“When God invites me to give voice to something like the importance of self-compassion and self-care,
it seems that an integral part of that giving voice is to live what I speak.“
Ahhhh… the relief of no more guilt from neglecting my blog.
Okay, maybe I need to start that again on a more compassionate note.
Ahhhh… the gift of experiencing enough pain relief, creative energy, and schedule discipline to finally be able to have the head and body space to write again.
This has been an odd season for me…
but in some ways, not entirely unexpected….
When God invites me to give voice to something like the importance of self-compassion and self-care, it seems that an integral part of that giving voice is to live what I speak. So, in these days of dealing with my pain, obedience has looked like choosing NOT to force myself to push through, but caring for myself and accepting, with some grief and patience, my limitations.
Though I haven’t been writing, I have been:
Further exploring my new diagnosis of visceral hypersensitivity
Playing with Georgia
Finding yet another physical therapist with yet another approach because the nerves are being stimulated by alignment issues (postural restoration)
I call this the downside of being so fearful and wonderfully made. It’s all so very complex. Which, interestingly, is a part of where God shows up in this story.
I have a deep belief that one of the gifts women offer our communities is to live in a woven way, more holistically.
God is in my body and my calling.
God is in my pain and my words.
God is in my limitations and my opportunities.
I think of the woman with the hemorrhage
I’ve often asked God if this is really how God wanted to spend my energy and our money. Like the woman with the hemorrhage, apparently so.
How does one sustain hope in times like this? How did she find the strength to fight the crowd and reach out to Jesus? How did I find the strength to try a new diet and tell my long and twisted tale to another physical therapist?
There is an odd little verse I often think of in moments like this… it references the people of God as prisoners of hope.
(Though I know better than to pull a random phrase out of context in Scripture, let’s just say the Holy Spirit gave me special permission because She repeatedly brought it to mind.)
As a prisoner of hope I keep moving toward healing on this long and twisted path. I don’t give up on this blogging endeavor because there has been a long interruption. I welcome back my own energy and creativity.
I also welcome your voice back into this small community. I’ve missed you as a community. I would love to hear where you find yourself to be a prisoner of hope. In your marriage? With a child? A friendship? A community? Your body? A dream? A calling?