What a strange two years it’s been.
Usually I check back in a fit of inspiration, to realize I’ve forgotten this space for dozens of months.
This time, I not only forgot the blog, I forgot writing, enjoyment, myself. The writing and joy will come back like riding a bike, but the myself from before I hope to forget forever. There is a new, radically new, human in your midst.
This isn’t a “come to Jesus” moment. Jesus already came for me, and won’t leave me, not even limping in the grass full of stickers, no matter how many cut into my feet. Or how I insist he just leaves me out here.
This is the greatest revelation of my life. It’s so profound, I don’t know how to put it into words, much less a photo, a tweet, a video, a livestream. This is the deepest soul-searching. It changes more than everything, and anything could happen now. Anything except for going back.
That’s the best I can do for now.
I joined Instagram for the first time, and gleefully began following my favorite famous individuals whose feeds I’ve craved. Then I made the profound mistake of looking at the Instas of people I know personally, people who’ve been posting their highlights on the ‘Gram for awhile. Discontentment, disappointment, and condemnation set right in like mustard.
My life is so not Instagram-able, at least not in the way I envy:
the carefree faces, the ironicly cute poses, all the places, people and experiences, the lovely skin (sorry, that last one sounds creepy… I’ll explain).
Please don’t misunderstand. I am so grateful for my life, and bent on enjoying the gift that it is. I just finished mourning an inordinate number of medium-intensity losses; no physical deaths, but so many cutting losses. One loss was my health, via a severe skin condition that came at a most inopportune time. Even so, my emotional energy tank is refilled just enough now to bear gratitude, a spot of perspective.
But even a wasteland can be beautiful and appreciated. Beauty does not erase severity, and appreciation doesn’t take away desolation.
Today, life is severe.
I don’t even know what so many things mean anymore, or again, where I am going now. I simply dare to believe that this dark place is a gift from God for me to own, and make beautiful. Not like the airy Instagram vistas, but like Corrie ten Boom’s glimpse into her sister’s jail cell, decorated with their own scarves.
I don’t have much, but whatever I find true and glimmering in the dark here, I will hang it up. At least, that’s my path.
Take me by the hand;
Lead me down the path of truth.
You are my Savior, aren’t you?