We are blessedly human, and we do indeed walk one another home. Befriending our woundedness is not a solo act. Yes, I know. It doesn’t always feel that way. I look, but don’t see any gift. Because I see brokenness and woundedness as impediments or disabilities, to be tidied up, overcome or prayed away. What I don’t see is that in the invitation to befriend my “untidy” self, is the invitation to embrace the beauty and the wonder. I will admit that there is comfort donning my cape, morphing into Mr. Tidy OCD, an emotional life fix-it hero. And I know why. It distracts and protects me, because there’s a part of me that is afraid to pause, to befriend my scattered and wounded self. To let myself be loved for being this wonderfully messy imperfect me. Grace, it turns out, is WD40 for the soul. There are significant issues in our world (in my world) that invite and require investment and healing; and I want to show up. And I want to bring my real self, my whole self, and spill light in any small way that I can. But today reminded me that I cannot forget, in my fixation to “make sense” of everything… along the way (even the messy way)… I don’t want to miss the small gifts of life, the serendipitous gifts of grace, the presence of the holy, and the gentle does of the sacred reflected in our everyday, and extraordinarily ordinary world.
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We are blessedly human, and we do indeed walk one another home. Befriending our woundedness is not a solo act. Yes, I know. It doesn’t always feel that way. I look, but don’t see any gift. Because I see brokenness and woundedness as impediments or disabilities, to be tidied up, overcome or prayed away. What I don’t see is that in the invitation to befriend my “untidy” self, is the invitation to embrace the beauty and the wonder. I will admit that there is comfort donning my cape, morphing into Mr. Tidy OCD, an emotional life fix-it hero. And I know why. It distracts and protects me, because there’s a part of me that is afraid to pause, to befriend my scattered and wounded self. To let myself be loved for being this wonderfully messy imperfect me. Grace, it turns out, is WD40 for the soul. There are significant issues in our world (in my world) that invite and require investment and healing; and I want to show up. And I want to bring my real self, my whole self, and spill light in any small way that I can. But today reminded me that I cannot forget, in my fixation to “make sense” of everything… along the way (even the messy way)… I don’t want to miss the small gifts of life, the serendipitous gifts of grace, the presence of the holy, and the gentle does of the sacred reflected in our everyday, and extraordinarily ordinary world.
