Pain radiated throughout my veins. A current so sharp, I couldn’t feel it anymore. Numb. As if my body has undergone anesthesia. I was walking away from the deepest desire my heart had ached for. The dream of walking down the aisle to a man I chose to love and who chose to love me. The dream of having a teammate in this thing called life, someone to adventure with and go out into the world with all for the name of Jesus .
Then, a collision of my worst-case scenarios happened. It all happened about as fast as it took for the rug to be pulled out from underneath me.
Everything had ended. Each time my glove met the sand filled bag, I remembered everything had ended. I could hear the accusations all over again in my mind.
“You didn’t fight hard enough for us.”
“You fought, but it ended. It wasn't good enough."
"You gave up and walked away from it all.”
My mind shut off.
I sat in my driveway with the phone on speaker, needing my hands to dry my cheeks. I think she could tell the tears streaming down my face were drowning my words, making it difficult for me to speak. But she had hit the nail on the head. This woman had been in my life for years and she knew me well. She is gifted in discernment and kind in practice. She authoritatively said to me:
“Be gentle with yourself.”
That’s when the dam of tears broke, there had already been a stream of salty drops, but the dam broke.
The world has always been filled with pain, but lately it has seemed the world, and our country, is robed in it. Our country waking up each morning with the sun, draping itself with painful events and pain filled hearts.
I’m no expert on the matter of recent events and I don’t really know what to say half of the time, but my heart breaks.
I can’t believe it’s over. After all this time of planning. Mountain highs and valley lows. It was everything I had hoped for and more. Beauty surrounded me at every turn, wonder restored at every outlook, and love experienced with each deep breath.
My heart ached as I walked down the corridor. Memories flashing through my mind like reels from a movie, words replayed like a favorite song on repeat, longing to go back to moments memories just can’t do justice. Sometimes none of it seems real. You wonder if it actually happened the way your memories remember.
"What about the ones whose souls aren’t in a season of spring?"
I couldn’t help but ask the question as March 20 rolled around, the first day of spring. Spring inevitably ignites emotions of new life, hew hope, new beginnings. And why wouldn’t it? It is a beautiful season where color is brought back onto the canvas of nature, sun filled days last longer and warmth begins to move through the air with just enough of the winter’s crisp air lingering. But this year, as spring came, I couldn’t help but to think about everyone who is fighting for hope in a new beginning.
We all crave to be this hyped up word, vulnerable. Maybe we don’t all want it because it is scary, kind of like dangling yourself over an edge wondering if something or someone will catch you. But deep down there is something within us that in intrigued and enticed by the notion of allowing who we truly are to be seen.
Why does is still feel like there is a void of genuineness while we are seemingly pursuing vulnerability?
What does it really look like to be vulnerable?
