I link up with Lisa-Jo on Fridays for a writing flash mob…throwing caution to the wind and gathering to share what a few minutes of free writing can buy.
Today’s topic: DIVE
I stand at the edge and peek over and see the reflection of her. She’s strong and confident and gentle and wise and loves Jesus with her whole heart. She sets goals and reaches them and she doesn’t get lazy or self-sabotage herself. She taunts me unintentionally just by being her and me just being me.
It’s the pattern of my almost-40 years. Get close…so close to the person I see in my mind’s eye, the person who I’m dying inside to be but get close enough to the edge but then cannot will myself to go over. The fear comforts like an child’s old blanket and I look at her and whisper someday and then turn and walk away with my blanket wrapped tightly around my shoulders keeping hidden from the Me I’m meant to be.
He asks me regularly if I’m going to have the courage to live a life true to myself or the life I think others expect of me. And he texted it to me the other day for me to read over and over in black and white. My husband sees her too and even though he’s in love with me he sees how much I desire her and it kills him. Kills him that I can’t just dive in and let the waters wash way my blanket of fear and allow myself to float in the peace of God’s unknown. What started out as silly joking about his white shirts turned into an hour-long conversation with me in tears wondering why I can’t just dive in.
I erase goals from my lists because it’s easier to not see them than to see I didn’t reach them. There are dreams I stare at from across the room and admire the ladder that reaches them. And then I walk away and instead pursue the mundane because it’s easier and less work and less failure and less success.
But each time I walk away, it leads me right back to the edge where I peek over and see the reflection of her. And she’s strong and confident and gentle and wise and loves Jesus with her whole heart. And then I see she’s not perfect, not in the least. But she walks in peace instead of fear. And regardless of failures or successes or work or difficulty she floats in the pool of peace.
And it’s then I realize the pool is made up of the tears I’ve shed wanting so much to be who she I made to be. And it’s made up of tears she’s shed, sad that I’m still afraid to swim.
And it’s made up of tears God has shed watching me self-loathe and decide I’m not worth it.