I spent Tuesday morning hiking trails and climbing over boulders. I had been looking forward to this time...alone, early morning, crisp mountain air. After years of coming and going from Colorado, I still do not own a spring jacket for such occasions, but I had found an extra sweatshirt in mom's suitcase and layered up.
A couple of times, I imagined a mountain lion or a bear coming out of nowhere, feeling very small and vulnerable in comparison to my surroundings. But most of the time, I was way too interested in the view...way too occupied with the thoughts that came to my mind. In open spaces the wind was cold, and when I couldn't feel my hands as much as I wanted to for the sake of taking pictures, I found a place to sit and warm up...a boulder nestled into a hillside under a very large tree. I could see Pike's Peak from where I sat. I could see a lot of things.
It was the morning of my brother's wedding. I was surrounded by beauty and love and family. I sat in the middle of a wide open place, wondering what would come next...would anything come next? And would I have to walk alone?
I sat and wondered what God saw in me...what He saw for me. Because lately, I hadn't seen anything. And I wondered, as I had for the past couple of weeks, if my story was done. A scary thought, trust me I know...but to confess this is the most honest confession I can give.
So much seemed to be lost...promises, love, dreams, plans, people, laughter, acceptance, friendship, places, hope and vision for the future...and there was no one with whom to share my sorrow.
Somewhere in the fight, I had lost sight of the beauty. I had lost sight of the shore and all hope of returning to it. Somewhere in the fight I had forgotten where I was going. I had lost all trust in my allies. Somewhere in the fight, I had become my own worst enemy...I had allowed myself to become redefined.
I am usually accepting of others. I try to love well...look past insecurities and flaws, admire unique qualities, and support the hopes and dreams of those who cross my path. Sure, I still honk and comment at the occasional person who cuts me off in traffic. I still respond in short sentences to my family when I feel stepped on. I can be less than patient when things do not go my way. Although, it is becoming less and less. I feel so guilty for hurting anyone. No one has to tell me when I've done wrong...my conscience does a good job of putting me in my place the moment a wrong word comes out of my mouth. I even apologize when I haven't done anything wrong. I can't stand the thought of being the reason for disappointment. I don't want anyone to ever feel left out. One of my biggest fears is losing someone I love without them ever knowing how much they meant to me.
But this acceptance has also been my weakness. At the heart of it all, I too am longing for acceptance. In the great effort to love, accept, support and encourage...I am hoping for the same in return. I end up dancing between fighting for the "me" I know is in there and giving up on me in hopes that the act of giving will be met by a person who will see and give back the same kind of love. But what if they do not "see"? What if they see something else, someone else? Therein lies the problem.
Instead of looking into the mirror of God's love and goodness for my definition, I have often looked into the mirror of the voices around me. Those voices are often more close and comforting and real. Those voices offer relationship too. So, I began to listen and to believe a whole lot of things. And my mind would change, sometimes on a daily basis. Until I couldn't remember the truth. I couldn't feel the truth. I could only feel confusion and hurt. I became so tired, so broken, so unaware of what my life was really meant to be. Of course, there were moments of clarity, when I fought and fought for who I was, for what I believed. It felt right at the time; like something needed to be said. But, looking back, did I really need those fighting words? They seemed to have come to nothing. All I could see was that I had given my words, my heart, my hope to someone, something other that the One who would fight for my joy and peace.
If I had only believed, in the first place, how truly important my story, my past, my experiences, my destiny was too...I wouldn't have had to ask someone else to see it...I would only have had to live it out for myself. I could have walked strong, confident, unhindered by the voices that told me who I should be, what I should believe, what my choices "really" said about me. After all, only God knows our true hearts, and that's all that should ever define us.
It was a long walk that morning...and even longer journey leading up to it. I'm not sure where to go from there either. Sweet Jesus, be my peace...and lead me in your everlasting way.
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