Author: Laura Frederick (Page 3 of 3)

This weekend my little corner of the world was consumed by competitive soccer tryouts. We paused for the Super Bowl. But, really, it was all about youth soccer.

For me this weekend was a balance of looking forward and reflecting back. Looking forward to the best choice for each girl on my daughter’s soccer team (girls that fill our hearts with pride). Looking forward to my little man’s first year with a competitive club. Watching his warrior nature push him through tryouts and balance wonderfully with his tender side as he cheered for friends and nervously awaited his fate.

As I watched his warrior nature I couldn’t help but reflect upon my own.

I was a tender kid – intuitive, sensitive.

In elementary school we discovered I was really fast so in junior high I joined the track team. I loved practices but became  wrecked by panic attacks leading up to meets.

My mom helped me understand the anxiety. She taught me that although the fear is perfectly normal you don’t want to get trapped in it. She helped me develop some coping skills. She reminded me that Joshua and David, Old Testament warriors, battled fear. She gave me index cards with psalms and quotes of comfort.

Even though these tools helped, I was still scared. I stuck it out through the end of the season but couldn’t imagine choosing to compete after that.

A couple years later I fell in love with soccer and an inner warrior broke through the fear.

Have you ever heard the story about the 49er’s legendary wide receiver Jerry Rice running sprints up the ‘The Hill’? It’s a four-mile trail outside of San Francisco.

I began to picture that trail as I embraced the warrior instinct – a deep push to get better, tougher, stronger, faster.  Push through pain. Push through weariness. Push against the odds. By the end of high school I was scouted for running, voted Most Athletic, and walked on to a college soccer team.

The warrior pushed me through college. Competing against girls who’d been on the field since they were four; whose parents had covered fourteen plus years of camps, trainers, tournaments, and clinics. Since I entered the sport late I had a lot of catching up to do.

I’d picture that trail when I ran before classes, hit the field after classes, the gym after dinner, and scrimmages at night. When the thermometer inched above 110 degrees but the training didn’t stop.

The warrior never stops.

Then college ended and I settled into a nice, suburban life. While this was a great fit for my sensitive side, the warrior raged for an outlet. Without the daily push my warrior nature turned to outlets that were thorny and unhealthy. So, I tried to suppress it.

One day I realized that I had been treating the warrior as if it were my pet – something to control and use as I please.

My warrior nature had been unlocked by sports but sports did not create it. No, it is a deep part of my personality, woven together by my Good Dad.

Remember that pesky Proverb 31 about the woman of noble character? Did you know that the Hebrew is more accurately translated woman of valor? My Good Dad loves His warrior girls!!

Slowly I learned how to surrender my warrior nature and view it’s use as an act of gratitude to the One who designed me. I learned how to serve him with my whole self.

This shift allowed me to discover new outlets. Actually, it allowed me to see the outlets he had placed right in front of me – practicing therapy, developing Mom to Mom and Soul Care, building a Center for Women.

Each a gift. A privilege to be a part of. Each a tremendous amount of work. My tender side helped me care for people. My warrior side helped me push through the odds.

If you’ve suppressed your warrior nature I want to encourage you to bring it out of hiding, place it before our Good Dad, and ask him how you can walk forward as a whole person. He made you. He wants to use you in mighty ways!

– Laura

I HATE waiting – for anything. I want to move quickly all – the – time. Whenever I talk to my kids about practicing patience I’m conscious of the fact that I’m right beside them – practicing the same principles.

Recently I heard the co-founder of Kickstarter say it took over three years to find an investor. The interviewer observed that three years isn’t very long. Huh. Three years isn’t very long and yet I push for shorter timelines for things of greater magnitude: calling, ministry, strong marriage, deep friendship.

As I continued listening one specific journey came to mind. I’ll term it “the closet”.

Here’s the background… When I was in college I felt God call me to public speaking. Encouraging me to use words as a conduit for hope and healing. But, then, nothing happened.

A few years passed. Jason and I got married. I stayed busy with work and ministry. I started a master’s program and ‘fell’ into some speaking opportunities. The passion for speaking continued to grow – I felt incredibly honored that my words could be used as a conduit of connection and healing.

Then I found out I was pregnant.

The pregnancy scared me. I wasn’t sure if I had what it took to be a phenomenal mom like my mom. And I couldn’t reconcile my deep dreams with the incredible responsibility of motherhood. Was a yes to one a no to the other?

That summer our little church had its first women’s retreat. Sitting in a circle of ten on a cabin floor I timidly spoke my fears. The women normalized them and offered sweet encouragement. At the end of the weekend my dear partner in ministry Vicki gave me the poem Wait by Russell Kelfer. Here’s a quote from that poem, “I could give you all you seek. You’d have what you want but you wouldn’t know Me. You’d not learn to see through clouds of despair; you’d not learn to trust just by knowing I’m there. You’d not know the joy of resting in Me when darkness and silence are all you can see. You’d never experience the fullness of love when the peace of My spirit descends like a dove.”

Even though the next several years brought a sprinkling of speaking opportunities I thought about that dream less as my heart became filled with the joy of motherhood and my days became filled with projects.

In 2011 I got really sick (see Laid Bare) and God released me from all major commitments. I saw His gracious hand in it. His presence was so rich!! I was fully satisfied to be still and soak in God and my family.

The satisfaction in this state of total rest lasted for about two years until I once again found myself pushing on the cold walls of the waiting room. I was startled by the restlessness because I was so happy.

But, on a subconscious level, I had grown hopeful that the absence of all commitments (other than the most important one to my family) meant that speaking would finally become a bigger part of my life.

This time the cold walls brought a new wave of doubt… Was I wrong about that calling back in college? Had I misunderstood God’s purpose for my life? Were my words too much for people? Was I not relatable?

I pleaded with God to take the desire away. I hated the fact that my family had reached a happy, peaceful place except for this one area that hurt so, so bad.

The central memory of those dark days was standing in front of my closet in the wee hours of the night (kids asleep and Jason gone) trying to distract myself with sorting while the tears flowed like a river.

The book of Genesis says that Abraham and Sarah waited 25 years for God to fulfill his promise of a child.

In fact the Bible is full of people waiting – Noah, Hannah, David, Abigail… The waits were rarely short. David waited over 20 years from the time God anointed him as king over Israel until he officially held that title. Think about the depth of David’s songs seen in verses like Psalm 13:2: How long must I wrestle my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? — How’s that for a description of the waiting place?!

In my closet I cried and pined and waited. The difference between the retreat and the closet is that I kept the closet fears to myself. I was afraid I’d sound self-centered… I’m not a published author, who was I to have dreams of speaking? And I was afraid that people would doubt my deep love for my family.

Journeys are SO much harder when you attempt to travel them alone.

Months passed. Then a few friends took a little road trip. Afterwards Kallie and I sat in my car for hours and I invited her into my fears.

There’s something very powerful about the act of moving a thought outside of yourself; it’s like flipping on a light-switch and discovering that the monster in the corner is really only a jacket thrown over a chair.

In that car a uniting occurred and the dream for this blog took form. A month later a position in the counseling department at Western Seminary opened. A year later I’ve encountered increasing opportunity to use my words.

As I write this I’m reminded of my friend Truitt when he grieved through dismal, desperate years of infertility. He once told us about a night when he raged and grieved, begging God to release him from the waiting room or at least tell him why they had to wait so long. He felt God say that one is complicated. Truitt later had the opportunity to adopt a beautiful baby boy. A baby who hadn’t yet been conceived back when he raged and begged for answers.

One of my struggles with waiting is the perceived lack of movement. I like movement. It’s a mistake to assume that if I can’t see movement then movement must not be happening.

God is always at work. I hope I can remember that next time I run up against the cold walls of a waiting room.

GOD IS ALWAYS AT WORK

– Laura