transparency and $6 worth of balloons

May 24, 2010

transparency and $6 worth of balloons

i believe in transparency. i believe in life and the stories that we find ourselves in. i believe in learning from other's lives and experiences. i believe in sharing our stories to become better and to better the world around us, rather than hiding our true selves and acting like we have it all together while the rest of the world struggles to stay afloat. i believe this takes unbelievable sacrifice and humility to put yourself out there and announce to the world that you are not okay. i believe that we can't ask others to give what we aren't willing to give ourselves. i think that very few people have the strength to stand on their own words and live them. i think that this world would be better if we did. i think that one person's strength liberates others to find their own. i am honored to live life beside my friend Amy and watch her exhibit the greatest example of strength and humility i have ever seen. i am better because of her story. i am different because of her example. i am stronger because of her strength. i am living differently because of her life. i hope you will be too.

here's her story...

(this is a letter that she wrote on Facebook that i had to pass along)

Ok, let's be very clear. I do NOT want to be writing this. And more importantly, I do NOT want to be posting this on facebook. I have been wrestling with this "note" for many months. And unfortunately in church this morning God informed me that not only would I be spending my precious Sunday afternoon writing it, but that I would also be sharing it with the masses. So, I pretty much fought back tears the entire service (and of course, I lost that fight) knowing that today was going to get messy. So, here I am, preparing to be transparent. Preparing to share my inner workings with some virtual strangers, people I work with, my mom, extended family, closest friends, and people that I lead on mission trips. My hands are actually shaking as I am typing, and I can barely see through my tears, but here we go.

I'm kinda broken. Phew...that was hard to write, and also a lie. I am not kinda broken, I am broken. Now my hands are shaking even more, and I can't see at all through my tears. I have been sad every day for at least the last 260 something days. Now, don't get me wrong. There have been alot of great events and moments during that time. I have spent amazing moments with dear friends and family. I have given homes to the homeless. I have taken trips and gone on amazing adventures. But through all of this i have brought my sadness with me. The sadness was like helium balloons tied to my wrist. Always getting in the way and limiting what I was able to do. Not allowing the ones I love the most to get close. Sadness, just hanging around.

I love a boy. I've loved him for four years. I've loved him with every part of my heart and mind. He's my favorite...my favorite person I've ever met. I can't even fathom liking someone more than I like him. But the thing is, we just can't work it out. We can't make all the pieces fit as they should. And believe me, we've tried. I've tried. He's tried. I love Jesus. He doesn't. He once did, but he doesn't now. It's a deal breaker for me. There are other issues beyond that, but this is the only one that isn't reconcilable for me. I'm sad because the person I love most in this world I can't be with. But I'm even more sad that the person I love most in the world doesn't know Jesus. I wrestle with this all of the time. My heart breaks for him. There are no more words to say. I no longer know what to pray.

What had started with a broken heart has snow balled into what I can only really describe as depression. It started out because of a boy, but it has seized nearly every area of my life. I'm not happy. It's obvious. I don't really laugh very much these days. I don't really enjoy my friendships like I used to. I don't feel very loved or important too often. I'm much more content to just be by myself. And I guess the reason I am writing this is not to tell the tale of a girl and a broken heart, but really to strive to get my junk out in the open so I can start to move past it. So that I can cut the balloons from my wrist and get back into the business of living.

I'm Amy Lowrey. I'm happy. I'm funny. I have alot of friends. I love my job. I am a missionary. I love my crazy life. I am smart and put together. I am the rock. I am the counselor. I am the solid one. I'm not supposed to crack. But, I did. I've been trying to look like I'm not walking around wounded and full of cracks, but it's not really working. Those around me know better. And I am just really tired of not being ok. It's not about a boy anymore. Although I miss him everyday. It's about the fact that I have all but lost my joy. And I am willing to bring my "baggage" into the light to fight to get it back.

No matter what you believe, I believe that I am under a spiritual attack. You can think that's weird, but I am living it. It has infiltrated my sleep, my waking thoughts, my job, my relationships, my joy, my peace, my laughter, my personality, and my self worth.

And today is the day that I want it to stop. Today is the day that I want to say no more. Today is the day that I am tucking my tail and asking for you to help me. I have prayed relentlessly. I have read. I have studied. I have been to a counselor. I have taken herbal supplements. I have screamed. I have cried. I have begged. I have literally been on my face. I have talked to close friends. I have written prayer after prayer. I have literally commanded Satan to flee from me. And yet, 260 something days later, I am still shackled, and I am pissed about it.

Which honestly, that is the best place I can probably be. I have been fighting, but today, I'm ready to step it up a notch. I'm ready to call in the army, which is you. I am on the verge of being horrified that you are reading this. You fall into any of of the following categories: virtual stranger, person from high school that I haven't seen in a billion years, acquaintance from college, mission trip team member/leader, good friend, best friend, mom, brother, extended family, or co-worker. My tail is tucked as far as it can go, and I am reaching out for your help.

Will you fall on your face for me right now? Will you go to God and ask Him to take care of me. To free me from my sadness. To restore my joy. To restore my friendships. To let this boy I love know Him as Father. To let me know that I am loved to the ends of the earth. To allow me to sleep. To allow my thoughts to not spin horribly out of control. To give me uncontrollable laughter. To allow me to be the best version of me that He has created me to be. To cut the balloons from my wrist.

I'd like to be clear that this is not about "him". This is not a hope that we can pray things right. He was simply the catalyst for a tough time in my life. That door is closed.

Thank you. I know that there are many people out there with much greater hardships than me. But, I believe that God has called me to be a world changer, an earth shaker, a friend to the poor. And until I get back to being who he has called me to be, I can't serve with the fierceness that He has intended.

I went and bought balloons today. I like symbolism. I like tangibly seeing my prayers written out. I bought 6 balloons. Red, orange, yellow, green, black, and white. I wrote out every prayer, sorrow, and petition I could think of on the red, orange, yellow, and green ones. It felt so cathartic. I didn't hold anything back. I left the black and white one blank. I tied them all to my wrist and went into my backyard. I just walked back inside after spending my most significant and beautiful time with God that I've ever had. I cut each balloon from my wrist and watched it drift away into the sunny El Paso sky. I loved watching my prayers literally float up into Heaven. I then released the black balloon...signifying all of the junk and mess that I was now ready to let go. And then, I released the white balloon...signifying how pure God's love is for me. I loved that at this point the black balloon was only a tiny speck amongst the clouds, but this balloon signifying hope was now far bigger. I am no longer crying. My hands are no longer shaking. I am ready for a new day. I literally cut the balloons from my wrist today, but now i am ready to actually do it to the junk in my life too.

I like today. I haven't been able to say that in a long time. I am hoping to love tomorrow.