What to say when there is so much to be said?
I could not address all that has happened and is happening in my life. Not even if I tried, or wanted to try.
I cannot do it with a pen,
I cannot do it with a friend.
I cannot do it in my home,
I cannot do it all alone.
There is brokenness, there is hurt. There is abandonment and strife and attack. And in the midst of it, of all of it, there is coming together. There is gentle, patient, love. There is support and a steadfast current of compassion. Not from the expected places – to which a part of me screams “but you SHOULD be helping me!” – but from the right places. Friends whose help I severely underestimated. Once again, I prioritized people all wrong. I expected from some what they were not willing (or possible able) to give and I did not expect from others such a pure expression of love. This is not a new surprise, I often find myself making assumptions about where I will see God and blessings. I am often wrong.
For so long I have been trying to dam up a river, a flood of emotion that I am afraid to address. I’m even aware of it now and still suppressing. I’m afraid to let go and be vulnerable. I’ve always been a fan of keeping my vulnerability to myself, many children of alcoholics prefer not to trust people that way. And as a mom, I don’t often (or ever) find myself alone. Which makes putting off the inevitable breakdown so convenient.
And any whiff of vulnerability is so attractive to some. When I first recognized this overwhelming surge I tried to prepare. I tried to create some emotional space and ready myself to process. I didn’t expect what happened next. And I didn’t expect so many intense conflicts and stressors all at once. But here I am. Watching various parts of my life change shape. Out of my control, outside even my influence. I can only wait to see where the dust settles and then re-assess. There will likely be more hurt. I don’t know where to expect it and I am finally learning not to predict. To just wait and rely on the strength that I know will follow.
I know the hurt will be followed by a solid, strong presence. God will follow. In some way that I might not expect but it will be so clear as it unfolds. I’m learning to place my trust there. Not in people, like I so often do, but in God who will always show in some way and place.
I’m less surprised when someone hurts me than I used to be. I used to feel such shock when faced with betrayal. It’s easier, now, to let it wash past. It still hurts, but it doesn’t shake my core. My core is somewhere else. Somewhere steadfast and solid. And the reassuring presence of God manifests in surprising places, but I know I can expect it. And I do. And that has made all the difference.
I’m learning not to spend so much time and energy evaluating the paths to my left and right – but to look up and let the love of God wash over me. To pause and wait for the world and wind to settle into something I can work with. I know I will be safe and loved and successful even if I go the wrong way. I am learning to stop choosing my path based on what I see in other people or what I expect them to do. I am learning instead to choose my path and trust that the people God is choosing to use in my life will be on that path. Because they will. Because God is in them, working through them, showing His love to me. And He is faithful. Unendingly faithful.