a sight for sore eyes...

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.