Living right here is a lot like writing right here.
It’s hard work, and you hit the wall and wonder if you’re like a marathoner midway through. You recognize the feeling of not being able to get enough air, of feeling lost, of knowing fatigue that’s settled down so deep you fear you won’t be able to finish.
You both want to quit and are driven to continue what you’ve begun.
And you realize that pushing through means a frustrating amount of letting go, just like it usually does.
Writing here everyday is bringing sludgy stuff to my heart’s surface. My need is constant. My challenges the same. Yep, it’s the same me, just with more of my stuff hanging out before you all, and I feel naked and want to retreat, cover myself.
Some days I wonder why I chose this topic, why these right here posts matter when this world is filled with such gaping wounds, such huge issues of justice and equity. I wonder why this is my portion, this call to write honestly about the everyday small.
Also, writing every day causes me to feel with increasing intensity the nagging that’s followed me around for years. That you will get sick of me with all my words and feelings. That I will be too much, and you’ll turn your back when you see me coming.
I don’t like telling you all this because I don’t want you to think I’m seeking reassurance. Truly, I’m not. I just know I’ve got to be honest that showing up to right here moments doesn’t make me feel stronger or more capable in my own life.
Just like showing up to daily life doesn’t make me feel powerful.
More often, when I slow to pay attention, I recognize my need.
This sensitivity that causes me to give attention to the tiny of everyday life is also the part that gets caught up in feelings of insecurity.
This determination of mine that makes me push through hard things is also what makes me want to perfect myself and these everyday moments. It makes me want to control every step of my race across the finish line.
Living fully awake in my right heres, I see that the redeemed whole enough and the weak broken in me aren’t going away. And neither is the One who invites me to hand them over into loving care — even to give imperfect offerings away.
Though I want to scamper off the course and hide, I press closer. To this day, to this Creator. Bringing as part of me the very places that hurt and wind tight and ache.
I am trusting the one who is strength. It’s the only way I know to let go and persevere at the same time.
This is Day 17 of Right Here. Throughout October, I’m joining with a community of bloggers (over 1,500 strong with The Nester), in which writers post each day in exploration of the same topic. To find all posts in my 31 Days of Right Here, click here, or see the listing below.
To continue receiving these daily words, subscribe to this blog on the sidebar at left, click here to Like Draw Near on Facebook or follow me on Twitter @AshleyMLarkin. I am immensely grateful to share the journey with you.
POSTS IN THE SERIES
An introduction: Welcome to 31 Days of Right Here
Day 1: For You, Too
Day 2: Fear’s Invitation
Day 3: My Portion
Day 4: Five Minute Friday – Write
Day 5: Rise and Shine
Day 6: My Joys Mount As Do the Birds
Day 7: A Mother’s Fierce Love
Day 8: When Life’s A Mad Rush – How To Slow Time
Day 9: The Fight For Right Here Told Through Two Tales of Epic Whining (Part I)
Day 10: The Fight For Right Here Told Through Two Tales of Epic Whining (Part II)
Day 11: Five Minute Friday: Ordinary
Day 12: When Right Here’s A Mess
Day 13: O God, We Thank You
Day 14: The Date That Almost Wasn’t
Day 15: One Thing That Makes Us Human
Day 16: That We Might See And Remember
Day 17: In Which I Hit A Wall