"I don't want to take ANYTHING to the grave. I want to die used up and emptied out. I don't want to carry around anything that I don't have to. I want to travel light."
On Thursdays Peanut takes two classes at a local homeschool academy. Each class is 45 minutes long. It is her most favorite time of the week.
Confession. Mine too. I'm *forced* to sit there for two 45 minute sessions.
It's the first time since Peanut's birth that "me time" has been a regular part of my week.
The first few weeks went exactly as I imagined.
Then people started talking to me.
Other moms. Other "waiters."
I'll be honest - at first I was a little annoyed. Do you see my book????
Each week though, I've been deeply touched by the stories I've heard and shared with these other "waiters."
I'm by nature what most call an "oversharer." Don't ask me how I am if you don't REALLY want to know. I don't do small talk. It's just not in me.
It's kind of ironic to me that people feel I overshare. Somehow in our society today it's okay to share every cup of coffee we drink or funny meme we find, but it's taboo to really share our heart. To share our ups and our downs, our struggles, our questions.
That stuff - we're supposed to harness somewhere I guess.
When I began to walk the gastro madness, I learned if you don't share you don't learn. As I slowly began to open up about my struggles, God continued to give me words of encouragement, tidbits of strategies to try, and a few quarter friends who simply said "that's hard."
I have spent many prayers wishing God had given me something different. For the record, diarrhea is not a super popular topic of conversation.
BUT, walking hard, being unsure, questioning your unbelief, holding thoughts captive, struggling - it's as universal and as common as it gets.
Everytime I share, God changes ME.
Sharing my truth doesn't always change the person I share with. In fact, often it pushes them away (thus the reason these posts are no longer public). There were will always be people who feel your hard should be something you keep a secret.
Sometimes sharing my story is about changing me. Making me more comfortable sharing it. Pushing me out of my comfort zone. Forcing me to really synthesize what I've learned.
The thing about doing what He calls you to do is that it's about YOU. You may never see the fruit of the seeds you sow. But, you are called to sow them nonetheless.
Last week the "waiter" that God put in my path seemed like any other perfect mom to me. She started chatting with me and mentioned something that made me feel that tug. I clearly heard Him tell me, "tell her." And so I did. In a big rambling mess. I'm often sure people are going to nod nicely and try to walk away. Instead she leaned in and cried. And her story began to unfold to me.
What a gift.............for ME. To be the person she chose to honor with her story.
You see, I firmly believe He's at work in all our lives. And sometimes we are so caught up in trying to survive the caves that we can't see him in the crevices.
When we share our story, we gift someone else the permission to share theirs.
We say "I know hard. You can share hard with me. I'm a safe place."
When we share our story we give Him permission to enter it..........to walk it with us.
When we share our story, we remind people of God's promises. We remind them that He always intends to be a light of hope.
We stand in for them when they can't believe it for themselves.
Mama Warriors, this season is the telling of a beautiful story. Peanut and I have over and over again told the story of the baby Jesus who comes Christmas morning as the most wonderful gift of Christmas.
How hard it must have been for Mary to share her story. How crazy people must have thought she was. How I'm sure people felt she was oversharing.
But she told it anyway.
I challenge you this holiday season to give a gift that really matters. Not one amazon brings in a brown box. Not one that gets wrapped and put under the tree.
But one that takes far greater courage. I challenge to find the space to share your own story authentically, transparently.
Even if you can't see how it's ending just yet. Even if it seems messy and unfinished.
Especially then.
Tell it anyway.
Published 2018
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