It seems that whenever I sit down lately all I want to lead with is, "Well, it's been a hard few months... but we're still here!!". But that's been my go-to opener for almost a year now.
There's a heap of things going on... from our son's pending diagnosis with his muscular / neurological concerns to two broken and unhealthy adults trying to live life together and deal with issues we wouldn't have ever expected. Oh and the village - can't forget that! The people, their needs, the practices, the smells, the emergencies, and on and on... Real life has been inescapable, but believe me when I say that we have tried running fast and hard. We have said without words that it's easier to feel numb, that it's less painful to fill the days with tasks and the nights with Netflix, and to hope that by the passing of pages on the calendar things will improve.
We were wrong.
What we have discovered is that being healthy and whole takes work, and you have to look backwards in order to move forward. My new pastor's wife shared an analogy of a person rowing a boat pressing on powerfully in the water but their actually facing behind. I'm realizing that I can't get this boat to make serious progress if I don't turn my darn seat around for awhile. It's messy to ask the questions that bring up old scars, it's terrifying to pray that God would reveal the root of some major issues, and it's humbling to realize that in all of my efforts, we are still unraveling.
I've had a beautiful few days with God as He has been showing me that this backpack full of boulders that I'm carrying were never intended for my shoulders. Maybe it has been pride in thinking I could handle things, fix things, or process things on my own... or perhaps fear of handing this bag of boulders over to my God who I am still confused by, sometimes angry with, and perhaps keeping an arm's length away because it's deceivingly easier that way. So rather than run to Him and joyfully cut off these straps that are breaking my back, I take painful step after painful step... trying to keep it all together, trying to present a pretty little package on the outside when the inside is a decaying mess. My how He must look on me with sad eyes and a compassionate nod of his head... wondering when I will give up, deeply desiring to take that bag from me... a load I was never designed to carry.
It's not the emotional act of letting go of my boulders, it's walking away without them and not picking them back up. And I have sadly began to identify myself with this backpack that was killing me, and sit here wondering what my life looks like if I'm not managing my marriage, fixing my son, and relying on destructive coping mechanisms. I don't know what it feels like to be free. But I do know that freedom can be found, and chains that I've bound myself in can be loosed. I believe there's health and wholeness ahead, but like everything worth having, it will be hard and messy... but the picture on the other side is me hauling the backpack I was designed to carry... full of promises and love, faith and trust. Cotton balls of freedom perhaps :)
