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.
Delete.
Unsubscribe.
Reject.
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
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
Feeling the exact.same.way. Every single word of it. You’re not alone Ashley.
It’s your vulnerability that draws me near, makes me want to hear all you have to share, to see what you perceive, even the minutia of life about you. Keep it up. You remind us that sights and experiences are all around us. That is important. But, the understanding you demonstrate, that there is no where else but vulnerability to go, if one wishes to be known, is so much more important. Keep showing the way. I thank you for it.
Thank you, Kim.
I appreciate this post so much. I’d slowed down a little in my reading, already, but have slowed down even more now that so many of my friends are writing every day. I just can’t keep up and keep the other balls in the air, too. And–if I go into my stats, which I should never do–I see the impact (not that I ever had a HUGE following, to begin, but…); so much of blogging is reciprocal.
Everyone defines success differently, but for me, the discipline is so important. It’s so important to decide I’m going to do something and then actually do it. I feel like the discipline I develop through blogging regularly will show up in other areas of my life, and I want/need that. Also, I’m already so thankful that I’ve captured so many moments and thoughts for my family.
Reading your post, I think: you’re doing it. If it draws you closer to the One who knit you together, you’re succeeding.
Thank you, Brandee. I relate to so much of what you describe here. And you’re right, it’s all about perspective. The good of the discipline, the drawing closer to God, leaving legacy for our families….that’s some good meat to a definition of true success.
“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 love this. Thank you for pressing on and sharing it all with us.
Peace, prayers and blessings to you!
Ashley, I appreciate your words, your honesty, your heart. Thank you for pushing through, for willingly sharing, even when it’s hard. These words matter. You are sharing a gift. ((hugs))
I appreciate you cheering me on, Kris.
Yes. This. Right here. Coming to feel it, that even when this time of deep soul-change passes on, there will be more to come and I will never arrive, never complete, never accomplish this work in me. In fact, I’m not supposed to. I can’t. HE WILL. All I can do is stop, let go, lean in and hold on. He will do the rest. (That’s the post that’s coming today in time. Oh, how He works in us…)
“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.”
Just the reminder I needed in the midst of this new reality. Thanks for writing about your wall today. Needed this and your heart, my friend. Hugs from wheat country.
There is not some “I’ve arrived, eureka!” moment — is there, friend? Grateful for your echoes here. You bless me all the way from wheat country with your honesty and painful, beautiful journey of surrender. I love you.
Your words hit me in a powerful way today. Because I can relate. It’s where I am. Thank you for sharing. I want to lay my weakness at the feet of the One “who is strength” and allow His glory to shine through in the midst of my right here moments.
Amen!
I love this last paragraph Ashley: “I am trusting the one who is strength. It’s the only way I know to let go and persevere at the same time.”
We all need to have that trust in the “one who is strength” amidst our daily struggles & fatigue! Thanks for continuing on this writing journey dear friend.
You say : 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.
Ashley, first of all honey I don’t think you do write about the everyday small – you write about the things that frequently go unnoticed, the big overlooked’s. Small important things that make a life. More importantly Ashley I think that without being “right here” a person is more apt to miss the gaping wounds, miss the injustices and inequities around them. It’s in being present that we apprehend the hearts and needs of others. It’s that that you’re here to write about. My heart couldn’t be more grateful that you do.
Yes, yes, yes! You hit it right on the head, Spree, as you always do… Ashley, I couldn’t say it nearly as well as your Mama. You do write about the “big overlooked’s”, and your everday conscious effort to be right here enables you to be more aware of those gaping wounds and injustices, of other people’s stories. We will not tire of you, of your words, of your emotions. They resonate deeply with so many of us and help us put into words what we may be experiencing and feeling. As others have said, I echo: it’s your honesty, your transparency, the way you look at the world, that keeps us coming back. And I know you’re not looking for these reassurances, but here they are. We love you, and we are grateful for your portion.
Ashley all there is is the “everyday small” because all we get is one moment at a time. Life changes in a heartbeat. You can’t bring back yesterday or wish for tomorrow. It’s the here and now, the present that you bring into focus, that is all we are given, that is the “everything big” that God gives us. The gift you bring is your ability to see very clearly, moment by moment, the truth God gives you to write and share. That is how you change the world and my life.
Wow. Thank you doesn’t seem enough, Barb.
Ashley, your words strike me so deeply. And surprisingly. You name so much of what I’m experiencing, but was holding at bay, not processing. Thank you for your invitation, thank you for your words.
Ashley this is a shared place. We are doing mining, mining deep and bringing it up. It is healing and cathartic but soul weariyng too. Press on friend. You are so loved and your words speak with a beautiful individual sacredness and a communion bond between those of us who see and feel so deeply.
He brought us to this topic and He will see us through this topic. Looking for my second wind too, sweet friend. It is indeed a marathon not a sprint.
Loved this one.
I know what you mean:
How do we “press towards the mark” and “fight the good fight” while having “childlike faith” imitate Christ in that “the tender reed we will not bruise”?
I think that is the essence of this aware, present living.
And you captured it. All the while not parading you have all answers, or worse:
come up with a 10 step plan!
Cheers,
Leah
What wisdom here, Leah:
How do we “press towards the mark” and “fight the good fight” while having “childlike faith” imitate Christ in that “the tender reed we will not bruise”?
I think that is the essence of this aware, present living.
Yeah, 10-step plans aren’t really my deal. :-)
Ashley, I loved this. I don’t say that lightly. I say it so not-lightly, that I’m subscribing to your blog as soon as I’m done writing this comment.
Writing, the kind of writing we’re doing, it’s like heart surgery. The Lord uses it to dig, dig, dig, into our depths, to reveal to us our own hearts and HIS heart and then He asks us to expose all of it to the world. Vulnerable. Scary. And in invitation to intimacy with Him at a whole ‘nother level.
Obviously, your post provoked some thoughts here on my end. Thank you. Makes me want to sit with a pen and notebook and start writing and just not stop for a while. ALSO–thanks for your comment on my post. For noticing the redemption of worship and trust in the midst of brokenness. Really– means so much when such a vulnerable piece of our story is heard and held with such grace.
SO. Thanks, friend. And subscribing. :) xoxo
Thankful for our connection through this 31 day journey, Dana. Thank you, friend, for showing up authentically you and surrendering yourself in vulnerability to greater intimacy with your Maker. It is beautiful indeed.
Ashley, 31 Days is challenging me so much as well. It’s not even the posting every day (I posted 5-minute free-writes every day on another blog last year and it was revolutionary and so life-giving). But it’s just all of the stuff that God’s bringing to the surface during this time. He’s got my attention. It’s big, and hard, but I know it’s worth it.
p.s. This was Adriel. Not sure how I logged into that old account! :)
Your series was exquisite, Adriel. Worth it, indeed.