* I avoid and hem and haw, yet ache to participate on these glorious days. These come-together days. The 5 minutes that feel like it can take all day to process. These women who teach me every time, how to pour out. To be. To write. Join us. It’s Friday. And it’s always beautiful.
So often, you believe yourself to be a shadow.
A wisp of darker space without the presence enough for dimensions.
You get knots in your stomach as anxiety curls roots and you give audience to the whispers of weak, failure, annoyance, coward…
You pause here, now, trying to type cohesive words because your nephew-boy of 3 calls out from slumber. Peeking inside, you see he sits up – dazed, confused – with one yearning question: “Where’s Daddy?” You answer and assure and permit him to return to dreams and when you close the door it pummels you smack dab on your way back to keys typing: in the disorient of our days, the crux of it all is that we just want to know where our Abba is.
Because you find yourself asking,
pleading for recognition.
For the turn of a corner and your eyes reassuring your hurt that there are arms
waiting for you.
A presence tangible.
The essence of comfort claiming your welcome.
Because I know you.
Still a child in so many ways. The uncertainty; the way you carry yourself in almosts and questions and doubt your place in a mighty tall world. Deceptively outgoing, easily seeking others in friendship, never having trouble finding words to speak (usually having trouble knowing when to stop all the chatter) – you seem confident at first glance, yet I know your insides even better than the outsides.
Timid worried careful scared
mask-wearing wall-building love-seeking
You have been blessed every hour of your life. Yet you cannot see the beauty all of the time.
Girl & woman who knows the stings of rejection, of humiliation, the barbs of human judgement. You’ve been shushed, pulled, pushed, quit, laughed at, compared. You’ve heard words naming unworthy, read words picking failures aplenty, known opinions low and streams of gossip.
Yet your main problem lies not in experiencing these things, my dear one, your downfall is believing they are true.
Yes. The bad is easier to believe.
But the good resounds far longer. The good is straight from lips incapable of lying. The good, too, comes from those who have come around you, refusing to let your lies mar relationships.
You may have been quit child, but you have been kept far more.
There are those who have stuck. Who refuse to part with you, even when you’ve shown the ugly. Even when you’ve plunged the deep. When you shut down, laugh too loud, turn into your hyper self, forget things important, gruff through sleepless weeks…when you’re you – at your worst…you still have a welcoming committee when you trudge back. Patient in your faults. Fierce in their love.
So love, when the terror is overwhelming and waves surge over your head and some days you gasp and cannot seem to breathe deep enough to feel safe – believe the good. See it. Revel in it. Roll up your sleeves in Eucharisteo and plow the grateful deep into soils rich.
Know – feel – see the proof all around you: you belong.