The last few weeks have brought this really beautiful clarity for me. Deep… resonating… bubbly like a brook clarity. If I knew any way to cling tight to this season where clarity seems plentiful, I would. I know that this season is temporarily, so I’m soaking in every moment. Coming out of this horrible season of brokenness, I’m in some form of euphoric sensory overload because I can feel again. It’s so healing, so affirming – so much more than I even know what to say. I’ve had a lot of days where I feel like my heart could burst, but in the best way.
Because I’m older (and hopefully a smidge wiser), I am reminded that I can’t share this with everyone. I can’t jump back into the same opportunities that I had before, if for no other reason except they don’t exist. And even though that is a set-back, it’s not the brick wall that I thought it was even six months ago.
A few weeks ago, I went to Charlotte with two friends. That weekend was so healing for my heart. I have attempted to adequately describe what happened, but the truth is -- I can’t. The Holy Spirit spoke so loudly to my heart, in my ears, in my soul -- all in the middle of a service that it just wrecked me. (And there is no way I could have anticipated that a semi-spontaneously planned weekend would have provided that, but here we are.)
This sound corny, but I don’t feel the spiritual fatigue that ravaged my heart for a year. I still have stuff that I need to deal with, to sort through, and process with healthy emotions, but that weight is gone. What it has been replaced with is a reservation and the knowledge that I have to keep some part of me back because that’s what I’m supposed to do. That’s what healthy people do. It doesn’t mean I squelch or diminish who I am. Quite oppositely it means that I need to start acknowledging that while I am not every one's proverbial cup of tea, I am steeped in grace and fire and God’s overwhelming love for me is sustenance.
I remember the day I got contacts. Just a day or two after my seventh birthday, my second grade teacher Miss Biddle ratted my blindness to my mother. One Wednesday night, I left Pearle vision with a pair of Smurfette glasses that changed my life. I hated glasses. I’m hot natured, so they would sweat on my face, and running in them was a nightmare. Plus, I never felt pretty in those glasses. They were so big and so defining and made me stand out in a way that I did not like. Three weeks before I started eighth grade, my mother took me to the optometrist and I got fitted for contacts. When I got home, I remember walking up the street and the contacts, as they were aligning to my eyes, created these funny orbs in the road. The orbs went away and I wanted nothing more to live in my contacts. I could see, I could stand out how I wanted to, I could hide if I wanted to, and I didn’t have any restriction that kept me from running. (Although to be fair, being hot was the main prevention in why I hated running. Still applies to this day! LOL!!)
Even now, the biggest grievance my wonderful optometrist has with me is that I live in my contacts. Ain’t that grace ya’ll?? When it becomes second skin and {we} want nothing more than to live in it.
THAT is this season. I’ve been in googles that sucked the life of me and in one swoop, glasses are gone and I can see. It’s glorious and fun and so full of joy.
