i haven't written in a month. again. and i even promised myself that with mike away, i would write every day- like i used to, because it helps my brain communicate with my heart and my heart communicate with God, and that helps me take better care of my family and myself.
but in this season instead of me reaching up to God, He has been reaching down to me and bypassing my need to pull my brain and heart and Him together in writing. in His reaching down, He told me that i have stories and they will come. and somehow i know that's true.
for my whole life, i thought i was truly passionate about something when i got this antsy, jealous, anxious feeling hearing about other people doing what i wanted to do. a pit in my stomach and a flutter in my heart at the same time. i first remember it happening when i wanted to go to medical school. and sometimes when someone was moving to a place i wanted to live, like san francisco. but it was strongest when people came and talked about international health, i almost turned green. i so desperately wanted to hear what they were doing and how they got there, while simultaneously wanting to leave the room and instantly start the process of getting there. then a part of myself (the wiser, truer part) would assure the younger, scared self, that there was no shortage of need for doctors in africa, so could i please sit still and listen, maybe we'd learn something.
it used to happen with hearing about adoption. and writing, for example, the explosion of momastery (although i love that glennon melton) and sometimes in smaller and less life impacting things. an undercurrent of anxiety, of uneasiness with my life. a fear that somehow i was missing out, or i'd gotten it wrong. or that i was about to miss the boat. and it all has to do with control and fear.
i really don't fear the things i can't control- accidents, illness, political unrest- but i appear to be pretty afraid of the things i do have some control over, my career, where we live, adding more children. because if something just happens to you, all you can do is deal with it, but if you mess up your own life? you have to deal with it, and the awful reality that you are the one who messed it up!
but now where is God in that? where is mike in that? it's a lot of "i's". because underneath the fear and control, and fear of the control, this is about identity.
who am i? what am i supposed to do on this giant spinning ball?
last year at this time, i left the place i wanted to live and i left international health, and i returned to my cold new england roots in the winter time- because God reached down and found me. He found me spinning and tired. He found me worn thin to the bone. He found me doing the things i had pushed ahead to do, but lost to myself. and He loved me enough to call me close to Him and tell me who i am.
i am His. beloved.
and while for years, i had tried to tuck that under my belt and carry on with my agenda, pushed by fear and feigning control, and fight to find myself, what mattered most was lost in my pocket. i am His. as i am, where ever i am. known. loved. (known and still loved). waited for. searched for. held. amazing. there i was, not where i wanted to be, not doing what i wanted to be doing, but learning to trust that i am enough- even with nothing. and that i am strong, really strong in Him. because when you feel that level of known-ness and loved-ness, the fear goes. it just goes. and when you give up trying so hard to build who you're supposed to be, so you can be happy, you get peace and freedom. peace that replaces that river of anxiety. and a freedom that is way better than arriving at where you feared you'd never arrive. a freedom to be only who you were made to be- and everything that you were made to be. no more, no less.
when you break open, you get to real.
and real is what we are all searching for anyway.
so there are stories, and they are beginning to come.
but in this season instead of me reaching up to God, He has been reaching down to me and bypassing my need to pull my brain and heart and Him together in writing. in His reaching down, He told me that i have stories and they will come. and somehow i know that's true.
for my whole life, i thought i was truly passionate about something when i got this antsy, jealous, anxious feeling hearing about other people doing what i wanted to do. a pit in my stomach and a flutter in my heart at the same time. i first remember it happening when i wanted to go to medical school. and sometimes when someone was moving to a place i wanted to live, like san francisco. but it was strongest when people came and talked about international health, i almost turned green. i so desperately wanted to hear what they were doing and how they got there, while simultaneously wanting to leave the room and instantly start the process of getting there. then a part of myself (the wiser, truer part) would assure the younger, scared self, that there was no shortage of need for doctors in africa, so could i please sit still and listen, maybe we'd learn something.
it used to happen with hearing about adoption. and writing, for example, the explosion of momastery (although i love that glennon melton) and sometimes in smaller and less life impacting things. an undercurrent of anxiety, of uneasiness with my life. a fear that somehow i was missing out, or i'd gotten it wrong. or that i was about to miss the boat. and it all has to do with control and fear.
i really don't fear the things i can't control- accidents, illness, political unrest- but i appear to be pretty afraid of the things i do have some control over, my career, where we live, adding more children. because if something just happens to you, all you can do is deal with it, but if you mess up your own life? you have to deal with it, and the awful reality that you are the one who messed it up!
but now where is God in that? where is mike in that? it's a lot of "i's". because underneath the fear and control, and fear of the control, this is about identity.
who am i? what am i supposed to do on this giant spinning ball?
last year at this time, i left the place i wanted to live and i left international health, and i returned to my cold new england roots in the winter time- because God reached down and found me. He found me spinning and tired. He found me worn thin to the bone. He found me doing the things i had pushed ahead to do, but lost to myself. and He loved me enough to call me close to Him and tell me who i am.
i am His. beloved.
and while for years, i had tried to tuck that under my belt and carry on with my agenda, pushed by fear and feigning control, and fight to find myself, what mattered most was lost in my pocket. i am His. as i am, where ever i am. known. loved. (known and still loved). waited for. searched for. held. amazing. there i was, not where i wanted to be, not doing what i wanted to be doing, but learning to trust that i am enough- even with nothing. and that i am strong, really strong in Him. because when you feel that level of known-ness and loved-ness, the fear goes. it just goes. and when you give up trying so hard to build who you're supposed to be, so you can be happy, you get peace and freedom. peace that replaces that river of anxiety. and a freedom that is way better than arriving at where you feared you'd never arrive. a freedom to be only who you were made to be- and everything that you were made to be. no more, no less.
when you break open, you get to real.
and real is what we are all searching for anyway.
so there are stories, and they are beginning to come.
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