Have you ever felt like the most broken person in the room? In a sea of entangled backstories and personalities, somehow, someway, you are the one with all the pieces falling apart. A few months ago, I sat among hundreds of other people in church. My mind was on overload, my heart was burdened, my thoughts were imploding, and my eyes were sad. It had been the kind of week that could tear down even the greatest of heroines. And there I sat, a mere mortal, no superpowers, just me. I looked around the crowd, soaking in my surroundings.

All I could think of was the revelation that I was most likely more of a broken person that day than any other attendee. See, that was my truth. It may not have been THE truth, but it was mine. I was having so much trouble gathering myself, not allowing fear and anxiety to steamroll me. I felt a million miles away from God. I felt a million miles away from sanity. I felt a million miles away from my husband who was sitting right beside me.

The mind is a peculiar thing. It can produce a fountain of creativity flowing in abundance and then turn a corner and catapult you into an abyss of self-doubt and self-pity.

I have been privy to both the fountain and the abyss. One clearly is preferable to the other. So, as I sat among the congregation of holy, wonderful, perfect people, I was consumed with my own brokenness. That is how I envisioned my circumstances. It’s an ugly truth and yet as I write it, I know that I’d rather write with painful honesty than succumb to flowery words that painted a picture of a shiny, false version of myself. That day, in church, I felt emotionally spent, spiritually dry, and tired. So very tired.

I decided somewhat recently that if I wait to write about life once it settles down, becomes calm, evolves into an episode of my favorite sitcom, and is filled with ladybugs, butterflies, and background music, I will never write from the heart. I must write through my struggles. Do I want to write through my joys as well? Let’s think about that. Definitely, yes!  I am, however, figuring out that shedding light on something is the only way to remove the dark spots. With transparency, comes freedom. And freedom can lead to many amazing things. Freedom does not cast a shadow, rather it captures the sun.

In my despair, it occurred to me that no one wakes up one morning and suddenly realizes that they are in quicksand. It is a slow descent. You do, however, get to the point where you realize it is harder now more than ever to move your limbs because of where you’ve fallen. Thus, that day in church, as I stared at others in all my broken tendencies, I was looking through eyes that were slowing being filled with sand.  It was a clarifying moment for me. I was so caught up in my emotion, my struggles, my hurts, my worries that I was struggling to move. And so, I tried to embrace that I was (am) a big, hot mess and that I needed to do something, anything to get the ball rolling toward more dexterity.

I was sinking in the sand that had been placed in my pathway by an enemy that has but one goal – derail my joy, my purpose, and my life from greater callings. And so, there in my broken, sandy state, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I listened to the song that our worship team was playing. It was a song entitled “Sons and Daughters of God.” There is so much of this song that ministered to me.

One particular line of the song penetrated my heart:
“when the lies speak louder than the truth…”

That was it. The real truth was that I have many, many things to be thankful for amidst my trials and tribulations. I have giftings. I have great value. I have joy buried beneath the sand. Figuring out how to release its elation is quite a project unto itself.  Accepting defeat, being overrun by anxiety, feeling wounded by the human nature of imperfect people, and the allowance of insecurity to cloud my thoughts were all connected to lies. They were lies designated to swallow me, fade my life’s canvas, and misguide me in every way possible.

I now find myself in the process of climbing out of the sand…to regain and release my joy.  It’s a long journey, but not an impossible one. One meaningful worship song isn’t life changing, but the vertical dialogue that it prompted between a very broken me and a very loving God was both meaningful and full of impact. There is much to be said for determination. Looking back, I was determined enough to get out of bed and go to church, despite how I felt. Small victory. Victory nonetheless. A little goes a long way. And, though many areas felt broken that day, and many still feel broken today, there is a purpose for all my fragments.

The more broken pieces, the more reflection possible…that’s what I am aiming to embrace.

I have many reasons to smile, and blessing upon blessing to talk about to any and all who will listen. And so, I’ll persist in the pursuit of knowing I am stronger and more capable than I give myself credit for and even on days where I feel the most broken in a crowd, I’ll take that deep breath once again and allow God’s truth over my life to speak louder than any lie.

There is a lyric in one of my favorite country songs, “She’s My Kind of Rain,” by Tim McGraw that refers to a Dreamin’ Tree. I heard this song over a decade ago and fell in love with its poetic wording and imaginative, metaphoric comparisons. I adore the idea of a picturesque, pastoral scene where there is a big ‘ole tree that forms a leaf engulfed canopy. Under that canopy, you go to sit and simply dream. You voice the small, medium, large, and just-crazy-out-there dreams aloud. Just you and your Dreamin’ Tree. Sounds like something that could be found in The Princess Bride or The Secret Garden.

There is just something special about a place where one goes to dream or even have uninterrupted time to think.

In Winnie the Pooh’s Blustery Day movie, which I have seen more than 300 times with my almost four-year old (I digress), that silly old bear has Pooh’s Thoughtful Spot. It too, by the way, is near a tree. That correlation is not relevant, just observatory. Consider that bonus information.

I remain confident that I am not the only person who feels that their mind is like a superhighway zooming with so many thoughts, so many what-ifs, so many second guesses, so many dreams of all shapes & sizes that it can make you dizzy. It occurred to me…what if I had a Thinking Tree? It could be the best of both worlds…part Dreamin’ Tree, part Thoughtful Spot. I could tell myself to hold off on allowing consuming thoughts to run mad because later on today, I’m making the trek to my Thinking Tree. You see, there, I could sit against what I envision to be a great oak, shaded, and listening to a nearby babbling brook. And there, I could let my thoughts be sorted. I could verbally express my anxieties. At this tree of mine, I could admit the thoughts that I pretend not to have…the thoughts that make me seem less than perfect. Those thoughts could be voiced and dealt with honest disclosure. I mean, it is just me and my Thinking Tree, so why not be candid with those limbs and that bark? Not only can I do some good pondering, productive filtering, and self-revelatory categorizing, but I can also think about dreaming. I can dream of the seemingly unattainable goal. I can be myself – the uncut, unedited, say-what-you-need-to-say person.

This came to my mind because lately, my thoughts have just overtaken me. Here’s another shout out to the superhighway that is my noggin.

I drive myself crazy with not being able to calm, classify, and regroup thoughts that run rampant.

I also seem to get so caught up in dreaming big that I became more intimidated the more I dream. So, I thought, yeah, I need that tree. I don’t need to tell you that there is no such thing as a Dreamin’ Tree or a Thinking Tree. Sorry if I blew that out of the water for some of you. But, this line of thought led me to start writing this blog. I know there are so many people out there that are held hostage by too many thoughts, not enough clarity, dreams that are too big, dreams that aren’t big enough, and etc. I wanted to create a place where I can share my heart, my aspirations, my real thoughts, and my fear of failure. My Thinking Tree signifies the freedom in the declaration that like you, I am consumed with thoughts that hinder, dreams that excite, musings that overwhelm, and hopes that motivate on a daily basis. It is just exhausting.

So, as I write today, I focus on some universal truths. I know God has a plan for my life, but I have so many anxious thoughts in my head, I wonder if I can hear Him when He guides me. Rumor has it that He tends to whisper. Another little factual gem – when we share our struggles with one another, it lightens the load a bit to know you are not alone or at least not the only crazy. I jest, but you get the point. I have also found that as people, most times than not, we can cheer on or advise others with full passion and rigor, while being unable to speak directly to the person we see in the mirror. My desire is to be a source of encouragement, a place of connection, and a compass of sorts for the highway of superthoughts. It is my hope that it will serve as a place of rest where faith, reality, prayer, and personal truth can intermingle.