I help lead a care group at my church on Tuesday
mornings. It's a privilege of epic proportions because the gift being given
is women's stories; they bare their hearts and part of their very souls.
The group is heavy, in the best of ways, filled
with many soul-cleansing tears and shared looks of understanding, empathy, and
grace. It's a beautiful place of connection and I look forward to our
meetings each week.
This morning one woman was quiet. The other
leader pulled her aside afterwards to ask her if she was ok. Her heart and pain
began spilling out as she shared her anger in not comprehending how any of us
in the group could talk about joy and pain in the same breath. She hadn't yet
seen that happen in her young life and was angry and believed somehow we must
be misleading her. When the leader shared this with me after the room had
emptied, I wept. I wanted to chase that beautiful woman down and hold her
by her shoulders to look deeply into her eyes and let her see, truly see the pain that still hovers in my day
to day life. It’s true, my outlook on life is one of contentment, and
peace; but pain and frustration and fear and disappointment haven't been washed
away completely; instead those things have just become smaller in the heavy
dense light of the healing grace I'm experiencing.
You don't get to the joy, and you can’t get to the
peace if you haven't weathered the storm. Before life’s storms knock you around
and bang you up, it is easy to miss much of the beauty and blessing that wash
around you daily. When you have been bruised and wounded and ripped wide open
from life's places of dirt and grief, and you allow the healing power of grief
to wash your eyes anew; you are freed up to begin to really see where you are
standing. When you learn that your life is better than any novel, more
beautiful and dramatic than any box office success, and more full than a
ridiculous soap opera, you are freed up to begin to interact with your life
with different intentions. When you know you can swim in deep waters, you
learn to love the ocean. When you know that pounding rain brings new
growth, and fire can burn off chaff that blocks you from deeper connection,
truer love and more powerful compassion, then you no longer run from the storm
or flame. That is how you can speak of both joy and pain in the same
breath and be authentic. That is where true interaction with others
comes. That is the sweet spot. It is hard to live in the sweet
spot, holding hope as a bird perched on a branch, because when you are there
you are vulnerable. Your heart can be wounded and pulled and bloodied and
used. But you also learn to see people. See them with eyes of
love and grace. See them with compassion and empathy. When you walk
through dark forests you can truly learn to love yourself and when you love yourself you are
free to give your best self to the rest of us. And your healing spills
out like a warm balm that covers those around you with its powerful
comfort.
The simple truth is that we are all the same; yet
in our sameness lies incredible difference- meaning: I am a single mother with
special needs kids, and I am now divorced. None of those facts about me
are unique, or new, or rare. There are millions of single mothers with
special needs kids who have been through a divorce. But just giving you
the details of my story wouldn't be enough.... you might not be able to connect
to me with just the details of my story- however when I expose
those shattered places where i feel like a failure, and am angry, and am
grieving the loss of my lifelong dream, you can begin to relate; because those
feelings can apply in places of your story. In the
realization that we are all the same we are set free to live our different
lives and give the world what we were designed to give it.
You don't need to know the details of my story to
understand me. The connection isn't in the details anyhow. Where
you will feel connected to me is in the feelings. The emotions and the pain I've experienced. You'll feel connected to me there because you have felt
many of the same feelings in your journey. Brene Brown warns that people need to
earn the right to hear your story. As I've navigated a long bumpy road
through the death of my marriage over the last year and a half, I have found
this to be true. While I don't consider my story a secret, I am careful with
whom I lay the details. There is power to be found in the
details, but, as I've also learned and stated before, the connection isn't usually in
those details. Grief and hurt are universal struggles. You can hear
my grief without ever knowing the backstory.
So much of the joy and the healing and the good and beautiful comes with
connection. As I was jolted into a new reality the day I asked my husband
to leave, I was a shattered shell of a woman. My tribe circled round and
pulled in tight to protect me, feed me, love me and make space for my hurt.
In that crisis mode, there was grace and hushed voices and random gifts
in the mail and lots of acknowledgement in my pain. It was part of the life
blood that kept me on my feet and allowed me to survive and keep my children
well. As the immediate crisis stretched into a new reality and became my day
to day, many people fell away and the tribe got smaller and tighter. But
here's the catch, here is a secret not shared by many; there are parts of
your healing that will have to be done all alone. Sometimes you have to
get alone with yourself and some good music as company. Don't be afraid of this chapter. Don't run
to your places of escape, rather allow your heart to be safe with you.
Receive your own truth and pain with gentle hands and a tender heart.
Give yourself the gift of grace and love and space that you would give
your dearest friend. Treat your heart with the dignity it deserves and
know that in those lonely places you and God can begin to forge a kinship that
can't be found in the noise of other relationships. Allow Him to tell you
who you are and be careful not to identify yourself by the circumstance you are
in. I have failed, but I am not a failure. I have handled things wrongly,
but I am not a mistake. I have been wounded but I am not a victim.
No matter how dark the night, somehow, in some miraculous mystery, the
sun always rises. And while my night sometimes seems to stretch out for
eternity, I have learned to dance in the moonlight (with a little Gypsy Kings
on for company).
http://momastery.com/carry-on-warrior/ |
4 comments:
Heather, you have such an incredible gift with words. I am so happy for you and what you have done and continue to do with your life. Thank you for sharing and for helping others. You should be very proud of all you have conquered and accomplished. I am honored to know you. You have a beautiful heart. ♡
Beautiful, Heather. Simply beautiful. It is amazing at how raw pain feels when it happens, but with time, He heals us, & the pain dims. Only when we surrender to Him can He use us in a mighty way. He has given you many gifts & talents. He has allowed you to go through your experiences. He has equipped you with the ability to focus on Him to get through each moment. He will use you in a might way to help someone else draw close to Him as she goes through what you've already been through. I love you.
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