It’s a day I’d like to get away from myself for just a few minutes. It seems I’m irreparably broken and while I don’t believe the lie that everyone else isn’t, they seem to be more accomplished at filling in the cracks.
These are the feelings that rush in after days heavy with fruitfulness. I drip the purpose of who I am, conversation after connection after commitment and am understandably empty.
Seems I can cycle pouring, retreating, refilling, only so many times before the next fissure appears.
I wonder why I can’t be content to stand still in my soul while marching ahead in cadence, and why the forward movement always comes with a price higher than the last.
The marchers look accomplished with full cups and pots and there doesn’t seem to be a unit small enough to measure what my soul manages to squeeze out.
Weary from a day of comparison, I want to get away from my needy-self.
But apparently, I am always with me.
So, I refocus, dive in to all I am not to become more of all I am.
We have to speak truth, with a voice of conviction, into the small places where we are the most frail in order to hush the voice winnowing through our humanity.
Those very small moments of frailty allow us to reach into the tiny crack in another’s heart specifically because of our brokenness.
Today, when momentum is frozen by the confusion of comparison, I remember the recent moments when I’ve held hearts and shared tears and choose to tell myself true things and let the beat of his heart mark my time.