PURPOSE DWELLER

as seen in

Friday, June 19, 2015

I’m Giving Away 5 Purpose Dweller Journeys Today!

What We Most Want To Change In The World

It was after 9pm. With wine in one hand and a bucket in the other, I followed behind my son across the boardwalk and onto the beach. We were sand crab hunting for the third night in a row. I thought about this seaside tradition we’d been upholding since he was able to toddle. This particular night, the marked changes caught me and held me in a sad place for a spell.

He used to need me… to hold the light and carry the bucket as we looked for the little phantoms. He’d squeal, “Mom, over here! Mom, over there!” He would run in a zigzag pattern with his net waving about madly in the air. Our herky-jerky motions must have looked like a laser show to the condo balcony onlookers.

But this time, my son was calm and calculated as he shuffled his giant man feet through the dunes.

He used to chase the crabs with wild abandon, until one would get too close. He’d quickly turn and run into my arms, protesting their pincers. “Mom, they’re gonna geeeet me!”

But this time, he was undaunted, even as a large crab took hold of the skin between his thumb and forefinger. It brought a bit of blood; he proudly showed me.

He used to beg to keep the crabs as pets in the pail. I’d wipe fat tears from his cheeks when we suggested he turn them back.

But this time, he quickly chose to release the crabs almost as swiftly as he caught them. He enjoyed watching some scatter and some sink themselves into the sand.

I was depressed by the difference between what used to be and what is. A thread of nostalgia ran from my rib cage to my stomach. Like a puppeteer, self-pity pulled at it and made me bow. (I pretended I was looking for crabs rather than having an old mommy melt down.) Time had fled like a bandit, stealing the things my son used to need from me. I shouted, “Damn you, Time!”

The memories almost took me on a short ride to Crazyville, but a wiser spirit spoke from within, “Don’t look back too long on what has been; instead, wonder at what will be.”

With that clever comment, I decided to stop being such a drama queen. I stood up, grabbed that blasted bucket, took a deep breath and threw my shoulders back. I put the past away and breathed in the present.

I looked ahead and studied my son’s tall, sturdy frame in the moonlight.  I said the words to myself, “Wonder at what will be… wonder at what will be.”

As I repeated the phrase, I realized I can’t get the past back (even though sometimes I really long to and it hurts when I can’t). But I can be present to what’s happening now. And I can begin to intentionally design what’s next. No less dramatic (but probably healthier) than before, another question came, “What do I most want to change in the world so that it’s a better place for Sam and his family to be in?”

The answer came immediately. I said it aloud, “I want to help as many people as possible have an up-close and personal relationship with Jesus. One by one, these relationships will change the world.” The wind was blowing strong off the ocean so no one else could hear my declaration. (Except Jesus of course, and I felt the warmth of His presence. I was thankful He transformed my sadness into something useful; I smiled and said, “Thank you.” )

I want my son to thrive in a world that is full of compassion and generosity and acceptance and hope. The very best way to create this kind of world is to help one person at a time catch a contagious connection to Jesus.

Not a scary, guilt-ridden, rule-driven relationship- but the other kind.

The kind that meets us exactly where we are and takes us places we never dreamed we could go.
The kind that fosters healing and hope.
The kind that frees us from our human frailty.
The kind that lifts us from the pit of lack into an atmosphere of abundance.
The kind that gives our souls strength and our lives significance.
The kind that changes us from the inside out.
The kind people see by our walk way before our talk.

I’m not sure I always do a great job of explaining what Purpose Dweller is on the inside, but this kind of relationship with Jesus is at the epicenter of it. And it’s what I want to bridge for Sam and for you.

In 64 days of Purpose Dweller, you will absolutely discover your purpose, but purpose just scratches the surface. The Purpose Dweller journey is so much more. It’s the story of an always good and sovereign God that loves you madly, pursues you relentlessly, and plans a stirring, stunning legacy for your life.

You’ll read more about my path inside the program, but please know that I am speaking from personal experience when I say, “anything is possible!”

I. Used. To. Be. STUCK.

I longed for an intimate, fulfilling, spiritual life, but traditional methods left me thirsty.
I criticized and condemned myself constantly.
I hid in the bathroom stall at work with my feet tucked up under me on toilet seat and cried because my job was sucking the life from my soul.
I doubted my marriage would last.
I cut myself off from relationships that challenged me to be more.

And I’m not stuck in those places any longer.

I have an intimate relationship with the living Christ.
I love myself, even in light of my oh-so human condition.
I jump out of bed before 5:00 am because I can barely wait to start working.
I have the greatest (and yes, same) husband that God made just for me.
I open myself up to deep relationships with other people and they change me.

It has taken me almost 20 years, but it doesn’t have to take you that long. The Purpose Dweller process will teach you in 64 days what it has taken me half a lifetime to learn. Seriously, that’s why I wrote it all down.

And I want to give it away this week to 5 people. Because, this is the way I can change the world for you and for my son.

All you need to do is share this post somewhere on social media and leave me a comment on Facebook that you did so. I will message you with specific instructions on how to redeem your free code and start your journey.

Share it! Ok?

Love,

amy-signature

Comments

comments

Categorized in: