A scraped windshield…

It is amazing how the little things can set you off…

Today a coworker scraped my windshield. The same coworker who had listened to me pour out my woes about a fight with my best friend last week.

I cried watching Gilmore Girls.

Sometimes it is the little things that mean more than anything else.

Last week my best friend turned on me. The girl who knows how much it would hurt. I was left crying at my desk, stunned. That ache is horrible.

She called me hours later and we talked, made up, even improved our friendship. But I still ached. Then in church on Sunday, as I begged God to show me what to do as I still ache, He told me to choose to love. To choose to love her because even though I hurt she deserves it.

I needed that. I needed someone who I know loves me dearly to hurt me. Why? Because it showed me what it is to choose to love. And I can apply that lesson to those who I need to love whose love in return I have not experienced.

I ached, but I’m learning to accept that ache. I’m learning to accept that life is not lived in not aching but learning to move forward through the ache…. Healing is not “not hurting” but learning to move forward despite the pain…

And I’m learning… little by little…

Crooked lines.

I’ve always been afraid of breaking. I’ve been afraid to love – not so much for fear of getting hurt – but because I was afraid that hurt would break me again… Like it did before. And I never want to go back to that broken place.

But healing doesn’t mean not hurting. Healing means that the pain will not take away my peace, that the pain will not overwhelm… that when I feel the pain breaking me, I will discover that I am held.


That is what this Advent is all about. Presence.

And isn’t presence what I have ached for my whole life? Is it a longing to be known, loved, found, and seen. And isn’t that what the babe in the manger does?

How is it that I am discovering more and more what it means that he is coming because I am breaking?

Crooked lines.

And today, that was the counsel I received. As I knelt and poured out my soul… That because my friends turned on me and my fear was actualized, I’ve realized that I can walk through my worst fears of being unloved and rejected.

And it was that same priest who listened to my heartache today who scraped the snow off my windshield. I wouldn’t even have known it was him had I not walked out at that exact minute.

He makes the ways straight…



Yesterday I was in the airport. My heart rate was finally slowing after getting out of work, praying for no traffic, finding a space in the parking garage, taking the shuttle to the other terminal, clearing security, and taking the tram to my gate. I used the restroom and was headed to grab a snack before my flight.

As I left the restroom, I passed by the gentleman cleaning the men’s restroom. As I passed he said, “hello.” While continuing forward, mentally I stopped. “Hi,” I replied.

“How are you doing today?” came the response.

“I’m well, how about you.”

Little does he know what that hello meant to me. He saw me. How often is he invisible to the world? Daily he goes to work in one of the busiest airports yet who knows how many people stop to see him? But he stopped to say hello.

What It’s All About

This post is a step forward. I’m here with a blog – that no one knows exists. And quite frankly, maybe no one ever will know exists. (I feel I should leave a letter to be opened in the case of my death for someone to find this and read what was really going on in my head all these years.)

Back to the point, this is a step forward because I’m about to post about eating disorder recovery. There, I’ve said it. I’ve posted (or am about to post) on the worldwide web about my eating disorder. “What if someone reads your blog and knows who you are?” whispers the little voice in my head.

And, so what? I often want to shout it to the world, “I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER.” No one knows. No one knows the battle I’ve fought entirely – continue to fight. I tell people often there is one thing I would tattoo on my body. When they ask what it is, I never answer. It is the eating disorder recovery symbol. One day I want to wear it with pride.

Back to my point, today I read an article postulating about a possible new form of eating disorders, orthorexia – obsession with healthy eating. It intrigued me, because as I fight daily to recover I fear that opposite extreme. This says it all: “Food has become presented—more and more—as the answer.”

The solution isn’t in the food – eating or not eating or overeating or purging or exercising. The answer is in balance.