I felt 22 again as I clicked publish on the 31st day.
But satisfaction rapidly dissolves and the next morning I woke in a funk to bury all things funky.
You know the one I’m talking about? Every lonely, sad, discouraged, depressed feeling from the last 43 years stalks you, follows you home, claims squatters rights?
Those creeps weigh down your couch and peek out your dishwasher.
They talk non-stop in a mic like they’re funding a nonprofit radio station.
They taunt you in Starbucks and blow fumes of doubt in the preschool line. They crackle insulting jeers from the fireplace and whisper fear deep into the night.
I eeked out the weekend with a monsoon sitting over my soul, taking shelter under a blanket from fears and feelings that I still can’t name.
Becoming is hard. But it’s essential to remain open when doubt moves in.
After days of rapid fire growth, I’ve learned to expect petrified hours. Stationary days. Entire weeks treading black tears.
In the doubting days, Grace offers a tissue and marks time with teardrops.
Becoming takes time.
Radical heart changes come wrapped in immobility as long as we listen and remain open. Activity can mute the lies. Muted lies diffuse into muted lives. Don’t rush the doubting days.
When we find our worth through what we do, through the next forward motion or the box we check off, moments of stillness and invisible growth feel unbearable. But when invite Doubt in and cozy up on the couch with Fear, we can learn from them. They can’t stay for long and we’re grateful when they leave. But they’re not always barren and sometimes, they birth Hope. Because it’s when we’re weakest, that He is strong.
The pressure makes us stronger
The struggle makes us hunger
The hard lessons make the difference
And the difference makes it worth it.
Fireflight, For those Who Wait