the well runs deep and dry

I've got so much to say, but my brain is like a colander and it just slides right out before I can catch it.

1. I read an article a few days ago where the author talked about how we have this internalized fat-shaming thing going on. We can look at other people and accept them where we are and think that they are beautiful, but when we look at ourselves, we just can't do that. She said, "If you hate the way your before picture looks, do you think I need to lose weight?" insinuating that if we don't like the way we look, do we think that people who look similar to us need to change as well?
I was so struck by that.

Because I look at all the beautiful people I'm surrounded by, and I am so proud of them and their accomplishments. Sure, I see physical "flaws" (society says), but I applaud them for using their bodies and don't judge them or think they should change their appearance. However, I can pick myself apart in front of a mirror in 2.5 seconds and give you a blanket list of everything on my body that needs to change.

Why? Why can I find other people beautiful and worthy, but not do it for myself? My body is healthy and strong, it makes babies and keeps them alive, it loves people well, it goes on adventures and explores, and generally lets me live a wonderful and beautiful life. So why can't I see all of that when I look in the mirror, instead of the layer of fat riding on top of my stomach, or the cellulite all over my thighs?

I become consumed with a sort of panic--I need to change this now! and it deteriorates into, "How can I change (read: become acceptable) myself as soon as possible?" Counting calories, elimination diets, health supplements, any and everything gets thrown onto the drawing board, because pretty soon it deteriorates into being all about appearance rather than taking care of myself.
Basically, I'm having a hard time right now. I feel like a gigantic, enormous failure, because I reached so many goals and finally felt at peace with myself and my body while also improving my health, but now I'm here, 3 years later, and I just feel stuck. I'm tired of the process, I'm tired of picking myself back up after I fall face-first into a pile of sugar, and I want a quicker fix (but am coming back to the fact that I don't think there is one).

2. This video makes me cry every single time I watch it, because it speaks to so many areas of my heart that just feel bruised and battered right now.

Women's roles in ministry (and all of the discrimination/inequality my eyes are finally seeing)

Pursuing your dreams and calling, in spite of logistics

Making room for my husband's calling, and helping him pursue it

I am wrestling, wrestling, wrestling.
I feel like Jacob, when he spent the night wrestling with God, and got so tired, but he wouldn't stop until God blessed him. I can't leave this alone, even if I am injured in the process, because I just need to know. So I keep sweating, and straining, and yelling at God to let me in, let me see, let me hear, because I want it all.

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rust and dust and dry bones

It's been too long.
(I feel like I'm always saying that.)

I don't know where writing fits into my life anymore, or even where it should fit.
It was a part of my identity that I clung to for so long, doling it out whenever I could help it.
"What do you do?"
"I just want to write."

And now that feels...still true, and also not true.
For so long writing was air, it was breathing, it was life.
But then I started living without it and realized that I could.

Now I'm back from the experiment and I don't know if I've learned that I can live without it, or if I've learned that just because I can doesn't mean I should. I think I get stuck inside my head too much, and I censor myself before I've even had a chance to unravel what needs to be said and what needs to be put forward. I can't figure out who my audience is or should be and so I never know what to say because I don't know that (the proverbial) you need to hear.

And lately all I can think about it purpose and meaning.
Do I matter? Does my story have a place in this world? Is what I'm doing enough? Does what I do make any sort of difference? And if it does, to who? And are they enough to keep going?

Motherhood has taken over my identity. It has usurped any sense of "woman" that I used to have. Now, before I am a woman, or a wife, or a writer, I am a mom. And I don't think that this is the right order. It's not supposed to be that way, but how do you tell yourself that when it's 1 am, and your daughter is clinging to you while your son snuggles himself into the curve of your back and it's going on 24 hours that you've literally had someone touching you at all times and you just need to breathe for. one. second. How do you hold onto your sense of self in those moments? Who are you? Who am I? Who am I supposed to be?

There are a hundred and one blog posts out there in internet world telling us that yes, motherhood matters, and don't worry about the crumbs on the floor because there is glory and purpose in the mundane, and just look in your child's eyes and see the purpose that God has put there, and just hang on sweet momma because this will be over before you know it--but what happens when it's over and you've lost yourself in the process and your kids leave and it's just you and God almighty left. Who are you then?
I don't want that to be me. And I don't want this to be one more page of words in the internet world talking about glory in the mundane and purpose in the dirt on the floor. Because all of that is true, but isn't it also true that we were created for more than this? We were created to live, and we were all gifted with the ability to do something that makes our souls fly and our hearts sing. So what do you do when you can't find it and all you've got left is the dirt? And those children, those two beautiful children with the chocolate brown eyes, and the chubby fingers, and the dimples, that will suck every last bit of you out of your body if you let them--what about the moments where your soul is doing the opposite of flying when you look at them and your heart is dying a slow death instead?

Dear God, give me back a piece of myself. Show me what to run towards, instead of trying to force my life into the picture I think it should look like. Because I know myself. I run towards shiny objects, and a life that looks full of happiness and perfection, but when I get there (IF I get there), it's never what I thought it was going to be. I'm tired of running for fool's gold. I want the real life, the full life, the God-life. I want the fulfillment that comes from knowing that I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing exactly where I am supposed to be doing it. I want the peace that comes from being filled and then turning around and filling others. I need that peace. I'm dying for it. If ever there was someone parched for Living Water, dear God, it's me.

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the background [pt.5]

Find part 1 here.

____________________

I'm sure there are some of you that are wondering where exactly I think God was during my whole tragic ordeal.

He was there.

And He's still here, regardless of whether I want to acknowledge that or not. 

So much of these past nine years have been spent wrestling with God, demanding an answer and promising to "do better" as long as He'd tell me why or get me through it. I'd rant and rave, and then I'd beg and plead, and then I'd sit and simmer.

Ironically, I honestly feel like I've found myself the most distant from God in just the last two years. 

You'd expect it to be on the nights where the blood was flowing and my heart was pounding and all I wanted to do was escape, but even then, I knew He was there. I knew, and I knew that it would be a relief to stop being here and start being there. Sure, I thought that I wasn't good enough and I thought that He must be angry at me, but I knew He was still around.

But the last two years--maybe the last six months in particular--I've found myself in an ambivalent state. 

(and I think this is the most raw and terrifying confession of them all)

It's the closest I've ever come to "losing my faith".

You see, it seems like the hits just keep coming.

Some of the blows are softer and don't knock us all the way down.

Others strike sharp and hard, leaving us reeling and crawling on the ground trying to find a safe place to hide.

And all I want to do is stand up and shout at the sky, "This is what You promised us? How does this serve You? How does this bring You glory in any sort of way? Where are You?"

But I keep my head down instead, for fear of being struck even harder, and I go on about my life with a semi-blatant disregard for anything having to do with God.

~*~

I told Hubs today, "I just need to fall in love with Jesus again."

And this is true.

I need to sit, and savor, and be still. 

I need to stop rushing around and stop trying.

--more Bible, more prayer, more church, more study, more holy.

It's exhausting.

And before you start shouting "behind me Satan",

I'm not saying that it doesn't all have value.

Of course it does.

Of course it's all important.

 But it's not always about the action.

Sometimes it's about the motivation behind the action

and right now, the motivation is wrong.

So for now, I am choosing to believe that God can and will meet me where I'm at.

I am choosing to believe that He loves me despite ______ (fill in the blank).

~*~

Ben Howard's 'The Wolves' is playing right now, and it feels strangely accurate.

So, even though this post feels like it's lacking all of the right words, and even though it feels like nothing came out right, I'm going to dump it all out and leave it.

It is time to be finished.

Thank you all for the kind words of encouragement and understanding.

It felt like ripping my heart out to write these five pieces of smoldering honesty, but it's a relief.

And there is more, because there is always more. 

And if you need someone to listen, someone to dump it onto, I'm here.

I love you all.

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and over again.

It's kind of amazing to me how quickly my attitude can change when I am faced with a blinking, blank Word document, knowing that I have to hammer out 800 words on some mundane topic, as opposed to the "post" page that is just waiting for me to say whatever it is that I want.

I mean, we all know that I have a problem with authority and people telling me what to do, but this is a little ridiculous.

Anyway.

I kind of had a breakdown on the living room floor the other night.

I finished putting Jameson to bed, and as soon as I walked into the living room, he started to fuss. I had the weight of a week's worth of work needing to be finished in one night on my back, and I just couldn't take it anymore.
I didn't even cry (at first), I just laid flat on my back in the middle of the carpet and stared at the ceiling while babbling on about everything crammed into my too-small-to-carry-it-all-around brain.

"I just want to do what I'm created to do, and I don't even know what that is. I just want to do that thing that brings fulfillment, that lets me know that I am doing that thing that God put inside of me to do, but I can't find it. And how do I know when to fight for a dream that I think I could have, or settle for a life of responsibility?"

And then my wise and patient and ever-loving husband said, "What if you're not supposed to do all of the things you were created to do all at once?"

And I just thought, "I guess I'd never thought of that before."

Which is kind of dumb that I hadn't, if we're being honest. I mean, I've always tried to approach my life as having seasons, and I don't know how I didn't relate certain seasons of life to the things I'm supposed to be doing at certain times.
I was clearly not meant to be a wife and mother when I was seventeen and in college.
I probably won't be raising children when I'm seventy and living in my dream house (right? Ha).

But seriously. I'm here.
I'm a wife and a mother right now. That's what I do, it's who I am.
I also happen to write a little bit on the side to bring in some money, and if I'm not completely mentally inept after finishing that, I spit out messy words on a computer in the hopes that someone else will see and understand.
Maybe someday, or maybe even tomorrow, someone will see these words (or I'll get up the guts/energy/willpower to send them to someone) and they'll say to me, "Hey. I really think you've got important things to say, and the way you say them is intriguing and relate-able, and we want to give you some money to write more of these things and tell them to more people."
And I will be a happy, happy lady.

But for now, I need to focus on being here.
(Isn't that what it always comes back to, for me? Seriously, I don't know how anyone can keep reading this--it's got to get so redundant after awhile!)
I am enough, even without all of those roles.
I am enough when I don't write, when I don't mother, and when I don't wife.
I am enough in this depraved body, because Christ said I was enough.
And if He said so, why am I trying to say otherwise?

Ladies and Gentlemen, here sits Camille Nicole, back in the place she always finds herself--the beginning.

And it's okay.

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an in-bed, typing-on-my-phone post.

I can't sleep.
There are so many things on my mind that I feel like my brain is going to explode.
Am I a good mother?
Am I hippy enough, what other natural things am I missing?
How much time do I devote to natural living, and how do I do it with a biblical worldview?
How do I even claim a biblical worldview when I haven't even made the time to sit down and be with the Lord for the past few days?
Am I teaching my son enough to set a foundation for the rest of his life?
How do I motivate myself to complete the mundane and unfulfilling work I do, while also pursuing work that I love?
Where is the balance between doing what you have to because you have to and fighting for a dream that might be too big?
How do you know that you're going to be the dreamer that makes it?
How do you know when the sacrifices a dream require are worth it? If I don't work this mundane job, my family doesn't have enough money to pay rent. So how can I all-of-a-sudden just up and say that I'm not going to do it anymore because I want to really take a stab at writing for myself? The whole "you've got what it takes" thing is nice, and encouraging, but when do you decide that reality has to take over and practicalities need to reign prominent?

I feel like I'm going in circles.
I feel like I keep coming up against the same questions and not getting any answers.
I feel like God has been silent for so long, that it is hard for me to remember what He sounds like.
I feel angry at Him, and then I feel ashamed for feeling angry, because how can I be mad at the God that has given me everything? But how can I not be angry at a God that has promised me a life abundant, and yet has left us in this financial and emotional state for over a year now?
How do I balance serving God because He simply is, with expecting great things of Him because I am supposed to ask and expect great things?

I want a revival.
I want deliverance.
I want to be so much more than I am: more patient, more loving, more faithful, more bold, more understanding, more humble, more like Him.
I want answers and I want to be satisfied with them.
I want to thrive, rather than just get by.
I want the eternal.

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security.

I want a house.
And a car, to go along with that house, as well as some nice furniture to go inside that matches the paint colors that I would carefully pick out for each room.
I want to cook in my gorgeous, french-inspired kitchen that has loads of natural light and gorgeous mexican ceramic tile everywhere.

I want to be settled, living in the place that my son is going to grow up, where there is sunshine and blue sky and mountains to be conquered and everything else that makes for a happy childhood.

I want security.
I want to know that we've got something tangible to hold onto, a place for us to go when life gets tough and things get lonely.
I want to know that I've always got a place to call "home" and that it's the place my heart lives in and the place that my family is content.


I feel like that dream I had, the one with the "dream house" and the big backyard, the one where we've got stable careers and cars that work, the one with the friends that come over for dinner and go out with us, has somehow made it's way into the land of "never coming true".
After all we've been through in this country, all the trials and anguish and tears, I feel like the dream of security is the one dream that the Lord has continuously impressed on me will not be coming true.

I'm not sure how to take it, and I'm not sure how to plan a future around it.
I am doing my best to live in the present, to enjoy the way my son grows every day (he has just discovered his hands. It is adorable.), and this incredibly precious time that we're getting to simply be a family.
And most of the time I do enjoy it. Most of the time I am content, in a sense, and we get through our days in a happy rhythm.

But then there are moments, where I wish, just for a second, that we had a direction to go in, a place to look forward to, and the knowledge that I would finally, finally be able to rest in that place.

Lately I keep coming back to the fact that God is my Father, and that He loves me just like I love my son (except in an even more perfect and unconditional manner).
In an effort to understand this, I find myself asking, "If Jameson was here, right now, what would you want for him?"
I can't help but think that I would want to give him the world in a heartbeat, but I know that in doing so, I would force him to miss all of the opportunities to grow and stretch his character that he will need later on in life. If I handed him everything he wanted on a platter, he would never know what it means to work, and to trust in something bigger than himself, because he wouldn't have to.
And maybe that is what God wants for us. For me.
Maybe there is still more to be learned, more growth to accomplish, more stretching to be done.
Maybe I don't know it all, and haven't taken everything out of this situation that there is to find.
Maybe I will never be done.
Maybe I will always be growing, and stretching, and maybe there is no such thing as security until I am in Heaven with the one who invented the concept.

I guess, until that time, I will simply be here.
Trying to take one day at a time and live in it for all it's worth.

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things i don't understand.

I don't even know what words to use to begin to write anymore.

I don't know where to start, and I don't think I'll ever know where it ends.

There is so much, so much, and I just don't know how to sort through it all and make it come out the way I want it to.

I don't understand why God is the way He is, and why He lets some things happen, and stops other things dead in their tracks.

I don't understand His logic or His wisdom, and every time I think I have His character nailed down, I come across something else that changes it dramatically.

I don't understand His purposes, or His timing, or even His will. I'm not sure whether or not I believe that God has all of the minute details of my life laid out, or just exactly how much He's going to leave up to me to figure out. 

I don't know if moving to England was "God's will" for us, and I know even less about whether we should stay here long-term or look at moving on to somewhere else. 

I don't know whether God chose my husband for me, or if I made that decision, and then it became what God would have me do. I do know that God has molded us together over the past three years, and we have become "the One" for each other, but I'm not sure that I can say that my husband was the only one out there for me in the beginning.

I don't understand why God chose to bless us with a (so far) healthy baby boy that is growing in my belly who I get closer and closer to meeting every day, when He has somehow seen fit to take other growing babies away from women who would make far better mothers than I.

I don't understand why it is so easy for me to question God through the difficulties, and yet live a lukewarm life through the times where I am not desperate for answers. Why does my heart waver so much?

I am so thirsty. 

I long to know and be full to the brim with the knowledge and understanding of this God that loves me.

More than anything, I want to trust Him through everything.

I want to be a woman so full of faith that nothing can shake me.

I'm clearly not there yet.

And I don't think I'll ever completely understand.

But for now there is a child inside of me, a husband that shows me what sacrificial love looks like on a daily basis and a small enough seed of faith to push me through to the other side.

And that is enough.

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