You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello

Sometimes I remember feelings better than I remember events.  Feelings that overshadow everything you do for a span of time before they dissipate and dissolve into everyday life.  Last year, I remember feeling a sense of finality and lostness with each event we participated in as a family, each sleepover, each family gathering, each visit with friends.  In those moments of literal heartache, I would remind myself that after we moved, we would be settled for at least 4 years and not have to go through this emotional stage for at least that time.

I was so, so wrong.  I was so, so unaware of the realities of seminary life.  It didn't take long for me to understand that my heart would not find rest while here at seminary.  On the contrary, my heart would be forced to face the words "last" and "goodbye" and "first" and "transition" every single semester for the entire time we are here.  It started in January when we said good-bye to a family we had gotten to know via facebook before we even moved here and continues today with the only end in sight being when we graduate and are the ones who leave.

Since we moved here, I've met a lot of people and they all seem to handle this emotional stress in different ways.  Some, having experienced this transition their first year and lost good friends, decide that they aren't going to get close to new people as they come and keep new relationships at an arm's length.  Some, deciding that the entire time at seminary is transitory, keep their roots shallow and their friendships light.  Others dive right into new friendships and small groups and ministry teams and feel it deeply each time goodbyes take place.  And still others have found a way to strike the balance between open hearts and emotional reserve.  I can see every one of those reactions as valid and reasonable.  As a "newbie", I was so grateful for those who opened their hearts and doors and welcomed us in, but as a "veteran" I can see the heartache that takes place each semester as farewells mount up and houses are left empty.

Farewell Sleepover

This weekend has probably been the most emotional for me since we moved here.  One family in particular that was part of our welcoming team, whose kids penpalled with ours before we moved, who invited us into their home before we even moved here and who have shared hearts, prayers, and laughter with us many times since those first few moments, has graduated and is moving back to Memphis to serve in their home church.  Great joy coupled with great sadness has marked these days.  Our girls' "last" sleepover was so fun and yet so final.  Our evening potluck was so familiar and yet so strangely different knowing

Lemonade Anyone?

they wouldn't be here the next time.  Our girls hosted a lemonade stand to raise money for the Salvation Army and set a goal of $100 mostly I think because they wanted something deeply memorable to hold onto as they parted ways.

And then Friday will come and they will leave and soon someone else will move into 803 Latimer and the cycle will begin again.  And I can see why some say, "No, I can't do it.  I can't get close to someone again.  It hurts too much."

But then I think of all the things this lovely family has taught me.  I think of the love and patience they have shown.  The friendship and prayer they have offered.  The vision and excitement they have shared.  The hugs and the laughter they have given.  And I would have missed it all if I had not let them in.  So while it tears at my heart to say good-bye, my life is richer for having known them and my journey better for having shared the road with them.  I only hope we were the same for them.

And so, here in a few weeks as new families like we were last year begin moving in and feeling alone and confused and scared and tired, I hope we can come alongside them with the same heart and love as we received.  And while I know it will hurt like crazy when we have to say goodbye, I have learned that true friendship and true family extend far past the boundaries of time and distance to hearts and lives and that cannot be taken away.  Just last weekend when our friends from Pennsylvanina came to stay with us, it wasn't like we didn't know each other anymore or we had to re-build our friendship.  Instead, it was as though we'd never been apart, family of the heart regardless of the state.  And sure, we miss them in the day-to-day but we know we are together for eternity.

As I've pondered this blog throughout the day I've come to realize that this feeling and the reactions that come with it don't only happen when we say goodbye to friends and family because of relocation.  Some people have been hurt badly by others in their life and as a result find it hard to open up to others.  Some have hurt people and are afraid of doing that again.  Some have been left alone, emotionally, spiritually and physically and they react by building walls of independence around their hearts and minds.   But what are we missing when we are afraid to hurt?  What joys do we forego because we don't want the pain of farewell?  What blessings have we withheld and forfeited because of fear of grief or heartache?  It's a high price to pay and, even though my heart is aching, it's a price I'd pay again.

I still feel that strange pit in my stomach when I think about the "goodbyes" and "hellos" that will take place over the next few weeks.  And I still find myself crying over the strangest things and the oddest moments, but I have this "hope as an anchor to my soul."  Our friendship has only just begun and I am so grateful that it has.  As Steven Curtis Chapman sang, "Keep on looking ahead, let our hearts not forget, we are not home yet."

Always in our hearts!  We love you!

Keep Calm and Study Greek and other Seminary realities

The end of the semester has come.  Semester #2 - check.  It's like coming out of a haze and shaking your head, readjusting to life, and opening your eyes to a whole new world called "the outside."  I say this "tongue in cheek" because most of my seminary friends are still posting statuses about studying Greek and reading text books because.. well frankly, because they actually LOVE this stuff (my dear husband included).

But we had a bit of an advantage in terms of breaking free from the classroom routine because as soon as finals were over, we welcomed the Carbaugh family from PA into our Kalas home to spend five fun days with us exploring the Bluegrass.  It was a instant transition from studying and reading to hiking and playing.  It made us dizzy, but in a good way, like riding a Tilt-a-Whirl at the county fair.   We played in waterfalls, swam at a water park, hiked to the river's edge, and picnicked in the park.  We watched movies at night, ate milkshakes for breakfast, and even went on a double-date with no kids.  It may have been at our house but it still felt like a vacation for us.

And then, Tuesday morning, as quickly as they came, they left and suddenly, we looked at each other and said, "Now what?"  It didn't take long for the Greek cards to make their reappearance (in fact they were out before our friend had even left) and for paperwork to get filled out for classes in the fall.  We look around at those who graduated last weekend and realize that in three years, that will be us.  Our time here, which has gone so quickly already, will end.  And while we know that is why we came, there is something in our hearts that wants to relish each moment of the time we have left.

I've been known to pick on my hubby a bit for his insatiable thirst for "more."  He's not content to brush the surface of things.  He wants to really understand, to really "get it" and to share with others who are interested.  Sure, the Bible has been translated into various versions of the English language and most of us are satisfied with that.  Not Luke.  One of his favorite things to do is pull out his Greek New Testament and translate for himself.  And the joy he gets from completing a translation and understanding that verse or chapter in a new light is unparalleled.  

I used to think he was unique in this desire but I have quickly discovered that he is indeed just one of a certain breed.  As I stated at the beginning, it didn't take long after finals for the facebook posts to go from "Finals this week!  Pray for grace and caffeine to work." to "Finals are over! Excited to dig into my books for next semester!"  I mean seriously, before finals week was even over, a bunch of students had formed a group to independently study Greek over the summer and had begun going over basic Greek to get started.  There are more bookshelves in Kalas Village than people I'm sure and as graduates are preparing to leave, their offers of books and bookshelves are pounced on quickly by eager undergrads.

All this to say, I've come to the realization that "seminary" will never really be over.  Not after finals.  Not even after graduation.   And I am blessed to know that here at Asbury that is in fact the goal.  Lifelong learning and growing in our knowledge of Christ.  And it's not about being here.  It's about going there.  As Dr. Bob Stamps said in his last chapel as dean (paraphrased), "Get it (the gospel) out of the church!  We are not supposed to be fishing in our own aquarium."  Or as it says on the stained glass of the church we attend here in Wilmore, "Come, Tarry, Go!"  Or as Luke would say, "As much as I love this stuff, and I do, I'm really looking forward to getting to work."

We are at the "tarry" stage and fully enjoying our life here.  Sharing our home with our friends this weekend reaffirmed to me again just how blessed we truly are.  And we are grateful for that.  But I am also watching good friends pack up all their belongings and "Go!" to all the various places God is sending them.  And I am grateful for that too.  But regardless of the stage we find ourselves, I am very sure of this; seminary will never be over.  In fact, it's only just begun.

Now for this very reason also, applying all diligence, in your faith supply moral excellence, and in your moral excellence, knowledge, and in your knowledge, self-control, and in your self-control, perseverance, and in your perseverance, godliness, and in your godliness, brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness, love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they render you neither useless nor unfruitful in the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. For he who lacks these qualities is blind or short-sighted, having forgotten his purification from his former sins. Therefore, brethren, be all the more diligent to make certain about His calling and choosing you; for as long as you practice these things, you will never stumble;  for in this way the entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ will be abundantly supplied to you.      Therefore, I will always be ready to remind you of these things, even though you already know them, and have been established in the truth which is present with you. I consider it right, as long as I am in this earthly dwelling, to stir you up by way of reminder, knowing that the laying aside of my earthly dwelling is imminent, as also our Lord Jesus Christ has made clear to me. And I will also be diligent that at any time after my departure you will be able to call these things to mind.  2 Peter 1:5-15 (NASB)

You Never Have To Do That Again

This is not an "update on the Embree family" blog post.  This isn't even a "life in Kentucky" or a "life in seminary" blog post.  I'm hijacking my own blog for a "I had an epiphany and want to share it with you" blog post.  It's a pretty personal post and one that I am both excited and hesitant to write.  It's a "bare your soul, share your heart" post but one that I genuinely feel bears writing and sharing so.. if you're still around, here we go.

All my life I have struggled with my weight.  I have never been "skinny" nor have I ever been small (I was 9 lbs, 12 oz at birth - feel sorry for my mom).  Even as a child, my legs dwarfed the other girls I played with.  In middle school I developed asthma that was cold-air and exercise induced.  After one particularly scary asthma attack, I decided I would rather sit in my room, read books, drink hot tea and eat popcorn than ever go through that again.  I hated gym class, especially if we had to do things like run the mile or take the Presidential fitness test.  By college, I had pretty much resigned myself to being "fat" and just gave in to my size.

I've had ups and downs since that time.  Different stages of life where I could pay more attention to my weight and got thinner and then times where being a new mom or starting a new job where I couldn't and I got fatter.  I've tried so many diets.  Low-fat, low-carb, low-calorie, high-protein, dairy-free, gluten-free, and even chain diets (and I know these work for many people and I know there a ton more I haven't tried but that's not really the point of this particular blog).  I lost, gained, lost, gained; you know the routine I'm sure.  The number on the scale had the power to bring great joy or great sadness.  Defeat was so defeating and wins were few and far between.

Luke, my husband and my friend, and me

Beside me stood my husband.  With each new diet or old diet redone or no diet or lots of exercise or no exercise, with every joy-filled pound lost and every tear-filled "I don't have anything that fits" moments, he stayed beside me.  He supported me.  He loved me.  And this Christmas season, he gave me an incredible and scary gift.  I had read him a blog post that was traveling around facebook at the time about what we are passing on to our daughters about body image and when I finished (having shed more than a few tears in the reading) he held my hand and said something like, "Honey, I've been married to you for almost 13 years.  You've been thinner, you've been fatter.  I've never loved you differently.  But I hate the way you hurt yourself with these diets and weigh-ins.  I'm tired of seeing you feeling defeated and hating yourself.  I want to ask you to consider next year NOT dieting and NOT weighing yourself.  For one year, just don't do it.  You can be healthy, be active and fit, but no diets, no calorie-counting, no weigh ins.  Just be you."

When he said it, I will be honest, my chest tightened and I genuinely thought I would have an asthma attack right then.  The thought of not dieting, of not logging every bite I ate, of not knowing what I weigh?!?  It scared me, so very much.  I would blow up!!  I would be huge.  It would be like throwing in the towel and saying, "I give in.  I'm fat.  I'm huge.  It's over."  I cried, I really struggled with this opportunity he had laid before me.  I thought about it for a long time before I finally agreed.  One year.  No diet.  No tracking food or calories.  No weigh ins.  Holy cow... that's a long time.

January was so hard!  Like really hard.  Maybe some of you understand.  I'd been doing it for so long it was a part of me.  I would find myself at dinner adding up calories on my plate or pulling out the scale and thinking, "I wonder how much I've gained."  Part of the deal was that I could pursue a healthy and active lifestyle so I started doing the same thing I'd always done - tried running and doing dvds.  I was so over it.  I was just done.  

Then I went to my first spin class.  I can only imagine what the instructor thought the first time I came in the room.  I really did think during that first class that I would as Jillian Michaels puts it, "Faint, Puke or Die."  But amazingly, I did none of those.  And I felt empowered.  The next class we decided to make a little facebook group called "Spinning Divas" of which I was a member.  Me, in a fitness group, with two ATS personal trainers.  Then the big step.  I asked one of the trainers, who I was very scared of, to take me on.  I told her about the whole no diet, no weigh-in thing and asked if I could just set fitness goals.  She said, "Absolutely!" and off we went.  Again with the whole "Faint, Puke or Die" routine and I didn't. And this all leads to yesterday.

Yesterday the seminary's fitness center offered a "One Rep Max Challenge" where you pushed yourself to find your one rep max (something you could only physically do once) in things like the bench press, leg press, deadlift, curl ups, push ups and pull ups.  A trainer worked with you to warm up and then to find your max.  During one exercise the trainer working with me said, "For this machine we need to input your weight in order for it to calibrate correctly" and then she looked at me expectantly.  I couldn't help it.  I laughed.  I have no idea what I weigh!

I cannot tell you the freedom I experienced in that moment.  I have NO IDEA what I weigh!  And, believe it or not, I'm okay.  In fact, I'm better than okay.  In fact, if you look at the numbers I put in yesterday at the challenge, I'm mostly in the good to superior categories for fitness.  In fact, all those years of "trying to be good" and dieting and weighing in had actually held me back and convinced me that I was not good enough to be as strong as I am.  After deadlifting 200 lbs (seriously peeps, ME!) another trainer heard me say, "That's just crazy.  I can't believe I did that" to which he responded, "Do you know what's really crazy?  You've always been that strong and you never knew it."  

So, yeah, I was feeling pretty good when I got home but God wasn't done yet.  He still had more to show me about what it is to walk in this newfound freedom.  That night my dear friend Nicole came over and we chatted about life and I told her about my day.  When I told her about not knowing what I weigh, I said something like, "I got 6 more months before I'll know I guess."  And she looked at me and said, "You know, you never have to do that again, right?  You don't have to go back to dieting and weighing in and calorie counting just because a year is up.  You never have to know what you weigh."

WHAT?!?  For real?  I don't have to know that number.  I don't have to meticulously determine each morsel that enters my mouth and stress about every guilty bite I take and cry over ever pound gained.  Oh my goodness! You are absolutely right!  I don't ever have to do that again.  This may sound like a "duh" moment to some of you but for me, it was absolute total freedom.  Look at me.  After 5 months of not weighing in and not dieting, I have not suddenly ballooned five sizes.  I also have not lost weight either, I don't think.  I think I'm pretty much the same, in terms of size.  But in terms of strength, both physical and emotional, I am way stronger.  And in terms of freedom, well let's just say, I have never in my adult life felt the way I did this morning when I could honestly say, "It truly does not matter."

I ate a doughnut this morning.  Because it was the last morning with my dear small group and a good friend who will be moving away and I brought doughnuts to eat with my girls and we shared coffee and yeasty deliciousness and tears and prayers and IT DID NOT MATTER.  

The Bible says, "It was for freedom Christ has set you free.  Do not be enslaved again in a yoke of slavery."  This verse is talking specifically about putting yourself under the law of religion and looking for it to be what makes you good.  And that's not exactly what I was doing.  But what I was doing was imprisoning myself by a number and an image that barred me in on every side and kept me from living the life of joy and freedom I was meant to as a child of God made in His image.  And while I kinda knew it, I didn't get it, not truly until yesterday when I said, "I have no idea what I weigh."  

Being loved by my beautiful daughters

No idea and yet... there I was, working out, having fun, being healthy and active, loved by God, loved by friends, loved by my family, loved by my dear sweet husband, loved by my kids, loved.  And for the first time, I was free enough to see it.  And I had to share because I just know some of you get this.  I know I am not the only woman who lives in guilt and shame over numbers on a scale and numbers on our tags and numbers of our calories.  I know that I am not the only one who has wept on her bed with clothes around her that don't fit and swimsuits that don't cover and pants that won't zip up anymore.  I cannot be the only one afraid to eat a dessert in front of thinner people or swearing off certain foods because they make you fat or not going to certain events because of what will be served.  

I've seen so much on facebook lately about embracing our bodies as they are and not being so critical of ourselves and while that is good and true, that's not exactly what I'm saying.  I recognize that I have a need to be healthier and more active and I'm not just embracing the parts of me that can honestly use some work.  I am however not going to allow my very soul and emotions to be trapped again by a scale, a number or a food.  It's just not worth the chains.  One day, I'll go to a doctor's office and I'll see what I weigh.  I can't say now how I will respond to that, be it higher or lower than what I think.  But by God's grace, I hope I will walk away just as free as I feel today.

And sore, I feel sore today.  Getting stronger hurts sometimes.  But it's worth it.  

Why I Do Dishes Every Night

Last night at 11:30 pm, I was doing dishes.  For one thing, I had some delicious Starbucks coffee in the afternoon whose aftereffects lasted long past my normal jolt.  Second, I was waiting for a storm to roll in so I could see some great lightning (I've been doing this since we moved here and have yet to see a good thunder-boomer).  But, probably the thing that most had me up doing dishes in the middle of the night was my mom.

Years ago, I had the privilege of leading the ladies Bible study group at my church, a group where I was considerably younger than many I was leading and one that my mom happened to participate in.  During one of the times of study, we came upon the verse in Titus 2:3,4 where the "older" women are encouraged to teach the "younger" women.  So I asked the "older" women of the group to think about a few things that they wish they had known at our age (unmarried, newly-married, new parents, twenty-somethings) that would have helped them live a fuller, more blessed life.

My Mom and Dad

I will never forget that Bible study night.  Some of the best advice I have ever received came in that moment.  I learned to laugh in every moment and find the joy in each stage of life.  I learned to accept who I am and not spend time wishing I was more beautiful, thinner, or more attractive before I lived life.  I learned that time with my kids would move faster than I expect and to treasure each new phase of growth and all the pains and joys that go with it.  But what I will never, ever forget is the advice my mom shared that day.

She started by saying she wanted to share one spiritual principle and one practical principle that she guaranteed would make our lives better as we grew as wives and mothers.  She started with the practical one, probably because, knowing my mom, she felt more comfortable with the practical and less so with the surreal.  

"Never go to bed with dirty dishes in the sink," she said, "There is nothing more defeating than to wake up in the morning and see a pile of dirty dishes in your sink and on your counters and having to face that mess when you wake up.  And nothing feels as good as waking up to a clean kitchen and an empty sink and knowing the day can start without chores.  No matter how late it is, make yourself clean those dishes before you go to bed and your days will be brighter and better right from the start."

It's so funny to me how those words have echoed through my mind on nearly a daily

Mom (Grammie) and my girls

basis.  Each night, as part of my routine, I walk to my kitchen, clean up all the dishes, load up the dishwasher and start it, and wipe down all the counters, stovetop, microwave, and sink.  But during that time,  when I am silent and moving through what has now become a habitual motion for me, I ALWAYS, and I mean, ALWAYS think about the second part of what she shared.

"Don't have wasted thoughts," she shared. "Don't spend your times of quiet rehashing conversations, going over what you would have or should have said.  Don't waste your moments deciding what you might say or do in the future if you see someone or do something to make your point or win your fight.  Don't waste your thoughts on these things.  They are empty and hollow and they will only fill your heart with despair and bitterness.  Use your thoughts instead to think of good things as it says in Philippians 'whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.' Don't have wasted thoughts."

I'm not sure Mom knows just how formational those words were to me.  Because I do that.  I waste thoughts.  I think, "If I'd only said that..." or "I'll show him next time."  And it does nothing for my spirit but tear me down and break my heart.  But, because of Mom, I've learned how to recognize those wasted moments and by God's grace, use them as times of prayer and growth rather than despair and death.  My best prayer times, my very best times of intercession and worship, have happened when I was doing dishes.  I have stopped many times and fallen to my knees in the kitchen to pray for those I love, to weep while I worship Christ, or to just pray for my selfish heart.  As habitual as dishes at night have become, so have my times of prayer.  Some days, it's a short time, just a few bowls to put in the dishwasher and a few crumbs on the counter.  Some days, it's lasagna pans to scrub and stubborn microwave splatters to wipe up.  On those days, the prayers are longer, the worship deeper, and the thoughts more utilized.

For Mother's Day, I could think of no better way to honor my mother than to share with all of you the wisdom she shared with me.  I have shared this same advice with my daughters.  I have shared it with many friends.  And now I share it with you praying that the same blessing I have been bestowed with can be passed to you and the freedom found in not wasting our thoughts will lead more of us to God's throne each day.

I bet you'll never guess where I got the idea for this blog.  Last night, doing dishes, praying for my Mom.  Mom, I love you.  You have given me treasures far deeper than words can say.  You have lived love.  You have loved life.  Your children rise and call you blessed, your husband also and he praises you saying, "Many women have done well, but you exceed them all."  Happy Mother's Day!!

Me and my Mom  (and our Bombay photobomber)