So, for the past year and a half, our family has been…ummm…busy. On March of 2016, we welcomed a newborn and a toddler into our home, and more pointedly, into our hearts. We hit the ground running! And honestly, I kinda like that…being so busy that I barely have time to think…which frees me from feeling. And oh, what a delicious luxury…to escape my feelings…cause WHEW! I am a feeeeeeler, y’all. A feeeeeel-er. And I don’t always/ever like to feel. I’ve been know to drown emotions in wine…in queso/guacamole/Mexican food goodness…in movies…in cake…in coffee…and for a brief stint, in running (helllllo runners’ high.)
But here I am. All of a sudden, my frantic pace of keeping up with four people under the age of five, has come to a screeching HALT. And I’ve given up wine, running, cake…and a few other vices. So I’ll be damned if I’m not stuck here…having to FEEL my feelings. But I’m not that easily lured into the healthy processing of emotions. Bah! Since the littles have left, I’ve delved deep into Facebook and Netflix. Ha! Reading/Watching until I pass out at night. No feelings here. No siree bob.
Oh! But Sundays. Grrrrr. I go to a place every Sunday…and the spirit is thick, y’all. Floating about…opening my clenched heart…moving me away from isolation toward a community of believers who want to enter into my pain and help me heal. Ick! Ick! Ick!
And so I stand by Phil…in church, surrounded by community…and cry and cry and cry. With that wooing voice…”Stop running away from this pain. It will not kill you! In fact, it will heal you. Let it in. Let it wash in, over, and through you. Lean in, Jan. Lean in.”
And so, I lay myself bare…leaning in. Breathing. Crying. And healing.