I had a breakdown today.Lies were piling on from left and right and all I could see was a barren, dry, dusty road.
I felt like all of a sudden I’d been tipped over and shaken up.
My friend Glenalyn chose today to text me about a book about my soul.
I ended up talking to her via text for an hour or two. It, of course, made me ever so thankful for this tribe I have found myself grafted into. It made me know that even when I feel the most alone, I am not that thing.
But in that conversation I realized that there are two things that I’ve lost the ability to do.
Somewhere, I believe in the last 8 months, I forgot how to tend to my soul.
As I’ve come back to the hustle and bustle of working, of doing a job that has substance as opposed to one that was monotonous, as I’ve come back into community and church and having a social life I’ve lost my ability to soul care.
I can tell someone else how to do so, I know what used to work for me. But now, everything falls flat. It’s like charging a phone that always has to be plugged in. It needs to be connected to the source at all times.
So, tonight when I told Glenalyn that I was going to doing something lovely before I went to bed I sat on my couch and opened my hands up and had no freaking idea what to do.
I (feel as if) I’ve lost the loveliness in my life. I feel like it’s been trampled in and kicked while it was down.
And in a brutally honest moment I’ve realized tonight that I don’t know how to sit with Jesus especially where it just feels like nothing wants to settle down.
I’ve been posting a lot of words that feel like that don’t have solutions, words that feel like fruit basket upset.
Words that don’t feel like peace.
And I know in my knower, in the depths of me, that I am ok. I know I am peace, I am lovely. I know the answer is tucked deep within me.
And I know Jesus is here. Right now. On this couch with me, even when it seems I can’t look him in the eye. Or when I want to stand tall and carry my own burdens.
That’s the best part of it–he knows me.
And I know I won’t run.
I’m not lost, I’m not on the wrong path.
Even when I don’t feel it, I am that thing.
And so are you, when you feel like you are grasping at straws, grasping for breath, grasping for wisps of peace, you are still who you are. Who you were created to be.
You are lovely, even when it seems you can’t find it.