Yes, I've Been Burned

Sometimes we have seasons.

Seasons of joy. Seasons of love. Seasons of pain. Seasons of fun. Seasons of hope. Seasons of despair. Seasons of gratitude.

And then sometimes we may have a season when it feels as if our entire world is crashing and burning around us.

Richard G. Scott says it well,

"Just when all seems to be going right, challenges often come in multiple doses applied simultaneously."

This year, man. It's been one of those years.

Have you felt like this before?

I know it's hard.

But it's not the end.

"When those trials are not consequences of your disobedience, they are evidence that the Lord feels you are prepared to grow more. He therefore gives you experiences that stimulate growth, understanding, and compassion which polish you for your everlasting benefit."

I want to talk about blessings. 

This past year, I have learned more about myself, my abilities, and my potential than ever before.

I'm thankful for my struggles because without them, I never would have realized my strength.

The following are some things that I have learned as a direct result of what I have been through.

1. I can face my emotions.

For years, I buried negative emotion and expected others to save me from it. This deepened a dark depression, and took me to a place that was very, very hopeless.

When I realized that no one else could bring me out of that place, I turned to Christ, and willingly took control of my life.

I am not perfect. But when I start to feel upset, sad, alone, or inadequate, I can look more honestly at what is causing me to feel that way, and I don't blame anyone else for it. I am the master of my own emotions and how I handle them.

This process certainly didn't occur overnight or in a single great awakening, but what a blessing it has been!

I know that my happiness is up to me. Isn't it wonderful to think that no one can truly take that from you? It's all in your perspective.

2. I can take risks.

My experience with depression has also taught me to be okay with uncertainty. As humans, sometimes we like to run and hide from what we can't predict. We don't want to be the first to tell someone we care about them. We don't want to reach for someone's hand if they don't like us back. We don't want to be seen without makeup on because someone might think we aren't beautiful. We don't want to hear bad news because it might hurt. We don't want to state our opinion because we might be judged. We don't want to take a stand for something we believe because we are afraid we might lose friends.

Guess what?

If we don't tell people we love them, they will never know, and they might not ever tell us they love us back.

If we always have to look our best in front of others, we might never feel loved for who we really are inside.

If we don't listen to bad news, we will live our entire life in fear of pain, and we won't experience relief and joy if things get better.

If we don't say what we think, we'll go crazy inside a body of secrets. We also can't fully develop a sound opinion without feedback from others.

If we don't take a stand when something is against our beliefs, we will never feel that our friends truly understand us. Also, we may not realize how great our friends are if we don't give them the opportunity to respect us for what we believe!

I'm not saying vulnerability isn't scary, but I'm no longer terrified to tell people how I feel. If I love someone, I tell them. And I tell them hard. If something hurts my feelings, I say something. If I have a different opinion, I share it.

I've recognized that taking these daily risks has actually deepened friendships and relationships, and in turn I know that I am loved for who I am. Not who I pretend to be. That's a beautiful thing.

Just think about that. What if you share your deepest self, the parts of you (emotionally) that you don't want anyone to see, and they still love you?

It's powerful.

3. I can keep going.

Do you remember learning to ride a bike?

That's one of my fondest memories. My dad taught me.

I still remember watching him carefully remove the training wheels, and then helping me adjust my helmet just right. He held on to the bike while I pushed one leg over the side and placed my little feet on the pedals. We circled around our cul-de-sac as he gripped the back of the seat to maintain my balance. Every so often, he would let go for a moment, still at my side, to let me balance on my own.

Then all the sudden, I was going toward the end of the street, and I realized he wasn't next to me. My feet kept moving as a looked back, and he wasn't there! He was yards behind me! I remember smiling big and wide and probably even laughing out loud in glee when I was doing it by myself! I could ride a bike!

I had a similar experience during Ragnar. My team had gone ahead in the van. I was left alone to run past some absolutely beautiful Tennessee fields. The entire first stretch seemed to be uphill, and then finally it fell. Some people might call this crazy, but I call it glorious. I laughed and threw my hands up to that afternoon air! 

"I did that! And I can do it again!"

Those are physical examples to illustrate less tangible experiences. When my engagement ended last fall, I handed the ring back, picked myself up off the floor, said goodbye, and walked away.

And when I didn't have that same measure of strength, I asked other people to cancel things for me. Believe me, there were lots of breakdowns, but I didn't give up on myself. I filled my time with things I loved until I could go home to my mom and dad, and ended up having the most special Christmas ever with my family.

I can put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving forward. And I can even be happy.

I have no doubt hard things will continue to come. I've still never been married, had children, worked as a professional, lost a parent, miscarried, lots of things.

But I'm not afraid of those refining flames.


I know you can do hard things, too.

Believe in the strength of your human spirit, okay?

It will change your life.

And you are pretty incredible, because God designed you that way.