For me, it started with a piece of paper.
A piece of paper + God.
We never know how God is going to weave our stories of connection, of friendship, of life. A happenstance meeting at a restaurant turns into a marriage, a potluck roommate assignment turns into a lifelong friendship. It is absolutely miraculous how we connect to each other in this great big world.
As I was driving home from an amazing weekend at the You Are Women's Conference, I reflected on how I even have the honor to be connected to this incredible group of women.
A piece of paper + God.
In 2004, I was part of a group of women who had been hungering for a different type of Bible study in the Bryan/College Station community. We began praying about starting an interdenominational Bible study. We met and prayed together for months before we started gathering to do a study together. We found a host church. We haphazardly assigned leadership roles to our little motley crue of women; I was tasked the role of the leader/teacher. I remember opening Microsoft Word on my Dell desktop computer, creating a flier announcing when and where we would meet for our first Bible Study. We made copies of said flier. We all grabbed a pile of said fliers and went around town, leaving stacks of papers here and there. (The year was 2004; it was a pre-social media world, when fliers, church bulletins, and community newspaper columns were some of the only options for free publicity.)
This mystery still remains to me one of the greatest ways I have experienced the beautiful ways God works in the smallest of details, but somehow a few women saw the paper. Picked one up. And actually SHOWED UP to our first little Bible study.
A piece of paper + God.
To this day, Bryan College Station CBS is a vibrant, God-honoring ministry in the community. My years of leading CBS connected me to women from different denominations and churches from all across the community.
A piece of paper + God.
Our family moved from the BCS community to Huntsville in 2013. I vividly remember seeing the announcement of the first You Are Women's Conference in 2014. Our exit from the community had been packaged in painful heartache; we were emotionally hemorrhaging from the loss of the community we loved so dearly. I remember having such confidence in all the women I knew who had launched the conference; I had met some of them through CBS as well as other local ministry connecting points. I knew without a doubt they were wholeheartedly sold out to Jesus and it would be an incredible gathering. Yet my heart was too raw to attend. I couldn't bear the thought of being in a crowd of women, seeing faces I recognized, feeling paralyzed at the thought of making small talk when my pain was still so raw, pouring salt in the wound of having to leave the town our family had loved dearly.
Because our God is a God of healing, I was finally ready to attend a conference with a dear friend a few years down the road, my heart more solid. Some of the ashes were beginning to turn to beauty, the mourning transforming to joy.
Then I had the absolute honor to be invited to speak at both the 2021 and 2022 conferences. Standing before a group of women in B/CS, teaching the word of God after such heartache, was surreal. It was not lost on me what a full circle gift of restoration this was from the kind heart of a loving Father, through the prayerful invitation of the You Are team. As I stood to teach, I experienced His sweet little head nod and gentle grin, directly to me, reminding me He was in the business of restoring the years the locust had eaten. (Joel 2: 24)
This year, 2024, (twenty years after those papers were passed out), I had a blast emceeing the 10th anniversary conference with my sweet friend Ashley. The weekend was absolutely glorious in every way possible. God continued to speak to some of my heartache, reminding me again and again how we have a God who finds us and sees us. Like Hagar said, “I have seen the God who sees me.” (Gen 16:13)
He sees you, too. You NEVER know how God will use one small random connection that links to another connecting point, years down the road. He uses it all.
A piece of paper + God.
Any part of your heartache + God.
Any unfinished work + God.
Whatever we have, God will work through it. Trust the God of the bigger, longer story.
His math always works for His glory and our joy.
Don’t believe your local FB gripe group, blathering endlessly about how awful people are. Tune out those horrible headlines, screeching on and on about how the world is going to hell in a hand basket.
Yes, there are vile people on this planet, terrible tragedies in our midst.
However, God made a world that can also be a beautiful, tender, caring ecosystem, where goodness and love pulse through networks of families and communities. A place where simple kindnesses and gentle gestures combine with loving acts and sacrificial gifts to create an interwoven system, delivering the very essence of life itself.
How do I know? We experienced it firsthand this week.
Chris and I teamed up the past 6 days to stand with two families as they were forced to face death. One family is a part of the inaugural community in our married life: what we call our “first church”, which involved 10 years in ministry and life meshed together. Those years in DFW included our first home, deep friendships, and where all three of the Hoover kids were born. Our pastor during that time suddenly on January 10th. Their family, including their 3 adult children and spouses, are so dear to us. They were compasses who pointed true north for us, setting the direction of our family. Her death leaves a huge hole in the lives of so many.
The other grieving family was our very own. Our beloved sister-in-law passed away only two days after our friend. My sister-in-law, Lori, lost a ruthless, cruel battle with ovarian cancer. She is the wife of Chris’ youngest brother. We loved Lori deeply. All of Lori’s precious family lives in a tight-knit farming community in rural Ohio.
One grieving family was shocked to the core by the sudden, untimely loss of their matriarch. The other family watched the cruel deterioration of a young life through an aggressive, ruthless cancer.
One family felt robbed of the opportunity to offer their utmost gratitude while she was alive, but were spared the terrible suffering of a terminal illness. The other family had the sacred space to speak their final goodbyes, but had to watch life being ripped away, one excruciating breath at a time.
There is no comparison in grief: both families are in deep pain, longing for one more glimpse or giggle, one more moment or meal. Or even just one more day. Now they (we) are walking away from the funerals to spend the days grieving the losses instead.
Because suffering and care go hand in hand, God built the grief process to exist in the context of community, in an ecosystem of care.
Hurting people being helped, sad people being seen.
This week Chris and I had front row seats to witness the Curry family and our own family being held and carried by ecosystems of care. We witnessed it and we contributed to it. Tiny acts, added up, creating an abundance of love in the same way small, isolated raindrops fill an empty stock pond.
You get to choose the kind of ecosystem surrounding you: one vibrantly pulsing with love and life or one of withering negativity and isolation.
When you begin to feel grumbly about the awfulness of people, serve someone. Lift those angry eyebrows and build your kindness muscles instead. Bake and deliver some cookies. Text a friend to check in. Mute that Facebook group and be kind to the fast food employee instead. If you have extra money, help someone pay for counseling. Buy a grieving family a Door Dash card. Invite a friend to lunch.
Big or small, human connection is how we heal. Let’s keep building ecosystems of care, okay?
In my mind’s eye, I can see young mom me, with big hair and a big T-shirt, in our living room with a mob of the neighborhood kids, all happily playing. Until the screeching began.
Inevitably, one little voice would pierce through the chaos, “Mine! It’s mine! Give it back!”
Sharing is hard.
My last post seemed to resonate with two sets of people. Parents with adult kids and young parents looking ahead to the day they would be in the adult parenting stage.
But the struggle is deeper than a parenting issue; let’s widen the lens. We ALL struggle with sharing in one form or another. With taking turns. With someone else getting something we want. With watching things we wanted slip out of our hands.
I’ve been known to throw my share of adult temper tantrums when I don’t get what I want. You know what I mean, don’t you? Full on feet stomping, arms flailing, emotions being splattered all over the room. Toddlers are way less discriminating than adults about when and where they throw tantrums, to the horror of their parents. They can throw a wall-eyed fit right there in the checkout line, in front of scores of onlookers, at the exact moment you are desperately digging for the debit card.
My fits are mostly done with only God and Chris as witnesses. If you think you’re off the hook for being more mature than that, maybe your tantrums aren’t as obvious. Could be your tantrums are more internal than external.
Instead of stomping your feet, you manipulate a situation to get your way.
Instead of flailing your arms, you exert deeper control.
Instead of making a scene, you secretly rehearse critical, judgmental thoughts about the person getting what YOU wanted,
Instead of splattering emotions, you shut them down with wine or shopping or eating or scrolling.
I’ve done it all, don’t get me wrong. My ability to be immature in my late 50’s can be astonishing to me. We throw fits when we feel what we have is threatened, clutch to what we think is ours for fear of losing it. We desperately try to possess our images, our stuff, our people, our dreams, our own lives.
It’s a tricky thing. We are made to love, to be settled, to be content, to live in peace, to have what we need for survival, to be deeply attached to others in meaningful ways, to have friends. To be human is to be a people crafted with deep longings. Scripture tells us we are made in His image, which makes us deeper than we imagine ourselves to be. The problem is as old as time. We are made with longings and we become afraid of losing what we have. We are made with deep desires and we are afraid they will never be met. It can be painful. Dreadfully painful.
The drama is set: fear enters life from stage left and grasping enters from stage right.
Let’s normalize something, though. It is absolutely okay to have emotions of sadness when loose someone or something. Tears of sadness are gifts from God, showing us the depth of what it means to be in relationship. It is healthy and good to grieve what we have lost and mourn what we have never held. God is present with the tears of the young mom gathering her sons around her, without their dad, who tragically died weeks before. God is near to the friend I know who desperately wants to be married, yet continues to feel like the third wheel with all her friends. God sees the young parents waiting to hold a baby they can’t conceive. He grieves with the aging man aching with dread as his memory begins to fade.
Grief and sadness are different than the unnecessary suffering we allow in our lives when we live in the dark abyss of clutching, grasping, fearing.
A couple of months ago I penned a paragraph summarizing a pattern I noticed in my life around this theme of sharing. I had noticed an unusual uprising in my heart in the areas of competition and comparison. Something sinful had been incubating in dark spaces in my soul, yet it had remained unnamed. My vision for penning the paragraph was to capture the pesky emotions I was feeling before they sent me into a behavioral spiral that was driven by a sense of lacking. I needed to better understand this dark monster with which I was wrestling. It’s crucial for us to call it what it is, so we can do the important work of resisting its lies and whispers. Jesus looked right at the demon in Mark 5:9 and said, “What is your name?” I needed a name.
The name: scarcity.
In order to love well, to relate well, we absolutely must name this pattern. We must look right at it and cling to the love God in which there is NEVER scarcity. Here is how I named the pattern:
“The Dark Pattern of Scarcity: I’m constantly aware of things I don’t have “enough” of: time, money, energy, experiences, people. Making mistakes brings a deep sense of “not enough-ness”. I can overcompensate and then feel like I’m too much. I can be threatened by others’ success and flourishing, their seemingly “perfect lives” proof of my incompleteness. I resist asking for help because it reveals I don’t have what it takes. Other people having what I don’t have brings a sense of jealousy.
I compare what others have to what I don’t have. ”
Brene Brown says this about scarcity in her book Daring Greatly: Scarcity thrives in a culture where everyone is hyperaware of lack. Everything from safety and love to money and resources feels restricted or lacking. We spend inordinate amounts of time calculating how much we have, want, and don’t have, and how much everyone else has, needs, and wants. What makes this constant assessing and comparing so self-defeating is that we are often comparing our lives, our marriages, our families, and our communities to unattainable, media-driven visions of perfection, or we’re holding up our reality against our own fictional account of how great someone else has it.”
I love the phrase “hyper-aware of lack.” The lack we fear is a figment of our imagination. It is a whisper from a dark source.
Friends, we MUST face this dark monster. It will destroy our peace, our joy, our relationships. I told you in my last post I am vulnerable to the devilish tauntings, whispering to me there is a scarcity of love. Let me be honest with you in real life ways of what this has looked like for me. I hope you know these are absolutely NO FUN to type. I would rather hide these from a watching world. But darkness MUST be brought into the light. IT MUST BE. There is no other way.
Our granddaughter Nora would ask for Chris instead of me. I would feel slighted.
A friend would walk past me at church and not say hi. I would feel ignored.
A friend would have success in their career. I would feel stuck in mine.
Our kids would enjoy time with their in-laws. I would feel jealous.
Friend groups would gather. I would feel left out.
I want to erase each of those, afraid you will discover how petty I am. But I will leave them, to expose my humanity to you. And invite you to the bravest thing any of us can do.
Face it. Confess it. And turn to the lavish, deep love of God.
There is no other way.
Because those withering thoughts are not who I am really am. They are not who YOU really are. I have learned to trust the sturdier, deeper part of my soul that has been redeemed and set free from the bondage of scarcity. I speak those decaying words of scarcity and lack out loud, and then watch them be blown away by the warm breeze of the love of God, the same way storm clouds are chased away, leaving clear skies behind.
I’ll say it again. Sharing is hard. But there is NO scarcity. Let’s take away it’s power and move out of this hyper-awareness of lack, okay? There is enough love, enough time, enough of me, enough of my people, enough dreams, enough of life, to share. Let’s release our fearful fingers.
Let’s celebrate each other.
Let’s love deeper.
Let’s be gatherers, not competitors.
Let’s take risks together, not compare each other.
Let’s invite someone into our circle.
Let’s share the toys, instead of screaming, “Mine! Mine! Mine!”
So join me, will you? Let’s continue the revolution God showed us at the cross: the powerful act of surrender by opening up our palms, releasing our grip on life.
{I’ll lay out some practical strategies in my next post for facing those pesky, uncomfortable, and possibly destructive emotions.}
Sharing is a lesson for all ages, from toddler years to adulting. Think how often we hear an adult remind the littles, “Take turns with the toys! Take turns on the swing! Take turns on the scooter!”
The lesson is timeless: we all must learn to take turns. This Christmas Day, it was our turn to share the kids, who are being deeply and beautifully loved by other families. For that, we are incredibly grateful!
We are better relators when we practice the art of sharing those we love. The truth is, the people I love are not owned by me; they are God’s, first and foremost. Joyfully sharing them with other people, celebrating when they have new experiences and see other families’ way of doing things, is a part of growing to be a healthier lover of people. To do this, we have to guard ourselves from the dark demons of competition and comparison, lurking in the shadows, whispering lies to us about there being a scarcity of love. I am vulnerable to those devilish tauntings more than I care to admit. However, when I hear those murmurings, I stand firm to tell myself this phrase God gave me years ago, “Their gain is not my loss.”
There is NO scarcity. There is enough love, enough time, enough of me, enough of them, to share.
If the redemption story is anything, it is a story of being held deeply by a love that conquers all, including our desperation to cling to things and people with a death grip. Jesus came to show us what the love of God looks like lived out among us. This incarnational love is what we need to release our fearful fingers from clutching to our loved ones like they are our possessions.
Don’t get me wrong: I miss seeing our kids today! We are looking forward to gathering with them next weekend. In the meantime, you can find us here. There is nothing like an adventure in this beautiful world God gave us to settle me for some sacred slowing time.
I still have much work to do in this area of releasing and sharing. How about we all commit in this upcoming year to work on being better share-ers of what we love?
Oh, and Happy Camping Merry Shasta Christmas from us!
This morning was just one of those mornings. You know what I mean; you’ve had ‘em.
If we needed to make a turn, we missed it.
If we needed to find it, we lost it.
If we needed to drink it, we spilled it.
If I even HAD a last nerve, Chris was on it.
Bad days are not bound by geography. We can have them in exotic and beautiful places as well as in the everydayness and comfort of our own living rooms.
I’ve learned to sorta let them be. I don’t ignore my emotions, but I also don’t over-identify with them. A bad morning is just that: a bad morning. We’re human. We are going to have some off days. Moods change and shift. We are not going to feel AWESOME all the time. We need to find a way to be gracious in those “we missed it” and the “I’m annoyed” moments.
For example, we missed the turn off to a hike I was very much looking forward to. I was extremely disappointed. We had to rethink our plan and decided we couldn’t backtrack to make it happen. Such a bummer. However, maturity has taught me not to beat myself up about it, or blow up at Chris about it. I can feel disappointed and that’s okay.
Chris and I are sharing every single molecule of space and time: he’s GOING to get on my nerves, and vice versa. This is not a flaw in our relationship. It’s to be expected. The maturity comes when I let the annoyance be simply “a wave to ride.” It’s not his identity nor his fault. No need for blame and rage. He can annoy me without me demonizing him as an annoying PERSON. My work is to stay in my integrity in the midst of it, meaning I am leaning into the love of God to keep me kind. And he can allow me to be annoyed without trying to remedy it for me. I am not a bad person for getting annoyed. It’s going to happen. True humility helps us give grace to others and to ourselves.
Take care of yourself when things turn grumpy. Take things slowly. You will do less damage to those you love when you give yourself permission to feel the grumps, yet stay in your integrity. Let the people in your life know you’re not feeling so chipper and be careful to not put the problem INSIDE of the person you love. (Ex: “Hey, Honey, ugghhhhh I’m feeling disappointed and annoyed, I’m going to be a bit quiet. I’m not mad at you.” versus, “Honey, you should have seen the sign. You never pay attention and you always miss the important turns. And YOU are an annoying, incessant snack monster and I can’t stand to hear you munch on one more chip!” (Well, let’s be real, maybe I have said those words a time or two. I’m a work in progress!)
Sometimes the best thing to do on one of those not-so-good-terrible-horrible-missed your hike-annoyed-with-someone-moments is to stop at a roadside coffee van and buy an overpriced cup of coffee.
It did the trick for me.
Just another ordinary day on the South Island. Not much happening here. Might want to scroll on by…
…Except we had front row helicopter seats, landed on Fox glacier, and then hiked on said glacier for 3 hours!!!!
We kept screaming out to the giant mountains surrounding us, “WE’RE HIKING ON A GLACIER! THIS IS UNREAL!!! WE’RE HIKING ON A GLACIER!!
Turns out I’m actually NOT acclimated to New Zealand time after all, hence me sitting outside of the van by myself at 4:00 am, contemplating ALL the things.
Above me the sky was alive with light, the vast black behind the glitter providing the necessary contrast. The wispy clouds seemed to enjoy their part in this creative endeavor, dancing around, playfully shifting to change the scene every few minutes. The lake was doing her part to complete the pre-dawn canvas, gently offering herself as a mirror to the beauty towering above her.
It seems all this artistry was for me alone. I’m sure someone else was awake and enjoying it, however their view was uniquely different from my view. What a gift, the beauty we are allowed to experience.
The quiet helped my body catch up with my soul; words catching up with my feelings. There are some sadnesses my soul needs to hold space for, some regrets I’m seeking to understand, longings I’m wrestling to fulfill.
Wonder, awe, and beauty are supernatural tools God has provided for us in this battle to endure suffering, yet live with purpose here on earth. Our responsibility is to pick up those tools, wielding them against the dark forces. Those evil forces are tricksters, not showing up with horns and costumed red capes, but sneaking around in everyday loungewear. They taunt us to feel unfilled in our beautiful, ordinary lives, or confined to perfectionism, or smothered by the oppression of what others think of us.
I am not kidding, I woke up a couple of weeks ago and asked Chris, “What if I’m altogether the wrong kind of person?! What if I’m supposed to be a different, better person than I actually am?” He looked at me completely dumbfounded. Yet the question felt absolutely legitimate to me. I was caught up for a full day in a sad, dreary darkness, feeling I had somehow missed my calling. It appeared my task was to bow my head, accept my crown of wilted daisies and surrender in utter shame to my new title: The Lesser Christine: The Sad, Far Worse Version From What Christine Should Have Been.
Please tell me you have bad days like that too!? I mean, from what dark place do questions like that even originate?
We MUST harness our tools of beauty, wonder, and awe.
It’s a comfort to know God is grander than the beauty I’m experiencing here, yet intimate enough to know I was sitting by myself that early morning watching the scene play out. By myself but not ALONE. He knows where I sat, AND He was with me in it, as I wrestled with the sadnesses, regrets, and longings.
Be brave, my friends. Be brave to fight off that trickster who wants to tempt you to comparison instead of wonder, self-criticism instead of awe, “lesser than titles” instead of beauty.
In God’s Kingdom, His love provides us all with grander titles and more stunning crowns. Am I rejecting that shamed-based “lesser than” title? Yep. Am I tossing off that crown of wilted flowers? Absolutely
Will you join me in the rejecting and tossing?
Sunset on a mountain lake at a campsite, virtually by ourselves? Fried potatoes and green beans and ham for dinner? Waking up to the glowing sunrise, beckoning us into another day of adventure? Let’s goooo!
A FULL day of hiking (24,000 steps) up to see glacier views perfectly reflected in the water, then through rainforests where surely the Elves lived? Hiking in freezing glacier waters through an old mining water tunnel from 1890, with glowworms tucked into the mountain walls? Trail after trail with water flowing and moving and pulsing through the landscape? You bet!
A day chatting and dreaming and giggling and staring up in awe at this picturesque landscape? My dream!
Another tucked away campsite, with tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner? Game on!
Our first hot shower since leaving Texas? Ummmm, yes please!
Road-trips and camping require flexibility. Thankfully, Chris and I are a dynamic duo, boasting the superpower of being adaptable.
It was rainy and cold yesterday and today, making us flex our flex muscles. While looking for campsites, we decided our best bet was a not-so pretty campsite, but one with a shelter area for us to cook dinner, keeping us out of the downpour. Our tummies were full, bed made, and we were cuddled up by 6:30, sleeping till 5:00 am! We consider ourselves to be fully acclimated to New Zealand time now!
We hiked several trails in the rain today. Why buy raincoats and waterpoof hiking boots if we’re not going to use them, right?! Since we were up so early, we were on our first trail by 7:00 am! As only New Zealand can do, there is no way a rainstorm can spoil the views of this gorgeous land. The rain simply made it glow all the more! We kept expecting Frodo, Aragon, or Legolas to peek their heads out of the forests on our hikes!
Stayed tuned for our next adventure: it should be a good one!
The kea is New Zealand’s feisty parrot. It is famous for being inquisitive, intelligent, bold. The kea is a very playful, curious, and brave bird. The world’s only alpine parrot, it is known as the 'Clown of the Alps' to South Islanders. They say this bird is actually incredibly smart, but can sometimes even be quite naughty.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is our home for the next 12 days. . .
. . . painted from bumper to bumper in keas.
I mean, what are the chance WE would get the keas? The van rented before us was painted with pigs all over it; the van after was a mural of purple dragons. Please join with me as I kick my head back to chuckle for a moment about this! Can we all agree our God cares deeply about the details of our lives AND has an uncanny sense of humor?
Our South Island adventure is in full swing and we have committed to do our very bestest to uphold the reputation of the kea. We’ve had a rainy start to our journey, making us bundle up early in this chariot of adventure and head to bed at 6:30 pm New Zealand time.
We are a couple of tired birds tonight!
