My "How To" questions after porn.

As a young girl I remember how exasperated I'd get over social injustice or the complexity of unfair circumstances that seemed to always swell up around the most undeserving of people. My mum had watched as my stubborn spirit brood for years over the unsatisfying question of "why?" She would often sigh softly and say, "Peanie, you can't save the whole world." And at her words I would fume and boil and my soul would scramble around trying to figure out ways to prove her statement incorrect.

But after years of wrestling with the world and its injustice, I have concluded that my mum was right and the brokenness of the world could never be healed by a single stubborn girl.

Recently (give or take a few months) I've taken an interest in the effects of porn and the injustice that I've found has taken all but a small part of who I used to be. Ignorance and a strong will to stick to my own business would have been a much more blissful path to have taken. But instead I'm breathless and broken by the innocence that porn has stolen from our young children, from our brothers, from our friends, from our fathers and from our families. The damage seems all too chaotic and extreme, my heart is jaded and angry.

I cried aloud to God in desperation. And found myself in the thick of a relationship poisoned by the very thing I swore would never invade.

I was so wrong and so naive.

I wonder why it is that women find freedom in selling themselves to an industry that sucks them dry, and I'm not just talking about the porn industry. I'm talking about the way we choose to dress, what parts of our body we accentuate, how eager and quick we are to give anything and everything away to the first person that shows us any attention. That industry my friends, fueled and run along side a generation addicted to pornography, wouldn't even know what freedom looked like if it was oozing all over them.

As a young woman, I try to fight the lies that I see and hear all around me. I try to compensate, convince, rationalize. But it is exhausting, overwhelming and for lack of better words, hard.

I just want to know how to heal from a world so rooted in brokenness.
How do we address our children?
How do we override the media and instill truth about body image, self worth and sexuality to a generation over connected?
How do we heal?
How do we move forward?

a little blurb about my buddy A.J.

Andrew Joseph, just saying your name brings the biggest smile to my face.

I know it's no surprise to you, or anyone that knew me back in my prime teenage years that I absolutely adored your older brother. Miles and I had a friendship unlike anything I've ever experienced before, we were partners, sidekicks and loved to talk about anything and everything we could. He made me laugh, he made me cry, he was my best friend and no friendship has ever quite compared to what we shared. I can imagine you reading this right now, you're beyond uncomfortable. But trust me A.J., he's apart of our story in so many ways, though we don't talk about them. When the "real world" become our world, Miles and my friendship slowly became a bittersweet memory and I remember how my heart longed for us to tackle the world together again. But so much time passed and we grew, and grew until our days as Chop Pointers came to an end. Fortunately, I'm a woman of second chances, God willing A.J., our paths crossed and my second chance came knocking June 23, 2013, the day I met you.  The 6 weeks we spent together was so healing to my soul, your honesty and authenticity about life and how you do things was so refreshing. Your questions, your jokes, your thoughtfulness and willingness to be a better YOU inspired me and still does. Some of my favorite moments with are our "What is love?" conversations and the slue of jokes that came with it. All of our ridiculously inappropriate dinner conversation, mostly you shaming me for my songs and outlandish behavior. When we decided that I was capable of baptizing the whole camp by myself (though I'm nowhere near ordained.) Our conversations and love for 'The Oh Hello's' and of course when sweet Frickster decided you and him should lay hands and pray over me.

A.J. I love you! I am so thankful I had the opportunity to be your counselor this past summer and be apart of you finding your relationship with Christ. I want you to know that I believe so much in you and your dreams. I want you to know that there is so much crap out in the world and so many people who want to bring you down and see you fail- but keep fighting. Being a Christian is freaking hard and its hard for men and its hard when you're young and its hard when you're new to the realness aspect of it. But keep fighting. My 5 years of walking has been anything but a walk in the park, but what it has been is transforming, worthwhile and full of vibrant young teenagers, like yourself. All this to say, thanks for giving me a second Gatrell chance, for laughing at my jokes and believing in the person that I want to be.

You are so incredibly special to me- can't wait for you to teach me how to sail, how to be a lifeguard, how to teach a real creative writing class but more importantly how to overcome my glitter addiction that has lead to a serious case of glitter lung...

(Remember that one time I was car sick/dehydrated so I was dropped off on the side of the road and started throwing up while everyone else went to free port? LOLOLOLOLOL that was this day.)


All my love, all my heart- R

No order to the chaos- for my teenagers who loved me.

Lets be real for a moment- (we all know I love to get down to the heart of the matter...)

When I boarded my first plane to Maine, trailing two yellow suit cases and a pocket full of hand wipes, I never would have guessed this would be where I ended up. Sometimes I've thought,  if I never walked off the plane in Portland, would I have ever discovered how broken my heart was? If I never saw how green the grass was, feeding from the Kennebec, would I have ever longed for freedom from the lies? If I had never fallen in love with the people and felt as though their dreams were my dreams, their pain, my pain, would I have ever really come face to face with the devil himself? 

Truth is, I can't answer any of those questions, because I did walk off the airplane that warm June afternoon, I did see the green grass and fell so longingly in love with the people and their stories. I discovered how broken my heart was, how enslaved I was to the lies of my generation and in turn I found myself banging on the door of hell. 

My story, began when God found me at 15. 

I expected life would tame me years down the road. That I would grow into a poised, young christian woman, quiet in my ways and well respected. But what I found 5 summers ago was much more then a stereotype but a calling and transformation. 

My transformation beckoned me back and I finally was granted the opportunity to be the lover, the messenger and the listening ear at my beloved Chop Point.  Oh but this past summer was so painful. Adversity became my right hand man- divorce, lies, cancer, lies, the horrific ending of a relationship, lies and then if emotional warfare wasn't tough enough, I was called to a summer of pouring into teenagers. Everything I knew dissolved and the only thing I could cling to in my darkest moments was that Jesus knew what my pain felt like. He knew the feeling of not being enough. Some days my pain was so debilitating the only way I found to keeping on living was how unconditionally my kids loved me. They loved me for how broken I was, they saw the only good part of me, the God part of me and forgave all the human in me.   

So many days all I could see was the 15 year old me reflected their eyes, I wondered if this was how I was loved as a camper- so imperfectly. 

Returning to NOVA has been a journey in itself. The dark days came back to haunt me, the days that the devil sought me out when I didn't have the energy to fight back. But the point of this post and the point of where I am in life is that I am so grateful I found Christ 5 years ago. I am so grateful I know pain, heart break, that I am no longer naive, and that though my journey has been hard, full of pot holes and flat tires, I am still standing and more then ever want the dreams that God created me with. And let me be honest here- thats to love angsty, hipster, wild, creative, awkward, outkasted teenagers. 

For so long I've been afraid of the Gospel, I've been afraid to tell my family and friends that I'm radically in love with Jesus, but I can't keep denying that God has pulled me up from all the murky mud hell so that I could be apart of the beautiful change our world needs. So THANK YOU children of my heart and soul for teaching me to believe like all of our lives depend on it.