Tears I didn’t expect began to flow down cheeks unprepared.
I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt this hurt so deeply. It was a crummy thing he had done, something immature and inconsiderate but it didn’t warrant the amount of tears that fell on the snowy evening. I was trying to figure it out, trying to find the root and the reason and the lie responsible but I was just so tired. And defeated. And weary.
When I processed with my sweet friend Carrie, she gently asked a question she had posed a day earlier.
do you think its maybe time to take a break?
When she asked me that simple phrase my spirit recoiled.
No! Breaks are for the weak! Breaks mean I’m giving up! Breaks turn into forever! No! I have to keep fighting!
Love, the last year has been hard. The last two months… have been REALLY hard. I think you need a break.
The tears which had ceased became a torrent.
I am so tired.
I finally admitted.
I heard my sweet Papa whisper that it was okay to take a water break.
I had this image of me, going round after round in the ring, with Papa as my coach, but taking on my hopes and dreams and the people who have embodied them. It was like watching a fight where you just want the fighter to take a break and shake it off but they won’t listen and the hits keep on coming. Because there had been someone before the ex-boyfriend came back, and then he came around again after the ex-boyfriend was gone, but it didn’t work. And there had been potential with others but it would to deep conversations and moments and a weird emotional intimacy and then just stop. By my doing or theirs.
I saw evidence of my weary heart, my heart that has been rejected and bruised and beat down, and I decided Papa needs to tend to it. It’s simple really. I knew I needed to take care of myself. Because I know I’m strong. I know I’m able. I have hope in my Provider. I believe. I trust. All of those things. It’s just lost beneath some bruises and cuts and scales. It’s when the sunlight needs to break through the cracks in my armor and push off the broken pieces. They’re clinging on, I’m allowing them to stay on, but I don’t want them anymore.
So finally, I decided to sit down. I decided to take a month. To pray through the hurt and the lies and put them in their rightful place, at the foot of the cross. To spend time every day praying through different characteristics of the mighty woman of God I long to be. To be a woman who blesses those who do her wrong. To be a woman who encourages those around her. To be a woman who speaks life and hope into the hearts of others.
I don’t know if this means I process more or less in this month. I let you all in on so much of what Papa is doing because it is HIS story and HIS glory. But sometimes I let Him work it out a little bit before we tell of the marvelous things He’s done. Will you all pray for me? Pray that this month is one of rest and healing and restoration? That my heart searches only for Papa and puts aside anything it may try to numb the process with?
Do you need rest? Do you want to join me in these next 20some days of March? We can find His rest and His peace together.