Friday, August 21, 2015

I didn't want to write. But here you have it.

I don't write much these days. It's not that I don't have anything to say, or don't need to process--quite the contrary. For reasons that are beyond my understanding, people have noticed and have been asking as to why I have stopped.  "Time" is the most convenient answer I usually give, and in part it's true. (Finding a rhythm within marriage is proving to be more challenging than I thought.) But it's not the whole truth. 

It's the vulnerability part of it all. 

In being vulnerable you expose all, share all and risk all. I have discovered that it can be an absolutely beautiful thing and believe to my core that is how we are called to live--being real, and honest, and exposed. Being vulnerable has allowed me to explore depths of myself and depths of relationships that I otherwise would not have known. I have learned that in being vulnerable you can find healing and you can discover hope. But not all sides of vulnerability are great, it can often be accompanied by pain and hurt.

And maybe that is where I am these days. Tired of being vulnerable. And even more, it's that thought: "[I'm] tired of being vulnerable" that has me in this season silence. 

Rachel Held Evans expresses this beautiful thought that our lives are full of moments of death and moments of resurrection. 

And in my soul it feels like a season a death in some part. I've lost some joy, some passions. I've lost my my will to stand and to be bold in certain areas. I've lost a part of myself that use to be so important ....but yet, there has been room. Room to explore new passions. Room to discover new joys. Room to uncover new courage.

So in this season of silence, may I mourn what was, but hold out hope that in some place and time, new life in those areas will be resurrected and vulnerability will be desired. Until then, I'm liking the room.