This first warm day of spring lured us outside to garden work, mowing, and Charli’s new favorite game of eating sand from the sand box. We came in dirty. A shower erased dirt sock lines and left me revived, but tired. Now, a tinge of tightness crosses the ridge of my nose after it’s first sun of the season. Three retreats in a week’s time have left my mind and body numb as I sit here, ready to dig back through notes. Some scribbles don’t make sense, with meaning lost after a few short days, but others glimmer, reminding me of the oomph of the Jumping Tandem retreat. My body sits heavy, tired from spring movement and retreat over-indulgence, but my mind churns awake to the tune of dreams and the dream giver. . . and I sense these words aren’t just for me.
My child (the notes seem to say),
I know this dream you have. You don’t quite see it yet, but don’t worry, you will. And no, you don’t have to invent it. It’s been with you since before you were born. Your dream is unique and important. It fulfills a big need I care deeply about. Don’t try to control the whole process. Just focus small. Look only to the next small step. Will you trust me to move or let your self doubt stop you?
Give back to Me what I’ve given to you.
You are who you are, and I love that about you.
Comparison is lying to you.
Your biggest fear is the unknown. You want to plan it all. Stop it. Lean into the unknowing and you will find Me there. Trust me, sense my guidance. I’ve taken you grand places before, why would this be different? Why are you so quick to forget, silly?
You were created to give Me a face.
Step outside yourself and into my heart. I will transform pain into hope if you will accept my invitation. You were made for a place and time like this. Co-create with me. Do you dare?
I have plans to prosper you, not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11).
You are My masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10).
Those hurts you’ve felt, they’re your gasoline. Let your engine run for the ones who feel outside, who don’t fit in, the not-good-enoughs, the lonely ones. Their hurts need seeds of action, words of comfort. Give your laughter, your whole-heartedness, your you.
That fear you’ve got, it’s normal. Your ONLY job is to have courage, and courage doesn’t negate fear, but rather moves IN SPITE OF it. Courage–at its root–is to tell the story of your heart. You know the tune. Wrestle out your faith, for you see, everyone has hurt bubbling just below the surface. Access your own. Comfort it, help heal it, give it hope. Shine it up, call it a liar when it is, give it steps for movement. Vivify the dullness.
Take small steps child, small steps, and I will be right here beside you, just like I’ve always been.