Monthly Archives: September 2015

Dear Self,

You amaze me.

You’ve constructed a beautifully strong cage. You’ve locked yourself in it with the keys of self-loathing, control and comparison. You’ve even painted the prison bars black yourself.

You, my friend, are talented at keeping a thing caged.

And, yet, sometimes, you dare to venture outside of those prison bars.

You throw caution to the wind of carelessness and dance on the outside of the cage. You laugh like a bride on her wedding day. You create like the sky in the evening hours. You are full.

You, my sweet sister, are free. And you breathe like you’ve never inhaled.

Your day is here. Your hour is arrived. You, sweet you, is her.

You are the girl you’ve always wished to become. You’re the girl at the party who laughs, not because her drink is strong, but because she is adored. You’re the woman who speaks loudly and against the grain, not because she is lovely, but because she must.

You are her. And you love her.

But, every night, you open your cage and decide that safety is the traces of your remembered past. As you cross the threshold of lies, you enter into a cage whose price is the breath of freedom.

You cough and remember the thinness of prison air. You gasp and take in the darkness of your memory. The lightness of the outside dims.

Daughter, won’t you choose the ground you have danced on? Will you tread on freedom?

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Walking Backward or Forward?

Tonight, after a painful hour at the gym, I made space to journal. Quickly, I realized that my heart was more like the Little Mermaid’s collection of “gadgets and gizmos-a-plenty”: stacks of things piled high in the wrong place.

 

I ended up asking myself a question I’ve come around to a few times in my life:

Am I content?

 

My soul feels like it’s in a season of churning.

You know, the kind of season where the Lord is uprooting more than he is planting.

The kind of season where taking rest is more like a quick visit to the bench during a timeout in an intense game.

 

I don’t just feel unsettled.

My soul feels like it’s changing.

 

When I look back on these kinds of seasons of my life, they are, by far, my favorite seasons.

I mean, the pain sure sucks. But, the seasons are so glorious to see in hindsight: the learning, the growth.

 

I love seasons of soul-churning.

 

….when I’m done with them.

 

But, I’m forgetting I’m living a great memory now.

 

When I look back on the fall of 2015, I guarantee you I will thank Jesus for it.

I already know this season is startlingly deep and wildly beautiful.

I can feel it.

 

But, will I choose to believe the season I’m in is as beautiful today–being lived–as it will be tomorrow–remembered?

 

Will I live my life with present, not just hindsight, gratefulness?

 

I sure hope so.

Otherwise, I’m likely to live my life walking backward, looking at the past instead of into my future.

 

And, that doesn’t sound like any fun at all.