This category is my journey through vulnerability and discovering the joys and pains of being authentic.

Toxicity

22 Thursday Aug 2024

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

A toxic environment can be one of the most frustrating experiences. It can wreak havoc on our physical and mental health, or send us into a spiral whether it happens at work, in a marriage, or even in a friendship. Have you noticed that it’s hard to call it out when you are in the middle of it? It’s like being in the eye of a tornado, you know the wind is blowing and the hail is falling but you can’t see the debris being picked up and thrown hundreds of yards, if not miles away. (No, I haven’t been inside a tornado either but the movie “Twister” gave us a good idea of what it could be like.)

As a bi-vocational worship leader, I served eight years in such a severe, toxic work environment that it left me diagnosed with Post-traumatic stress syndrome, also known as PTSD. It didn’t stop there, the entire team was in a state of survival. Some team members left and some stuck through it but every one of us was scarred in some way or another. After my toxic boss left they were replaced with a new style of leadership but just as toxic with a different spin. I went from a misogynistic environment to a severe micro-managing environment. I remember when I realized that my new boss was just a different version of the old boss I felt incredibly sad and overwhelmed. A year after my PTSD diagnosis, I could feel the clouds part a bit. I learned that my response to the experience was normal and that there was a way out. I just had to find the path forward and that path was learning who I was outside of that environment.

In case you are not aware of what a toxic work environment looks like or maybe you think you might be in one but are unsure I did a quick AI search for examples to give you an idea. And wow, AI came up with some doozies. Highlighted below are the ones I chose because I experienced every one of them during my time as a worship leader.

Bullying and Harassment

Verbal Abuse: Frequent yelling, insults, or derogatory comments from colleagues or supervisors.
Discrimination: Unequal treatment based on race, gender, age, religion, or any other personal characteristic.
Sexual Harassment: Unwanted sexual advances, inappropriate comments, or physical contact.

Unrealistic Expectations

Overworking: Consistently demanding long hours without adequate compensation or time off.
Unattainable Goals: Setting targets that are impossible to achieve, leading to constant stress and burnout.
Micromanagement: Excessive oversight where employees have little autonomy or decision-making power.

Gossip and Backstabbing

Rumor-Mongering: Spreading false information or rumors that undermine colleagues’ reputations.
Blame Games: Shifting responsibility for failures onto others to avoid accountability.
Cliques and Favoritism: Favoring certain employees over others, leads to division and resentment.

Poor Communication

Lack of Transparency: Withholding important information or making decisions behind closed doors.
Inconsistent Messaging: Conflicting instructions or changing expectations without clear communication.
Dismissive Attitude: Ignoring or dismissing employees’ concerns, ideas, or contributions.

Mental and Emotional Strain

Stress and Anxiety: An atmosphere that constantly induces stress, leading to anxiety or depression.
Burnout: Chronic exhaustion due to the relentless pressure and lack of support.
Fear of Retaliation: Employees are afraid to speak up about issues due to potential punishment or backlash.

Thankfully, I found a way to push through with therapy, family, and supportive colleagues and friends. I found a layer of myself I had no idea was there; a level of tenacity and an “I’ll show you” mentality that came from deep inside of me. I never want to give credit to those toxic bosses for making me stronger, however, the circumstances truly did. For months following the first experience I cried at the drop of a hat. I was angry at everyone and had a new personality trait of hypersensitivity that made me miserable to deliver any sort of news to. Everything was gloom and doom. If it wasn’t for my family, the community that I had been a part of for 16 years, and the belief that I was called to that position I would have thrown in the towel years before I was abruptly let go this past April.

I tell you this story because instead of living in the woe of it all, I took the situation I was in and decided to share my knowledge of leadership with others to create a culture of healthy and self-aware leaders. I have been leading, coaching, and championing people for over 20 years. Whether teaching swimming, being a mom, running a small business, managing young adults, or leading a large volunteer team, my goal has always been to ensure each individual is supported and equipped to succeed. Since 2017 I have been using a tool called the Enneagram. The Enneagram defined by Clover Leaf, “describes patterns in how people interpret the world and manage their emotions. It describes nine personality types and maps each of these types on a nine-pointed diagram which helps to illustrate how the types relate to one another.”

I use this tool almost daily in my life, in management and coaching. It can be a bit nuanced and overwhelm a novice but if used in a way to understand an individual’s motivation it can be incredibly powerful at building bridges and understanding how people can work alongside each other. It was pivotal in allowing my first toxic boss and me to end on a good note. Once I discovered their enneagram it allowed me to understand where they were coming from. By the end of our time together they were my biggest champion and even apologized for not seeing my potential in the beginning. That is the power of empathy and seeing someone for who they truly are. Unfortunately, the damage had been done to me, and it’s taken years to recover.

More recently I discovered a tool that allows people to put language to the “why” behind their decisions. It speaks more to the root of our emotional intelligence and I believe I will be using it more and more. In January 2024, I heard Mike Foster speak on a thought leadership podcast, Carey Nieuwhof Leadership Podcast. Shout out to Carey, one of the best interviewers of the podcast era. After listening to Mike share his groundbreaking discovery of what he calls The Seven Primal Questions, I immediately bought and read the book. And when I say “read the book,” I listened to the Audiobook and finished within 2 days. I was so intrigued by how straightforward the information was and I experienced many “a-ha moments” after discovering my own Primal Question. So, here’s the breakdown.

We all have an apex emotional need or a primal question we are trying to answer. This question was instilled by either a childhood trauma or the environment we grew up in. When this question is answered with a “yes” we are thriving and living our best life. However, when that question is being answered with a “no” or a “maybe” we go into what Mike calls a “scramble.” We begin to live out a toxic version of ourselves and the negative attributes of our primal question. I know, it sounds too simple but it’s incredible.

For example, my Primal Question is #4, Am I Wanted? When I feel I belong or am being pursued I am the world’s most inclusive soul. I want everyone to feel wanted so that becomes my superpower, ensuring clarity and inclusion is a priority for me. Whether we’re in a crowd, attending a dinner party, or working together on a team, I make it my responsibility to ensure you have a seat at the table and are fully informed. But on the flip side, my kryptonite is rejection, or the fear of missing out (“FOMO” as millennials would call it.) In my scramble, I second-guess my abilities if anyone doesn’t like me. On a small scale, if a colleague doesn’t invite me to lunch I can feel like the world is ending. On a larger scale, if my ideas are consistently ignored or my abilities questioned daily it can cause a debilitating spiral. If I don’t feel seen or heard I can “peacock” and maybe try to sound like I know everything about a topic. It’s not pretty but with this one piece of information, I can take control of my thoughts and emotions and trust that I know I am wanted and that I belong. Looking back on life I can see the many times I have felt wanted and when I didn’t.

Are you curious what all 7 Primal Questions are?
Seven Primal Questions
1. Am I safe?
2. Am I secure (financially)
3. Am I loved?
4. Am I wanted?
5. Am I successful?
6. Am I good enough?
7. Do I have a purpose?

After reading through them can guess which one you relate to most? Taking a page from Superman can you guess what the superpower and kryptonite might be for each one?

I have a dear friend who has been trying to make a major life decision for years. For more than five years, she would get close to the precipice of jumping into a new life but freeze and run back to the muck and mire she was living in. When I told her about the Seven Primal Questions she was very intrigued and read the book too. She actually read the physical book and immediately took the PQ Quiz. When she learned that her question was “#1, Am I safe?” it gave her so much insight into her decision-making skills and why she was so stuck. We met up and I decided to reverse-engineer the question for her. I asked her, “In order to get out of this proverbial muck, what do you need to be safe?” Within 10 days of discovering her PQ, she took the leap she had been waiting for. It was so awesome to watch her take such a brave leap. I mean, come on, that is exciting!!! I am also part of a cohort of other PQ coaches and get to hear story after story of lives changed by such a small step in their coaching.

So what’s your story? Are you sitting in the muck and mire of life? Are you paralyzed with fear or sitting in a scramble not knowing what is up or what is down? Are you a leader who can’t decide if you’re the coach or the player? How would you like to know what your apex emotional need is and help the world around answer that with a “YES!” “Yes,” you are loved, or safe, or successful, or good enough. “Yes,” you have a purpose, are wanted, or have financial security. Or use that information to guide your leadership style?

If you want to discover your Primal Question, take the quiz. If you want to discuss with me how to get out of your scramble and lead with empathy, book a discovery call. I am so excited to work with you and help you dig deep to live your best life yet!

New Start

17 Saturday Aug 2024

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

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I started blogging in 2010 because I love to write. Writing has always been a way of communicating my thoughts, dreams, and fears. When I was a teenager, raging with questions and feelings, it was how I would express myself to my dad when we would not see eye to eye. I could not approach conflict well in those days, and this helped us both. He, in turn, would write me kind cards and notes for my birthdays and holidays.

I called my blog, “Life On The Backburner” because I was notorious for not finishing things. Back in the day, when it came to finishing goals, I was a great starter but lost steam when life got busy and easily got derailed. I love the idea of a new thing or a new beginning, but when the novelty wears off… let’s just say I may have had a few unfinished art projects or half-written journals in my closet growing up. The motivation to begin is always fresh and new, but the end has always been a struggle.

When I began “Life on the Backburner,” I couldn’t stop this pressure, this need or desire to put these thoughts out to the “world” and let people see into my heart and learn. I wanted to learn from my mistakes, rejoice in the triumphs, and share what I have learned in hopes that others would journey with me. To be vulnerable with the world is not easy and putting myself out there many times would even get my feelings hurt greatly.

But vulnerability also led me to empathy and through empathy I have experienced some of life’s greatest gifts, like carrying children for other families. Sixteen years ago, I ventured into surrogacy and found myself attached to an agency that matched me and a couple who had been trying for a long time to create a family. I birthed a gorgeous little girl for them on the first embryo transfer. I’ll spare you the details for another day, but safe to say, it was a magical experience, and they wanted to do it again. We gave it a go a year later, and lo and behold, both embryos took, and I carried fraternal twins. It was not an easy feat, but a fantastic experience.

So there I was, five pregnancies, and six kids later my body was a little beat up. It was my first time carrying twins and to top the experience off, my first C-section. I’ll never forget the doctor’s words in the delivery room with Baby A head down but Baby B sideways. He said, “Well, we could try for a vaginal delivery, but there’s a chance of you having a vaginal delivery and a C-section.” My surro family turned to me to see what I would like to do, and I said, “Yeah, we’re not recovering twice.” However, I had not prepared myself for a C-section recovery, and it would be a longer road back than I expected.

To say I was frustrated with the slow recovery and the baby weight that would not seem to come off was an understatement. The C-section left me feeling depressed with a body that felt broken. I was determined to turn the ship around, but I wasn’t sure what to do. At the time of my recovery, P90X by Tony Horton was pretty popular. A friend of mine had successfully completed the 90-day regimen and let me borrow the 6-disc DVD set. Something inside me wanted to see if I could complete it too. I decided to go for it and document the experience. For some twisted reason, when the fear of failing is on the line, my motivation seems to skyrocket.

After 90 consecutive days, I completed P90X and was so proud of myself. I realized that the things on the back burner could come front and center when I put my mind to it. P90X was less about lifting weights or doing pull-ups and more about completing something that I said I would do. The next thing to accomplish was a full roll-up in my Pilates class. If you are unfamiliar, you must lay flat and roll yourself up to a sitting position. It was so hard at the beginning; the twin birth caused me to endure a C-section, and it’s safe to say my abdominal muscles were completely jacked up. I had to have my feet held or my knees up to get to a seated position. Week after week, month after month, and a year later… Success!

Present day, I am a mom of three biological children and a three-time surrogate. It was such a privilege to carry those littles; my own and the ones I was an incubator for. Carrying those humans was a feat, and pushing my body to great lengths was another way to prove to myself that I could do what I set out to do.

As for the blog, it became a place to drop my thoughts and talk about life. I wrote about the trials of our newlywed era or the lovely restaurants we stumbled upon on date nights. I remember writing heartfelt words when ISIS was committing heinous acts toward their captives. In 2015, when I lost my father, this blog became a cathartic place to share the grief of losing my father at only 67 years old. I have gone back to those writings, time and again, to recall where we were and who he was in my memories. I still miss him greatly.

Today, I begin a new chapter in my life, I am choosing to do something for myself because, over the years, I have done almost everything for my family, namely, my children. I put a traditional career on the back burner to stay home for 14 years so they could have a stable upbringing and a season where their mom was fully present in their life. During that time, I ran at-home businesses before beginning a career in worship ministry and higher education. These jobs allowed me to become a leader in my own right as well, but the sacrifice of working two jobs simultaneously was not easy.

I am starting my own business, which means the back burner can no longer hold pans simmering to the brim, waiting for me to pull them forward to season and stir. I have been able to learn a lot about myself and I know how this Kelly will respond to life’s twists and turns. She will respond with resilience, tenacity, and hope. I’m no longer the girl who gets derailed from one little thing or lets the world around her shape how she sees herself. This girl has spent too much time with goals and dreams on the back burner. It is not only a time to complete my own goals but to help others go after their own.

I hope you join me on this journey as I forge a path for speaking and coaching. I plan to write about where life takes me and the lessons learned through living life in its fullest possible sense. I want to share the joys and sorrows that come. Maybe you are in a place where you have placed yourself on the back burner, and it’s time to pull your pots forward and add some seasoning and salt to them. If that’s you, let’s do it together. And you know what? Over 10 years later, I can still do a full roll-up.

PS. Take a moment and poke around my new webpage. I am so excited to work with individuals who are seeking to know the single question that drives their decisions and the motivations behind it all.

FREEDOM

04 Thursday Jul 2024

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

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Tags

4th-of-july, faith, freedom, god, JESUS

Right now many of us take for granted the freedom we have. Freedom to vote or not to vote. To rent a home or to buy. To get married or not to get married. To have children or not to have children. To attend a private school or a public school. To drive a car or take the bus. Most of us can walk out of our homes to a job we love or maybe dislike. We have freedom of choice even down to the toothpaste selection at our local store. But many in our world do not.

Today, as we celebrate the 4th of July; America’s day of independence from a tyrannical government almost 250 years ago, may we remember who we are.

A nation of ingenuity, resourcefulness, and prosperity. A nation that has come to the rescue of other nations and protected ours with vigor. May we also open our eyes that our country became prosperous and fruitful on the backs of black men and women stripped of their freedom?

We own land that was once occupied by people who some could argue took care of it better than we have. We can’t turn back time but maybe we can take note and offer empathy, grace, kindness, and equality to those this country has wronged.

If you are a bible reader, like me, the Gospels talk a lot about freedom from slavery, and setting the captives free. We can argue that God has the power to do such things but I strongly believe that God expects humans to be the ones who set the captives free as well. Especially, prosperous and free humans such as the majority of Americans.

I believe it is important for those who fall into this category to look outside themselves and see the need for freedom in our country and the greater world. For us who are privileged to stop whining about who is doing what to whom, but to take action. How do we do this? Here are a few ideas I have found helpful in my life.

Give
Volunteer
Read
Speak Up
Befriend
Vote

Give
Give to organizations that fight injustices such as human trafficking, gun violence, homelessness, food insecurity, and genocide, Just to name a few.

Volunteer

Volunteer at local food banks, shelters, and programs that support children’s literacy, pregnancy care and family planning, convalescent homes, and many more that my mind can’t recall quickly right now.

Read

Read authors that don’t look like you, talk like you, or even live like you. Read authors of color and from walks of life that you have never found yourself in. This is one of the best ways to have empathy for the injustices of the world when we can proverbially walk in someone’s shoes by seeing their point of view.

Speak Up

Speak up for those who are being treated wrongly in your neighborhood, your country, and the world.

Befriend

Befriend those that you do not understand. This is one of the hardest ones because it’s uncomfortable. I live in a community with a large population of Chaldean and Arabic families. Sometimes their way of life frustrates me but over the years I have found myself empathizing with these beautiful people who have had to leave their homes and live somewhere foreign. We’ve exchanged food and life tips, and I’ve seen their children go from scared little toddlers to lovely humans contributing to their community.

Vote

If you are a citizen of this country, it is one of the only ways your voice can be heard. If you have become a pessimist and think voting is a waste of time. Do not do it for the outcome, do it to act on the freedom you have that may one day be taken away. There is no guarantee we will stay a free world forever and the only way we ensure that freedom is to exercise it.

These are not perfect or easy solutions but if each of us consistently seeks to do at least one consistently, the world could be a better place, one step at a time. As we let off fireworks and gather with loved ones may we ponder these things. Today, it may be hard to celebrate this country we live in, she’s been a little off her game lately. All in all, may we recognize what she has to offer, be grateful for where we live, and spread freedom to others.

Happy Birthday, America!

This is dedicated to my adult children: May you see a world that has the potential for healing and freedom for centuries to come.

Running

16 Sunday Jun 2024

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

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5k, 5k, brenebrown, community, encouragement, exercise, half-marathon, health, lifeadvice, marathon, marathon-training, positivity, running, sprint-triathlon, training

In my head, I am a runner, in real life, not so much. I ran track in high school and enjoyed being the only mid-distance girl in a small high school. I was drug around the Coachella desert by the boys and I thoroughly enjoyed being able to keep up with them. This allowed me to briefly hold a record in the women’s 800-meter race and qualify for CIF. But if I wasn’t running with a group of people, it was torture.

Over the years I’ll get the running bug and can run 4 miles without stopping. I once ran a sprint marathon with my 2-time, Marathon running sister. The race consisted of a ½ mile swim, a 24-mile bike ride, and a 7k (just over 4 miles). My sister noticed I was struggling the last half mile and joined me to the end. It is a special memory from over 10 years ago.

As the years have passed, I have worked out somewhat consistently with Pilates, walking, and some weight training. Then one day, I’ll get inspired to run. I’ll start with a song, and then maybe I’ll run the 2nd mile of my walk and after a few weeks, I’m running the full 3 miles. Then, life happens; I get sick or off my schedule and exercise goes to the wayside for a stint and I start all over. 45 years on this earth and this might just be my rhythm.

Then, life happens, I get sick or off my schedule and exercise goes to the wayside for a stint and I start all over

Last week though, I experienced a life analogy that I have been turning over in my brain ever since. I was at a conference in Santa Barbara at a campus up in the hills of Montecito, near Oprah’s famous estate and where Harry and Megan have been rumored to settle in the States. It’s a gorgeous and lush landscape with hills and trees making one feel like they are in a secluded campground. The coolest part is at certain locations, one can see the beaches of Santa Barbara.

On the last day of the conference, they held a 5k. I had not run 3 miles consecutively in over a year. Up until the morning of the run, a few of my colleagues said they would walk/run it with me. I was pumped to chat with the gals and see the scenery. As we gathered around for the start, all 3 of them decided they were going to run the entire thing. I was deflected at first because we had said we would “walk/run”.

A few moments before the start, my dear friend Tracy, whom I had met during my high school era, happened to walk up to the start line just as I was feeling frustrated. We had discovered each other’s existence at the conference on the first day and had been able to meet up and catch up with each other the day before. Her presence was greatly welcomed. She and I briefly hugged and talked about our approach to the race and I was so relieved to hear she was planning to walk/run it. I had a buddy!

We took off on, what is called, the Westmonster; 3 miles of up and down hills, with the last mile ascending a 14% grade that makes your calves cry out in pain. We started off strong, deciding to run as much as we could before walking. Each time there was a hill, we assessed if it was worth it or not. The first mile and a ½ we ran without stopping, taking advantage of the downhills as we gained speed taking us through the straightaways. We chatted a bit and there were even a few moments when Tracy wanted to walk and I coached her saying, “Let’s get to the white tent then walk.” I thought, “Who am I?” Suddenly I was the coaching and encouraging type.

Suddenly I was the coaching and encouraging type.

When we entered the 3rd mile, it began with the beast hill. We dug in and kept pushing while our calves and quads begged us to stop. We walked the hill but didn’t let up our pace. The best part was the downhill slope that followed propelling us into the last ½ mile. When we reached 2 ⅕ miles we were shocked at how fast it was going. We had decided in the beginning that if we walked the entire thing, the longest it would take us was an hour and if we finished around 45 minutes we would be pleased with ourselves. At the 2 ½ mile mark, we realized that time was flying and we were actually going to finish!! If you have run a marathon I beg you not to laugh at our excitement of completing 3 miles. To each his own, right??

The last stretch was around the track. Tracy turned on a fun tune and we ran together to the finish. I felt a surge of energy and sprinted the last 100 meters with my running colleagues cheering Tracy and me on to the finish. Our time, was 40 minutes and 38 seconds! We felt pretty badass. We hugged and took selfies before heading back to our cabins to get dressed and packed up for the trek home. I was on a serious high. One, I got to run with someone who had been around to cheer me on during those years in track, and two, we had finished better than we anticipated. The endorphins were pumping really good.

The endorphins were pumping really good

The next day, I was still on a running high and thought, “I’m a runner now!” I got off work that afternoon, laced up my sneakers, and decided to run two miles without stopping. I live in a relatively flat neighborhood and the temperature was a balmy 75 degrees with a slight breeze. The conditions seemed perfect. I started jogging away from my house into the neighborhood and about 2 songs in, I realized this was going to be a long 2 miles; my legs felt like lead and my joints were not enjoying it at all.

I completed the first mile and had to walk. Just for a song, as soon as the song ended, I picked up the pace again. I was so confused as to why this was so hard. It was two miles on completely flat terrain, it should be easy! Why was it not easy? Suddenly I had a clear correlation to life.

Yesterday, I was surrounded by community. Not only my friend Tracy, literally next to me, but the energy of others cheering us on from the sidelines, ringing their cowbells while handing out water bottles and telling us what we had left to finish. Each hill, with its challenge, always had a downhill to pick up speed and momentum that always got us through the straightaways. There was also something about having my friend with me who needed extra encouragement, suddenly I was the cheerleader and helping her push through the pain. But on my flat two-mile run, it was just me and a boring terrain.

Isn’t that similar to life? We want the “easy” path, the path of least resistance, but we don’t realize that it can be just as hard and less fulfilling. After mulling this around for a few days, I have landed on three things that I think we need in life to keep us going;

Mentors and community
Ups and Downs
A Good Playlist

We want the “easy” path, the path of least resistance

Mentors and Community

We need people in life who will cheer us on but also call us out. I have a sweet friend who I talk to every day and we share our health journeys, motherhood woes, and wins with an occasional rant about our husbands dropping the ball. She calls me out when I am whining, being lazy, or just not putting my best foot forward in life. I have a group of girlfriends who meet on Sunday to watch Andy Stanley’s sermons and share a meal to replace Church for the moment. I was recently fired from a church position and Sunday has been a hard day for me. These ladies have come alongside me and I have come alongside them in a season of transition for each of us. From my family to my colleagues, I can look around 360 degrees and find a community that supports a side of me.

Ups and Downs

I am a whiner. When life gets “hard” I complain. Loudly. My dear husband of 25 years is always keen to listen and I adore him for that. As I was running my flat 2 miles last week, the hardest part was the dullness of the terrain. It was just straight and hard. In life, we tend to complain when there are down moments or hard moments but without those, we would never recognize the up moments. Brene Brown says, in the Gifts of Imperfection, “When we lose our tolerance for discomfort, we lose joy.” When running, if there was no hill to conquer, there would be no downhill glide. Yes, there are times when the uphills feel long and never-ending, but that’s where community comes in. Cheering you on from the sidelines; handing you that water bottle or a mentor along the way letting you know what’s around the corner. We can feel the ups so much more vibrantly when we experience the downs.

It makes me think about when I recently lost my ministry position, the entire worship team hosted a lovely lunch and spent an hour affirming me and my family. They even gifted us a night out at our favorite restaurant. It was a tragic thing to be fired but what came out of it was an opportunity to be celebrated. Moments like this can’t happen if you keep the sting of pain at bay.

A Good Playlist

Don’t underestimate the power of a good playlist. When I was a kid my dad would say, “Garbage in, garbage out.” I grew up where we only listened to positive media and faith-based music. I would roll my eyes and at times sneak in a station or artist that was taboo. But as a grown woman, and a mother of three adult children, I have to confess that it holds true. Positive things going into your body, mind, and soul will bear like fruit. I try not to watch scary movies, listen to negative media, and when it comes to music, find genres and artists that are uplifting. I have seen time and again when people are not very positive it is often because they ingest negative media or don’t take care of their bodies. It is all interconnected.

So before I even began my 2-mile trek, my problems began because I didn’t set up a playlist prior to heading out. I picked some random “pop playlist” that boasted techno and rap music. My two least favorite genres. One song after another was the most obnoxious lyrics, mainly singing about “her booty,” which led me to keep messing with it. It was slowing me down and frustrating me. When I run with a curated playlist or songs I know and love, the time goes faster. I look forward to the next song and the pavement doesn’t feel like death below my feet. That goes for housecleaning, road trips, homework, or any other task that feels boring or daunting.

As I write this blog entry, I am sitting in front of the Caribbean Ocean in Cancun, Mexico. We are here celebrating our 25th anniversary. We’ve had a lot of downs this year but this moment is an up. I have worked out 3 times today because there was a group class in the pool and a gym onsite that I couldn’t pass up. These people might think I’m an exercise junky, even though at home, I am far from it. It was my sister who heard about the soft opening, allowing us to experience a 5-star resort in Cancun at half price. All 3 things coming together; Community, Ups and Downs, and yes, even a Good Playlist allowed us to enjoy this moment. Moments like this can give us the ability to sustain this life we live.

Whether you run or walk this path of life, I hope you will find these simple things helpful to be mindful of. Oh, and I’m looking for a running buddy.

I would love to hear what you would add to this list. Feel free to comment below.

Arrows (Part 2 of 2)

09 Sunday Jun 2024

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

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arrows, college, collegegrad, education, emilypfreeman, family, grad, high-school, highered, life, life change, lifetransition, parkinsons, transition

During the summer of 2015, when Klarissa was beginning high school, my dad Larry fell and broke his neck. He suffered from Parkinson’s and due to complications of this disease, his bones had become brittle. After eight years of battling Parkinson’s, his current medication caused paranoia and nightmares. During one of his vivid nightmares, he fell out of bed hitting his head on a side table causing him to break his C4-C7 vertebrates paralyzing him from the neck down. My dad lived for a week after his fall, and he bravely made the choice to be removed from life support, not wanting our family to suffer through long-term care. I will always be grateful that our family had the gift of being able to say “goodbye” and be with our dad for his last breath.

I will always be grateful that our family had the gift of being able to say “goodbye” and be with our dad for his last breath.

Klarissa, age 10, and Poppi (my dad) devouring ribs on the 4th of July

As I mentioned earlier, my dad was an alum of PLNU, class of 1970, and the year of his death would have been his 45th college reunion. It broke our hearts to think that he would not be able to attend. As the time came for the reunion, my mom wanted to participate -but not alone, so I offered to escort her. The reunion was held in mid-November and in attendance were some incredible colleagues that my dad had gone to school with. One was my Uncle Jan along with a few others who I had met before. A certain alum that I spent the afternoon chatting with was Jim Johnson who happened to be my sister’s father-in-law. He was known for being a devoted psychology professor at PLNU who really saw his students and championed them into what was next.

The reunion took place in a newer building we had never been in before. My mom and I were amused to discover that it was built on what had been the grassy lawn where my sister’s wedding reception was held, circa 1999. None of this seemed to matter at the time, but unbeknownst to me, it was a step toward what God had for our family. As I was leaving, Jim expressed how much he enjoyed conversing with me during the luncheon, and with a kind twinkle in his eye asked, “How can we have conversations like this more often?” and I quipped, “Sir, I need to get a job here.” He looked at me and said emphatically, “Ok, let’s work on that!”

Pictured from left to Right: Group Photo- class of 1970, my mom and I on the balcony of Draper Hall.

The following January, my best friend Molly and I were having lunch with a shared acquaintance to finalize plans for a women’s event for the church we all attended. She seemed a bit fidgety during our planning session and at the end, looked at us sheepishly and said, “I am not going to be able to help you with the actual event. My husband and I are moving to LA, and I’m quitting my job.” Her job was currently the Campus Visit Assistant in the Office of Admissions at… you guessed it… PLNU!! My immediate thought was, “I want her job!” I called Dr. Johnson later that day, told him the news, and asked if he could help me navigate this opportunity. He coached me on how to go about an interview. The job hadn’t even been posted yet, so all I could do was watch and wait.

The position was posted, and I quickly applied. I later learned that my friend Molly, the Director of Housing at PLNU, along with Dr. Johnson, would drop by weekly to ask the Admissions leadership, “Have you hired Kelly yet?” I was slightly mortified but also flattered. At the end of February, I finally got an interview. I was so nervous since this was my first interview since college. My recent job was acquired because the current preschool director knew me, knew my credentials, and offered the job pending I complete an Infant Certification. The preschool position was a great transition into full-time work, but after six months, I realized I didn’t enjoy the long days in the preschool setting, working from 7:30 am until 6 pm. However, the newPLNU job offered flexibility, paid time off, and the possibility of substantial discounts on my children’s education at a school costing over $60,000 a year! “No pressure,” I thought.

When the day of my interview came, I spent a few hours on the phone with Jim, who coached me on how to present myself in the best light since I needed to gain administration skills. I did have some background knowledge of customer service from working at the Ritz Carlton during college and my salon experience along with time as a multi-level marketer. My lineage of PLNU alumnus was a definite bonus, but I was uncertain how far that would get me. My husband coached me and taught me how to navigate some of the computer skills I would need, but he assured me that all of that could be taught and to “woo them with my personality.”

he assured me that all of that could be taught and to “woo them with my personality.”

I was instructed to make my way to Draper Hall and proceed downstairs where I would meet Wyatt, my potential supervisor. The university was a 35-minute drive from my house, without traffic. I took advantage of the car ride to pray and gather my thoughts with ample time to risk sweating in my blouse from sheer terror that I had no idea what I was doing. As I walked inside Draper Hall, I stopped dead in my tracks. It dawned on me that this was the very building where my dad’s reunion was held and, 10 feet from where I stood, was the very spot where Jim had stated he would help me find a job. A supernatural peace washed over my body, and I said to myself, “Holy crap, this is my job!”

A supernatural peace washed over my body, and I said to myself, “Holy crap, this is my job!”

With this knowledge, I floated downstairs to a small conference room where I met six-foot-four-inch Wyatt. He was 12 years my junior with experience as a student ambassador and now, having obtained a college degree, was thirsty to show the next campus visit assistant the ropes of admissions. His boss, Shannon, sat next to him. She had a dry sense of humor but was warm, and neither one made me feel too nervous. They began to ask me questions that I cannot recall except for one. Wyatt asked, “I am curious if you struggle saying no?” Apparently, it was a common pain point for Wyatt and his “people-pleasing” ways. I smiled and without hesitation said, “No. I have become very comfortable with saying no.” (I have three kids, remember.) I felt he was happy with my answer. Wyatt later shared with me that I had been very animated, and I might have even cried while talking about my dad, which was quite embarrassing. I waited a brutal 6 weeks for the call to come offering me the position of Campus Visit Coordinator. They had changed the position from assistant to coordinator because I would be taking a bit off of Wyatt’s plate.

To say that my start in Admissions was smooth sailing would be a total lie. My commute was over an hour each way. I was terrified of being late, so I made sure to take my eldest daughter to school at 6:45 am then jet off to Point Loma to arrive at 8 am. If either of us were late it set off a trajectory of tardiness that neither could afford. Concerning my admin skills, I was only proficient in Facebook, Google Chrome, and email. I found a typing test widget on Google and spent time at the front desk testing my typing skills. They were atrocious.

One time Wyatt asked me to dictate something while he was standing behind me. Let’s just say any headway I gained with my typing skills turned to mush with someone breathing down my neck. He told me a few years later that he had to go through every single Google calendar event I had created because I had capitalized the first two letters of every word. I still struggle with that! But his question to me, “Can you say no?” definitely has proved to be one of my strengths. PLNU is very popular with visits and sometimes we are full or a parent asks “for the moon” with only a 24-hour notice and the answer has to be “no.” Even with these hiccups and setbacks, eventually, Wyatt and I got our groove.

Wyatt and I with our first ambassador end-of-year party, Wyatt and I at our first CIVSA Conference.

However, my daughter wasn’t quite catching her stride. She struggled with math, and her grades tanked the minute she got overwhelmed. If she was behind in a class it would cause her to freeze and not ask for help. One day, I was frustrated with it all and upon recollection of my high school era, had committed to myself I would never take away a school activity as punishment from my kids. Theater and social activities were what motivated Klarissa out of bed every morning, and I never wanted to take away her “why.” So, I decided to take makeup away from her. Jon and I told her that not until her grades were back up and late work turned in could she have her makeup back. Well, that did it. She began to dig in again but not after putting on mascara which she found under the car seat or maybe lip gloss borrowed from a friend at school. Soon her grades were on the incline. As a parent, it can be delightful to discover when a discipline truly resonates with your child.

Every year that passed in high school was filled with tears and joy, especially with Kaiya and Jackson entering on her heels. Klarissa was a part of AVID, which helped her with organization skills, and we worked with the school to offer her learning assistance after discovering she had testing anxiety and issues with spatial relations. For example, if you gave her a math question she had just solved, she could not solve it again if it was presented differently. It was frustrating for her and us. She took on swimming alongside Kaiya, then pivoted to singing in the choir after a scary bout with pneumonia. She performed in school plays and was given the iconic role of Katherine from the Broadway version of Newsies with Jackson performing alongside his sister as Crutchie. As the senior year approached, we made incredible strides. She would graduate with a 3.2 GPA from her high school. The minimum for PLNU was 2.8 and the average was 3.9. She was thriving in theater and showcasing her vocals in musical theater. She applied, and I honestly felt like I couldn’t breathe until we knew what her fate would be.

Klarissa as Katherine in “Newsies” This role would give her the drive to seek the Broadway stage.

On a Friday afternoon in December, my boss gathered the admissions staff together and presented me with Klarissa’s decision letter. When I opened it and learned the relieving news that she was accepted, everyone began cheering and popping poppers in celebration with me. I was so bewildered by the love and support everyone had shown our family. Jon and I decided to give the Acceptance Packet to Klarissa as an early Christmas present. With her siblings on the couch next to her, she opened the envelope, nearly holding her breath and reading the letter to herself. She looked up at us, tears glistening in her eyes exclaiming over and over, “I got accepted? I got accepted?!?!” Her little sister squeezed her hard knowing what a feat it had been to get in.

She looked up at us, tears glistening in her eyes exclaiming over and over, “I got accepted? I got accepted?!?!”

Klarissa didn’t stop there. She knew that Broadway was her end goal and learned the music department offered generous scholarships with the prospect of covering her room and board. We reached out to a friend of the family who was a skilled vocal coach and PLNU alum to help her prepare for the vocal audition. A few weeks later we received news that she received a scholarship covering two-thirds of her room and board. It was truly a dream come true.

Clockwise left to right: Graduation day, AVID pinning ceremony, Orientation at PLNU.

Klarissa graduated in 2019, so as you may guess, some of her college experience and acting opportunities were interrupted during COVID-19. However, she persevered and found ways to be creative by auditioning for film projects with current students and students of nearby universities. She became a tutor for a program called LEAP, an incredible program created for students who need assistance transitioning from high school to college. Klarissa had been a member of this program upon entering her college freshman year. It gave her the confidence she needed to complete that year with a 3.6 GPA!! And people say college is harder than high school?!

Reflecting on the tears and joys of Klarissa’s high school journey and her acceptance into college, I am in awe that this chapter of her life has come to an end. This season allowed me and her weekly lunch dates, with Kaiya joining the following year. They invited me to dorm hangouts and more lunch dates. In Klarissa’s Junior year of college, Jackson joined and, like his sister, received a generous music scholarship for drums that assisted with his room and board. Klarissa and her little brother sang in the same choir, and he played the Bodhran drum in her senior recital. Despite her theater opportunities dwindling, Klarissa had a wealth of experiences as a member of the 50-voice choir called the Concert Choir. They traveled to places like Hawaii and Europe, with the European tour allowing her to visit over seven countries. After finishing the choir tour in Rome, she met up with Kaiya, and together they continued their adventure in Greece. Wow, it’s kind of ridiculous!

Klarissa’s Senior recital, she had to perform arias in French, Italian, and German. Jackson joined her on the Irish Bodhran drum as she sang Gaelic songs to celebrate her Irish heritage.

I could go on and on and on with stories of God’s goodness that showed up these past 8 years, but I could also list for you many frustrations and heartaches that occurred. Like the time Klarissa had to work a closing shift her freshman year at Chick-fil-A causing her to miss a school dance. Thinking there would be many college dances, no one could have foreseen COVID-19 would make one’s social life come to a screeching halt. Even her theater career came to a temporary end. That same year Klarissa struggled with depression, which led her to miss several Spanish classes. Her professor, showing little empathy, dropped her from the course, forcing her to repeat it. When life returned to some normalcy in her Senior year of college, she started working early morning shifts at Starbucks, causing her to again give up opportunities in theater productions since her shifts began at 4 a.m. It also took her five years to graduate for various reasons, testing her patience as she neared the end of her college journey but she didn’t give up.

I could go on and on and on with stories of God’s goodness that showed up these past 8 years

I share this story as a reminder to myself and my beautiful daughter that we can carry a dream to fruition, but we can never predict the journey we’ll take to reach the finish line. I grew up around Christians who, when offering advice or seeking direction in their life, said things like, “I’m praying for God’s will,” “I’m waiting to hear God’s direction for my life,” or “I will pray that you hear God’s voice in this process.” None of these are particularly wrong to say, but after reflecting on almost a decade’s journey of seeking a path for my kids to attend and graduate college, and after lots of prayers sent up, there was no flashing billboard sign from God that said, “Go this way!” Looking back now, I see a pattern that Emily P. Freeman states best. “We don’t need to look for answers but look for the arrows.” If one can identify the “arrows” that point them toward the next step and muster the courage to follow them it can make decisions a little less stressful.

If one can identify the “arrows” that point them toward the next step and muster the courage to follow them it can make decisions a little less stressful.

Jon and I leaned into those arrows together. We leaned into arrows that I wholeheartedly believe God placed for us. God used people, connections, friendships, stories of legacy, and even grief to guide us. I have never been a fan of “Let go and let God” when it’s used just to wait for things to happen. I think one of our greatest gifts as humans is intuition and free will. Instead, use the statement to resist manipulating and muscling a situation and follow the arrows. I kind of imagine it like an animation: imagine there are pavers on a walking path leading you forward in life. When you step on the correct paver, it lights up, but if you step in the wrong direction it stays dull. Your instincts become quicker and better each time you step the “right way.” The good news? If you choose a dull paver, the world will not fall apart, it just may mean it will take you a little longer to get where you are going.

Being on the other side of this story I can look at the unpredictability of the journey and see the people and moments that shaped us, for better or for worse. I’m proud of our creativity as parents to help each kid graduate high school, and how we didn’t let working full-time disrupt our close-knit family dynamic. We made weeknight meals a priority and kept our Friday-Night-Family-Movie-Night tradition when possible. That period taught our kids independence since the new “world of mom working” didn’t allow me to drop what I was doing and bring them their lunch or forgotten homework.

Through it all, I am forever grateful for how this journey allowed me wonderful opportunities: the opportunity to learn skills in leadership and ways to use my gift of hospitality and entrepreneurship; the opportunity to interact with my kids more in the season of college than in high school and the ultimate gift of seeing my daughter walk across the stage to receive her college diploma. I reveled in seeing Klarissa showcase her grit as she took each obstacle and jumped over it or busted through it. After all of this, we both now know to trust that God will place arrows in our path. It’s up to us to follow the arrows and see where the next adventures take us.

Left to right: Professional grad photo, shaking PLNU President Dr. Brower’s hand, the grandparents and our family

She did it! Graduation Day, May 4th, 2024

In dedication to my dad; Larry, aka Poppi. You would be so proud of your Klaire. Thank you for instilling in us a love for Jesus, a love for others around us, and above all, a love for your beloved PLNU.

Arrows (Part 1 of 2)

02 Sunday Jun 2024

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

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college, collegegrad, education, family, SAHM, university, writing

Recently, I experienced a full-circle moment that has stayed with me. Just a few weeks ago, my eldest daughter, Klarissa, graduated from her dream college, Point Loma Nazarene University (PLNU). Located in sunny San Diego, just 25 miles from our home, PLNU is a private, faith-based institution that holds great significance for our family.

When Klarissa was in 7th grade, she excitedly proclaimed her hope of attending PLNU. This dream was deeply meaningful, as my dad, Larry, attended PLNU on a track scholarship, recruited by my mom’s brothers who also went there. After graduating, my dad became a Nazarene minister and spent his life encouraging the youth in his church to attend his alma mater. All four of his children attended PLNU with 3 out of the 4 meeting their spouse there. My husband, Jon, also attended PLNU in anticipation of my attendance.

My parents, my siblings, all of our spouses, and our children.

When Klarissa announced her plans, it caught us off guard. Jon was bitter about the debt from his degree, and tuition had more than doubled since the early 2000s. For me, it stirred pangs of regret, as I never finished college. I vividly remembered my 21-year-old self sitting on a sidewalk stoop, my heart sinking as I read a letter from PLNU.

It was the summer of my Junior year, and we were coming up on our first wedding anniversary. The campus was quiet as all the students had gone home. We lived on campus thanks to the university’s marital housing that allowed married students to live there year-round. Sitting on the curb with the San Diego sun shining down on me, I opened an official envelope from the Records office with some trepidation. The letter stated, in so many words, that I wasn’t allowed to return in the fall due to failing grades. I wasn’t totally surprised, but a rush of shame swept over me anyway. I had no “why” to be there except that our student status allowed me and Jon affordable student housing.

I had never wanted to attend college. I had dreamt of being a cosmetologist, but my parents insisted college followed high school. Neither of our parents was in the place to help us financially, so despite the letter, it was an easy decision for me to quit school and get a job to support Jon in his business/computer software degree. This proved to be the right move because he was able to acquire a job with a start-up company called Innfinity Hospitality Solutions before he even graduated. 10 years later, he became part owner.

Once we made that decision, I began working full-time in the salon industry as a salon coordinator allowing this trend-obsessed girl to get her hair done for free and make a wage that gave us the ability to purchase a new car and pay for Jon’s school and rent. We lived meagerly, but we had all we needed. However, within a few months of starting my position, we learned I was pregnant with our first child. We were ecstatic and terrified.

We lived meagerly, but we had all we needed.

Jon would enter his senior year of college with the anticipation of becoming a dad. Jon worked hard: going to work at 5:30 am and putting in his intern hours with the small start-up. From 8:30 am to 2:30 pm, he would attend classes, then quickly jump on his motorcycle and ride a short 10 minutes to work a hotel desk shift on Shelter Island. He would study during slow moments at the front desk, and I would read his literature assignments – summarizing the plot just before class, so he could pass his lit quizzes.

I went into labor with Klarissa on a Friday morning in 2001 while Jon was in class. The contractions began to “get real” at about 9 am. One of our closest college buddy’s dad was the head of security, and he told us that when I went into labor to “call him” – that he would personally get Jon out of class. (This is before cell phones mind you.) I called Archie in Public Safety, and he hopped in his vehicle to Bony Hall where Jon was blissfully unaware in Statistics class that his wife was in the beginning stages of labor. Archie tapped Jon on the shoulder and said, “It’s time!” I don’t recall the moment Jon walked in the door, but I do know that I had been laboring for over an hour and had been able to take a shower, get myself dressed, and pack for the hospital. Almost exactly 12 hours later, our beautiful baby girl was in our arms weighing a hefty 8 lbs 8 oz.

Suddenly, we blinked, and there we were, standing in the kitchen with our middle schooler already contemplating college. When we decided to have kids (which happened much faster than we anticipated), we knew that one of us would stay home with them. Obviously, with how the college scene went, that person was me. I worked part-time while taking care of Klarissa, and we were able to stay in student housing for 2 more years. Four months after Klarissa was born, we conceived our 2nd child. Again, we were ecstatic but a bit terrified since we did not anticipate this so soon. A friend offered to help care for Klarissa, so I could work full-time again to bring in extra money. Just two weeks into my full-time status, the salon I had worked at for 2 years abruptly closed. The entire San Diego chain went bankrupt and left hundreds of stylists out of a job.

Suddenly, we blinked, and there we were, standing in the kitchen with our middle schooler already contemplating college.

That tragedy turned into an opportunity because I could gather unemployment with my full-time status. Two months after the salon closed, we were due to have our second daughter, Kaiya. My doctor informed me that I was eligible to receive maternity leave for 8 weeks. It was an answer to prayer as we continued to navigate this adult life as young new parents. In the spring of 2002, the days were full of joy since we brought 9lb 6oz Kaiya into the world. She was afraid of new people and wouldn’t let me put her down for a second during the first 3 months of her life. I had to learn how to vacuum with Kaiya in a sling and Klarissa on my hip since it frightened them both. I am glad to report that they are not so skittish about people or the vacuum anymore.

In our humanness, we thought we would take a two-year break from having kids and have two more down the road. However, we managed to get pregnant again just 10 months later. (Yes, we know how this works, and yes, we did use contraception.) Our son was conceived two months before Kaiya’s first birthday. My body didn’t even know what not being pregnant felt like anymore. By this time, we had moved east from San Diego proper into a two-bedroom apartment and honestly asked ourselves, “Where are we going to put it?” Despite our fear and worry, we welcomed a sweet, 7lb 11oz, bouncing baby boy in December 2003. Our son, Jackson, is funny and smart and, as an infant, was a perfect mix of his sisters. He was truly the perfect end cap for our little family.

**He was truly the perfect end cap for our little family.**

We raised our kids on a “shoestring budget” in a home that loved Jesus and served our small church community faithfully. We made it possible for me to stay home for 14 years by owning one vehicle for seven of those years, carpooling my husband to work, and enrolling the kids in a school near his office. To save on gas, I would pack snacks and homework supplies so that we could go to the park or library and stay until “Daddy” got off work. In the summer, Jon would take the car unless we had plans for the beach or pool, and in these instances, he would carpool with a co-worker. I did multi-level marketing businesses for play money and “Oh crap the car needs tires!” money.

Over the years, Jon began to earn more, and I took on more side gigs to make ends meet. We prayed sincerely for God to allow us the opportunity to own property, and eight years into our marriage, the timing came for us to own a condominium in El Cajon, a suburb of San Diego County. Again, there were scary and hard days as we found ways to cut back on frivolous expenses like cable and eating out to pay a mortgage. We purchased in the downslope of the market height, but sadly just before the major 2008 crash. Despite the unforeseen challenges, our new home felt like a castle!!

It was a 3-bedroom condo on the top floor with a south-facing balcony, which we learned quickly is ideal in the 108-degree summers. Even though the girls shared a room, it felt huge not having their little brother’s crib and toys in there. Jackson, at 4 years old, had known nothing but sharing a room with his sisters. He was excited to decorate his room with Thomas the Train, but even that couldn’t keep him from climbing into bed with a family member, namely his sister Klarissa, early in the morning. Once we got him a “big-boy bed”, his habit of sleeping in other people’s rooms soon subsided.

I thrived as a stay-at-home mom, taking the kids to school, teaching a women’s bible study, working out at our local gym, and being a classroom mom throughout their elementary years. Jon traveled extensively for work in those days. During his traveling stints, the kids and I would pack up and go to Grandma’s house in Palm Springs to keep me from losing my marbles. It was a trying season but full of love, visits to grandma’s house, trips to the zoo, and lots of little snuggles at bedtime. It was a chaotic season filled with baseball games, birthday parties, theater rehearsals, Sundays at church, and daily swim practice. However chaotic, it was a sweet time as a family.

Clockwise left to right: Ice-Skating for Jackson’s 6th birthday; a pic of kids at 6 months, 2 years, and 3 years old; Easter in 2010

A few months after Klarissa decided her college plans involved attending a private institution that costs over $60,000 per year, my husband started paying attention to ways to make college for her a reality. We had many friends who had attended the same school and many who worked for this institution. We had heard rumors that kids of staff and faculty could receive free tuition! One morning at a friend’s brunch, a few of the ladies in attendance were wives of current staff members. I asked one of them if the “tuition remission” was true. She said, “Oh yes, however, the tuition discount is now 95% and your kid has to get in on their merit.” As soon as I returned home I told Jon.

We began to research jobs offered and while I applied to ones that pertained to me, all I could think about was the 21-year-old girl on the side of a curb and the words, “You are not allowed back here.” How on earth could I get a job at the same school I didn’t even finish? Who would hire a stay-at-home mom who had zero administration skills? I mean, I could “sell ice to an Eskimo” as my sister would say, but a desk job? No, not me. I began applying to jobs that I believed I had no right to apply for and would hear nothing back. All I could hear was my self-doubt practically yelling at this point, “This is futile Kelly. You don’t have a degree, you can’t type, and if they knew your college GPA, they would laugh you right out of there!”

From the time I learned of PLNU’s tuition remission, we had been seeking for me to return to the workforce. It felt like the time was right since our eldest was entering high school in the coming fall. The director of a preschool affiliated with our home church reached out and offered me a job in the infant room. I was unsure about leaving my stay-at-home life, but it was time for me to get back into the arena of working full-time and babies… I knew. I had two years of Child Development classes under my belt, CPR certification, and 14 years of mothering on my resume. This! This made sense. I put PLNU aside and put my energy into those sweet babies.

Continue to Part 2 and find out what the arrows are and where they lead us?

What’s next?

21 Tuesday May 2024

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

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authenticity, bi-vocation, bible, Christianity, church, faith, JESUS, kids, life change, parenting, reflections, vulnerabilty, worry

I stumbled upon a journal entry from 2016, where, for some reason, I had penned a letter to my future self to be opened a decade later. At the time, I was 38 years old, and as I read through it today, I couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of writing to my 48-year-old self.

Recalling the juncture my life was at, I remember that moment in time, stepping into a bi-vocational career, feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of leaving behind the stay-at-home mom life I had cherished for 14 years.

feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of leaving behind the stay-at-home mom life

Transitioning to a 9-5 desk job at a local university while also taking on the role of a part-time worship leader was daunting, to say the least. I had zero admin experience but enough customer experience to get me the job. I held onto a quote by Christine Caine: “God doesn’t call the prepared; he prepares the called.”

As I read the page intended for my 48-year-old self, I felt a surge of pride knowing that my eldest would soon graduate from college, with her two siblings following closely behind. My 38-year-old self had expressed hopes of seeing her kids in college, perhaps even married by then. I chuckled as I read that line to my husband, relieved that we still have two years until that “expiration date,” leaving the jury out on that status.

I had wished for myself to visit Italy and explore parts of Europe, a dream I’d harbored since high school. Despite numerous attempts, it seemed elusive until last spring, when Jon and I embarked on a 28-day adventure through London, Paris, and Italy. Dining on French cuisine under a Parisian moon or cruising through Tuscany’s picturesque hills—experiences beyond surreal.

In 2016, when I embraced the bi-vocational lifestyle, I had no clue how to sustain it. Some days were challenging, others incredibly rewarding. Working in higher education introduced me to remarkable students who inspired me to be my best self while leading worship in our home church allowed me to collaborate with immensely talented individuals. There were days when both roles seamlessly intertwined, and others when the weight felt unbearable, juggling deadlines and responsibilities.

A month ago, the chapter of worship leading abruptly closed. The news hit me like a sudden amputation—no discussion, just an abrupt end to 16 years of serving our church community.

no discussion, just an abrupt end to 16 years of serving our church community

Despite the shock, I cherished the memories: working alongside my husband, watching my son excel as a drummer, and witnessing my daughter’s musical prowess and leadership. The abruptness left no room for goodbyes, only a hollow explanation.

Reflecting on this letter, crafted eight years ago, reminds me of life’s unpredictability. Since then, my father passed away, my mom remarried, close friends faced divorce, and my father-in-law continues his battle with cancer. My children, once youngsters, are now young adults, preparing to leave the nest. Yet, amid uncertainty, I’m grateful for the foresight to write that letter. Embracing the challenges of the bi-vocational life that paved the way for unforeseen opportunities.

Embracing the challenges of the bi-vocational life paved the way for unforeseen opportunities.

I’ve learned that nothing is wasted in the Kingdom of Heaven. Even toxic leadership experiences can be redeemed, shaping me into a better leader. While I can’t predict the future, writing a letter of well wishes to oneself serves as a poignant reminder of life’s essence. As Paul wrote in Romans; our sufferings produce endurance, character, and hope. I eagerly anticipate what lies ahead, knowing that every season, sweet or bitter, holds a purpose.

I might have an inkling of what’s next and anticipate God to do what God does; create an ending better than I could have ever imagined.

When have you had a moment to reflect on where you have come from and where you are going?

Grief

11 Tuesday Jul 2023

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

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The morning after losing a loved one can be one of the hardest moments of grief. As one begins to wake, caught between waking and dreaming, your mind gathers the events of yesterday sifting through if they are real or not until it realizes that today and all the days following, that person is no longer going to be there.

It’s been 8 years since my dad suddenly passed and I still vividly remember waking the next morning after he had taken his last breath in the early hours of July 4th. For a brief moment on that fateful morning, we were relieved that his pain and suffering were gone after he suffered a fall breaking his neck and leaving him, and his family with the news that he would never walk, eat, or breathe on his own again. We kissed him, sang to him, squeezed him, and said our “goodbyes” feeling content that there was nothing left to do but let his body rest and let his soul slip away to the Heaven that we believe he resides. But that short night of sleep did not prepare me for the gut-wrenching pain my heart would feel as my eyes woke to the morning sun only to realize that it was not only a nightmare but our reality.

Yesterday, we suddenly lost a member of our extended family to what should have been a routine heart procedure. This husband and father never recovered and like my dad was kept alive on a respirator till all the goodbyes were exhausted. My heart aches as I know this family may have awoken today to those feelings of denial and overwhelming sadness. Today begins their journey on the road of Grief.

Grief, as Brene’ Brown puts it, is like a wave. A wave that rolls in and at times can brush up against your ankles and tickle the memories so you can pause and reflect on the good times. It can also be a wave with brute strength that comes out of nowhere to knock you right on your knees, sweeping your breath away and leaving you crumpled in the sand unsure if you can get up again. I know this family. I know they will get back up and the sea of memories will beckon them many a day. Some days it will beckon them to wade in deep, not wanting to come out. Some days they will pull up a chair on the sandy beach and look at how they sparkle and shine and dance in the sunlight.

A balm to this plight of grief is time. Time pushes the bad memories down into the depths and lets the good memories float to the surface. Time keeps those tsunami-sized waves at bay when a scent of his cologne wafts through the air or a person with his likeness passes by or a phone rings with his silly guitar ring-tone. I think that is God’s gift to us; for time to allow the wounds to heal while the sand and waves soften the edges keeping only the memories that reflect the best of that person.

Uncle Mark, you will be missed. Those who know you and loved you well know the gaping hole you left. May you rest in peace knowing you lived a full life surrounded by the ones you love.

Change

25 Monday Jul 2022

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

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Tags

faith, moving, provision, stability, worry

Why is change so hard? So scary?

I have been digging into this question with my therapist and the answers aren’t’ really there yet. It could be that as a kid, I moved around A LOT. Before I graduated high school my family moved to 7 different states and in one five-year period, we lived in 5 different houses. I’ve wondered how my mother stayed sane packing up a household with 4 kids is beyond me. As an adult, that level of instability has made me dislike change but when I was a kid I saw the adventure in it. I remember with each new location what adventure could be had.

For example, one of the first moves that I can recall as a 5-year-old was our move from Bend, Oregon to Delta, Colorado. The house we rented was situated behind a beautiful apple orchard a block from my grandmother’s house where we could have Sunday Supper (That’s lunch if you’re not a southerner) and experience her incredible biscuits and gravy or ride in our grandpa’s tractor to our heart’s content. Eight months later we moved to Cheyenne, Wyoming where in five years we relocated houses five different times.

*Not my grandmother’s actual biscuits. 🙂*

That year I started kindergarten. I remember I had the most amazing kindergarten teacher and I also remember that we moved into a house with a walk-in bird cage to which my dad brought home a duck for us to care for. I don’t remember what happened to that duck but I do remember that cleaning up bird poop was not fun.

*Me in the lovely rainbow shirt with my eldest brother, eldest sister and little brother in front of the bird-cage house. The elderly woman is our “Aunt Dot”.*

The following spring we moved a few miles across town to a neighborhood that backed up to the Air Force Base. We had a fabulous backyard with a view of the runway. My little brother and I learned if we stood on top of the trash bins we could see jets take off almost every day and antelope run in the hills.

A year later we moved a mile down the road into a two-story duplex that we occupied entirely. It had two kitchens, an upstairs and downstairs! Oh, the fun we had making cookies in the downstairs kitchen while my mom cooked dinner upstairs. We moved yet again as I entered third grade. This house we stayed at to help out a friend while they were deployed. It had an oil pit in the garage that my dad really liked. Plus we were across the street from my elementary school so my walk was just a hop, skip, and a jump away.

The final home we lived in during the five years in Cheyenne was a three-story single-family home with throw-up-green shag carpet

The final home we lived in during the five years in Cheyenne was a three-story house single-family home with throw-up-green shag carpet but a backyard that was epic for making snow forts. That year we ALL had our own room and I got my own pink phone and Barbie mansion. I think both were hand-me-downs but I had no clue and loved them both so much!

Just before the end of my 5th-grade year, we moved to what was one of my favorite locations of my childhood, Lake Havasu City, AZ. We lived there in my formative tween years which had us a few miles to the beach and a view of the water from our kitchen window. I could wear a bathing suit and shorts all day long because with temperatures of 100+ you were either at the beach or in a pool. I went barefoot to Sunday night church sometimes just to see if anyone would notice and they didn’t.

*Lake Havasu City- the beginning of my love affair with a water view.*

I had my own room with a door that led to our courtyard. I felt like a princess in that room. My friends during those years were some of the best people and it was the first time in my young life that nothing changed; not my friends, my church, my home, or my school. I look back now and it was the first time there was stability that I could recall.

it was the first time there was stability that I could recall.

With a month left of my 8th grade year my parents broke the news to my little brother and I that we were moving from Lake Havasu City, AZ to Indio, CA. Just days before this news my Junior High Choral teacher asked me and to be a part of a high school quartet that would sing the National Anthem at all the athletic events. My sister who was graduating high school had had this privilege all 4 years of her high school career so I was ecstatic to follow in her footsteps and to sing with my 4 best friends was the icing on the cake!

My parents assured us that we could finish out the school year in Lake Havasu and have the summer to acclimate in our new city. My brother who is two years my junior would be entering 6th grade that upcoming school year, which in California was the first year of middle school. The thought of me starting high school in a new state sounded devestating.

I grieved that move for weeks. I cried in choir class with my singing buddies who huddled together trying to think of the good side to this. I cried in the church youth group thinking that no other church could be as fun and inclusive as this one was. I cried when my boyfriend gave me a real gold cross chain and thought that was really the end. I cried at home and refused to pack the kitchen utensils and genuinely pouted for days thinking my little 14-year-old world was over.

Two weeks after school let out we moved to Indio, CA where my dad would take on his second pastorship. We moved without my older siblings since they were both in college. As we entered the city limits in the Uhaul truck, I noticed that Indio was dry and barren with not even a Walmart yet. It was not much different from the little town we had come from in the sense of size and amenities but even worse, it was without a lake. Any beach was hours away in either LA or San Diego and no one we knew yet had a pool even though the temps in Indio were almost the same as in Arizona. I moaned to myself, “How could my parents bring us here?

Eight weeks after moving to Indio my mom signed me up for a tennis camp called “Pam’s Tennis On Wheels” in order for me to get to know some kids in the neighborhood. I met a few people one being a tall 9th grader by the name of Jon. I spoke to him a few times but my attention was occupied by the fact that, at the moment, I was in “love” with a boy that attended the church my dad was now pastoring.

I began my freshman year at a private school. It was a tough year being the new kid at such a small school. Thankfully, I made amazing friends that year but with the news of a news high school opening we decided that was where I would go next. It would begin as a small school beginning with 9th and 10th grader only and each year adding a new freshman class. A few of my friends from the private school would attend with me and we all were excited about the change.

On the first day of school as I entered the brand new courtyard, I recognized a tall sophomore with curly hair and a cross earring. I remembered meeting him at the tennis camp I had attended over a year ago but couldn’t remember his name. I went right up to him and said, “Do I know you?” It took us a minute but we pieced together where we had previously met. Over the course of that year we would become best friends. Three years later we would graduate from that high school along with our classmates as the first graduating class and five years later we would marry.

As of today we have had a stable life here in San Diego, only moving four times in 20-plus years. First to our new apartment as a married couple. Then after Jon graduated college, we relocated to a downtown apartment with my sister then from there we moved to an apartment east of downtown as we went from just the two of us to five of us. Our final move to date was when we purchased a three-bedroom condo that we have called home for over fifteen years!

I truly believe that if God had not allowed my parents to change jobs and move us from the little beach town of Lake Havase to Indio, CA I never would have met my husband. What felt like the end of the world became the beginning of my current reality. In those early years of marriage and starting a family Jon would help open a hospitality business that he continues to work for all while supporting me in my entrepreneurial endeavors. As of June, 2022 we have celebrated 23 years of marriage and I can say without a doubt he is my very best friend. Yet, when change comes I pout, I panic, I moan, and I complain that I can’t see what around the corner. Why do I still do that?

Yet, when change comes I pout, I panic, I moan and complain that I can’t see what’s around the corner. Why, why do I do that?

Recently, I have been reading the book of Exodus about Moses and the Israelites enslaved by Egypt for a class on the Pentateuch (That means the first 5 books of the bible if you don’t know Latin) and those poor Israelites get such a bad rap. First, they are released from 400-year bondage in Egypt and escape with their lives while being led by a “pillar of cloud” by day and a “pillar of fire” by night, which the book tells us was the Spirit of God in that pillar leading them. Days after leaving Egypt, the Egyptian army begins pursuing the Israelites and soon they are trapped between the army and the Red Sea. Moses raises his rod and the miracle of the Red Sea parting is before their eyes. They are able to safely cross then look back and see the sea crashing around the army and killing the enemy.

Can you believe one of the first things out of the now free Israelite’s mouths after that miracle is “Oh, how we wish that the Lord had just put us to death while we were still in the Land of Egypt.”(Exodus 16:3) Oh wait, they did remember to worship and praise God for the miracle they witnessed but just three days later they soon began to complain. I read that and I am like, “Sheesh, ya’ll, get a clue!” But then I ponder their reaction and realize that in the same breath I have seen God do amazing things in my life and provide in ways I never asked for but doubt that he has my best interest in mind.

When things don’t go how I want them to or how I see fit I whine, complain, and say,” God, where are you? What am I supposed to do? How could you let this happen?”

90 days after the Israelites get a bit settled, God “sits them down” if you will, and gives them their road map on how to live among each other and survive the desolate landscape they are in. (Exodus 20) God shares with them the covenant that had been in the works for a very long time and the laws that would set them apart but also bring humanity and dignity to their tribes since the world around them was so barbaric. This was also after God had led them away from the Philistines because God knew they would run right back to Egypt if they had to immediately fight for the land promised to them. (Exodus 13:17)

I won’t go into the nitty gritty details but if you want to go read the story of the Israelites I encourage you to start reading Exodus chapter two. I can honestly say, I think I give the Israelites a lot of grief for being so quick to complain after experiencing miracles when I know I am guilty of the very same thing.

Here’s the good news…

When it comes to worry in the Bible, scholars say that “Fear Not” is mentioned 365 times and Jesus himself tells us not to worry and reminds us of God’s provision in his New Testament teachings. Jesus says “Do not Worry” five times alone in Matthew 6:25-24. Isn’t it good to know that God knew it would be something we struggled with? It’s in our human nature to not trust what we cannot see. It is in our nature to think about the worst-case scenario instead of focusing on the blessings that occurred.

I know I forget to count the times I have seen plans go better than I could have ever foreseen. I hope that when you feel overwhelmed with the unknown like I do, or like the Israelites did, you will remember that there are enough uplifting scriptures alone to acknowledge your worry and that no matter what comes around the corner you can trust that God will provide a path for you. And like the Psalmist said, “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” (Psalm 91:6)

Nashville Part 4: Homecoming

06 Wednesday Jul 2022

Posted by Kelly Miller in Authentic Living

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Tags

authentic living, community, faith, family, JESUS, vulnerability

This is the conclusion of my 4-part post. I am grateful to those of you who tracked this story from day one.

My return home continued with a bit more travel drama with flights delayed and in turn, had me flying to Detroit where I spent 8 hours in the Detroit airport before flying directly to San Diego. The time in the airport allowed me to begin writing this blog and flush out my thoughts on the adventures I recently experienced. That Sunday night I arrived home just in time for my sweet family to whisk me off to our favorite pizza joint, “Pizza Port,” for dinner and let me share all the detail of the last 24 hours.

In the immediate hours following this experience, the hardest part was sitting in the reality that not everyone responded emphatically. Upon returning home I had the opportunity to explain in more detail to my friends but only one sent me money. I was surprised at how even my closest friends or colleagues weren’t affected and seemed to only take it as a good story. I was so grateful to my sisters and mother-in-law who helped me recoup the remaining amount of what I had committed to cover but it saddened me how many people said they couldn’t help. Not $10 or $5. Nothing. Some never even replied. There were a few valid reasons not to reply, for example, a colleague was getting married that afternoon which I kind of forgot about. However, it was surprising to me that more said, “no” than “yes.”

I posed this dilemma to Pastor Rich Villodas from New Life Church in Queens during a book-launch Zoom and he responded with the sobering reminder that as a pastor he deals with it all the time. People do not give or volunteer or see the needs of their church and their community on a regular basis. It was a reality check that people are not always going to be where I am in my faith journey of seeking Jesus and each journey looks different for each of us. As I continue to mull over all that transpired; from the moment I decided to book my trip to Nashville to the moment I returned home,

I thought about the fact that if I had flown home Saturday afternoon I would not have encountered Kevin in Nashville.

I would not have seen what Jesus could do when I really seek what he is after; loving people even when it feels uncomfortable and seeing God provide even when I may not have asked him to.

A few days after arriving back in San Diego and getting into the rhythm of life my husband asked me to stop at our local grocery store and immediately the face of the homeless man I saw weekly came to mind. I wondered if I would see him and if I did, should I approach him. When I walked up to the storefront I was happy to see that he was there sitting on the stoop in the shade.

I walked up to him and said, “Hi, what’s your name?” He replied, “Dwight.”

I promptly sat down and began to chat a bit about where he was from he asked me what I was cooking for dinner that night and while I was talking a kind lady handed Dwight $8 in cash. I asked if I could get him something to eat when I went shopping and he was honest and said he needed cash for a place to stay. I told him I would see what I could do and at that moment my daughter walked up after introducing her to Dwight, she and I went into the store to grab what we needed for the evening meal. Upon checking out I got $10 cash back and gave it to Dwight on my way out. I shared with my daughter that I cannot do that every time, I know, but I believe I have to when I can, and today I could.

Since my trip to Nashville, I have been in contact with Kevin. The money that I gave him got him through to almost the last week of June when his weekly rental was shut down by police due to too much illegal activity. That same day he suffered another heat stroke which put him in the ER. The nurses there encouraged him to fill out his social security information to begin receiving his social security check. He was elated to discover that at his age he could receive 70% on a weekly basis and 100% when he turns 72. This income would allow him to work indoors with a part-time job and not work a laborious job at the age of 66. I was able to get Kevin a modest hotel room that night and after a good night’s rest, he informed me he was off to see a pastor in the city who would help him fill out paperwork to receive Social Security and find a place to stay. As of today, he is living in a, “cool, cool, cool air-conditioned trailer,” and is opening a bank account so he can get his check faster rather than having it delivered to a local church.

If you’re like me you can feel jaded by all of the scams in this world or people who take advantage of kindness. For me, I asked Jesus to help me see people and he came through. Not only the homeless man or woman on the corner but my co-worker who sometimes causes me angst yet still needs my kindness or current needs in my community in a way that only Jesus can reveal. This is where I am at today and for some of us, time is easy to give, and for some money is easy to give.

My heart has been tugged and opened in a new way and I cannot go back. I will continue to seek who Jesus is and not only answer the question, “What can I do for you?” but ask the same of those around me and I encourage you to do the same.

If this story has tugged at your heart, I humbly ask you to help Kevin continue to turn his life around and build up some savings. You can send a gift through Venmo @Kelly-RossMiller and I will get it to Kevin. I thank you greatly in advance.

life on the back burner

~ Writing with authenticity the moments in life that inspire me and push me to be a better human and follower of Jesus.

Category Archives: Authentic Living

Toxicity

Bullying and Harassment

Unrealistic Expectations

Gossip and Backstabbing

Poor Communication

Mental and Emotional Strain

New Start

FREEDOM

Running

Arrows (Part 2 of 2)

Arrows (Part 1 of 2)

What’s next?

Grief

Change

Nashville Part 4: Homecoming