I haven’t logged into this website since May. In fact, I haven’t even looked at my blog since May. This delay is not accidental; I have pondered blog topics nearly every day, yet I’ve avoided writing at all costs.
You would think that a tumultuous and uncertain season, like my past five months, would render more blogs, more funny stories filled with hiccups and doubt.
Here’s why I haven’t written: I like to have things…. okay, everything… figured out before I share it with the world. With you.
I think I can blame pride for this one. My pride instructs, only share your insecurities once they’re behind you or once you’re ahead of the problem. I believed pride. And I waited and wanted desperately to write but I feared what the outcome would be if I didn’t have my issues sorted through. I was waiting for my sudoku-life to have all the numbers filled in perfectly one-to-nine. But my timeline wasn’t exactly realistic.
Finally, I gave up. Now I am attempting a different approach. Instead of waiting, I’m writing before I have everything figured out.
I will admit that I can’t take full credit for realizing that perfection does not exist as a minimum standard. Fortunately, I can thank my therapist, Todd, for that. Todd is the best. If I ever were to forget that he’s worth the money (which I don’t), I only have to glance at the clock at the end of a forty-five minute session to remember that he’s worth every penny. Our vulnerable conversations pass as naturally as a slight breeze, only tangible for a second but the refreshment lingers for days.
The world needs more Todds. And the citizens of our world need better access to the Todds out there. Alas, to avoid picking favorites, cheers to the many empathetic and hard-working counselors out there. We love you.
Speaking of love, I am going to love you better by being vulnerable. Here’s the messy update on my life: some days I feel rejuvenated and encouraged, sort of how you feel when you’ve worked a long stretch of early mornings and then you don’t have to set your alarm clock for the next day. I feel accomplished and satisfied. But most days I feel more like a math equation that cannot be solved easily. I plug in a few numbers thinking the new value will yield the correct result. Nope. Try again. Cross multiply? Factor the quadratic equation? Does that even make sense? You say, yes, it makes sense. Okay, we’re getting close. Nope. Wrong answer.
Against my will, I carry my wrong answers with me wherever I go. My favorite spot to dump them (besides Todd’s office) is at church. A few weeks ago my pastor asked the congregation to stand to read a prayer together aloud. I like when he asks us to stand together. There’s something supernatural about disciplining myself to do something that isn’t a comfortable proclivity. Actually, I’ll sit this one out. Oh, that’s right, I sat through the earlier part of the service. Yup. I can stand. Sometimes I find freedom empowering, but there are moments that I feel discipline even more empowering, like my soul has control over my impulses. This is why I love mornings. I would prefer to laze in bed but when I toss my jelly-legs onto the carpet (and feel slightly light-headed because I shot up like a bullet) to greet a dewy sunrise, my soul wins out. If I had listened to that misleading inclination, I would have missed the day’s first beauty.
Back to church. I’m standing.
Disturb us, Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show Your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.
Credit attributed to Sir Francis Drake
The prayer’s words resonate with my soul. It seems odd to me to ask for disturbance, especially during a year when I feel discouragement every day, as if it were my middle name. But there is something freeing about this prayer. Perhaps disturbance isn’t so ill-received when we ask for it. In the process of asking, we’re letting go of our personal outcome.
This is what I learn and re-learn and practice only to forget and to try again: care about injustice passionately, but do not tug-of-war for control of things that do not belong to me. Maintain healthy boundaries. Do my best. Ask for help.
Hopefully, you can learn from my lessons even though they are not yet fully learned.
A special thank-you to the beloved friends who supported me over the past year, specifically, my last few months on the M/V Africa Mercy. You know who you are, but other people don’t. Ria, Rachel, Nate, Andrea, David, Dianne, Kelsey, Michele, Scott, and *insert your name*. You are dear to me.