"You're doing much better than I would be doing in your circumstance." It's a refrain that I hear often and from people who mean it with the very best of intentions. But today as I sat in church and my pastor talked about our ability to abuse our story by making light of it, by making it smaller than it truly is, I realized that I have been misrepresenting myself if people are viewing me as strong and brave.
There has been a lot of light in my story. There has been a lot of provision and love and reminders of who God is and who I will continue to be even when this chapter of my story is over. A story that feels as though it is finally nearing some sort of end, even as there's still palpable confusion for everyone involved what that is. God is laying bricks for a new foundation and a life that doesn't fully look or feel like my own yet. I find relief in the neatness of things falling into place. I find comfort in the rhythms of a new and exhausting life. I find joy in a job with purpose. As these same words escape my lips to friends, family, people at church, I know that the truth is my soul is mourning. My soul has not stopped mourning. It has not found peace.
During a yoga class weeks ago, the words "joy in the chaos" popped into my head. They have played over and over again. I know they are for me but I have not seen them come to fruition. Rather than the joy, I have found my old patterns of hiding. I have found that I can find joy if I only think about the dream job I have, the precious time I get with my son, the boy who took me on a date, or the run that pushed me longer than the day before. But don't the bruises of life always seem so much more real in the quiet, when we're sitting at a coffee shop, absolutely surrounded by people and noise but so alone that you find the breath catching in your throat?
I used to love my little hiding place. I used to love closing the door and locking the hurt away before I left the house. Now in the hiding, I find lonliness. In the hiding, I find guilt. In the hiding, I feel shame. In the hiding, I feel a hammer smashing my heart into smaller and smaller pieces. My heart, the truth of who I am and where I am at right now, disappearing a little more into dust as I hide.
It is clear to me that the bricks God is laying for this new foundation are not meant to build a new hiding place, they are meant to build a gathering place. I no longer want to be in a position where I am here, with my community, talking about all things besides the ones that matter. We were never meant to walk this life alone, especially in the hardest of times.
And so I will begin. I will begin to be brave. I will begin to feel joy in the very truest of chaos. I will begin to be honest. I will begin with the simplest of words, the biggest of truths.
My heart is broken.
My eyes are more often wet than dry.
Most nights I don't sleep.
I still miss you.
