May 2020 - The Life and Times of Mary Rachel

It’s no secret that we’re living in unprecedented times. Wearing masks nearly everywhere we go (including the bank – imagine that!), much of everyday life cancelled… many of us out of work completely, and for those of us who do still have work, it looks completely different in multiple ways.

While so many different opinions on how to handle everything and reactions to what is happening are filling our news feeds, thankfully there’s still a good amount of humor regarding it all. One such thought that I’ve seen now multiple times – asking for a hard reset on 2020. You know, turning it off and turning it on again (typically the first step in troubleshooting electronic devices). Unfortunately, though, such a reset is not really a realistic option.

In the weeks leading up to the major shutdown, my church was in the middle of a sermon series regarding “faith at work” – how we can apply and live out our faith in the workplace. There was a lot of really good stuff, and much of it has been helpful for me as I continue to seek the Lord’s direction and calling on my life.

One of the last few messages, I think perhaps the first Sunday in March, has been coming to mind again lately. And the theme from that message that I have really been pondering, the theme that I want to share with you today?

Identity.

Most of us would freely admit that some of our identity is tied to our job/occupation/profession. Some of us might even admit that much of our identity is tied up in what we do for a living, perhaps at times even more than it should be.

But as our pastor challenged us that Sunday with the following question, so I will challenge you, reader, today.

Who are you?

Anything short of the honest, gut reaction answer wouldn’t be doing us any favors. In this setting, sure, we might think to answer with something other than “I am a teacher”, or “I am a banker”. But when we’re not at church, when we’re not reading some random blog post about where to find our true identity… how would we answer?

I know that I struggle to answer initially with something other than my profession. I think that in our society today, it’s just the natural way to view that question. There’s nothing inherently wrong with answering that way, no. It’s okay for a part of our identity to be tied to what we do for a living, especially if it’s something to which we truly feel called.

Even just two short months ago, when I first began thinking about all of this, there wasn’t nearly the danger or harm in correlating the two that there might be today.

Why is there (potentially) so much more harm today than there was two months ago?

Well, as I said in opening this post… many people are either out of work or working in a drastically modified way. Many other aspects of life right now are especially difficult and challenging, and so if we have our identity tied up in the work that is now vastly different… well, we can all imagine the emotional effect that could have on a person.

Right as this all was beginning, a co worker and dear friend shared with me some very real concerns regarding our work (commercial airline, ramp). Apparently it’s been said that individuals who work successfully in aviation (particularly ground crew) have a hard time finding work in other industries. Working ramp is so different than almost any other work, and it’s something that those of us working it absolutely love.

It also has been hard at work watching the things we love just kind of… disappear. Into thin air, and seemingly overnight. Yes planes are still flying, but hardly any. And for the last month or so, the few planes that have been flying have been going out incredibly empty. The flight loads are starting to increase, sure… but we still have a long road ahead of us.

That’s just a small glimpse of the emotional difficulty we have experienced at work, and I’m sure many others could tell similar stories within their professions.

So when the message from my church came to mind the other day, particularly the loving challenge of how we answer the question “who are you?”… I knew I needed to share this truth.

More than our professions, more than the jobs we work.
More than the families we have, the people we love…

We are children of a Living God.
Chosen.
Loved.
Forgiven.
Redeemed.

No matter who you are, what you have done, what you haven’t done. No matter how far we have run from God in the recent days, months, years, our whole life…

He loves us.
And He came so that we could have a relationship with Him.

Galatians 5 is some of my favorite scripture that speaks to this…

“So Christ has truly set us free. Now make sure that you stay free, and don’t get tied up again in slavery to the law…. For you have been called to live in freedom, my brothers and sisters. But don’t use your freedom to satisfy your sinful nature. Instead, use your freedom to serve one another in love. For the whole law can be summed up in this one command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’…” (v. 1, 13-14)

Paul is reminding us here that, because of Jesus, we have freedom to live as children of God. We have freedom to be human, we have freedom to love others around us because we know that – no matter what – we are deeply loved by the King of Kings.

It has been clear in my own life for many years, but especially in this last year, just how much the idea that “loved people love much” really is true. I make it my goal in life to love other people fiercely because I want them to know just how deeply and passionately God loves them.

This season of life is likely teaching all of us so many things. And as painful as it is, I think it can be a good thing to face the reality that our identity might be wrapped up a little too much in our job title.

Ponder the following thought…

“Our true identity does not lie in what we do or even who we are… but in WHOSE we are.”

Friends, we belong to Jesus. And through the strength that can ONLY come from Him and His gift of the Holy Spirit, we have the strength to make this our main focus throughout these crazy times.

After the idea for this post came to me, one song came to mind… and it has remained what I feel is perhaps the most fitting for this truth.

“You split the sea so I could walk right through it,
You drowned my fears in perfect love.
You rescued me so I can stand and sing…
I am a Child of God.
I’m no longer a slave to fear…
I am a Child of God.”

Wow.
Let those words sink in for a moment.

Fear does not have to rule our lives.
A lost or missing identity doesn’t have to rule our lives.
This song says it so plainly and beautifully, over and over and over…

We are Children of God.

Be blessed today, friends.

A year later, He’s still doing Wonderful Things.

I remember that morning like it was yesterday.

The navy dress pants and light blue button-down shirts seem like a lifetime ago, having been in Richmond and working out on the ramp for just over seven months.

What also seems like a lifetime ago? Waking up every day and wanting to die. Not just the random, fleeting thought that comes on occasion because life is hard. I’m talking about the all consuming depression that bleeds into daily suicidal ideation. The hopelessness that, no matter what you do, how hard you try, or how things might look like they have changed… they really haven’t. You still can’t be around sharp objects, you still want to die. All the time.

But while so much about life in Santa Rosa – including that debilitating aspect of my mental illness – seems like a lifetime ago… I remember that Monday morning in May like it was yesterday.

Let’s take a visit for a moment…

Having gone home to sleep a little more after working a 4am shift for a 6am flight, pulling myself back out of bed felt the usual impossible – like lead blankets were willing me to stay under the covers. I changed back into my work uniform of a blue top and navy pants, I pulled my long blonde hair back into a tight bun, and made my way downstairs.

Hunger was slowly starting to eat at my insides, but time only allowed for breakfast on the road this Monday morning. Again, it was the usual, typical Monday – cold cereal to take with me. The moment I sat back down in my car, clicked my seatbelt, and started my fifteen minute drive to the airport, I took a deep breath. Getting going in the mornings might be tough for me, but I could at least have the few minutes between Woodsage Way and the Santa Rosa Airport – no stress or running late could take those minutes of peace away.

That particular Monday morning, as I was pulling out to go work our Denver flight, I played the new worship song that was quickly becoming a favorite. “Wonderful Things” by Highlands Worship had been in my church’s set the previous day, and already it was speaking volumes to my soul. There was something different about that Monday morning… a hope that hadn’t been there in a long time, if ever. Our pastor’s words and sermon the day before stirred something in me. Like I said, it was a new kind of hope. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about it felt… different. I was hoping, willing with everything in me that maybe it really would be different this time.

As I pulled from highway 12 onto 101 north, the typical Monday morning traffic, the inevitable merge and slowdown threatened to make me late for work. My focus on the road never wavered, but I also did all I could to continue singing those words over my spirit.

“God of all power, King of all glory… You do wonderful things.”

The speed of my red Toyota Yaris began to pick back up as the traffic thinned out. I pulled forward, merging fully to head north towards the airport, and the song continued…

“God of all creation, King of our salvation… You do wonderful things.”

I knew this song would forever be a part of my story, though I had yet to fully understand or see how. As I listened to the words continue, I began thinking to what I had written in my journal the day before.

“God, it all still feels really foggy and confusing… the idea that it is Your power and YOURS ALONE that will break my chains… like, relying on You to help me accept Your love and grace in a very real way? Letting You rescue me in regards to my relationship with You? It feels weird… like, how does that even work?

But… You’re God. I’m not. And if your power can raise the dead to life, who am I to do anything but simply trust?”

After I had penned those words listening to the sermon in church the day before, in many ways I had started to ask myself – “what do I have to lose?” Taking that first step out in faith, saying “okay, I’m not sure how this is gonna work, but I have to trust that You’ve got it, God”… what’s the worst that could happen as a result?

This was all running through my head, and as it did, I imagined what it would be like if I could actually live life each and every day as if this was all true – that yes, God loves and forgives me, Mary Rachel.

As I passed exit after exit as I did every time I drove north to the airport, an image regarding all of this popped into my head. Say I really did believe this… say I really started to believe it in the depths of my soul, so much so that it might as well be tattooed on my forearm as a permanent reminder…

“When You move in power, a miracle can happen. We believe You do wonderful things. You are here with us, and anything can happen. We believe You do wonderful things.”

I began to picture a tattoo of this truth. Someplace where I could see it all the time. A tattoo… something permanent, that never changes, that can never go away – no matter how hard I might try.

What’s so crazy… as I began to picture this tattoo, as I continued asking myself “what do I have to lose” in letting God in, in living my life and making choices each and every day like I believe it’s all true…

The Airport Blvd exit came, and I pulled off and turned left off of the highway with a green light. I was almost to work now, thankfully I was going to have a few minutes to sit in my car before I would have to go inside and start my shift.

Thank goodness – because as I held that mental image, the image of the tattoo, of something permanent and irrefutable… I felt it.

Now before I go any further, a caveat. I know that God’s truth is God’s truth, whether we feel it or not. Our feelings, while perfectly valid and having a true need to be acknowledged, should never dictate fully how we live our lives.

But guys… I felt it.
Like… really, really felt it.
It was the briefest moment, so mundane. But as I said… I remember that morning like it was yesterday. Why? Because it’s the morning that everything changed.

Having a few minutes before I needed to go clock in, I pulled out my phone and wrote down a few thoughts so I could remember the moment…

“Monday, May 6, 2019
10am - Santa Rosa Airport parking lot

I think I might be starting to get it. Like, really get it.

The sermon this weekend was powerful. And the realization that, despite my hesitancies and doubts and walls and despite how much I have been pushing away and distancing myself... I have EVERYTHING I need to experience the healing I need in Jesus. The healing I have needed for even longer than I can remember. I am free to lean into the true power of the cross and the empty tomb to break down my walls of fear and doubt. And, what amazes me so incredibly, is how God has been letting that happen even before I came square in the face with the realization that I did yesterday.

As I type this, my heart is pounding. I’m a little shaky. I’ve got my current anthem on repeat, Wonderful Things... when God moves in His power, a miracle can happen.

And boy, is it ever.

As I drove down Airport Blvd just now, I thought to myself... is this what true freedom in Christ feels like? The freedom to say, okay, I’m downright exhausted. Dare I say even feeling a little bit of the depression. But simultaneously, I know that I can never do ANYTHING to make God love me any more, and I can never do ANYTHING to make Him love me any less. And maybe, just maybe, believing that.

The cross and the empty tomb are the biggest, most mind blowing examples of that love. And what if I rest in that love? What would happen?

Well, this might happen. This... this feeling of my heart pounding and my hands shaking because never in my wildest dreams did I think I would feel this free. This free to struggle... this free to hope... this free to live. To live despite my human failures and stupidness, despite my human sin, because all along I have had everything I will EVER need in the true power of the cross... and the death defeating power of the empty grave.

I’m still in shock at this whole thing. And now, like, how in the hell am I supposed to go inside and clock in and work??! All I want to do right now is cry and sing and praise Jesus. Because, my goodness...

He really does do Wonderful Things.

“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father... [that you] may have strength to comprehend with all the saints... the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge...
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, according to the power at work within us...”
Ephesians 3:14, 18a, 19a, 20”

Most of you who know me that my idea behind the tattoo from that morning went on to become a reality. It has been affectionately nicknamed my “permanent post it note”, because that’s essentially why it is there – to remind me of what I know to be true. To remind me that am fully known and fully loved. Let me tell you, it has done its job many times. And it continues to do its job, sometimes daily. I tell people that I got the tattoo for a reason, that it’s actually a quite practical piece!

But in all seriousness for a minute. As that Monday continued to play out, and as days turned into weeks… something really was different. I was at cautious at first, so very cautious. I had thought something was finally “different” far too many times, only to have my hopes come crashing and burning down to the ground. I had grown so weary of hope because things would always go back to the way they were… if not even worse. I couldn’t afford that crash and burn again, I really couldn’t.

Thankfully God knew that. Because that Monday morning… things really were different.

Even though I could actually feel it, though? I don’t think I had ANY idea just how different they really were.

Because here we are, a year later.
I’m working as lead ramp agent in Richmond, Virginia.
I live in my own apartment.
My parents live in Boise, Idaho.
… and God is continuing to blow my mind day after day AFTER DAY.

Now I want to go over that list again, explaining why each statement is just beyond insane, even a full year later.

I’m working as lead ramp agent in Richmond, Virginia. (At the time all of this healing began in March 2019, I had been applying for SSDI – permanent disability. I didn’t think I would ever work full time again because of my mental illnesses. Not only that, but I’m living somewhere other than Santa Rosa – where all of my people and churches and doctors and everything familiar… I left it all behind when I moved.)
I live in my own apartment. (Up until a year ago, perhaps even more recently, I had always written off this possibility because I felt it would be a huge safety hazard, that there would be to much of a suicide or self harm risk. Well, not anymore.)
My parents live in Boise, Idaho. (My single two biggest supporters, cheerleaders, rockstars. I still don’t know how all of this is still moving forward with them 2,000 miles away, but God promises to supply our EVERY need – and He is doing just that, day after day after day.)

In recent sessions my therapist has asked me what it would be like to think about my life a year from now. I know that he is probably referencing goal setting, having a healthy balance between looking back and looking ahead, that kind of thing. But every time he asks me, all I can reply with is “okay, let’s not break Mary…” … and then I laugh. With joy.

Because I think back to a year ago. And yes, a year ago that was a week after that Monday morning in May. Even at that point I don’t think any of us could have imagined what God was going to do, how He was going to move, all of the beauty that He would bring our way.

And yet… here we are.

As I say regarding that precious tattoo on my left forearm, “there’s a reason I got it tattooed, and there’s a reason I got it there”.

And there’s a good reason that Ephesians 3:20 continues to be a life verse for me.

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us…”

Brothers and sisters, friends… may you always remember just how loved you are, and that in that love, we are free to live – loved. Deeply, deeply loved.

Month: May 2020

Finding our identity amidst a pandemic.

A year later? He still does wonderful things.