behind. I felt stripped of my purpose and I felt lonely. And then days and weeks and months slipped by and I had nothing to show for it except self-pity. I would sleep until 11:00 and then go to Home Goods and TJMaxx (#Maxxonista). Or I’d start reading a book and then scroll through Instagram and Facebook for hours and hours. And hours. And then I’d do a crossword puzzle and feel productive if I finished it in less than 20 minutes so then I’d do another and another. One day I watched TV from when I woke up to when I went to bed (American Greed is a cRaZy show and super addicting!). I watched all of Downton Abbey in under a week (except the last season because I hate when things end). I looked into new careers (copy editor, grant writer, mom, and even a horse-stall cleaner-upper. I was going to work at Lululemon or go work at a prison in Illinois, whatchu know about a 70-minute commute.) I was oh-so-charming and pastor husband loved it. (#PSYCHE!)

I’m a living example that Proverbs 29:18 is true.

18 If people can’t see what God is doing, they stumble all over themselves; but when they attend to what he reveals, they are most blessed. (The Message)

And I had no idea what God was doing because I was obsessed with my struggle. I stumbled all over myself. I wondered when we’d move back to California. I’d cry at the thought we’d never go back. I’d have a glass of wine and then cry some more. I’d call my mom and cry. I wandered aimlessly.

By the way, the quote “Not all who wander are lost” is a total crock of ish. I’ve yet to meet a wanderer whose life I envy. We are on this earth for a moment and then we return to dust. There is no second chance. Get out and get it, you beautiful wanderer!

And that’s what I told myself. And this is what I did:

1. I took God’s word at face value. I wanted the promises of Jeremiah 29:11-13, but in order to get the promise, I had to obey the premise (thanks, Rick Warren). I had to seek the Lord with all my heart. I had to spend time in His Word. I had to do what His Word said. I had to confess my ugly sin and self-obsession.

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

God didn’t take me to St. Louis to leave me. I knew I could prosper in this place. I knew there was a hope and a future for me. I knew that I could seek God and find Him if I did it with all my heart.

2. Know who I am and whose I am. I had always defined myself as a teacher and I strove to do the best I could, but I didn’t necessarily do it for God. If I had been honest my efforts I would have seen that it was to please my students and impress my colleagues. It was time I defined myself as God’s child and go after the promises that comes with it.

3. I got out there and found friends. It was both freeing and hard to get out of my funk because that meant that I couldn’t feel sorry for myself and instead I had to put myself out there. But God brought women into my life who were also feeling a little funky in their funks. He brought people who were starved for intentional and nurturing community. We talked about our funks and we saw each other through. And it was cool.

4. I decided to pursue my God-given gifting. I would forever wander and trip over myself unless I found out what the heck I was doing here. (more on this later.)

Maybe you’ve just finished your renovation (whether you’re cleaning out a drawer or knocking down a house, this is all of us), or are getting ready to move, or have moved, or are getting ready to go to Home Goods and come back and watch too much Netflix. Girl, I feel you. Hear me when I say that. No one is here to judge or put any shame in your game.

But take a long look at where God has put you. What’s your unique and specific context, and how does He want to use you there? Maybe it’s time to take His Word at face value, or find some new friends, or live your life like you are the daughter of a King and shake off some really ugly habits. Your gifting and context is as unique as your fingerprints. You are the first and last you, and this is your first and last life. Preach the Gospel to yourself, and get out and get going.