the place i find that i experience the most peace, is near still waters. i don’t have to be boating, or swimming, or fishing – merely standing on a dock or bank staring out at it is plenty. gazing for hours, nearly dazed, and i am Home. something about it’s dance, it’s cadence, it’s glimmer soothes and comforts me. and the exact point at which i reach stillness in my body, mind, and spirit, a clarity overtakes me. not only can i see with a richness of quality, but i can hear the Quiet speaking to me.

most days you’ll find me rushing and fussing and getting **** done! mostly because one of my earliest lessons was that this is my role. it’s why i exist. to do. and when i do enough, love will pay me with its’ presence. my grandmother, whom we call “Grand” loves to tell stories of me as an itty bitty little thing cleaning furiously. “Oh, you would be moving around so quick! And you’d be dusting and sweeping and…”, demonstrating my busyness. i can just see the broom towering over my tiny two-year-old body. 

i love to hear her tell these stories. even the ones about how she dropped me off back at home in misty glenn apartments, and i’d wail at the window, screaming and pounding the glass begging her not to walk away. maybe it was around this age when i came to recognize that if i did enough – if i produced enough, the loss of love would evade me. that i could win over abandonment if i simply paid it in the only worth i’d seen work – productivity. i wonder if Grand learned this lesson early, too?

i imagine she was my very first friend. while life was pummeling my parents, she must have taken on the role of companion for me. she is my very first muse and she is majestic to me. you know, i think i am coming to believe i am most fascinated by her ability to hold together shattered pieces. she taught me how to break. how to utterly crumble, but only internally. now i can see, she modeled what it looked like to break at the heart, all the while standing upright, holding it all together, moving forward…producing.

for so many of us, this is what it looks like to survive. it’s avoiding the pain at all costs. it’s ignoring the stressor in order to make it through. it’s absorbing the impact and burying the evidence in our psyche. it’s burrowing into oneself to defend against accusation and attack. listen! for me, this begs compassion without judgement. if you can’t see glory in the art it is to hold together millions of pieces while producing, i fear you may not be aware of your own brokenness.
i believe Grand felt allowing even one piece to fall would destroy any chance of ever standing wholly upright again. and who can produce anything in pieces? that question is no longer rhetorical for me. the stillness in the Quiet crashed wave over wave and answered it so clearly. God can. i looked down into those waters without a thing to offer it (apart from myself) in Its’ grandiosity, and saw my own reflection made in His image staring back at me. and wouldn’t you know, it seemed distorted because it was in pieces.

i blinked. and blinked again. i squeezed my eye lids together tightly, and still – there i stood, fragmented. as if the Wind itself were carrying me crushed, because He is not intimidated by my pieces. as a matter of fact, He seemed to have direction and purpose for every shard. not one fell to the ground. not one was lost or stolen. not even one was wasted or neglected. i thought, “what in the world are You going to do with all of those useless crumbs?!”

mighty exploits, that’s what. and this knowing has gifted me the Godfidence to just let myself break. yep. i cry, and weep, and grieve, and mourn, and moan, and scream, and cuss, and break, and break, and break, producing nothing but emotion while staring into that water. because i know Jesus will not only hold me together and carry me, but He will also USE IT ALL. i can allow myself to feel the pain because it is on assignment to serve me. even it has to obey the Wind that is Holy Spirit.

still, trauma is a tricky little sucker. it leaves the impression on our brains that we need to be insulated from any and every threat. it conditions us to believe that we won’t survive not even one more ache, break, or attack. and sometimes this can be true. at the same time, though – surviving once (and each time after) is more likely a pretty good indicator that we’re better equipped for the bombs and barriers to come. in this life we will have trouble, but i say – trouble better watch it’s back. 

to subdue: “to conquer and bring into subjection, to vanquish; to bring under control, especially by an exertion of the will; to bring under cultivation; to reduce the intensity or degree of” – Merriam Webster
“For the source of your pleasure is not in my performance or the sacrifices I might offer to you. The fountain of your pleasure is found in the sacrifice of my shattered heart before you. You will not despise my tenderness as I humbly bow down at your feet.” – Psalm 51:16, 17 TPT

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