your story – Page 9 – Erin Ulerich

His Love Flows Into Our Lives

In this song, There is Nothing, Laura Story describes the experience of spending time with God. In the midst of the busyness of life, this truth stands: There is nothing more precious or more worthy than knowing Him. Knowing Him and knowing His love for us makes a difference in every aspect of our lives – the way we view ourselves, the way we treat others, the way we live this life.

Lord I come before You

To honor and adore You

For who You are and all that You have done

Lord I am not worthy

My heart is dark and dirty

Still somehow You bid for me to come

So clothe me in humility

Remind me that I come before a King

And there is nothing

There is nothing

More precious, more worthy

May I gaze deeper,
May I stay longer,

May I press onward to know You, Lord

May our time be sweeter,

May I be a keeper of the promises I make to You in song

Lord may I remember these moments of surrender

And live my life this way from this day on.

God’s Love Is Lavish

When I was a little girl I would sit in the woods, watching the world around me. Squirrels would chase each other, leaping through the tree tops and among the muscadine vines, fighting over the tangy, purple berries. I never understood that because there were muscadines everywhere – hanging from the vines and covering the forest floor. There were plenty of berries to go around.

God’s love is like that. Plentiful, lavish, extravagant.

When I was 14 I began reading the Bible. I easily felt the gap between my thoughts and actions and the life described in its pages. My heart leaned in toward God when I learned that Jesus bridged that gap by dying on the cross and coming back to life. I could have that kind of life because of what He did for me, a little quiet, country girl who easily faded into the background in large groups.

His love for me is what drew me to Him in the first place. I didn’t fall through the cracks with God. He. Loved. Me. And that truth was glorious!

Over time, I relaxed my hold on that truth and I began believing lies.

One of the lies I believed was that God was standing over me, arms crossed, a disappointed look on His face. I believed He was waiting for, even expecting, me to mess up. I forgot about His lavish love, and I began trying to earn His love. I led youth groups, I went on mission trips, I was active in our church, but I was in a precarious place. I was doing good things to earn His love instead of doing good things in response to His love.

Then I hit the point of honesty: Maybe, after all these years, I don’t really know the God I am serving. Maybe I only know what I ‘ve been told about Him. So I searched the Bible to see what His Word tells about Him. And this verse lodged into my heart:

Every day the Lord pours His unfailing love upon me, and at night His song is with me. Psalm 42:8

Notice the verse doesn’t say every day that I have a quiet time and behave right, it just says every day. His love isn’t contingent on me at all. I pictured God following me around all day with a watering can pouring out his unfailing love over me. He is not stingy with His love, he is lavish and sloppy and I can play in the puddles around my feet.

I found other verses about His love and I filled a canvas with them. The words flow out of a watering can over the canvas and even spill a bit off the edges.

I put these words where my whole family can see them, because there are those moments when we forget that we are loved by God. That the Creator of the Universe looks at us tenderly and calls us precious. We forget that the Mighty God sings joyful songs over us, as we sing lullabies over our own little ones. I know I need to be reminded on a daily basis.

I hung it at a height where my children can stand under it, as if God’s love was pouring over them. And if I bend my knees to their level, I fit under there as well. Sometimes, especially on days of struggle, we just need to be drenched in His love.

We all need a reminder that God’s love does not stop. His love is not altered on days when we behave badly, when we feel unloveable or unloved. He pours it upon His children constantly. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. That truth can change the way we view all of life, if we will let it wash over us and sink into our bones.

God’s love is unfailing, unstoppable, and always available.

The 31 Day Writing Challenge Begins in 2 days!

Getting ready for the 31 Day Writing Challenge!

I’ve got the T-shirt, thoughts scribbled on brightly colored Post-it notes, and a healthy dose of “31 days? WHAT were you thinking?”

Yep, I’m ready!

In case you’ve missed the excitement, I’ve joined with a group of writers to write for 31 days, so the month of October will be an active one at erinulerich.com!

My topic is Truths That Make Life Beautiful. If you want a sneak peek, my introductory post is up. You can find it under the “Truths That Make Life Beautiful” tab.

Looking forward to this journey with you!

Truth Is Not Always Beautiful

The 31 day writing challenge starts next Thursday!

During the challenge I am writing about truths that can change our lives for the better, if we choose to believe them. Truths that Make Life Beautiful.

But this week, I’ve been reminded that not truth is not always beautiful.

And I wish it wasn’t that way.

My daughter and I sat outside, enjoying the fall-ish Mississippi weather. (At 84 degrees, we just know fall has GOT to eventually make its way south) My girl leaned against me and began pouring out the events of her day. I listened as she let out the anger, hurt, and frustration from the day, hot tears streaming down her face.

And my heart hurt for her.

That day she was hit with a truth that is not beautiful at all. The truth that we live in a broken world and rub elbows with broken people all day, every day. Intentionally or unintentionally, we hurt people, and they hurt us.

I wish I could make this world unbroken for her. I wish I could cover up the ugly and show her only the wonder and beauty this life holds.

In the middle of her fourth grade hurt, I told my daughter these truths,

A. Everyone has something they don’t like about themselves.

B. Some people will make other people feel bad in an attempt to feel better about themselves.

I can’t change these truths so that my children’s lives will be easier. But I can comfort them, and point them to the One who is Truth. The One who holds their heart in His Hands. I can trust that He will use these events over time to shape them into strong, godly men and women.

I am thankful parenting has a lot of practice time built-in. The skinned knees and the spats with siblings were only the warm up. Now we are moving into real life, real hurt, and I want to give my children the tools they need to live well in this broken world.

Pearls of Wisdom: Surviving a Southern Family Gathering

Ingredients of Southern family gatherings

At any Southern family gathering there will be food. The best food you have ever tasted.

There are also likely to be a healthy supply of fireworks.

There will also be football, which means a game will actually be playing on a TV somewhere in the house or people will spend a good amount of time talking about football, or both.

And there will be talking. Lots of talking.

If you are new to the family, you may get trapped in a corner by a well meaning relative who wants to show you the scar from her recent surgery, or to tell you a random detail about a relative you’ve never met. Just smile, nod, and use your manners. (Yes Ma’m and No Ma’m)

Where a family gathers, there will be storytelling.

Whether your family sits on chairs scattered around the porch, around a formal dining room table, or on 5 gallon buckets around a bonfire, story swapping is going to happen. It is important to know two important rules of storytelling in the South.

Rule Number 1: Embellishing is allowed, as long as you keep a few of the key details intact. For example: It really was Bubba’s pond that you caught that fish on, but the size of the fish and the fury of the fight may differ each time you tell it, depending on your audience and beverage you are consuming. If you are drinking anything stronger than sweet tea, the sky’s the limit!

If anyone asks “Did it really happen like that?” it is perfectly acceptable to smile and say “Sure it did,” “Dang straight!”, or a similar variation. Everyone knows a least one part of your story isn’t accurate; they just don’t know which part. And that is exactly the point.

Rule Number 2: The second rule, often learned through painful trial and error, is Do not interrupt the storyteller or suddenly become overly concerned with the accuracy of the facts. This will ruin the flow of the story and Uncle James will begin his story again from the beginning. Or worse, alter the ending so that it lasts longer. A lot longer.

Meeting the Grandmother Rules

If you are being introduced to a Southern family, this is important! Southern Grandmothers have the ability to size you up and decide if you are worth your weight in salt in one glance. You will know immediately if you have been placed on the scales and found wanting. And it is nearly impossible to reverse this decision unless you bless her with beautiful grandbabies down the road.

Besides your own worth, where you are from is also very important. Therefore, it is vital that you know as much as you can about your family history. It is best if you can trace your heritage back before the Mayflower. A true Southern grandmother will spend no less than 15 minutes trying to connect you with someone she knows. It’s an intense game of 6 degrees of separation, and your acceptance into the family is at stake.
Say Yes Ma’m and No ma’m. If you fail at the first rule, this may save your hide.

Family Dynamics – You may be 6’2, but at family reunions you will still be referred to as knee high to a grasshopper. It’s just the way it is. And if you’ve ever made a mistake in your life, that will probably come up at some point.

It is difficult for families to realize that change is possible. We tend to lock people into the way we remember them. But the truth is, drug addicts can become clean, a willful child can grow into a focused, successful adult, and the baby of the family can become a successful entrepreneur.

We do move slower than molasses in the middle of December here in the South, but things don’t have to be frozen in time.

In our own family, for instance, I am known for my lack of direction because of an ill fated bus ride back in 1986. I got on the bus in South Mississippi and instead of going north toward home I took a bus to New Orleans. That has been a quarter of a century ago, and my mama still makes comments about it.

See? Frozen in time. Even though she had no idea where I was and no way to get in touch with me and she was worried sick, Mama really should let it go. After all, I’ve got Google Maps now. Which is helpful until they start using ridiculous directions like “East” or “West.”

I would love to hear your family stories, embellished or not. Leave a comment below and we can raise a glass of sweet tea (or whatever is in that container behind Granny’s kitchen door) together in honor of our families!

Y’all have a great day!

The Writing Life: Toggling Between Worlds

My husband walked in and gave me a strange look.

“Have you been sitting there this whole time?”

It’s not that he has anything against me sitting. Especially in my comfy reading chair surrounded by a stack of books, papers, and a cup of coffee. It’s just unusual for me to stay in one place for very long.

I raised my coffee cup to my lips to give me a few seconds to think of an answer. My coffee was hot when I sat down, but now it was ice-cold.

“It depends on your definition of ‘sitting there’.” I replied with a smile.

My bottom had been firmly planted in that chair, but I had not just been “sitting there.”

During that time I rescued 3 of my characters who were trapped on the side of a mountain.

I also researched how to write a sword fighting scene, since one of my characters was about to face off with an enemy, and I’ve never held a sword in my life.

“Sitting there” sounds so passive, so un-creative. I’d been toggling, and toggling is an action verb.

To “toggle” is to switch from one setting to another. For me, and probably any other fiction writer, it is the act of switching from one world to another.

I’ve been toggling for months now as I’ve worked on this story. Many days I feel like I have one foot in reality and the other foot in the world I’ve created. I try to limit my toggling to my writing time, but sometimes problems and solutions toggle between the worlds as well.

The world I’ve created is beautiful. Hopeland is a combination of my favorite places: Mississippi, the Smokey mountains, and Ukraine. But this beautiful world has a problem. Hopeland is being destroyed and its characters must fight for hope in order to defeat the forces of evil. These characters aren’t strong or powerful, and victory feels impossible.

This started out as an adventure story for my children, but it has grown into so much more.

It is a letter to my younger self about what is really worth pursuing.

It is a guide for my children as they walk through this life.

It is a call for all who read it to fight for hope in spite of circumstances.

It is a fleshing out of my current favorite statement by Dan Allender: “Hope is by far one of the most dangerous commitments we make in life.” and shows that hope is essential to life, and worth every effort to fight for, especially when the outcome seems uncertain.

When I look around at this world, I see the need for hope. I see a generation of children who need to know how to fight for hope, how to have courage to do the right thing at the right time. They need to experience the strength hope gives us to fight the battles in our lives. Through this story, I want to show my children (and other readers) what the fight for hope looks like by describing how a character their age courageously fights. And possibly, when the battle begins for them, they will remember their friends in Hopeland and find the courage to fight for hope in this world.

This will definitely involve many more cold coffee moments as I toggle between worlds in my comfy chair.

The Chapter I Didn’t Want In my Story

Has the story of your life ever taken an unexpected turn and left you sitting in the dark, wondering what happened?

There are chapters in the story of each of our lives that we didn’t ask for, and if given a choice we would have said “No thank you,” for who in their right mind would say yes to trauma, suffering or disaster?

The chapter I didn’t want in my story is my family’s journey with Epilepsy.

Our journey began on a Saturday afternoon in November, 2006. It had been an ordinary day, filled with caring for Anderson, who was 3, and Maggie who had just turned 1. The colorful leaves and the crisp breeze drifting through my open windows made the walls of our home seem stifling. I bundled everyone up to go outside. It was a slow process. I was very pregnant with Ellen, waddling around getting everyone’s socks and shoes together. Then Maggie’s seizure hit and suddenly I was in ambulance, sirens blaring, wondering what happened to my normal day.

Maggie continued to have seizures every few months, and we had no idea what was causing them. When Ellen was 18 months old, she began having seizures as well. Another chapter I didn’t want in my story.

My sweet girls in the middle of this unexpected journey.

After a million questions, hours of research, and keeping a detailed journal, we figured out that heat, internal or external, was the trigger for their seizures. We also found a medication combination that worked well. Ellen has been seizure free for 4 years, and Maggie has been seizure free for 3 years. They don’t remember ever having seizures. It’s such a twist of irony that the biggest trauma I’ve experienced thus far as a parent is non-existent to my children.

But I’m so glad.I don’t want them controlled by fear. Fear eats away at hope. And at 8 and 9 years old, there is a lot to be hopeful about.

I did not feel hopeful in those early years, filled with uncertainty. The triplets of destruction – anger, fear, and despair – had a hold on me for a while.

Though things have settled, our journey hits me full force at the beginning of each school year when I meet with the girls’ teachers. I hope we never have an episode at school, but if it does happen, I want the adults caring for my girls to be as prepared as possible. And I realize that I may also be preparing them to help another child down the road.

I still have days when I wish we weren’t on this journey. I have days when my mind goes too far into the what ifs. The fight for hope keeps me balanced on those days. The fight for hope keeps my focus on what I CAN do.

My goal through this journey has been to allow my children to have as normal a childhood as possible and still be safe. We have learned to modify our activities. We go to the beach in October instead of the heat of summer. We play outside in spring and fall as much as possible. The girls are aware of their limitations, but I never want them to be defined by their limitations.

I want to travel this road well. Although they may not remember having seizures, one day my children may be right where I am, raising children who have seizures. I want to be able to offer them hope for their journey.

I don’t understand exactly how, but God has worked through this unwanted chapter in my life. Over the years, He has woven beauty into the sorrow, reaching places in my heart that would have otherwise gone untouched and unchanged. He has used this journey to build my “fighting for hope” muscles. And I need those muscles to experience joy in the unwanted chapters of my life.

#thefightforhope

Words of Hope

This song brings hope into the depths of my weary heart. I hope it encourages you today!

Finding Hope In Your Story

A good story is powerful. A good story transports us into another place and draws us into the action. A good story brings the characters to life. We adore our favorite ones and want to know everything about them. We want to know their story – past and present. And once we know it, we understand the reasons behind choices they’ve made. Knowing their story gives us compassion for them, even when their choices have been foolish.

But how often do we look at our own story – past and present?

Where does hope fit into your story? Are you stuck in circumstances that feel hopeless? Are you looking forward to the future, feeling hopeful? Or are things just too messed up to even whisper the word hope?

It can be difficult to find hope in certain parts of our stories.

I flat-out avoided certain parts of my story for years out of fear and shame. I wanted to separate myself from those parts of my story, and pretend that they didn’t exist.

Then I read The Healing Path by Dan B. Allender and my thoughts began to shift. I learned that our story (the good, bad AND ugly) shapes the person we are today. If we want to understand why we make the choices we do, or why we think in a certain way, knowing our story will help us understand that. And it just might help us have compassion on ourselves. It might help us understand why we make the same mistakes or why we seek out a certain kind of relationship again and again.

As I read The Healing Path, I stopped straining to get away from my story and began leaning into it. I began to talk about my story with trustworthy friends. An amazing thing happened. No one ran from the room screaming, “What a freak!”. Not one person. Instead, they shared parts of their stories with me. And I began to have hope. Hope that I wasn’t alone in my struggles. Hope that the future could be different from the past. Hope that even the dark parts of my story could be redeemed.

And that hope reached into other areas of my life.

Hope gives us the courage to lean into our the story of our life, search out the redeeming parts, and carry them into the future.

Will you look into the story of your life and “read” it with eyes of compassion?

There is no other story quite like yours, and it is a story worth knowing.

#thefightforhope