I haven't written in awhile. Honestly, it's because I didn't think I had anything good to say or that anyone would be interested in reading. But when I started this writing adventure two years ago I started it for me, not for readers. If you happen to relate or feel understood or feel
anything in response to my writing, that's amazing, but that's not primarily why I write. I write because I have to- because the words are heavy on my mind and in my heart, because my creative soul will burst if I try to keep the words in any longer, because I am a writer (one of many things I am).
The past few weeks have been extremely emotional. I feel like I've been on a terrible fair ride and I've far exceeded my limit of spins and bumps and nauseating turns. I've experienced a lot of loss lately. No, no one in my life has died. But people have left, moved on, moved away. My expectations of life and relationship and God have been drastically unrealistic. And every time I have to let go of something, some thought, someone it is loss. I grieve. It's a lesson in living life palms up, not holding anything or anyone too tightly. It's a lesson in leaning into my feelings, not letting them overtake me. It's a lesson in believing truth over lies.
This morning I crashed into a wave of emotions, mostly confusion and sadness. I was driving home after dropping Em off at school. Dan and I had a weird misunderstanding that felt like an argument before I left. A few nights before he had told me, "You don't have to be a 'good' wife or a 'good' mom or a 'good' anything. I want you to be you." And it was confusing to me. And hurtful. Why don't you want me to be "good"? I'm trying really hard here. This morning while I was driving all those thoughts came rushing back to me and I cried out to God, "If I'm not supposed to be 'good' then what am I supposed to be?! What do you think of me, Father?!" And through the ugliest tears and coughing cries, I encountered my greatest fear, the thing that I fight so hard against, the thing that drives me to be "good" and do well. If I'm not a good wife or a good mom or a good anything, I'm afraid my suspicions will be confirmed- I really am a fuck-up. If I can't keep my house clean or my husband happy or my daughter contentedly engaged in play, then what
can I do? I felt like a complete failure. And at that exact moment, in a heap of emotion, God was there. He was with me sweetly and gently. Sometimes he's firm, like dads sometimes have to be, but not this morning. Today he was really kind. He told me that he made me good. Not our version of "good" either, the one we have to work for and perform for and earn. No- he made me His kind of good. The kind that he intended from the very beginning, in the garden (
Genesis 1:31, NKJV). The kind he intended when he knit me together in my mother's womb, on purpose, with skill and care (
Psalm 139, all of it). It's too wonderful. He made me to be me, not anyone or anything else. And as I am transformed more and more into his likeness (
2 Corinthians 3:18, AMP), the things he made me to be begin to exhibit more and more of his character. What an honor, what a privilege to be like Jesus, to know that this compassionate nature he has given me is the same compassionate nature He has. It's too wonderful. It really is.
I picked a word for 2016- enjoy. This year I want to let go of the try-hard life. I'm reading
Grace for the Good Girl, I stole that byline from Emily Freeman. I think enjoying life deeply starts with enjoying God and enjoying who he made me to be. Instead of relentlessly pushing back, fighting against the changes he wants to make in me, the lessons he wants to help me unlearn, the truth he wants me to rest in, I want to embrace it. I want to play to my strengths. I care and love and laugh and talk and eat and listen and cook and dance really well. I'm going to do more of what I'm good at and less of what I'm not. My house won't always be clean and my husband's clothes won't always be ironed and we might eat dinner at 7:30, but my home and my heart and my life will always be full. And you are welcome. You are welcome to my home and my table and my heart. You are welcome to learn God and you and me. We can enjoy together. No pressure. Just want you to know you're invited.
Love,
Leah
