2014 has become a year that while I would never change the birth of our beautiful little Myka, for the most part I struggle often with just wanting to forget the pain that is the last year. I've had a lot of "why, God" questions this year. Why when I've always experienced almost sickeningly good health do I have to be taken out at the knees by pregnancy? Why does it have to impact all of my relationships in a way that leaves me feeling alone and isolated? Why does that extreme isolation have to last another 2 months after our Princess Baby arrived? Why do I have to continue to feel that extreme sense of aloneness even after that 2 months is up? I'm full of why questions.
The reality is I'd love to snap my fingers and get over it. To get on with my life the way I lived it before everything started to change, but the truth that I'm discovering is that while the answers to all of my "Why" questions aren't always apparent every so often God gives me a little glimpse at the reason.
You see, God has spent 2014 teaching me some important lessons, just like Moses had to flee to the desert to hear God, Elijah had to be separated from the noise of those around him and even Jesus, himself spent 40 days in the wilderness, I had to become separated from the busywork I was surrounded by that masked itself in relationships and church work to actually have the opportunity to hear what God was trying to tell me.
James reminds us that we are to "count it pure joy" whenever we meet with difficulties, but I think that myself like most people would like to kind of gloss over that part of Scripture. It's much easier to read about the cancer survivor or the motivational speaker faced with the challenge of living life without arms and legs then it is to ask how that verse applies to me personally. See, I know I'm probably not going to like the answer.
For me the answer has meant that God has had to remind me that I can't hear him when I won't slow down to listen. When I'm caught up in the activity even of "good work", there is lots of white noise. White noise while it's never very loud none the less drowns out beauty of silence. This morning as I write this I'm sitting in a quiet living room before anyone else is up. It's amazing what you hear when you stop to listen to what is going on around you. I hear the little noises that my baby girl makes in her sleep. I hear life starting to happen on the street outside my house as people start their morning routines or commute. I hear the ticking of the clock that I often forget about. I hear the creaking and settling of the house we call home. And lets not forget the breathing of the dogs lying next to me. In my daily life, I had become so busy running from one thing to the next that I never stopped to pay attention to the seemingly meaningless details. The things that make up the fabric of our lives are the little things we often ignore.
I think that's what God has been using 2014 to show me. The importance of taking those moments and just listening and being. Whether it's with him or with the people I happen to be with, I realize that by having things taken away I value them more. I realize that it's ok for me to give myself permission to spend an hour with someone and not look at my phone. If I'm staring at a screen for a large portion of my time with someone, I'm creating white noise that keeps me from truly seeing what they need from me. They don't need me distracted, they need me present. The time that I spend with someone and how I spend it impacts how they will be a part of my life tomorrow, next week and even next month. If I make them feel that I'm distracted and they are taking me away from more important things chances are that next time I try to spend time with them they might not be available.
I think as I try to re-acclimate to life after extreme isolation I realize the little things now. I realize how I feel when someone I'm with is trying to carry on a conversation with another person via text while spending time with me. I struggled for a while with how it made me feel, but now I'm seeing it as the gift it is. Extreme isolation brings with it a higher sensitivity to how a disconnected person experiences the things that I might have never thought twice about doing before experiencing it myself.
At first I just thought of myself as broken. Health that made it impossible for me to live a "normal" life. Isolation when my health kept me from doing all the things I had once juggled successfully. Now I'm starting to see it as a blessing. God has given me the opportunity to clear my head of the white noise that we so often live our whole lives in and has allowed me to find value in whitespace and saying no to busyness while saying yes to life with purpose and being truly present in small doses rather than living in the lie that you can juggle dozens of "close" relationships successfully. Never taking care of or truly taking time for myself to recharge and reconnect with God. Don't get me wrong. As my counselor reminds me, I'm coming out of this part of my life with a new identity. One that I often don't understand completely yet and I do still have moments of mourning the "normal" life that I had at one time. It seems like it would be much easier to go back to living in the white noise, but once you've seen the value of life stripped down there's no going back.
The reality is I'd love to snap my fingers and get over it. To get on with my life the way I lived it before everything started to change, but the truth that I'm discovering is that while the answers to all of my "Why" questions aren't always apparent every so often God gives me a little glimpse at the reason.
You see, God has spent 2014 teaching me some important lessons, just like Moses had to flee to the desert to hear God, Elijah had to be separated from the noise of those around him and even Jesus, himself spent 40 days in the wilderness, I had to become separated from the busywork I was surrounded by that masked itself in relationships and church work to actually have the opportunity to hear what God was trying to tell me.
James reminds us that we are to "count it pure joy" whenever we meet with difficulties, but I think that myself like most people would like to kind of gloss over that part of Scripture. It's much easier to read about the cancer survivor or the motivational speaker faced with the challenge of living life without arms and legs then it is to ask how that verse applies to me personally. See, I know I'm probably not going to like the answer.
For me the answer has meant that God has had to remind me that I can't hear him when I won't slow down to listen. When I'm caught up in the activity even of "good work", there is lots of white noise. White noise while it's never very loud none the less drowns out beauty of silence. This morning as I write this I'm sitting in a quiet living room before anyone else is up. It's amazing what you hear when you stop to listen to what is going on around you. I hear the little noises that my baby girl makes in her sleep. I hear life starting to happen on the street outside my house as people start their morning routines or commute. I hear the ticking of the clock that I often forget about. I hear the creaking and settling of the house we call home. And lets not forget the breathing of the dogs lying next to me. In my daily life, I had become so busy running from one thing to the next that I never stopped to pay attention to the seemingly meaningless details. The things that make up the fabric of our lives are the little things we often ignore.
I think that's what God has been using 2014 to show me. The importance of taking those moments and just listening and being. Whether it's with him or with the people I happen to be with, I realize that by having things taken away I value them more. I realize that it's ok for me to give myself permission to spend an hour with someone and not look at my phone. If I'm staring at a screen for a large portion of my time with someone, I'm creating white noise that keeps me from truly seeing what they need from me. They don't need me distracted, they need me present. The time that I spend with someone and how I spend it impacts how they will be a part of my life tomorrow, next week and even next month. If I make them feel that I'm distracted and they are taking me away from more important things chances are that next time I try to spend time with them they might not be available.
I think as I try to re-acclimate to life after extreme isolation I realize the little things now. I realize how I feel when someone I'm with is trying to carry on a conversation with another person via text while spending time with me. I struggled for a while with how it made me feel, but now I'm seeing it as the gift it is. Extreme isolation brings with it a higher sensitivity to how a disconnected person experiences the things that I might have never thought twice about doing before experiencing it myself.
At first I just thought of myself as broken. Health that made it impossible for me to live a "normal" life. Isolation when my health kept me from doing all the things I had once juggled successfully. Now I'm starting to see it as a blessing. God has given me the opportunity to clear my head of the white noise that we so often live our whole lives in and has allowed me to find value in whitespace and saying no to busyness while saying yes to life with purpose and being truly present in small doses rather than living in the lie that you can juggle dozens of "close" relationships successfully. Never taking care of or truly taking time for myself to recharge and reconnect with God. Don't get me wrong. As my counselor reminds me, I'm coming out of this part of my life with a new identity. One that I often don't understand completely yet and I do still have moments of mourning the "normal" life that I had at one time. It seems like it would be much easier to go back to living in the white noise, but once you've seen the value of life stripped down there's no going back.
No comments:
Post a Comment