I thought I was a writer.
As you can clearly see, I am actually very much not.
It's been a bit too long since I took the time to write the thoughts and share them.
I thought I was a lot of things. I thought I was brave, healed, strong. I thought I was a good teacher. I thought I had so much to offer. I thought I was changing the world.
But.
But then things happen and I begin to realize that everything I thought about myself was not necessarily true. And my life was not nearly turning out the way I envisioned.
Maybe you understand.
I don't know if it's age. Or maybe
just life.
We read the fairy tales and watch the love stories and see our friends and family members celebrate milestone anniversaries and accomplishments and victories and we look in the mirror and just don't seem to measure up.
Signs of aging are setting in, both physically and emotionally.
We get a little too reflective.
Introspective.
And apply a LOT of moisturizer.
We never thought we would go through yet another failed relationship. A rebellious child. An aging, dependent parent.
Addiction. Depression. Bankruptcy.
Job loss. Divorce. Catastrophe.
Maybe you lie awake thinking, "This isn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't the plan."
If you're the type who easily goes with the flow, understanding with complete peace every time the unexpected comes your way, then this post isn't for you.
If you've been blindsided and are struggling some (or most) days to wrap your head around the fact that your life doesn't look the way you thought it would at this point in time, then pour a fresh cup of your favorite hot beverage, pull up a chair, and let me say....
I hear ya.
I've had a lot of "I never thought -----" moments over the past year. And I don't have a single ounce of grand wisdom to share in the processing of the unexpected.
I can tell you that I read. A LOT.
And I prayed. A LOT.
And I have immersed myself in scripture and wisdom.
And some days are easier than others.
The hardest days are when you realize what you thought was a scar is really still a wound.
A deep one.
That bleeds. Heavily.
And you long for healing that just won't come.
I am (finally) starting to realize that there is no secret formula. There is no easy answer.
Sometimes the path to healing simply comes through the process of hurting.
Of lamenting.
Of facing the reality that maybe we're just not all we thought we were - or would be.
Does that mean we give up?
Hardly.
But it can mean that it's time to stop leaning on what we thought was our identity or our accolades and trust God's hand in the process. I know, that sounds very churchy and that was not my intention. Some days my own trust sounds very much like, "I have absolutely no idea what You're doing. And I don't know why You're not answering my prayer. I don't like this and I don't understand this, but *sigh* I guess You've got this."
Not very pious-sounding, is it?
Some days, it's the best I've got.
Yet, I do know one thing: God wants us to share our stories.
And we can't until we are no longer bleeding out from our deepest wounds.
They have to heal and become scars.
I don't have a magical solution. Healing takes time. And faith. That's about all I know.
So I am on a journey to the Land of Scars. A land where the bleeding has stopped and the healing can begin. That means wiser choices. That means a little more solitude and a little less distraction.
I share my journey here not for sympathy. Not for the "bless her heart" sentiments. But as an encouragement.
Maybe you're there too.
Maybe you're in the place where nothing looks like you thought it would. Or you've been wounded, abandoned, neglected, abused, disciplined - once again. And you're ready to take your life back.
Walk with me down this road. Take my hand, close your eyes, turn your face upward, feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, and let's take a step forward - heading to the place where we can say...
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