8 Day Random Challenge--DAY ONE

I desperately need to lighten up. This blog has been heavy and serious and I am sure you would like me to lighten up, too. SO I decided to do a blogging challenge to force me out of my introspection as of late. I chose the  8 DAY RANDOM CHALLENGE from "Heck Yeah Tumblr Challenges." Today's challenge is: 8 facts about yourself. So here we go!

1) I like hiking!

It's true. The beauty of Missouri, the amazing karst to be found here, and the relatively proximity of rural areas have afforded me lots of opportunity to spend time in the woods. Some of my favorite places to hike include Bennett Springs State Park, Compton Hollow, Dogwood Canyon, and Buesik State Park.

My first trip to HaHa Tonka 2006

But THE absolute BEST place is Ha Ha Tonka State Park. It has amazing karst features--sink holes, caves, a natural bridge, a spring, and even castle ruins! It also has a KILLER hill. But you feel amazing when you make it to the top. I go here a couple times of year with my hiking buddy, Mere. It's an easy drive about an hour and a half. It has a lot of trails of varying distance and ability levels. It's big enough that even when there are a lot of people there, you don't feel like its crowded, you can still have space to yourself. In the fall, it is alive with color. I have even gone by myself a couple times.

2) I've never broken a bone--I don't think. 

I fell off a balance beam during the gymnastics rotation at school and I may possibly have broken a toe or two, but since they can't do anything to fix toes anyway, we never got it looked at. I just couldn't wear a shoe on my left foot for a while. My 4th toe has been crooked ever since.


3) My favorites always change--except people

If you ask me at different times what my favorite color, food, music, pastime, or anything else is, the answers are bound to be different. I go through phases, I love something for a while and then I get bored with it and move on. I sometimes find this annoying about myself, but it also makes me interesting, depending on how you look at it. The one thing that doesn't ever really change is/are my favorite people. I joke with some of them where or how high they rank on my list, but the reality is, there's not a list. It's just a group. Once someone becomes one of my favorite people, it would be almost impossible for me to rank them compared to the other favorites. I love them all for different reasons. But I am loyal to a fault, so once someone is a favorite, it is near impossible for them ever to not be a favorite. It would take something pretty ugly, but the people that I tend to pick as favorites aren't even capable of that. So, basically they are my favorites for life.

4) I have lots of odd certifications.

I spent 4 years working in disaster response and preparedness. This means I've learned a lot of things that would seem strange for a girl like me. I have a Amateur Radio (HAM) operator licence. I am a CERT team member (Community Emergency Response Team). 

Trying out my new gear before our Search and Rescue
 test for CERT certification

I have been trained in triage and search and rescue and fire suppression. I have a Tropical Meteorology certification from the Florida Governor's Hurricane Conference. I am trained in FEMA Incident Command Systems (ICS) 100 and 200, and though not official, I trained myself how to track storm systems and assess disaster threats including tornadoes, wildfires, ice storms, and mass power grid failures. I've written preparedness articles until it made me almost paranoid. I can tell you how to purify water, where to find alternative sources of water, how to start fires, what to pack in a preparedness kit, how to shelter in place, etc. I know a lot of cool stuff, but to most people it seems weird or paranoid.

5) I've had a lot of nicknames in my life, but....

Ju-Ju, Yuri, Yudi, Jude-eye, Jude, Judes, Hey Jude, Murph, Judster, Mother Goose, feel free to call me any of those, or make up a new one.... 

But never, never, ever call me Judith. 

Even if that is my real name.

6) Speaking of names, did you know I was named after the Catholic Saint Jude? 

My mother prayed to him before she was married for something important to her. She has never said what it was, but my dad suspects that had something to do with either meeting or reconciling with her father. She promised if he answered her prayer she would name her first born after him. Boom. Done. St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes and impossible situations. I kinda like that. It seems fitting for who I am. 

7) I like earrings, a lot.

Its kinda weird. But I love earrings. Big ones, especially. And colorful. Or dangly. I have about 50 pairs at any one time, but I buy cheap ones, because I they fall out and I lose them and so I don't want to invest a lot of money. So I usually don't pay more than $3 for any of them.

8) If I have to pick, I pick dogs.

Nothing against cats. I like cats. We've owned cats my whole life. But If forced to pick, I am team dog. Preferably, one that doesn't shed and likes to cuddle. The family I live with right now has a dog named Charlie. He's perfect. I would love to find a Charlie for me. Isn't he cute?

Tune in tomorrow for Day Two...7 Like and Dislikes.

Granite Strength and Safe Harbor

Sooooooo

The lovely cottage in the trees behind the mansion that I thought was to be my new home, it is not to be.

The dream was just a dream.

And I am oddly OK with it. Peaceful.

I was shaken at first. And really, really, reeeeeeally angry.

That passed quickly, thankfully.

But overall, I am not worried. Not stressed.

It's a miracle to me to be able to say that.

Ever since I went through burnout, stress has usually played havoc with my body. But last night, my sleep and my health were completely unaffected.

Maybe it's because already there has been so much upheaval that this is starting to feel like SOP. But I think it's just God's peace at work in my life right now.

I read this yesterday morning, and it came back to mind yesterday as my brain was trying to figure out what was going on what I should do next. Its The Message paraphrase of the psalm, and I've been reading it to get some fresh perspective on Scriptures I've read so many times. I love the straight-forward way it comes across.

PSALM 62

God, the one and only— I'll wait as long as he says.
Everything I need comes from him,
so why not?
He's solid rock under my feet,
breathing room for my soul,
An impregnable castle:
I'm set for life.

How long will you gang up on me?
How long will you run with the bullies?
There's nothing to you, any of you—
rotten floorboards, worm-eaten rafters,
Anthills plotting to bring down mountains,
far gone in make-believe.
You talk a good line,
but every "blessing" breathes a curse.

God, the one and only—
I'll wait as long as he says.
Everything I hope for comes from him,
so why not?
He's solid rock under my feet,
breathing room for my soul,
An impregnable castle:
I'm set for life.

My help and glory are in God
—granite-strength and safe-harbor-God—
So trust him absolutely, people;
lay your lives on the line for him.
God is a safe place to be.

Man as such is smoke,
woman as such, a mirage.
Put them together, they're nothing;
two times nothing is nothing.

And a windfall, if it comes—
don't make too much of it.

God said this once and for all;
how many times
Have I heard it repeated?
"Strength comes
Straight from God."

Love to you, Lord God!
You pay a fair wage for a good day's work!

Life really has felt like shifting sand for me. The last two years especially have been nothing but change and problem solving, digging myself out of a hole that seems to keep finding new bottom depths.

It's only been relatively recent that my trust in Him was restored and my faith healed. I had stopped trusting that He was good, or safe. It's been just a short time that I've been able to believe God ss the granite under my feet rather than the one shifting the sand on me over and over again. This situation has been the first "test" of that restoration and healing. I'm relieved to find that it holds. The Anchor holds.

I don't know what's next. I don't know what the future has for me.
All I know is my strength comes straight from God--so I trust Him absolutely, He is a safe place to be.

So Many "So Long, Farewells"

I am terrible, horrible, no good, very bad with goodbyes. It's just plain awful.

Really.

I've had friends move out of my life a lot over these last 12 years in Springburgvegas. I've often said this town is not a place where people come to stay. It's where people go on their way to somewhere else.

This is a bad place to live when you have abandonment issues. Or, maybe it's the best place. What better way to overcome the worst fear you have then to have it in your face continually? One of two things is bound to happen. You'll run screaming for the hills, or you'll eventually face the fear.

The last time I really had to face it in a significant way I did it horribly bad. My insecurity and pain over losing people in my life caused me to hurt them badly, and push them away. I lost friends who I love still. We run into each other occasionally, and we're friends on FB, but it's never been the same.

After that, I declared never again. I went to counseling. I started facing my fears. I learned to be content with where I am and who I am. I learned I am worthy to be loved, and to know unconditional love--experienced it not just in my relationship with God, but lived it in the birth of my nephew. I learned to realize losing proximity doesn't have to mean losing relationship. I learned to be a better communicator, and to deal with expectations.

I've been more cautious than I used to be about letting people in, but I've done it.

And now...

Oh, this is the crucible. The big test. I am literally surrounded with goodbyes right now.

There's a couple, J& K, at my church, moving halfway across the country to do a church plant. They are dearly loved by the people at church and the happy-for-them/sad-to-say-goodbye feeling within the group is potent. Even I feel it, short a time as I've known them. I feel robbed that I haven't had more time to get to know them, because I can tell they are my kind of people. I truly enjoy them. We would have been great friends and ministry partners. Early on I told myself not get too close to them or spend much time getting to know them, because they were leaving. And then I kicked myself (Not literally, though I should have, maybe). Even the short time that I have to know them is worth the investment, and that distance doesn't mean I can still be friends.

There is a goodbye with the VV family. Dear friends who took me in this winter when my living situation got crazy. I love them like family. I (hopefully/likely) move into my own place in a couple weeks. There, too, since I started looking for a place in February, I began distancing myself from them in anticipation of the pain of leaving. Silly as it sounds I even did it to the dog, Charlie!! I used to let him out of his kennel so he could come hang out with me during the day when I was home. Then one day, I just stopped. Thankfully someone called me on it, and reminded me that relationships are always worth investing into. 

Ay-yi-yi-yi, talk about goodbyes! I have a whole host of goodbyes at work--4 of them, all within about 2 weeks of each other. So much change. The very culture of my workplace is likely to change, since one of those leaving is the store manager. I swallow a huge lump in my throat every time I think about it.

The worst and hardest goodbye is D, who has been one of my closest friends and confidants for the last year. Its stunning to me to discover just how much his friendship has come to mean to me over the last year. Losing the day-to-day connection with someone who really sees me--I really can't put it into words. Thankfully, I've had a few months to mentally prepare. There have been many moments when I am somewhat pragmatic and even peaceful about it. And most of the time I am so happy for and proud of him. But there have also been stunning moments where a wave of sadness or fear or pain comes so strong its hard to breathe. Maybe I'll be able to write more about that later, but right now, if I don't stop, these tears streaming down my face will flood this netbook.And soon D won't be here to help me fix stuff--one of his many talents.

Ironically, K, one of the church friends leaving, preached a sermon not that long ago about dealing with regrets. I really hope they put it online. I'd like to listen to it again and pass it on. There are very few things in my life that I regret. But the most prominent has been how I've handled goodbyes in the past. When K preached, I already knew about D leaving, and my own move, and even some potential for what was to come at work. I was so thankful that K spoke about her own regrets and the painful lessons she learned. What she reminded me is that I need to forgive myself, and accept God's forgiveness, for what I did badly in the past, and embrace God's strength to do it right.

And I want to. I so badly want to come out on the other side of all these goodbyes knowing that I've loved these people to the best and fullest of my ability. I want them to leave feeling nothing but thankful for the time we've had and the friends we've been to each other. I want to be brave and strong and, if not stoic, at least not an emotional hot mess. I want to turn the calendar to September and know that even though August was painful, that it wasn't the end of the world. I want to see new seasons where friendship doesn't die with distance, but instead takes on new dimensions.

So I choose.

In the middle of the night when I can't sleep, I choose to think about what I am thankful for, instead of what I am losing.

I choose to believe people aren't disappearing from my life for good, despite deep fears to the contrary.

I choose to smile in their presence and cry on the shoulders of people who are sticking around for at least a while longer.

I choose to invest into the many wonderful new friends who've entered my life as of late.

I choose not to build walls to protect myself.

I choose to confront my fear and speak truth to it.

I choose not to run, not to hide, and not to lash out.

I choose to dig into prayer and the Word and seek strength and healing from the Lord.

I let myself cry it out when I feel the sadness, but I choose not to indulge in self-pity.

I choose to make the most of every opportunity to spend time with and enjoy people I care about and not to shut them out.

I choose to find ways to love people even when miles separate. 

I choose to be intentional about my friends. The ones here and the ones there. Wherever there is. 

I choose to love with open hands rather than defiant, tightly closed fists.

The Tale of the Peach Plum Tree

There's so much I wish I could talk about, but can't. It makes blogging tough when you can't talk about what you're thinking about.

Instead, today I am going to share some pictures and thoughts about a tree.

Outside my back door next to the peacock pen is a happy little tree. It's not your ordinary leafy shade-giver. Long ago, a peach branch was grafted onto a plum tree and now the tree produces peaches on one side and plums on the other. It's a plum peach tree. Or a peach plum tree. I see every day as I back out of the driveway. It was glorious this spring to watch it bloom with two different flowers an with time, it came to have dozens of happy, dark purple, infant plums hanging from one side, and eager, fuzzy, green peaches on the other.

The summer has not been kind to that poor peach plum tree. A violent, windy thunderstorm, brief but mighty, bent the tree over nearly sideways in submission to it's brute force. Afterward, I noted with dismay all those pretty fruits lying on the ground. Remarkably, the peaches managed to hold on.


Around the same time, a famished swarm of Japanese Beetles came for lunch. The uninvited guests truly decimated the buffet table, but only to the plum side. When they were done, the plum side looked like this:

Sad indeed. The beetles left nothing but dry, brittle, latices and a few withered plums. for whatever reason, they, too, left the peach side of the tree unscathed. But, it seemed sure that it was only a matter of time before the tree succumbed to it's injuries and died. How could it survive without it's leaves? Surely this would be the end of the peach plum tree.

In the weeks following, the brutal 100+ degree temperatures and cloudless, raindrop-less skies seemed only to further secure the fate if the withered tree. Then, curiously, I noted a lone survivor plum which kept growing larger and larger. I couldn't imagine how that was possible, with no leaves to deliver capture the sunlight and turn it into nourishment, nor rain to quench it. It whispered to me of hope and encouragement. Despite trials, in the face of scarcity, when all seems lost, hope is still possible, it said. Every day I would think, Keep going, little guy. Hang in there!

One day the lone plum disappeared, I can only assume the work of a hungry critter bandit.
That'll do, plum, that'll do.

But then I noticed something quite remarkable. Do you see it?? 

New growth! Despite the tempest winds, the driving rain, the ravaging beetles, the punishing heat, the parching drought--new growth is still possible. The tree will live another day. She will experience the glorious robe of fall colors, it will wear the crystals of winter frost and snow, and in the spring, she will festoon herself with blossoms again. With all good fortune, she will share her bounty next summer with the VVs, and perhaps P and A will enjoy her fruit, juicy plumb juices running down their chin as they bite into the shiny purple skins.

But, should the punishing forces of mother nature do her worst, and the peach plumb tree should again suffer loss and pestilence, all is not lost, for the seasons change, time marches on, things which seemed lost and hopeless will grow new again.

Not being much of a horticulturalist, I am not well studied on the complexities of plant life, especially grafting, but I suspect the peach side of the tree played a significant role in all of this. I suspect the leaves and functions that were sustaining the peaches aided in the healing process of the plumb side of the tree. I suspect the peach side of the tree gave of herself to keep her Siamese twin alive, and in time, it allowed her to flourish again. It was not so much sacrificial as it was self-preservation, but truth is told in it still.

In our own times of scarcity and pain and loss, if we are grafted to the right thing, we can not only survive what comes our way, we will again flourish some day.

"I am the Real Vine and my Father is the Farmer. He cuts off every branch of me that doesn't bear grapes. And every branch that is grape-bearing he prunes back so it will bear even more. You are already pruned back by the message I have spoken. 

"Live in me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can't bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can't bear fruit unless you are joined with me.  

"I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you're joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can't produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown on the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that whatever you ask will be listened to and acted upon. This is how my Father shows who he is—when you produce grapes, when you mature as my disciples." (John 15:1-8, The Message)

Now, nearly on the other side of my own season of drought and scarcity and storms, I can relate to her. I have been the plum side of the tree. Such lessons I hold onto in my own current season of life. Thanks to the peach plumb tree.

The full tree, peaches on the left.

Through it all, the peaches have prospered.

This picture has nothing to do with the tree.. . but in this drought, I find it humorous that the only part of the yard which is green is directly over the septic tank. For what it's worth.

Gratitude for the Albatross

Today I conquered mountains!!!!

Well, Ok... not mountains. But all in one day I paid a traffic ticket, fixed an issue with my property tax and retrieved documents needed for registering the new car (not as easy as it sounded, having moved 6 times since the last time I registered a car), titled and registered said car, and arranged to sell old car tomorrow (well, today, I guess). Nothing like a day dealing with the governments to make you feel accomplished.

I even washed and vacuumed the car, because I actually have a car worth keeping up! I know these things probably seem pretty mundane. But if you could only feel the joy and relief I have over them!! Oh, it's glorious!!

I say it frequently if you are around me enough, car stress is my worst stress. I think there are many people like me who just feel intimidated by car issues. In good times, I feel intimidated just purely for the fact that I don't know anything about my car, and when stuff goes wrong I have to trust people (mechanics) who are legendary for not being so. But in recent years, with so much instability in my jobs and finances, it was magnified a hundredfold. 


My old car felt like such an albatross around my neck. It was always on the brink of something that was sure to upset the financial apple cart; not to mention that it couldn't pass inspection. The list of things wrong with it was getting comical: Horn that wouldn't stop honking; electrical short in the dashboard, causing components--odometer, tachometer, headlight indicator--to work only intermittently (less than 5% of the time); driver-side washer fluid jet missing and disabled; crack across windshield; one cylinder not firing (can you say 18mpg?); transmission leak; oil leak; tire issues; starter issues; brakes randomly going out; both side view mirrors busted... even the radio didn't work well. It was just one big, hot mess.


I drove it sans legal tags for well over a year. For about the last 6 months, it was just downright dangerous, with the brake issues.


And now....For the first time in at least 2 years, I have a car that worries me not an iota. Such a feeling of freedom!!! It's amazing!


I told a friend tonight that I've always been a little sad to give up my other cars, but not this one. I expected that tomorrow I would be skipping away from it with glee. Later, as I was gassing up my new car (at 31mpg, thankyouverymuch), I was thinking about what I said. That statement was not entirely true. While I am indeed relieved and happy to let the Cirrus go,  in hindsight, what I really feel about that car is gratitude.


Gratitude for 4 years, and over 50,000 miles. For the wonderful and dear coworkers and friends from Convoy of Hope and Central Assembly who conspired together to put that car in my hands in the first place. For road trips to Colorado and Illinois to see friends and loved ones and breathtaking beauty. For the countless hours of driving to Branson and back for work, up and down those arduous hills. For the many ways friends have helped and blessed me during times when the car was broken down, in the shop, on the brink....

Yes, it was the source of a great deal of strain, anxiety and financial woe. But I can't let that overshadow the fact that it has also been the source of great blessings at times, and some great memories, too. Tomorrow when I hand over those keys and that title, I may not be sad, but I will be grateful for what it was to me. And also grateful that I am walking away. 

My Own Mayberry

Yesterday Andy Griffith passed away. His show, The Andy Griffith Show, painted an idyllic image of small-town America in the 60's, a time often heralded as "a simpler time." Lots of people sigh wistfully, wishing life were like it was in Mayberry. Even songs have been written about it... This one has been in my head since I heard the news about AG:

The deli across the street from my house

I happen to have grown up in a time and place that was probably as close to Mayberry as you could get, sans Andy Griffith. It was really, really small. In fact, it was so small we didn't even have our own sheriff. We had a post office, a general store, a deli, a bar, a gas station, a restaurant, a library, an Ag Way Store, a pizza place and laundry mat, and that is about it. Neighbors really knew each other, and us kids didn't get away with much, because all the parents knew all the kids, and all the parents talked to each other.

But we had oodles of small-town charm. It practically oozed down our stop-lightless streets. At no time was it more evident than on the 4th of July. It started with our parade, where the VFW, the volunteer fire dept. marched or drove old cars or fire trucks, and kids joined with their bikes decorated with streamers and crepe paper. Together they all headed to the town recreation center, known simply as The Rec.

 July 4th, 1987 at the Rec with my friend
Rebecca  Jayne

The Rec was a simple chlorinated stream-fed pondish-type thing, with a sandy patch on one side, and a wooden dock on the other for diving and jumping. When my mom was a kid visiting there in the summers from NY City, it was called "the swimming hole," and it didn't have the dock or the sand. In my day, ALL the kids in town hung out there. I don't remember a whole lot of people who actually had pools, so really, it was one of the few places to go swimming in the summer. I practically lived there in July and August. It was where I took swimming lessons, joined the swim team, took arts and crafts classes, had a crush on a life guard, earned my first stitches getting hit in the head with a swing. We built sand castles out of beach toys that my mom made out of empty milk jugs, laundry soap containers, and other plastic containers.

But on Independence Day, The Rec became a giant town party. In New York, schools don't let out until the last week of July, and Independence Day is the party that ushers in the official start of summer. Once the parade arrived, the festivities began. There was grilling and watermelon and sodas--a huge treat to us, since we didn't get soda at home. There were frog jumping contests, greased watermelon contests, egg tosses, three-legged races, a tug of war contest over the water, and horseshoe tournaments. All those bikes decorated for the parade entered a contest, too. When the sun went down,  people would gather in the field between the Little League diamond and the town Library, behind the Grange Hall and the Ag-Way Store. The adults would visit, while kids ran around waving sparklers and popping bang snaps on any hard surface to be found.



Suddenly, BOOM! The sky would explode in colorful sparks as the (all volunteer) fire department launched fireworks from the other side of The Rec pond. After we had all sufficiently oohed and ahhed, us kids went to bed, but the adults would dance the night away under the open-air pavilion while a local band played.

I've since celebrated 4th of July lots of different ways and places: in backyards lighting our own fireworks, big pool parties with hundreds of people, I've seen fireworks in Los Angeles and next to the Washington Monument in Washington D.C., and giant festivals with rides and games and fireworks with synchronized music, but nothing has ever compared to Independence Day in my own Mayberry.

That blue house on the left is the house I grew up in

Elvin's General Store

Pushes and Put Offs

Today was that day where I got stuff done; little stuff that I always put off.

• Fixed the clog in the bathtub
• Dealt a death blow to the ant army in my living space
• Took a house-sitting job
• Cleaned out the refrigerator
• Packed up my winter clothes (I know. It's June. July. I know.)
• Bought a jug to make ice coffee in
• Figured out the right ratio of coffee/water for ice coffee in a pour-over filter

For some reason, taking care of the little stuff like that makes me feel more powerful. Did you hear me rawr just now? Well, I did. Just imagine it if you have to. It was pretty fierce.

There's some big things on my plate this week. I tend to procrastinate and stall on these bigger things. It's not so much laziness as it is being intimidated by stuff that I don't know, which when you boil it down to basics, is fear of the unknown. It makes me freeze up, so I habitually ignore stuff and push it out of my mind until I work up enough chutzpah to deal. I wish I didn't have that problem. I used to hate that about me. It can turn things into big messes. But it's as much a part of who I am as my curly hair and my way with words.

Turns out, the best way to get over that is to have people who know and push me past the fear. 


Example.


A couple months ago, I had a ticket for my expired car tags. Really, it was a miracle that it had been my first one, since the tags were nearly a year overdue at that point (another thing I kept putting off... for a lot of reasons). But when the court date came around, I unexpectedly had to work and missed court. A bench warrant was issued. I didn't even know it at the time, but I was pretty close to being pulled over, which subsequently would have meant I would have been arrested. It was really, really close. So I told my BFF, L, about it. We kinda joked that she should keep her phone handy in case something happened and I needed to be bailed out. But I was scared to go to court, because I had no clue what would happen. So, I kept putting it off.

Days later she texted me and basically said, "Today would be a great day for you to take care of that ticket. Having to keep my phone nearby at all times is stressing me out." So I did. I needed her push to get me past my fear of the unknown. It helped a ton to know that even if the worst happened, she'd be there to bail me out. In the end, it turned out to be seriously no big deal. 
I paid a fine. 
That's it. 


The stress and worry I could have saved her and myself both!! Oy! When will a learn? But I did learn something from the experience.

A few years ago, I'd never have told her about it. I would have hidden it, as I [unsuccessfully] hid[e] all my flaws. I certainly would never have blogged about it.. Flaws in my mind were something to be ashamed of, things to be hidden.


But as I come to accept myself, I've come to realize I can't fix the broken stuff if I don't acknowledge it's existence. I've also learned that people can still love me, even if I have flaws. L didn't think less of me because I was a fugitive from the law. She was willing to be the person to bail me out if needed, but my outlaw status didn't change how she saw me. But she also loved me enough to push me to fix what was in my power to fix, and was willing to be there to help me deal with the consequences, whatever those might be.


I need people in my life, people who love me, who accept me as I am and yet will push me to be better and do better. When I hide my flaws, I isolate myself from others. But when I openly acknowledge them, I am empowered to change them. It also emboldens others to be open out their own flaws and fears. But more than that, I need--we all need--grace-filled people who are there with us through it, and after it to pick up the pieces. That's the kind of friend I need, but more importantly, the kind of friend I want to be.