The other morning I took my journal outside to do some writing. I grabbed my favorite pen and my water bottle and settled in one chair, stretching my legs to rest on the one across from me. I carefully wrote out the date at the top of the page and then moved my pen down to the first line. Filling my lungs with the sweet freshness of spring, I touched it to the page expecting to pour everything out as my breath was released back out into the world .
Everything I had thought about on the drive to work ran and hid behind white walls. I searched my mind for the words that described the weekend, the now, the feelings, anything really. But there were none to be found. I tried in frustration to force the words out but they stayed hidden, leaving my head as barren as the blank space they disappeared into. I was about to call it quits and go back inside when I noticed just how good the sun felt on my skin. I felt how it seemed every part of me was being warmed and opened up to the rays. And so I stayed, right there on the patio, reclined in one chair with my legs stretched out in front of me and closed my eyes, letting the pages of the journal on my lap be filled with sunshine instead.
There is peace, ease and that warm sunshine feeling that can be found through the struggle to be who we were created to be. When we are living the life that was meticulously written centuries before the earth leaned into it's axis, we are able to open up and soak up our own stories. When we stop fighting and let the current of His love sweep us into His heart for us, we find a warmth we never imagined.
It's amazing to me how even in the early stages of this unraveling, I can look up and almost as if on cue, the sun pokes out and lets me feel it, renewing my spirit and fueling the chase to the next break in the clouds. Every time the darkness clears and those rays hit my skin, I feel another layer of who I thought I was, wanted to be, and feared I wasn't ever going to be burn away.
These cloaks bearing my false identities have gotten heavy and do nothing but trip me up. I'm tired. I'm tired of huddling in them and pretending I'm only this much yet feeling both too much and never enough at the same time. I'm tired of wrapping my story in a bright red bow and leaving it at "happily ever after." I'm burned out from running and hiding, when the pounding fear of my heart gives me away every time anyway. I don't want to fight to close the gap as I myself hold the world off at an arms length.
This season feels like the beginning of the rest. He's calling me out of the tiredness and into the sun. Out from under the cloaks and from behind the walls, into the light that is Him to be opened and warmed and refreshed and reborn. Stripping me of all the things I covered myself in and baring me in His image. Bringing me back into imago dei, the image of God.