Most often I don’t feel compelled to share out loud, as words come out irreverent, botched, inadequate, but sometimes i feel I am left with words on the tip of my tongue. So I’ll spill them here to free myself.
This is how I open the door to join in the feast. I have learned to speak last. And not worry if I don’t get any airspace. I truly don’t desire it. But I am getting a taste for this community and the importance of being seen and heard as well as hearing and seeing others.
Among the objectives of our Thursday class are as follows:
To be given a voice.
To have an opportunity to open our hearts with compassion and curiosity, without judgements and with no need to answer for God.
It takes practice to feel compassion and to show compassion. It takes practice to relish in it as well, on the receiving end. Letting yourself be loved, when you feel inadequate, overwhelmed and overwhelming, when stories don’t have a proper beginning and end, to trust that the space is safe to process things out loud, to take the air space you need. I’d happily retreat to make room and let others feel showered with attention and understanding and love. But it takes courage to speak before your thoughts are fully formed and clear. I would not take such risk in every context. I would try the grace in here. With my tribe. The remnant.
It is possible that the tone of my blog turned more real, raw, a bit vulnerable, because of the courage I witness in this class, and the pain that is left raw on the table for us to weep over, silently in prayer and beyond the two hours of pixelated smiles.
Life is hard, and beautiful, discarding the trouble to keep only the blessing would stunt it. Incomplete, mangled, fake. Asking god not to take the pain but to hold our hand through it.
As I feel my heart beating erratically, having a hard time catching my breath, when the day ahead is long and complicated, but ivy called from school to tell me she doesn’t feel good… it’s like she empathized from afar with my anxiety. I never get close enough to this feeling of losing my ground, but this season I didn’t pray on my own, to center my soul. I pray with the girls and bless them and speak the truth over them, acknowledging the challenges and calling for God presence, wisdom, peace. But then after that feast I go on my own and starve. God is calling me back to be present with him, to rest in Him. And in my race through life I often forget to slow down and be. This week I let Conrad step up and take over some things. He is more than capable, I don’t know why I end up doing all the things I could let others do just as well.