I apologize for my relative social media silence as of late. The sacredness of this space in which our country has been seated seems to deserve a well thought-through response from those of us with any sort of “following” on social media sources. And I feel sadly inadequate in light of the black lives matter movement.
As much as I have battled to be present in the massive flow of collective grief as of late regarding the gross disregard of sacred lives of those in minority positions, I have also been battling for this actual physical life of my own. C-diff is no joke. For those who are lucky enough to not have had to google this ailment, it is basically a horrible infection in the gut that comes from strong antibiotics given to treat other horrible infections: In my case, the sepsis that nearly killed me in March. And get this: C-diff, if not treated leads to……none other than….sepsis! And the first round of treatment does not seem to be helping. No one in my house in laughing: Well, except those under the age of seven who think constant “poop talk is funny.”
Life is constantly vastly up and down. With chronic and acute health issues volleying with one another, with threats outside that leave us scratching our heads regarding what wisdom for this season looks like, we cling to one another and to the solid bits of life more tightly as we seek to remain rooted in the Father and seeking the Spirit.
Also, I’m scratching my head over the contrast of the much higher mortality of rate that I’m encountering with those illnesses presenting themselves within my body and the proportionately lower mortality rate of the main illness terrorizing the planet outside my body. I say this not to lessen the severity of COVID-19: The loss of life is tremendous and immensely tragic. I say this only to offer some dark chronic illness humor in the midst of a very scary situation that has kept our autonomic nervous systems way too revved up for the past four or five months. Sometimes dark humor becomes a necessary reality when facing a constant barrage of potentially grave health issues.
To offer a ridiculously absurd understatement, this is a hard season for our planet and our country and communities for so many reasons.
I have, though silent on social media, taken this time to seek the heart of the Father on His main command of “Love God, love others.”
I mourn, putting on a cloak of repentance regarding my flippancy regarding racial injustice.
I stare my social laziness in the face, as well as my self-focus and self-reference.
I am heartbroken by my disinclination to pursue what is best for others, choosing now to willingly pause before naturally orienting the world around my point of view.
I have repented for not being willing to be “inconvenienced” enough to shift perspective to someone dissimilar to myself, often choosing the most comfortable path of least resistance in social or public interactions.
I want to acknowledge my use of chronic illness as a cop out during times when the Spirit has prompted me to reach out in a way that would stretch me past my comfort zone.
I want to grow. I want to mature. I want to be enriched by those who are unlike me, who can give me a piece of the world and a reflection of the character and person of God that I have never seen before.
I will continue to seek God’s heart on these things as I invite Him to highlight the areas in me that grieve The Spirit. I commit to continue to pause, to examine my prior assumptions, and to allow the God who adores using those on the margins to teach me more about His beloved children: All of them.
I am listening.
The Beautiful Broken 