Vulnerability is sharing the inside parts allowing another to “see” into me. It is intimate. Inner thoughts, perceptions, hopes, hurts and dreams. By allowing myself to be seen, I am exposing myself to the potential for harm. Vulnerability is risky business. There could be rejection, resistence or embarrassment. I may be misunderstood or judged.
But the rewards for vulnerability are higher. Being seen, being known and accepted is a powerful tool. A tool that is potentially healing. And vulnerability opens doors for others to step into risky places and their own potential for healing. I may be out on an edge right now, but I believe there is value in sharing my process. This has been a dark season. Dimly lit…everything in grey…hanging on by a thread.
But, God’s not dead. He is very much alive.
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. He does not change like shifting shadows. He isn’t on and off. He is consistent, reliable, unchanged by the circumstances around Him. His world does not falter because of disappointment, loss, grief or drought. He does not change. His heart remains for us. His ear inclined toward us. His gaze always lingering on us.
wavering and wandering
But my heart. My heart, marred by disappointment, bruised by loss, pricked by sadness and damaged in grief. My heart wavers and wanders. My heart has been heavy. I have spent a wilderness season wandering. I am not quite in and not quite out. Neither in or out of the life that continues all around me. Family life, work life, friend life…it feels just out of my reach…I see it moving and breathing all around me, but I am out here, on the edge of it.
Being here as opposed to there…almost, but not quite fully in it, this living on the edge feeling is familiar. Sometimes it is sad or lonely, but mostly it is just dull, and numb. Stepping in further means peering in to what won’t ever be, facing to what has changed…mourning the losses. Inching closer means allowing the pain to rise up. Instinctivley, my heart knows that this edge living keeps me safe…for now.
I have inched closer into the spaces of pain, but I can’t stay there. Not yet. I do not want to make my home in the new way of being and living and loving, so I sit here, …on my edge. I am just out of reach. I perceive and watch from just a little way off. Just recently I am noticing a stirring, a quiver of restlessness. Barely perceptible, like the soft beating wings of a hummingbird, I wonder if my edge living is ending.
You wouldn’t know I am far off because our outsides do not always look or feel the same as our insides.
#grayhairisacrownofglory #proverbs16:31 #myauthenticself #growingolderisagiftOutside, I am the same me you have known…even with my new, mature appearance.
Insides are protected. Insides are hidden. But even on the inside, out here on my edge, I am not alone. While my heart is bruised and fragile, it does know the closeness of the One who is consistently, steadfastly present with me on my edge. He has been patiently waiting with me. There is no rush or urgency in Him to get me moving. He just is with me. Undoing the aloneness. With that there is a confident expectation of hope that this season of foggy will end and I will again step into the flow of what is next. Then there will be renewal, purpose and productivity.
I am closer now than I have been in months because the words are coming back. Words that connect Him to me. Words that leak out what my heart cannot hold any longer. Words that speak my truth mingled with His hope. Grateful that His hope does not waver.