Tag: hope

Drained

I am drained and I am learning this lesson of what it looks like to be continually filled for survival. Or maybe not survival, I can’t imagine a being, being filled is doing anything but thriving.

Because LIFE, we’re all buckets with holes at the bottom; constantly pouring out, constantly dripping and lending life and giving ourselves away. But how are we filled from the top? From the Source of all Life? This is what I’m learning. To allow myself to be filled.

We all accept the love we think we deserve.

I used to sit and read my old journals with such shame of who I was and where I was at in my young life. Yes, it was all about boys and crushes and breaking heart at surface level. I wish I had given myself a little grace and, instead of ripping out those pages, I wish I had searched deeper to find patterns of hope. To find psalm formulas of VENT VENT, BUT GOD. Because David journaled in that same way.

VENT VENT, drip-drop, pour yourself out and then look up to see the tap on full blast and life pouring in, replacing the lost and depleted.

We are never, completely empty (though God knows we feel like it); we are not glasses upturned and dripping out our last drops. We are being refreshed- the New, cascading down, reaching low, breaking up the dregs, bringing it up, up, and out. The clean, clearing out the silt, but not emptying, not draining. Increasing and decreasing in just the right amounts.

VENT VENT, BUT GOD.
I am drained. Too tired to cry it out; too tired to sleep it off; too tired to do anything but let this washing, this cleansing do its work. Anxiety, depression, distrust all washes out; hope, hope, hope, hope, hope settles. All hope. Nothing but hope- that heavy, holy sediment.

But God will anchor me with hope.

hope is a bitter potion with a sweet aftertaste

I have all these words crashing around in my brain, but then I open up a new post and *poof* those thoughts run to the darkest corners. I can’t find them much less put them in any certain, creative order. Bear with me as I pour out a little bit of my soul, dear readers.

I know this post title is sort of maleficent, but if you think about it- really think about it– you’ll see it makes sense. When we’re in our deepest, darkest moments the choice to hope hurrrrrts. A lot. It’s so much more painful to choose optimism over that shrinking feeling; hope over despair. It’s harder to step over yourself, your crumpled mess lying on the floor, and walk in the direction of true growth. I know, I’ve been there; I’m there.

I can tell you how much it hurts. There are days I just want to stay in bed; nurse my wounds; remember them; feel them; tell people about them. Do you see these wounds?! They hurt so much! I hate them! When does that stop, though? When does one let go, learn, and get better? Sometimes, you have to let go of everything you’re feeling for the simple reason that it’s just too heavy.

They say life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react. So, imagine for a moment, you’re at the crossroads. You can stay where you are, or choose a different direction. The precise moment where you can change it all; it could be once-in-a-lifetime or once-per-day. Heck, it could be once-per-hour. That moment where you decide to react different than you have previously.

What would happen?

And, so, I leave a note to self as much as I leave a note to my readers: Try. Use that last bit of energy you have, though it feels inadequate, to hope a little more.  It will hurt, I know. It will make you think you’ll never be able to catch your breath… but I have a feeling the aftertaste of hope will be much, much sweeter than we could have anticipated.

<3