We're all crashing into each other with all this mess and isn't this what life is? Isn't the only way to keep injury to a minimum to focus on what is within our control which really only is our own mess?
I've grown up believing it's really important to control as much as possible what others think of or see in me. To contribute my greatest energy here, on the outside. Even today, I want to portray so badly the person in my heart I want to be, and I spend a lot of time evaluating my performance in this area.
But at the end of the day, if I don't face my own inner reality, then I'm only setting myself up for a crash and that crash will affect everyone around me.
So taking moments is important and really, a much better use of my valuable energy. Moments. When we slow down and reflect. And are honest with ourself and our mirror, and when we are brave, with our friends. Those safe places who are reservoirs for our soul. These moments keep us moving forward because when we are honest, we are able to receive the necessary repairs to prevent the combustion and crash.
My husband and I have two very different approaches to car maintenance. As soon as I feel the slightest jump or bump from under the hood, I'm recommending a full out inspection and tune up because there was a sign of something wrong and I'd rather it not turn into something much louder and bigger. My sweet, smart, studly husband, though, needs some bigger signs before service. He'd like to at least have our very smart sensoring car tell us something is wrong on the dash or express a level of dysfunction that cannot be ignored. My biggest fear, and all the anxiety in that is just worrying it will be too late.
Let's keep our car, and ourselves, I'm pleading in check. Let's make sure we don't pass by this moment when the blood rushed so quickly to my cheeks I didn't even have time to hide it and my hands started shaking and I went quiet, but why? Something under the hood is smoking and if I ignore it, I'll regret so much the fire coming in a moment.
So I sit down and ask myself why that moment drove me wild and why I didn't hold my tongue that other moment and I realize it's mostly because I'm flying solo again.
I got the idea that my human, 30-year-old thoughts held an ultimate level of wisdom. I bought into the idea that my own strength was not only enough but was maybe even something to marvel about. Like I'm some kind of superhuman, superhero. Before I crashed.
But the crash. These moments bring me back to the place where my head is bowed and my knees bend low. Because I can't find clear answers quickly and there is so much brokenness surrounding me and I am part of it. There is always a day that proves I'm not the answer to any of the world's problems...and that the broken, tragic issues in this world pile up at a faster rate than I can solve them. And the days I join the pile of the problems - the days I am the problem. Because always, I am not God. I knew that, right?
And so I need Him and I need the hope. And so I need the moments. I can't go 70 miles per hour 24/7 even if it was all within the walls of a cathedral. I must stop. I must coast into the garage, check in at the counter, and settle in for a tune up.
Like you, I want to leave the world a better place than I found it, but I'm waking up and realizing really the most effective approach will be for me to empty myself enough that there is room for my great big God to do great big things. What is He wanting to do in all this space we keep filling up with the superficial, fleeting masses of our pride?
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