{Just Be Me}

I struggle so much with speaking clearly about my walk with God, or lack thereof. The demons of self deprecation and what the others think of me are screaming so loud most of the time I can barely hear myself think between them and the little people I attempt to parent and mold and love, all in the middle of a splintered life and fragmented faith.

I wonder what this is all for really? To what end? For whose benefit? Does anyone really care anyway that my faith has completely crashed and burned? That my childhood assurances and seemingly comforting answers mock me as I struggle to answer my young child’s scared questions about whether or not God will protect us from a possible tornado as we all pack into the small bathroom of the vacation rental last night? I could barely get past the huge knot in my throat to toss together something comforting for them as they huddled in the bathtub surrounded by their favorite blankies. I’m their Mom, I’m supposed to know how to comfort them, right?

This dark night of the soul, this season of silence, this path of being lost…they all hurl me into such a tight and uncomfortable place in regards to my children. What faith am I passing on to them? How do you give something solid from a pile of broken pieces? How do you guide them when you are lost in a dark whirlwind you are not sure you will ever find your way out of?

Will I ever be able to just be me with the world and family surrounding me? I’ve distanced myself from most acquaintances because I’m so uncomfortable in the skin of my faith that there’s no energy left for small talk, for attempting to build something real month after month when it all mostly burns to ashes and goes nowhere. I’ve had to take more space, more space to shed people, places, religion, and all the other things that sink their claws in.

I wonder what life will be like a few years beyond a ruptured spirituality. I must believe I will survive this, even though my internal places are so raw from the proverbial bleeding. I’m always screaming inside in this place. There is no peace in the dark today. Maybe I really have lost my way.

This is real, I have no pretty picture to paint today. Leaving institutional church, walking away from so much, it isn’t fodder for a good beach read, it’s terribly messy and flat out brutal.

Beauty still seeps in, it shows up in sharp contrast, it tosses color at me in the blackness.

I’m loved. I have a family to laugh with, to care for. This season isn’t about counting my blessings, I know them oh so intimately, they are closer than my breath. So I breathe deeper and keep going. I remind myself it’s all worth it, they are worth it, the struggle is worth it, there is purpose hidden somewhere within the tangled chords.

{Hope Wood}

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>>>THIS POSTby Rachel Held Evans really resonated with me and prompted this post<<<

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