On Monday, I gave myself the permission to go to the sea. I bought a coffee and a sandwich and I sat long enough to sip and bite. I responded to emails overlooking the shore, took my shoes off and walked the sand instead of run the road. I forget sometimes that I have been pushing so hard at this stay at home mom gig that I have forgotten the simplicity of being a student of the sea, and a human with such a love and connection to the water. Mothering and myself. The two of us are so tangled and gloriously connected I cannot separate the two.
This past year has also been the biggest unravelling of my faith as I have stepped away from a community and church that for so long loved me and carried me. I have had to face the dark nights, moments & memories of not being welcomed, not being listened too, and not being accepted for my own opinion and my voice.
This side of the tracks is ZERO for the faint of heart. And yet freedom is closely becoming more and more my own, and a new belief that deconstruction actually leads to maturity as we grow, question, and we most of all…continue to hope.
I put so much faith in a tribe when all along I’m realizing my hope needs to be in only Jesus. And that it’s okay to wrestle with “where are you” when your stranded at sea. He too has been stranded on the sea and if I remember correctly, when great fear was rampant…He was the only one who was able to calm the storm.
The one that stands by and never steps away. The one that takes the old shoes away, and shares with my heart it’s time to let go, and be barefoot baby girl, and keep walking on. Walk on, walk on.
There is something that can only be felt when we have to walk the road of the dirt and dust barefoot and broken footed {and hearted}. There is a time to mourn, and there is a time to move on. I feel like I have permission completely to move on.
There is a renewed sense of adventures awaiting, and a fresh sense of gratitude for the ending, and the permission to grab some fresh shoes.
Sometimes he has to literally strip us of all we have left, completely take the shoes away from us so we have to walk the dirt, and the ground of grit to a new season of glory.
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