A half empty love tank.

When I was a little girl, my father left me.

I have fuzzy memories of him, bits and pieces I can barely recall. 

I am unsure of all the things that made him leave me, but I do know an alcohol addiction played a huge part. 

As a young girl, I felt like I was walking around with this giant piece missing from me. 

I didn’t even know my own dad. 

I didn’t know where he lived, and I didn’t know his phone number.

I didn’t know what he looked like or what his voice sounded like. 

Whenever we would travel, the first thing I did was pull the phone book out of the drawer in the hotel room and look up his name.  Maybe, just maybe, he lived here.  Maybe I would call him, and he would answer, and he would come running to me and take me in his arms and call me baby girl.  My mind would run wild with these dreams and visions of our reuniting. 

I searched and wished and longed for him.  I just knew so many of my problems and hurts would go away if he was just a part of my life. 

So from a very young age, I was broken. 

I tried to fill a half empty love tank with all sorts of things - things that weren’t necessarily unhealthy from the outside, but things that shaped me from a young age.

Striving for perfection was a big one.  I was the good kid.  I made good grades.  I read all the books.  I let other kids pick on me.  I was the teacher’s favorite.  I sat on the front row. 

Trying to be perfect was one way I dealt with a broken heart.  This is my go-to unhealthy way to deal with things even now as an adult.  If I couldn’t earn my own father’s love and affection, then by golly, I was going to win the affection of everyone around me. 

S T R I V I N G for love and attention to fill a broken heart.

When I feel like things are out of control in my life, well, that’s when I tend to gravitate towards that perfection drive.  My heart and my mind are running wild with all the hurt, chaos, brokenness, but you would never know it from the outside. 

After years of therapy and counseling, I can identify when things are moving towards the side of perfection and when I need to check myself.  But it creeps in every single day and tries to tell me that I am unworthy of love - that I must EARN it.

When I was 18 years old, I received a phone call from my father’s wife.  My dad was sick and dying and he wanted to meet me and my sister. 

My dream finally came true.

Expectations for that trip were beyond insane.  I thought something magical and beautiful would happen. 

But as you might guess, it didn’t.  My dad didn’t apologize.  He didn’t embrace me.  He didn’t say “Baby girl, I screwed up, but guess what?  I always loved you and I always, always will.” 

That trip was one of the most difficult and defining trips of my life.  And also one that I can’t recall much of (thanks, brain) — you see, my brain knew how traumatic this trip was for me and basically WIPED OUT every single picture or faint memory I have.  I couldn’t even tell you what my dad looked like. 

Two weeks later, he died.

And I still walk around with this MASSIVE hole in my heart.  It is a tender spot, one I don’t like to go to often because it hurts. 

The only way I can describe it is like this: it’s like I’ve been given this load to carry - the weight isn’t near as heavy as it used to feel, but it’s still something I carry every single day.  It’s woven into my life - my being - my story.  As much as I wish I could go back and change the story for myself, I can’t. 

There are days I feel like God gives me a glimpse into the reasons why I was given this load.  When I hold my darling Annie Lou, tears streaming down her face, because she misses her own dad, and I hold her sweet face and look her in the eyes and say with the most sincere and genuine heart: “I know.”  Because more than anyone else in this world, I really do understand and can empathize with her hurt.

Where am I now?

Well, I am on a journey right now with God.  I’m facing a lot of those hurts and pains that happened to me as a little girl.  I cry a LOT.  I am mourning something that I am sure what/if/how I should mourn, but I am mourning nonetheless.  And day by day, I’m learning to let my Heavenly Father come in and fill those empty places and hold the little girl that resides in my heart. 

To those of you that are walking around with a half-empty love tank, I see you.  You matter.  Your hurts matter.  It’s not silly or dumb to feel sad…just feel it and get on with it.  Get help.  Find a community of believers that can speak truth to your hurting heart and point you HOME to a truth that will leave you full of hope and joy. 

And then get on your knees and thank your Lord, your Heavenly Father, for never leaving you and always loving you.  No matter what. 




You're a good, good Father...thank you, Lord!

Embracing your season when you're not sure what season you're in...

I started this little blog as a way to get some thoughts out of my head and into a space.  Most of the posts remain unpublished.  The only eyes that have seen those words are my own.  And that is okay.

For the past 3 years, I have been through so many seasons.

Scary seasons.  Stormy seasons.  Calm seasons.  Quiet seasons.  Joyful seasons.  Absolutely wonderful seasons.

And through most of those seasons, I have been writing.

But then I stopped.

Let me see if I can explain the stirrings of my heart...

When I was a single mama, going through a divorce, raising two little ladies, I had much to say.  And people wanted to hear from me.  I didn't talk much about what was going on, but every now and then, once the healing reached a certain place for me, I'd talk about what was going on - in my head and my heart.  People would share with me how those words had touched them, or they were glad I was writing again, or maybe they had passed them on to a friend facing a similar road.  I felt like I had much to say AND an audience to listen.

In that season, I focused very little on the future.  I was so reliant and dependent on God.  I could barely get out of the bed before I would mutter the words: "Just today, Lord.  Just today. Nothing more." That was literally all I could handle -- that day.

I look at pictures from that season -- particularly of pregnant-with-Birdie Lena, full of growing life -- the fear and worry and doubt hidden deep in her eyes, almost impossible for me to see.  Instead, I see God in her.  I see a woman clinging to her Lord.  And it's absolutely beautiful to me.



So, what's different in this season?

For one, I am married again.  I have a partner, a best friend, a supporter and an encourager. And he's amazing if you don't know already.

I am so blissfully and deliriously happy -- seriously!

Because I spent so much time in a season of hurt and uneasiness, I am really unsure how to live in this abundant season.  I know, it sounds crazy as I type it out. 

These are the kinds of thoughts I have to myself and ones I oftentimes speak out loud when my dear husband asks me why I'm not writing anymore:
- No one wants to hear from a happy Lena. 
- I have nothing of value to say - I am just happy and blessed.
- I will probably just get on people's nerves because I have nothing to say but good things, and people aren't used to that from me.

These are all the crazy lies I hear and actually say out loud to myself.  So crazy, right?

The truth is, I am so happy and blessed.  But I have challenges all the same in this season as I did in previous seasons.  They are different challenges -- ones that don't feel nearly as overwhelming, but challenges all the same.

I am still dependent on my Lord, it just feels like it's a different kind of dependency.  Like in those 3 previous years, I was a newborn Lena, completely unable to do anything without her Lord.  And now, I'm an able-to-stand-and-feed-herself Lena - I still need my daily nourishment and daily time with the Lord - but I'm no longer a newborn.  There are days I miss those newborn days -- and I wish there was a way for me to verbalize how and why I miss those days, but I'm not sure how to do that right now.  That's a post for another day I guess.

So here I am in this weird place that just doesn't feel quite right to me, but I'm learning to be still and sit and just BE in a season.  Not freak out, not change everything, just be (this is Lena's typical routine when something feels off).  And in the process, I hope I will learn more and sit back and enjoy the shift that is happening in the meantime.

For now, here's to bringing writing back into my life and sharing those words with you, too.

When a day stings.

I have always been a memories gal. 

I love looking at old photos.  I have a box full of notes, old ticket stubs and movie tickets, certificates, essays, programs...pieces and mementos from different stages in my life.  I have a huge tote box full of almost every single piece of paper that Annie Lou has brought home from school.  I have plans to do something great with those papers...or maybe they will sit in a box. 

The point is, I'm sentimental.  BIG TIME.

You know timehop and "on this day" on facebook?  Well, I love those too.  Kind of like a little scrapbook of my "digital" memories. 

But some days, those pictures and memories...oh, do they sting.  If I'm honest, they do a lot more than sting.  Some days, they hurt me so hard I feel like I can't breathe or catch my breath.

Today was one of those hard days.  Today was meant to be a day to celebrate another year -- a chance to exchange presents and look at photos and think of a wonderfully beautiful day.  But it's not that kind of day today. 

Here's where I don't really know what to say. 

Do I say something was so broken, it couldn't be put back together?  Do I say I was too controlling?  Do I say I didn't do ______ enough?  WHAT DO I SAY?

I can't say anything.  I can't fix it or make it better.  I can't control this one.  

And so I do what I know how to do.  I cry.  I breathe.  I try to remember the day for what it was -- a beautiful day.  I thank God for my two girls.  I put the phone and computer away and try not to focus on the "what ifs" and instead think about the abundant and bountiful blessings that I do have in my life.  And I always remember that He works all things for good.  I sing my new song -- it may not have been the song I chose for myself, but I sing anyways.  I fall into His goodness and grace and let the rest go.  

Here's where I start.

Starting.  

I like to start a lot of thing.  Sometimes, I finish them.  Sometimes (more than I care to admit), I don't finish at all.

But one "thing" I always love to start is writing.

I love to journal, to doodle, to write short stories...I used to love to blog and write about my faith, life and my daily happenings.  I felt I had a lot to say, and I had a lot of things that people really needed to hear.  I felt confident in how I was doing life...and all the things. 

"People would really want to hear from me," I thought to myself, "I really know what I'm doing."

Yeah, you know how those kinds of statements go, don't you? 

Well, I am here to tell you, I don't know what I'm doing.

Most days, I'm just thankful to get into my comfy bed, close my eyes for a hot minute (because my Birdie girl does not like to sleep), and say a quick prayer to God...most of the time, it goes like this: "Thanks for this day, Lord.  It was hard.  I'm glad we all lived another day.  Keep on blessing us.  Love you, Lord."  I say a lot of these quick prayers during the day.  I'd love to be one of those people that dedicate lots of time to prayer, but I've come to realize in this season of my life, I have just got to take God with me.  In the car, in the pick-up line, in the drive-thru line, in the lobby of dance class, at the grocery store...He's got to go everywhere with me.  So, we have quick little one-liner convos, and I know one day we'll get to have long chats, but right now I've got Him beside me wherever I go (and I "go" a lot). 

Anyways, back to I have no idea what I'm doing.  And I'm beginning to be okay with it.

You see, I like this little thing called control.  Oh M Gee to I love control.  I like to know what I'm doing and what's coming up next.  I don't like surprises, and I don't like "bumps in the road."  I have fought a battle with control and anxiety and fear for a LONG time.  Once you let "it" control you, well....it takes a long time to be okay with giving up and surrendering all that control.  You've walked around with your hands in fists so long, you're not really sure you can let go. 

It's a daily struggle and something I battle every single day.

But thankfully, my Lord is a sweet and precious Lord.  He whispers, "It's okay, Lena, I got this.  Remember?"

So, when people ask "When are you going to go back to work?  When are you going to move out of your parents' house?  WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO, LENA????"  Well, I just answer honestly and simply: "I'm not really sure right now.  We are taking things day by day."  And that's the truth, y'all. 

Here's where I start (again).  Here's where I tell my stories.  Here's where I share my love of a Lord that rescues me and gives me GREAT JOY.  Here's to where I tell you no matter what (and that "what" can be a big, scary thing), HE WORKS ALL THINGS for HIS GOOD. 

Amen?  Amen.