It happens sometimes. Most years Christmas is a time of joy, filled with decorations and celebrations, gatherings and festivities. Still, there are some years my journey to the manger feels more lonely, more overwhelmed, more soul-weary, and saddle-worn than I could have imagined.
It was a routine procedure. Nothing to worry about.
Sometimes the only one way to deal with fear – is to fight it. We’ve got to stop hiding in the corner, stop shaking in our shoes. In the face of such an opponent, our only response is to put on our big girl boots and kick fear all the way to the curb.
Could you sit with your favorite cookie in front of you and not eat it? Could you eye a favorite shirt at the department store and make a choice not to buy it?
I’d love to talk with you. My heart is for you and not against you. I’ve felt your pain as the scabs of wounds both historic and present have been ripped off, leaving you fragile, bleeding, and longing for relief.
Girlfriends can be the best back-seat drivers for each other’s relationship issues. We can effortlessly diagnose any situation and tell our friend exactly what she should do, why she should do it, and when. Yet, the bravest and boldest of us can be rendered completely helpless, confused, and/or paralyzed when it comes to evaluating the health of our own relationships (or lack thereof).
Rest. Typically not a word in my vocabulary.
I was coming up to the weeks before my vacation, barely hanging on by a thread. I didn’t even notice how tired I was. My body moved slowly, numbly in its predictable, mechanical motions of the day. Though I accomplished all of my responsibilities, it grew challenging to be present, much less to focus. I could hardly tell how cloudy my mind had become. How disconnected I felt. Unsteady.
We crossed at low tide. With only one road that washes out with the waves, there was a small window of time to make our way across, to leave behind the mainland and enter this remote, speck of an island…Holy Island.