How does one greet someone who feels like an old dear friend who you have shared some of your most formative thoughts and experiences with, but haven't been close to in several years? There's so much history and intimacy shared, yet the space of time has left gaps, missed moments, and stories untold. Whatever the answer, that's how I feel about this space. I shared so much at pivotal times of my life, when writing was my outlet and way to process all that God was doing and all that was happening in my life. It would be futile and exhausting to try to "catch up" in this space to fill in all that has happened in the past years. Yet, they are so important to the story, my story, God's story in me. So what to do?
When my kids went back to school this September, and my youngest went to Pre-K three mornings a week, I thought I'd dedicate so much time to writing and reflection. The title for this post was started on Sept. 19. Now it's October 26 and I'm just now actually writing. Oddly I don't have a thought or subject just burning to get out. But I know to be a writer I simply need to write. Words are rarely at a loss either way. I'll just dive in and be okay with imperfection and less than riveting material.
Seasons. I used to love them. I probably still do. But this year, seasons have held all the conflicting things at once. They've held nuance, and glaring changes, slow steady rhythms, and quick hurried changes. I spend the spring and early summer planning on writing about the many lessons to be learned from planting a garden, annual flowers, and perennial plants. There were many lessons God worked in my heart as I dug in the dirt, tried new things, hoped for life, both in my plants and my own soul. You see, this last year, well more than a year now, was so full of anxiety for me. I didn't know what the root was. It took a dark and ugly turn in December, right at Christmas of course, and I spent weeks, months even, desperately seeking answers, healing, and change. I felt so many feelings. Failure and shame tried to be dominant ones. Why was someone who had chased healing and health in the Spirit so relentlessly the past few years suddenly battling crippling anxiety? Why was picking my son up from school enough to make me fight a panic attack? Why was the simple act of going away for a fun family weekend at Bible camp causing me the worst panic attack I'd ever experienced and horrific physical and emotional issues? I didn't have answers. I continued to go to counseling, even more often, I sought spiritual wisdom from my mentors, physical relief from Dr.'s and chiropractors, and read everything I could get my hands on about anxiety on all levels. And yet, nothing "healed" me.
As spring approached I got outside as much as I could. The very act of digging in dirt and planting things brought momentary relief. And I realized, as hopeless as I'd felt in the past 5 months, I wasn't. Here I was hoping that things I planted would survive and bring me future joy. Maybe, just perhaps, if I could find some hope in this, there was hope for my weary soul. I kept hoping for immediate healing. Yet, this summer God worked in my heart and revealed to me that I hadn't actually asked. I'd asked others to pray, I'd asked for help and wisdom and answers, but I hadn't out loud asked God to heal me. It took much more courage and humility than I thought I would need to do so, but with the insight of some mentors who love me, I finally asked God to heal me. I can't say it was immediate, but what did change was a realization of how God felt towards me. I've been running, crawling, inching and fighting towards true healthy relationship with God the past few years. So many lies and trauma and abuse in my relationship with God from others and the enemy affected so much. But after this season, which I finally can believe was just a season, albeit a painfully long one, I can truly say I'm closer than I've ever been to a really harmonious true view of God and how he views me.
Anxiety took a load of work to deal with this year, as I've shared, on all fronts. And as the seasons outside changed yet again, I found myself unready. Fall is usually my favorite, I look forward to cooler temps, sweaters, warm mugs, and the reflection that often comes with it all. But this year, I was dreading it, crabby at the slowing growth in my beloved plants, and seriously annoyed at frost warnings. I ached for the familiarity of my morning coffee (decaf now thanks to caffeine affecting my anxiety) spent on the side of my garden with my Bible and journal at the ready. The daily walks through my flowers checking stalks to see what was ready to be cut and grace my table and our home with their beauty. I missed the imaginative plans for next year and what I'd grow, while still enjoying the fruits of this year. If spring brought hope, fall was bringing dread and longing.
As the weeks have continued to get colder and days shorter, God has kept working in my heart. I'm still excited for next spring, but I'm reminded God works in the "resting". In fact, despite my outdoor workings this spring and summer, that's all this year has felt like. Like I have to rest. Physically, anxiety required more sleep and less pushing and hustling. Emotionally, I kept digging and working hard, but this time it looked like waiting on God to reveal what needed his healing and my attention. I felt I'd learned the immense value of what God designed rest to be to us. How all our striving can't bring about as much of God's work as our resting in him. And yet, here I was, finding myself fighting and resisting these physical representations of rest that the natural world was bringing me. Perhaps God has had more to teach me.
Anxiety has taken a rest lately. A new and less physical medication has helped, but before that even, my soul was slowly coming back to a less anxious life. Many hours of EMDR and seeking God's face helped I know. And some of it, maybe unexplainably, was just God. Allowing me to slowly come back to a new and better life. One where I know deep in my being, God just wants me, not all I can do or felt I should do. Just a relationship with me. Out of that alone, a relationship with my loving heavenly father, can a life of peace come. For HE alone is my peace. More on that another time.
A beautiful theologian I adore (I hate that I have to qualify it with the fact she's a woman) has written about God's abundance. And produced a t-shirt I know wear when I need reminders. It reads "May His abundance never scare you" (linked there). She says it so much better than I ever could, but basically, we've been trained to see God in the hard stuff, and wow does he work in the hard stuff, but he is also a GOOD God who loves us and works in his abundance as well. I'm leaning into that currently. I feel I've spent my adult life always waiting for the other shoe to drop. That if there was a "good season", suffering was always close behind it. Maybe that's why I dreaded fall this year. I was scared God wouldn't still meet me, inside my house as the cold rages outside instead of next to tangible reminders of growth and hope. Maybe God would bring back the anxiety that crippled me last winter. And maybe, maybe he won't. Our good seasons where we experience God's abundance and generosity do not have to be filled with fear of "the other shoe" dropping. I don't know the plans of God, but I know his heart. He is a good God full of blessing and relationship for me, for us. NO matter the outside season, there is a new season in my heart. One of deeper relationship with God, and leaning into his abundance, even if that abundance is in the midst of struggle. Fear can go to hell, and shame can go there to (to quote a worship song I just discovered).
I don't know what this fall holds, but I hope it holds more writing, more leaning into my kids faces as we share laughter over some silly antic, more warm mugs with friends discussing God's works, more knitting maybe, more hopes and dreams for the next season of growth, more hand holding with my beloved husband, more laughter over meals with friends, and more peace. I pray my peace continues to find it's strength from God, who is my peace.
