Todays thoughts: Being alone takes courage.

Whether by choice or not, both bring a different element of discipline. Being alone by our own design is courageous because it means actively quieting all the voices of desire that fuel expectation; both of our own or of everything and everyone around us. Making the deliberate choice to take pause and time for ourselves and our own lives, often isn’t the easy decision.

Being alone when it’s not our own choice is courageous because it means choosing patience to bravely stand alone over things that we can’t always control. Whether it’s something that has been stripped away or simply hasn’t presented itself yet and despite the longings in our hearts, it takes courage to wait faithfully. To trust that there still is hope, even though our futures may not look anything like we’ve imagined them to.

I find myself somewhere in the middle of these two positions. Sitting on the edge of complete uncertainty, yet intentionally making the decision to stay exactly where God has me. I’d being lying if I said it was my choice to be where I’m at in my life currently, but I can say, that it is my choice to accept it honestly and faithfully, and find grace in wherever that is. Grace towards everyone around me. Grace toward God and his radically different plans than my own. Grace to accept that my mom “should” still be here with me. Grace over the anger and emotion of my very flawed, human heart. Grace towards myself.

I fall prey to the feeling of unworthiness more than I’d like to admit. I believe the lies. I believe the thoughts of not being good enough. I believe that, even just at 26, I’ve made too many mistakes. I’ve messed up too many things and I’m truly not enough and seemingly, never will be.

Although through the eyes of humanity, those things at times may be true, but I have been so struck by the truth that God’s grace is enough. It’s such a simple truth, yet it’s filled with complexities that go so far beyond my human understanding. My grace fails all the time. Sometimes, I don’t always have the capability of displaying true grace. Grace to forgive. Grace to understand. Grace to be compassionate. Grace to be patient. Grace to be kind.

To stand alone in these realizations can be really hard. In my human mind, it often times comes across as I’m not enough. The really beautiful thing about that is that it’s true. The only thing that makes that not completely contradictory, is that we can admit that we’re not enough, and in that grace, we can stop apologizing for who we are and where we are, and accept exactly where we’re at but without shame. We can admit the things we’ve messed up and done wrong, but we don’t have to live in the fear of being completely unworthy.  

I’ve spent several days and nights quietly by myself recently and in those times, I’ve had a lot of time to really appreciate that time alone. I don’t mean that I’ve always been blissfully happy in the peace of my own home, because truthfully, many of those moments have come with tears, with heartache and trying to just figure out how to exist by myself for the foreseeable future. But in the midst of all of that, it’s come with understanding.

Suddenly, letting go of “who I should be”  or “where I should be” doesn’t seem so scary. I may still be scared of a future unknown, but I’m starting to have the courage to lean into that fear and face it without the shame of being unworthy. Instead of putting on a brave face, learning to live authentically, exactly as I am.

I’ve had the feeling my life was “falling apart” a lot recently. The more I’ve prayed and the more I’ve asked for God’s grace over the understanding of my life I’ve started to see it more as a beautiful unraveling. Although my life may be “coming apart” it doesn’t mean it’s not intentional. I believe that sometimes God pulls on the strings of our lives. Not as puppets, but as creations. Sometimes you have to pull something apart to put it back together, only better.

I was angry for a long time about this. I felt like God pulled the strings of my life more like I was a marionette doll. I felt like all these things were happening in my life and I was just supposed to “move how God tells us to move.” It made no sense to me because how I felt didn’t match how I was supposed to act.

It took awhile, but I eventually saw that God wasn’t pulling the strings of my will, He was pulling the strings of my circumstance and my heart. He could see what was loose and snagging, where I couldn’t.  He wasn’t trying to control me, He was trying to secure me. Where I was unraveling, He wanted to put me back together, the right way. Sometimes in order to do that, it requires being isolated.You would never catch a single snag in a sea full of threads.

God had to get me alone to really hear His voice. My heart has been so tired and I’ve felt so isolated, but I’ve found more courage in those solitary moments than I have ever before, so I’m thankful.

It by NO stretch, means that it’s been an entirely enjoyable experience, but I am still finding joy in present moments. I’m still finding strength that I didn’t know I had. In everything I’ve felt like I lost and in all of the angry moments of feeling alone, God has never been absent. He has never not been visible in the fabric of my life. It’s just a matter of if I choose to see past my present emotion and trust that my future will make more sense.

When the comforts around you disappear, even ones that you’ve maybe even depended on for years, and you stand alone, your heart learns to take courage. Courage to let your past be your past. Courage to be vulnerable. Courage to lean into the hurts of your heart all the while, leaning into a God that is bigger than all of those hurts combined. Courage to willfully still choose joy.

Despite being afraid, I’ve found that God grants us the courage to be brave in imperfection. We can live a life completely unraveled, and still be a perfect a mess of threads. A mess of human emotion. The beauty is that when we see a mess, or even a disaster, Jesus sees a lifetime of untangling.

To live and to love so fiercely, with such a raw vulnerability, with so little guarantee of the life that we’ve always pictured, is the ultimate picture of Jesus to me.

“To be nobody-but-yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody but yourself – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight- and never stop fighting.” – E.E. Cummings