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I had this vision the other day of standing with outstretched arms, face toward the sun, a heart filled with praise. While every part of my soul cried out, while every part of my being tried to keep my eyes fixed on the One who is worthy…my feet were surrounded by mockers, tempters, distracters, mutilators of truth.

I tried and tried to push them away, to throw them off of me, to get them to leave me alone, but these poor, unfortunate souls wouldn’t go. My gaze returned to the One who is worthy, and quickly the thieves of the night were no longer consuming. Still there, yes. Still wrapping their horrors around my ankles and attempting to grab onto my outstretched arms, but my foundation was firm, my determination unyielding.

Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.

The surprising cry of the “Friday Night Lights” mantra rang from me. Clear eyes, focused on the One who is worthy. Full heart, filled with the truth of the Gospel and the many who love and support me. Can’t lose, a promise of victory over death, defeat, destruction, despair and the tears that pour from my eyes.

I might look broken, vanquished, and abandoned with predators up to my neck–but my feet are secure, my legs are strong, my arms held high, and my heart beating solely for the One who is worthy.

There’s a lot I don’t know about the world–and I feel like I learn that more and more every day. There’s a lot that still takes me by surprise, a lot that causes my heart to ache, a lot that tries to break us. I know that we exist in a world where evil dwells and tries to muffle our praise of the One who is worthy. I know how it feels to be up against the wall, with the odds against me.

But I also know the One who is worthy.
I know that, despite all of the darkness, all of the depravity, all of the confusion–there is much to hope for.

For through it all, my eyes will always come back to the One who is worthy.

Our summer staff arrive tomorrow.

For those of us in camp ministry, that means that a “normal” life for the next three month is virtually impossible. Our world speeds up and we struggle to breathe. But it’s so, so good.

On this night before the chaos ensues, I find myself researching vacation spots for my husband and I post-summer (open to any recommendations you may have!), jamming out to some old school Shane & Shane, and letting my mind go down memory lane to the first day I arrived at camp as a summer staffer.

I’m going into my 15th summer of camp…but I’ll never forget the first day I arrived at Camp Eagle in 2003. Everything was new and I didn’t know a soul. But, it was the first place I remember going that I could be fully me. It was the first place that I went that no one else I knew had gone before me. I was on my own, embarking on a new adventure. In most ways, it felt like the most radical thing I had done in my just-turned-19 years on earth.

It makes me think a lot about the staff that are coming in tomorrow and how they must be feeling and what they must be thinking. They may not ever forget tomorrow for the rest of their lives. They may look up 15 years later and be working full-time at a camp with several of the people they worked with that first summer. Crazier things have happened.

I probably don’t even know all the ways that first summer changed me, but I know that I was different afterward. I know that I continue to learn and grow and, hopefully, become a better version of myself. Not just because I work at a camp. Mostly because God is good and gracious and patiently waits for me to realize how much I need Him (over and over again).

I want to be like I was that first summer again.
Open, willing, ready, eager, excited, nervous.
Willing to dive deep into relationships with others, excited to see what the Lord was going to do, eager to learn and grow in my relationship with God and my study of Scripture so I could teach it to campers. Open to whatever the Lord had for me. Ready to work hard and learn all the new things required of me.

Join us in praying for our staff as they arrive. Pray for safety. Pray for their hearts to be prepared for a summer of intense ministry… a summer of investing in eternity. Pray for their lives to be malleable and ready for God to change them, as He works through them and in them–even in the most exhausting, selfish moments.

Pray for our full-time staff, as they go from a busy season of serving and preparing into an even busier summer of leading our summer staff and serving thousands and thousands of guests (literally).

We have incredible opportunities around us. Pray that we would be bold with the Gospel, that we would live out of the Spirit, and that we would be diligent about investing in our relationship with the Lord and those around us.

I’m pretty pumped for whatever this summer entails.
Let’s do this.

I have been on a journey with spiritual disciplines for the last few months. 

Science is crazy.
So is the human body.

Last week, we were presented with some new news regarding our fertility. You ready for it? Basically, we’re both fine. Healthy, even.

My husband’s got a lot of forward-swimming little guys with funny shaped heads (but enough normal shaped head ones to not matter). My ovaries are in the stellar shape of a 23-year-old lady (that’s ten years younger than me, folks) with no tube blockage and plenty-o-eggs to be implanted.

It wasn’t shocking news.
But, now we know.

“So, Doctor-man, you’re saying there’s no apparent reason that we aren’t getting pregnant?”
“Honey… it’s amazing anyone gets pregnant.”
(okay, so he didn’t say “honey”, but it seems like he should have.)

And he’s right.
It is amazing. Miraculous. For every single thing to go right that has to go right for a couple to conceive is crazy. I don’t know when the last time was that you watched a little clip on “how babies are made” (probably 7th grade, like me)…but, it’s fascinating. And weird. And fascinating. And miraculous.

So, now what?
Do we keep moving full speed on the fertility train of IUIs and IVFs and wherever else it may lead us?

I don’t think we’re quite there…and, honestly, we may never get there. More than anything, the cry of my heart is to be open to what (or who!) the Lord might have for us in this journey of life. Since before I was married, I have always thought adoption was something I would want to do (I even wrote this blog about it, long ago). Then again, I was also sure kids were something I wanted to do.

But that’s the prayer.
Not my will, but the Lord’s will.
Maybe we’ll get pregnant.
Maybe, someday, we’ll come across a little child that needs a family.
Maybe we’ll never have kids. 

But, that’s the prayer.
That, no matter what our circumstances may bring… we would be faithful. Joyful. Content. Open. Willing. Obedient. Abiding in Christ and bearing much fruit.

Beyond that, I’m not too worried about how it all plays out. There will be hard days…and good days…and mediocre days. There will be days when my heart cries out for a child, days when I feel like my life is flying by and I just can’t catch up, days when nothing is as it should be. But, despite those moments, I know I’ll be okay.

Pray that we’d be willing.
To go, to be, to give, to receive, to let our lives truly be transformed by the Good News of Jesus Christ.

On a note of practical updates:
I am taking Clomid for a few months and we do plan to reevaluate and see what our next steps might be, depending on how that goes.

Today was the day.
I hadn’t really put too much thought into any of the details of what would transpire, aside from asking people to pray for us.

Pray for us to know more.
Or to have clarity.
Or something. I don’t even know.
We had been praying a lot ourselves. Looking back, I’m not even sure what we prayed for.

Paperwork.
Lots of paperwork. Intimate questions. How often do you sit in a sauna or hot tub? (every day, people). How many caffeinated beverages do you have a day? How many times are you intimate with your partner each week? Medications. Surgeries. All the things.

A nice doctor man.
We sat down with him and talked through our history and where we were at, what we had tried, what we had come across.

“I assume you’re here because you want to get pregnant.”

Nice doctor man… while that might be the normal assumption of a couple at a fertility clinic, that’s not exactly the case here. We just were hoping for some answers. Just to know if we even can have kids. I don’t know if I’m really ready to pull out all the stops.

He described it as a journey and began to tell us the step by step process of how things typically go, what they’ll try and a bit of what we could expect. Asked if we had questions. “Sir, we have a hot tub. Does that affect sterility?” “No, I think you’re fine.” I had asked my husband a few weeks ago, after reading online all the negative ramifications of hot tubs on sperm count, if he’d rather have a baby or a hot tub. He hadn’t answered…

Before I knew it we were being given an ultrasound, tested for vital sperm and taken into a room with a nurse to sign my life away. More tests. Prescriptions. Specific days of my cycle to take medication, test for ovulation and come in and get a turkey baster of my husband’s goods planted in utero (I promise that the doctor actually referred to the medical syringe as a turkey baster).

I remembered at this juncture that a friend had told me recently how, once you go into the fertility clinic, they just throw you onto the moving train of baby-making. I got a little panicky as I listened to the nurse’s words. There was no, “If you want…” or “think about it…”. Just, “do this” and then “do that”. BUT WHAT IF I DON’T WANT TO!?!?!  My heart was racing.

“Could we just try the medication for a bit before jumping into IUI (in utero insemination)? My husband and I haven’t had a chance to talk about all of this…”

Finally seeing my panic, the nurse backed off a bit. She assured me that I could take my time and that signing the papers was just a formality to get out of the way so we wouldn’t have to worry about it later. I could just take the medications for a few cycles and see how that goes before coming back to the clinic for an IUI.

Next steps involve another blood test and a few more tests on me to see that no tubes are blocked. The good news is that I have healthy looking follicles and eggs (and no cysts). The bad news is that I still feel a bit lost as to what to pursue and how much to pursue it and how far is too far. We haven’t even talked about the dollars involved in this entire process yet….

So, my husband and I left feeling a little more exposed, sat at the bar of Texas Roadhouse (they were giving away free appetizers if we sat there) and talked about our fertility treatment options. I’m sure it’s perfectly normal to have a couple at a bar, drinking Dr. Pepper and water, praying and talking about IUIs.

I don’t know if we have solid answers yet. Maybe my husband does and I don’t. Maybe I just need some time to process and pray some more. I told Kel that I think I have this faulty expectation that if we go down this route, we will have a child…. and I’m still sometimes really not sure if I want one. But, I also realize that if we go down this route, we still might not have a child. And maybe that part is actually more unbearable to face. Pulling out the stops…and still being empty-wombed.

So.
Keep praying, if you think about it.
We have some pretty decently quick decisions to make and I have loved hearing from those of you who have reached out (and in the very near future, once my classwork slows down, I plan on responding to all of you). I’m encouraged by the fact that there are others who have gone before me in this, others who are still struggling with it and others who are just here and with us, even if our battles look really different. I’m thankful and humbled by you all.

(Ironically enough, I am taking a Christian Ethics course this semester… which includes some content on reproductive technologies. So, that’ll be fun).

Dream. 
He said.

Dream.
Think of what could be.

And so we did.

There was a permission to live freely in the dreaming process. No boundaries, no parameters, no “No’s”….just dreams. We processed for a bit and slowly we began to shout out own dreams.

I’ll admit that mine weren’t limited to just our ministry–they were bigger, broader, and probably a lot more unrealistic.

I want to see a changed world.
I want revival.
I want more than what I read about, hear about, cry about….

The dreaming reminded me that there’s hope.
Hope of better.
Hope of good.
Hope of different.

I’ve been wondering what my part in the conversation lately needs to be. What can one person possibly do or say that matters? What can one person say or do to be a catalyst for change? An anchor of hope?

And then I’ve realized that more often than not, it only takes one person. One person to believe, to be willing, to go, to be. One person to listen. One person to speak out. One person to live out their dreams with reckless abandon. One person, living obediently in the path the Lord has put before them.

And it’s never really one person. There’s always an Aaron to your Moses, a Timothy to your Paul, a Rosa Parks to your Martin Luther King Jr. There’s always a host of people who are like-minded with similar missions longing to see the changes, to see the redemption, to see the freedom. It’s just we sometimes stall out in knowing how to make it happen. Sometimes we doubt. Sometimes we’re terrified. Sometimes we don’t really think the Lord could ever use us.

I don’t doubt that there are millions of people in the world who have the same dreams that I do. Millions whose hearts break when they read the news, millions who are scared, millions who want this world to be better. And then millions who just keep plodding through life, not really making any changes at all. We sigh, we cry, and then we move on.

I want more.
My heart is screaming.
But my actions don’t often reflect the cries from within. Because plodding through life is easier. It’s more comfortable.

Dream.
Think of what could be.

I don’t want to just dream anymore.
I don’t think I can.
I have to do more. We have to do more.

I don’t fully know what it needs to look like yet, but I know that it has to start somewhere.

I frolicked through a golden wonderland two weekends ago, dreaming and praying and wishing and hoping…and now it’s time to do.

It may not need to be grandiose just yet. It may start small.
Offering hope.
Extending grace.
Building trust.
Serving others.
Forgiving those who have wronged us.
Asking forgiveness from those we have harmed.
Breaking down barriers.
Being willing to get to know people who are different from us…and letting them know us.
Stepping out of our comfort zones.
Being faithful with what we’ve been given each day.
Working hard.
Living out of our true calling.
Dying to our own desires.
Proclaiming Jesus in ways He is truly honored by and glorified in.
Sharing our stories of redemption and life change.
Being kind. And thoughtful. And generous.
Knowing the Lord.

Would you consider coming with me?
On another imperfect journey of second chances?
I may only be one person, but there’s at least a million of you that want to change this world.

Would you consider committing to knowing the Lord more deeply? And then deeper still? To be devoted to Him, to pressing into Him and letting your life be an overflow of that? Would you consider, before you speak or write or do something that might offend or hurt someone, pausing and seeking?

I think that’s the crux of the change.
Knowing Jesus.
That’s the real dream.
That all may know Him, love Him, live their lives for Him, worship Him.

And if we all start doing that, if we all start truly living out of that…?
I think it changes everything.

Dream.
And then let’s do.
With reckless abandon.

When we first met, I couldn’t understand if he was saying CALE or KEL.

“Can you spell that for me?!” Knowing how names are spelled always helps me pronounce them correctly. K-E-L.

It’s not short for Kelly. Or Kelby. Or Kellender. Just Kel.

this is our first picture together. when my hair was still longer than his.

He was confusing to me (and still is).
While his accent isn’t thick, it often comes out in words like fill (feel) or oil (oyul)–and sometimes his own name (Cale). And while he’s from West Texas and loves country music, he’s not exactly a cowboy with boots, tight jeans, and the desire to two-step me around the dance floor.

We met just over 5 years ago. The son of a dear couple that I had worked with for many years– a son I didn’t know existed. He was crazy. Loud. Confident. And if you had told me 5 years ago that I would be married to Kel Beal today, I might have laughed in your face.

But here we are, 3 years later. Married. Happy. Figuring out how to do our lives better together with each passing day because we both want more.

It’s our anniversary today and while we haven’t really had time to reflect on all of the memories of our wedding day, I’ve had a few of those moments where I get a little teary-eyed thinking about this man I married. This confusing, long-haired, athletic, video game-playing, fantasy-football crazed, people-loving and Jesus-desiring man that I married.

And then I think about all the people. A lot of you who made the time to be present, who spent the dollars to come, who poured out sweat as you set up the most beautiful wooden, candle-lit backdrop and covered itchy hale bales with lace and ribbons. People who traveled far. People who gave much. People who loved us so, so well. I truly can’t ever say thanks enough.

I’m so humbled.
So blessed.

I was talking with a single girl not long ago about how it’s so easy to feel like you have to “have it all together” before you find the “right” guy. It’s easy to feel like you need to really figure out who you are, so you aren’t looking to a guy to “save” you in a relationship… because he can’t. A man doesn’t make you whole. And that’s absolutely true.

BUT- I would be lying if I didn’t tell you the truth- at least for me.
Kel doesn’t complete me, but he’s the answer to the question I had been asking myself for almost my entire life. From the moment I even knew what a crush was, I was wondering who I would marry. Who. When. How. Where. When. When. When. Who. Who. Who. My heart ached to know the answers.

We played M.A.S.H. growing up (sometimes even in college), we flirted with boys, we wrote about them in journals, we cried over them, wrote songs and poems about them, danced with them, held their hands– always asking, always wondering: are you him?

Even the boys we knew weren’t and shouldn’t be, we still sometimes wondered. Maybe… maybe it’ll have to be him if it’s going to be anyone at all.

And so when Kel and I got married, my questions were answered.

Who: Kel Beal. 

When: September 27, 2014; age 30.

Where: my parent’s backyard.

How: in the most perfect way ever. 

He didn’t complete me.
But the nagging fears and constant curiosities are gone.
There is a peace that transpired that I had never had before. A security. A person. A life-long best friend. A reminder of God’s faithfulness. An answer to a thousand prayers. An answer to a question.

You can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl on your wedding day. And you can’t help but feel like that all over again on your anniversary. Because, today, 3 years ago, is the day my life changed forever.

The day the Lord showed me everything He had had in store for me during all those years of question-asking, all those years where I doubted Him.

I’m still baffled by His goodness to me.
I’m still humbled.
Still so blessed.

I continue to pray that the story of Kel and I would be one that gives others hope. Hope that there can be relationships and marriages that are good and fun and imperfectly perfect and constantly pointing back to Jesus. Hope that maybe one day, others may get to experience the Lord’s goodness in the same capacity that I have (even if it’s years and years later than you want it to be). Hope that not all things in the world right now are bad and that the Lord is still faithful.

Because He is.
In all things. In all seasons. In all the brokenness and hopelessness.
Somehow, for some reason, He remains faithful.
Even for a ragged, defeated, hopeless 29-year-old girl in 2013.
Even for a confused, selfish, prideful 33-year-old lady in 2017.

May we humbly learn to love Him and others more earnestly.

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4 years ago, I waved goodbye to my little house in Beverly, Massachusetts and my goal of earning my Master’s of Arts in Counseling. I wasn’t ever entirely sure that being a professional counselor was the desired outcome of my time in seminary, but it had always been something I had thought I might want to pursue.

So, I tried it out. For a semester. And, I loved it. I loved learning about Jesus and Scripture and about living out the gospel in a way that could truly help others. I loved being surrounded by other people who were excited to learn and grow in the same way that I was. I loved being a setting where I could just soak up all of this knowledge without having to pour it all out immediately. It was this necessary reprieve from full-time ministry and this necessary season of life that I really believe was a gift from the Lord.

And then I was given the opportunity-of-a-lifetime to come to Glorieta, New Mexico and help bring the mission of inspiring Christ-like change to a different part of the country.

I do miss these views…

In the process of deciding what my fate ought to be, I knew school would “always be there”.  I could continue my education at some point down the road-  it didn’t seem crucial to continue on in the fall of 2013. So I left. I moved to New Mexico 4 years ago and began a life in the mountains, far far away from my little place right near Dane Street Beach. A view of the ocean for a view of mountains. I couldn’t complain about either.

Over the past four years, I’ve often thought that I could have stayed in school and it could have been really good. Granted, in the past four years, I’ve also gotten married, changed jobs and continually learned a ton about ministry and leadership and doing hard things. It’s pretty interesting to consider all the “What Ifs…”
I don’t stay there very long though. Because this is where I am. And life is good.

Not too long ago (maybe like 6 weeks), I decided to consider what it might look like to start school back up again. In a desire to develop more fully in my current job responsibilities and as a follower of Christ, I figured this could be a way to really push me deeper into a knowledge of Scripture and the Lord. I contacted the seminary I had been enrolled in, began looking at online degree programs, tried to figure out what from my one semester would transfer over, and what it would take to reapply.

Crazily enough… everything was really easy.
I re-enrolled to Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary– their Charlotte campus (because it enabled me to do more distance learning while still taking classes at any of their four campuses). I got registered for a few courses, bought some books, and have officially begun to chip away at a Master’s degree again (while still working, of course).

My current plan is to get my degree in Christian Ministries and I’m hoping that I’ll be able to take quite a few Spiritual Formation courses. I’m also hoping that as I slowly do this, more online classes within Spiritual Formation will become available. I had already decided, when I left seminary, that if I had stayed I would have switched my degree from counseling to something else. Spiritual Formation was something that I was learning more about and it has seemed to match my passions and giftings more (think discipleship and development).

I’m enrolled in 3 courses, getting 7 credit hours (Lord willing) and figuring out how to reprioritize my life to include a lot more reading and writing. I’ll be flying to Charlotte, NC in early November to do “residency” classes for a week (which basically means being in class all day, every day). We have video lectures, forums to post in, videos to post, papers to write, and 1000 books to read (slight exaggeration…).

It has been two weeks- and I already love it.
I love it because what I’m absorbing is applicable and challenging to my life and job. I love it because I’m being asked to read Scripture. I love it because I’m getting to learn more about God and more about who He is calling me to be in this season. I love that so much of my time is spent on things of the Lord, that I can’t help but think about Him more and (hopefully) live from that more. Data in, data out. I love that my leadership class gives me practical tools that I can apply to leadership in my job without having to wait. I’m almost starting to think that everyone in full-time ministry should take a class at a seminary! Being fed while pouring out. Having to be disciplined, diligent, focused.

It’s good.
And so if you’ve asked me lately what’s been going on, or how you can be praying for me- this has been my answer. Learning how to balance all of the things and also do them well. There’s obviously still the exciting newness, but if you want to pray for me- pray that the newness doesn’t wear off. Pray that I would be eager to learn, eager to grow, eager to be transformed and refined through my studies. Pray that my goal wouldn’t be good grades or worldly achievement- but that it would be knowing Christ more fully and living out of that more steadfastly.

And that’s the latest in my world, friends!

“I need you to value me more.”

The statement immediately made my eyes well uncontrollably with tears. Throughout our entire conversation I had maintained a level head… but this statement broke me. If my husband needed me to value him more, it implied that I had failed to show him how I actually felt about him.

I hate that.
The tears came and I disappeared into my head. How have I failed him this much? Because, in the depths of my soul I know how much I do value him, how much I do love him, how I continue to feel like the luckiest person that he chose me…

The TV.
It always comes back to the TV. Maybe not always directly, but this incident has taken center stage too many times, and as a result, always seems to be looming backstage in our marriage.

What about the TV? You may be wondering…

Before we got married, I owned a TV. A decent TV. A flatscreen Samsung that had done me no wrong in our time together. This TV was quickly relocated to our back bedroom when we returned from our honeymoon to the giant TV my entire family had given us as a wedding gift. And while my TV was used for nothing more than the occasional P90X workout (where there was room to move about), it was still a great TV.

In our first year of marriage, my husband loaned the TV out to a friend who was staying in the hotels on campus. I didn’t know my TV had gone elsewhere… and normally, I wouldn’t have cared. However, in the middle of summer at a summer camp, when you loan someone something, you generally don’t remember that you did. It’s pretty low on the priority-level. I get that. But it was also a great TV.

if anyone has seen my TV….

And soon, it was a missing TV.

“Hey, did you ever get our TV back from the hotel rooms?”
“No…but I will.”

Weeks went by. Months. No TV.
I didn’t bring it up all that often, but it became a point of bitterness for me.

It was our first year of marriage and I felt like if I asked about it too much, then I’d be nagging. I didn’t want to be the nagging wife. But, I did want the TV back.

We went for a walk a few months later and when I thought about the TV, I began to think of all the other things that my husband had promised but not finished. The floor of our bathroom he said he’d fix after the dog destroyed it, the trash he said he’d take out, the dishes he said he’d wash, the freaking TV he said he’d get back. Suddenly I realized I was married to a man with no follow-through and no initiative. At least, those are the things you immediately believe when you recall the hundreds of instances he let you down (or 5) and forget the millions of instances he came through for you (literally millions).

We never got the TV back.
No one seems to have seen it. We both asked and looked and it’s just gone.
Sometimes I’m still annoyed about it (and sometimes we just laugh about it).

So when my husband asks me to value him more, I can’t help but think that it’s because of these moments. These moments when I’ve convinced him that he’s a disappointment because sometimes I’ve also convinced myself of the same thing. Because sometimes I expect perfection. It’s a gross disease. And often in my expectations, I’m quickly reminded how broken and imperfect I am. Because while I might never lose a TV (knock on wood), I’m often selfish, demanding, insistent that my way is the best way and my timing is the most important.

These are the moments when I turn into a fleshy, witchy monster who exists to exalt herself and reign terror on the household, including our gentle giants (especially when their hair is everywhere). The moments when I lose sight of this desire to be gentle and kind and patient and selfless and good. Moments where I’m on a mission to make myself heard, to be right, to win.

And in an instant, my husband’s words pierce through the darkness. They aren’t demanding. They’re just honest. “Debbie, I need you to see me. To love me. To be here, with me. I need to know that you think I’m worth something, even when I mess up. I need to know that I’m not the biggest disappointment of your life.”

These are the moments that are ugly, but real. Moments in marriage that are hard, but refining. Moments that break me and remind me to come back. To come back to what is better. To come back to the a place where I choose good, where I choose Jesus, where I choose selflessness, where I choose to love. These are the places where there’s no room for anonymity or hiding or running. The places where I must admit my flaws, my darkness and tell my husband that I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I want to do better.  These are places where we are often the most humbled, most raw, most real.

My gracious, kind husband takes me into his arms.
And this is why marriage is beautiful: neither of us get to walk away. We just have to press in. We have to do better. We have to love more, live more selflessly, live more Christ-centered. He chooses to love me every day, even when my sin prevails and I have to continually do the same. Because this is not who we want to be. And we have to remember that our intentions for each other are not bad, but good.

His mercy is new every morning.
Let’s do better today.