What an unsettling time in our world…huh. I am an introvert so by choice I want to stay home. It feels a little different when I no longer have the option of just getting in my car to go shopping or to go out to eat or to go down the street to get my nails done! So here I
am, looking for ways to stay entertained without gaining 500 pounds. I am sure we are all getting creative as to how to stay busy
and are probably all looking for ways to keep the anxiety and stress to a minimum. I
am only on day two of quarantine and I’ve already tried a variety of ways to
stay busy. I am not crafty and I don’t like to cook which means my choices on staying
busy are limited. So, I have decided to pick up an old habit and no its not drinking
and no you can’t come over, well not at this point anyway.
As you may know I am a writer and I love to write of the many ways I fail,
in hopes to check myself and perhaps in hopes of helping others not make the
mistakes I make on the daily. I have just not made time to write in the past
two years. Yes, I have written in the past two years but it has been for work and
that’s not the same as writing for yourself. If you are a writer you know what
I mean. Yes, naysayers…I am a writer. Whew.. pause for a minute, perhaps I am a little testy so please
bear with me or don’t. The nice thing about social media, blogs, movies, the
news and so on is that we all have a choice to scroll by or to turn it off. So
if you’re not a fan keep scrolling and FYI there is a delete button on Facebook
too. Just saying. I assure you my kindness will return… eventually.
In 2010 I started writing every night before bed. Sometimes
I would stay up till 1:00AM just writing. I did it for me. It was my time. It was
my space. It was my solitude. I wrote to allow myself relief. Writing allowed
me to empty my day and relieved me of the hurt, sadness and all the things unwanted
for that day. About two years ago I got busy, my travel days doubled from an
already busy schedule. I also had a hand in everything I could be a part of, so
little by little I stopped making time to write. Looking back now I can see
that is when I began to struggle.
Last month my family and I planned to attend an event
in San Antonio. It was a gathering of about 30,000 people. My son, Josh sings
and him and his classmates advanced to this most prestigious event. As a family,
we made plans months ago to attend. Some of us were scheduled to drive and
some of us were scheduled to fly. Whatever it takes, right. I am the organizer
of all things travel so everything was in order and we were ready to go. As an introvert the anticipation of being part of an audience this large was daunting and I knew there would be a struggle. I know how to do this so I knew I would have to work really hard to be ok around so many people. To add to this stress , the Monday
before we left I experienced a little bit of a breakdown. Ok, maybe not a
little bit, it was a full blown melt down. I have been silently struggling for
the past two years. Struggling mentally, spiritually and emotionally. All of this mess has been pressed down in
the center of my being and on this particular day the flood gates seemed to be giving way.
I remember that day was a busy day and that evening I was scheduled
to teach a class on self-care. I know huh… how ironic. Driving home that evening
everything just gave and I felt as my life came to a halt. No filter. No pretty cry. Just a raw form of weeping
seeking some sort of wellbeing within the inner most part of my being. It was two
days before we were scheduled to leave for San Antonio. I called my girls and my husband for support. Not even they knew of my struggles. If you had any interaction with me in the past two years you probably did not know I was struggling either. I am really good at keeping stuff to myself. So there is really no reason you would’ve known. Check on the people around you. We all have something.
A couple of years ago I wrote a book titled, Permission to
Rest. It’s a great book and I wish I had done better about following the advice on the self-care
chapters. But as my publisher says “writers typically write about what they struggle
with”.
We leave for San Antonio as planned because after all the show must go on. There is certainly no time to whimper or to struggle. I am a mom, a wife and a Nama and stuff has
to get done. My husband and I arrive a couple of days before the rest of the
family so we had some time for rest and relaxation. It is important that you know
God and I have not been in the best place for about two years. I’ve been upset
with Him and we are not on speaking terms most of the time. Well, He is always
talking to me but I am not listening. It’s true you guys, “if we draw nigh to
Him, He will draws nigh to us”. In my most desperate times He sits right next
to me. He holds true to His promise to “never leave me nor forsake me”. No
matter how bratty I am being and no matter how I fail Him. He truly loves me. On
my darkest days all I have to do is cry out and He leans in. Anybody out there
know what I am talking about!??! Unfortunately, we as the church typically don't follow Gods lead. We don't understand when a Christian struggles mentally, emotionally or spiritually. We are quick to judge and are quick to question if the person struggling is praying enough, worshiping enough, involved in enough bible studies or may even suggest we might need to volunteer more. Really all I needed was to be loved. All I needed was to feel as if I was enough but instead I received “social distancing” instead.
One afternoon while in San Antonio, my husband and I decide
to take a stroll down the river walk. It was quiet and peaceful, not to many
people. It isn’t long before we spot a “cartoon artist”, you know the kind
of artist that draw an image of you and it looks like a cartoon. This
particular artist happened to be a young Hispanic man. We take a seat and he
begins to draw. I begin to ask questions of how he became an artist and he
tells us of his journey. This young man overcame many obstacles to get to where
he is now and to earn the amount of money he earns today. We felt so blessed
that he would share his story with us. I told him “your mom must be so proud”
and he replied “my mom passed away a few years ago”. I said “I hope she saw you be
successful before she passed away”. He bowed
his head. My heart sank and he began to ask us questions of what we did back
home. I told him we had a small non-profit called Living Intentionally and our
goal was to help adults graduate with their GED.
Telling you this story reminds me of an encounter I had the other day. Someone that I assume is not a fan said to me “I don’t know
why you think you are such a big deal because all you do is help a few people
get their GED.” I know…and this is from a person that received their GED from a
program just like mine. I am certain they were struggling with something much
bigger than my GED program.
So you guys back to this artist. In my brokenness he was Jesus to me. I don't even know if he was a christian nonetheless he reached in and pulled hope to the surface. Someone that didn't know me brought a little healing to my being. We were done and I asked what the charge was. He said I want to gift
this to you because if it wasn’t for people like you I may have not had the
opportunity to get my GED and God knows where I would be now. The weeping begins
without control and each tear comforts my brokenness. I tell him I can’t accept the gift. I want to pay him but he insists.
Without thought I reach over, like a mother embrace him and kiss him on the cheek. I softly
whisper “your mom would be so proud”.
Keep doing what you are doing. You are making a difference. You
will always have naysayers but rest assured that there will always also be people that love you like Jesus.
