Moving and transition. I naturally long for depth, so 3 moves in a year seems too much.  Disjointed. Fragmented. Yet there is much I have learned in moving. I want to plan out my transitions and know what’s next.  I want to transition when I’m ready-when I have a plan and a job and a clear purpose.  But none of that is true now. I want moving to be adventurous, a new beginning.  Yes, it is true that every move has these elements.  While there’s a part of me that longs for anonymity and a chance to reinvent myself-I know that’s a lie.  I can’t run away from myself. My fatigue will still follow me.

I’m moving 7 minutes away.  My days will largely look the same, but am looking to write more. I have the same community and I long for healing that I may have the opportunity to teach at the same school I resigned from in November. This is not a move of newness, but more like sameness.  A calling to do the everyday well.  A calling to greater depths of honesty, rest, and relationship.  A calling to live out the person I am with greater artistry.  A calling to let my mess be seen. I have called the Marott home for 5 months.  I will miss its 1920’s rustic hotel appearance and the small chandelier in my living room.  I will miss my view, and surprising sunrises while washing dishes.


But more than that I will miss the tangible remembrance of inviting people into my home and letting them see my simple, overly structured life.  These people ate lamb and brussel sprouts with me and knew they could only stay for two hours before I got really tired.  People helped me embrace my life, even when I wanted to run. I didn’t have to hide or fake it. I didn’t have to be a perfect hostess, overly conversational, or a picture of health.  I could be me, figuring out life in a new city, in my little apartment. And I could just be: without explaining, defending or justifying myself. But these memories come with me, for they are part of me. Even in the moving.


A Beginning


Ah, my dear angry Lord,

Since thou dost love, yet strike;

Cast down, yet help afford;

Sure I will do the like.

I will complain, yet praise;

I will bewail, approve;

And all my sour-sweet days

I will lament and love.

-George Herbert

These words describe the purpose for this blog better than I ever could.  So even as I write this post and wonder if I should start a blog at all, I am glad that a poet and Anglican priest had beautiful words to say in the early 1600’s.  And I must agree that I have things to share too, even if timidly.

Perhaps, I am timid because this “dear angry Lord” Herbert writes about has changed me.  Pretty drastically in the past year (insert angry conversations with God as seen in the poem).  And because of this, I am learning who I truly am and how to step into my calling.  I’m coming to realize that writing is part of that calling, but I’m nervous.

I’m nervous because of my unconventional journey.  I’m a 25 year old unemployed female with adrenal fatigue.  Although, I’m aware that the previous sentence doesn’t define me in the ultimate sense, yet it also does in many ways.  The words that will be shared throughout this blog come from me lying awake at night unable to sleep, even though I’m exhausted.  Or from still mornings in the kitchen listening to Sleeping at Last and making another bowl of oatmeal.  Or from lying on the couch for several hours because I can’t get up.  I live with chronic debilitating fatigue-and this taints how I see the world, view myself, and know God as Father.

While I cannot always tangibly experience physical health for myself, even in the midst of self-care, my emotions have deepened.  I have learned to feel accurately, both in the grieving and laughter.  There is a time for both.  In close friendship, I continue to experience the limit of words, and together we share tears, stillness, joy and the stability of love in gut-wrenching, weary days.  So as I begin this blogging journey, I do so with the knowledge that I must first live my sour-sweet days committed to lament and love.  I will not manufacture a different life online, one that appears to be easier or happier.  The days ahead will be messy-but if you also desire to journey in feeling deeply, please join me.

Welcome to Lament & Love.