Making a change

"When you make a change in your life, you will have times where you fall.  You are going to try and fail, try and fail, try and fail, and fail, and fail, and fail again, but if you keep getting up and trying, soon your successes will outweigh your failures, and you will overcome.  You focus so much on trying to attain perfection, and that's exhausting.  To make the change, you have to change yourself.  That's going to be inconvenient for awhile, but that's part of the healing process.  You've committed to doing this, and the end process is you getting better.  You need to look yourself in the mirror and face what's controlling you.  The majority of it will be coming through you.  It's going to be inconvenient and some days will be easier and some days will be harder but you have to stick with it.  It's going to be very inconvenient but that's how you know it's worth it." 

Have you ever tried to make a change in your life?  I don't mean a small change, but instead radically change a behavior you've had for so long?  It's difficult, right?  I mean honestly, when you've done something for so long, thought something for so long, acted the same way for so long, you become comfortable with that.  Even if it's destructive it's still familiar.  You're habit becomes your security. 
Taking that security blanket away is terrifying.

I talked to my dad today, one of the longest conversations I've had with him in awhile (his quote above).  I love those conversations that you have with people that radically change your life.  I love when people challenge me to look at how I'm living, question me on my motives, and push me to step outside my boundaries.  That was the kind of conversation I had today.

Have you ever felt like a broken record?  As if your problems never go away; you're stuck on the same soundtrack, ever playing the same scene.  And then you have those rocks in your life, those people you go to time and time again, and you feel horrible about relying on them.  Because soon enough, they'll be frustrated with you, they'll give up on you, they'll stop listening. 

I hate having intimate conversations with people for this reason.  It's something always on the back of my mind; I ask myself if a certain conversation is really necessary or if I should wait until I really really really need them, as if I can stockpile my 'need-for-advice' the same way I stockpile money in monopoly in order to strategically allocate it for optimal use.  Let me tell you something I learned about that today.

Life doesn't work that way.

Did you catch that?  I mean, did you really catch that?  I know it's a silly analogy, but honestly, I think we all do that to an extent.  We plan our time with others based on how much we think they want us around.  I'm sure you do the same, you try not to overstep your boundaries with someone, because maybe there will be a point where they don't want you around anymore.  Maybe there will be a point where they're tired of listening, tired of trying to work it out, tired of you. 

Is this truth?

Until recently, I thought so.  Until recently, I believed this lie.  There were two people that radically changed my view.  The first, I'll call a friend.  I admitted this fear to her, not as a fear but rather as a fact.  One person I feared would give up on me was my dad.  I talk to him a lot, and rely on his advice and understanding.  I told my friend of my endlessly patient father, and how undeserving I am of this patience, because I can be such a frustrating person.  Long story short, she blatantly stated that my father will not run out of patience, because he is my father.  That's what families do: listen, have patience, and love endlessly.  Although this sounds like a pretty obvious statement, hearing it was a complete shock to me.  First of all, because not all families are like this, and that breaks my heart.  Second of all, because this is also truth.  Today, I finally talked to my dad about this.  I told him how frustrated I was with myself, how difficult some things in my life are to change, and how fearful and disappointed in myself that I keep having the same conversation with him, apologizing for not getting better.  His reply was simple, and incredibly powerful.

'You are my daughter, and I love you."

Wow.  Is it really that simple?  I didn't do anything to obtain that love, I'm not perfect, I have nothing to give to earn that love, yet it's still there for me? 

Incredible.

He went on to talk about his concern for me, and his pride of me, and then we talked about strategies for me to make the changes in my life necessary to break the chains that hold me down.  Thinking of his response, and my friend's response about a father's love being there regardless really took hold on my heart.

Does anyone see a parallel?

We have a Father in heaven that has done and continues to do this same thing.  Every. Single. Second.  A Father who died for us even though we did nothing to deserve it. 
We're not perfect. 
We fail constantly. 
We turn away, we are fearful, we don't trust, we get stuck in our security blanket habits instead of grasping His love. 
And yet despite everything, He still loves us.  Doesn't that just shake you?  Can you feel the intensity of that statement? 

You are my daughter, and I love you.

That simple.  So when we think of changing our bad habits, we begin to realize that He will love us through it.   He will guide us and give us strength.  He will place people in my life and in yours, to love us, to help us, to be our rock, to give us the ability to live life fully.  But most of all, He will love us through it all.  When people fail, as we all do, he will be the Rock for us to grasp, to stabilize us, to assure us.  When He sees us hurting ourselves, it breaks His heart.  In response, He breaks our chains.

You are my daughter, and I love you.