I daren’t rest my fingertips on the keys for fear of what I will type, yet I can do nothing but type for fear that my rising emotions will simply overwhelm me. I find writing cathartic yet insanely frustrating as my head tries to disentangle the jumbled thoughts, words and sentences spilling out of my heart.
Last week I messed up. Yep, the smiley, happy-go-lucky, girl-who-has-got-everything-sorted spat her dummy out and once again engaged her mouth before her brain. It wasn’t the first, second or even third time, more likely the hundred thousandth since I became a follower of Jesus. Being a Christian doesn’t make you perfect, it doesn’t make you better than anyone else, if anything, the constant pruning and shaping only serves to highlight how very imperfect we are in comparison to a perfect God. Yet all too often my faith is either flung in my face by people thinking that my stance on life is because of a ‘holier than thou’ attitude, or they remind me that I should know better, because, well that’s not a Christian thing to say/do now is it?
No, it wasn’t. Yes, I messed up. Yes, I got angry and frustrated, and rather than bite my lip, my bruised heart screamed that it couldn’t take anymore and I screamed with it. I threw my toys out of the pram, I threw a tantrum that would make most children stop and stare. I sent the words flying through the air like daggers, and then I hung up the phone.
Why? Because hurt people hurt people.
There are no excuses for bad behaviour, Christian or not, and I have wrestled with my conscience and apologised for my outburst. I don’t like drama, other than a Friday night movie with my husband, but somehow drama always seems to find me and after several months of smooth sailing I find myself being battered on the rocks once again.
2016 was a year of soul-searching, stock taking, and stripping back for me, and I am learning more and more about what I need. I have realised that I ache for a simple, inclusive, family focused life, and have strong opinions on how to keep it that way. I long to include, but I won’t waste time trying to accommodate agendas that could jeopardise my walk with Jesus or my fledgling family.
Family is at the core of who I am, being a wife and a mother is undoubtedly the greatest joy I have ever known. A self-confessed optimist and romanticist, I love to love and I long to embrace. But, to quote R’n’B queen Mary J.Blige, I dream of a day where there is no more drama, no more pain. I desperately want to wash off the words that have stuck like glue, I want to feel accepted despite my belief, not excluded because of it. Rather than celebrate our uniqueness, different paths can create islands separated by oceans of tears. Our strong wills can build impenetrable walls that keep changing tides out and challenging emotions in.
I am all for saying embrace difference, embrace life, embrace love, but sometimes this all-in, exposed and vulnerable love has a cost. Are we willing to pay the price? Sometimes love looks like holding hands into the future, and sometimes it looks like forgiveness and moving on.
No more drama, no more pain.
I daren’t rest my fingertips on the keys for fear of what I will type, yet I know that I can do nothing but type in order to open the floodgates and calm the storm raging inside my heart. So I will write and write, and pour and pour, and cry, and rest, and write some more.
And I know that my God will hear my cries and He will whisper; Don’t worry my girl, I have got this, I have got them and I have got you, and tomorrow is a brand new day.