A mother of 6 posted this morning about her mom/daughter relationship. I have never met this woman and although we share a name (ahem, spelling aside) and an understanding of the Gospel, we don't share much else. But somehow in this little blog-o-sphere, I was second-handedly invited into her story. I love that. I love that I get to "meet" women and be fed somehow by their realities and battles. Some days I skim, and some days I read a post three times through, but these friendships are available to me.
I know face-to-face relationships are vital, but somehow these written ones have become important too. And sometimes a lot more real than that face-to-face ones. It's a pseudo-mentorship. I get to see the walk that people go through, hardness and all.
I bet y'all think I'm a total creep by now. But here's the thing. I see the gospel from these people. When I stop looking for it, I get online to read and lo and behold they remind me. Not because we had a conversation and they knew my need, but because they are being faithful to sharing without expectation. And isn't that what the gospel is?
Isn't it coming to know our need more and more the further up and in we go? Isn't it facing our junk because it needs to be faced? Isn't it allowing other people to see the wreckage of ourselves and allowing them to see the hope that develops through the process?
I am reminded constantly of the moreness that I want, by complete strangers. And not because they are phenom people who got it going on, but because they display to me the honesty and reality of who they are and invite me in to see their process. And isn't that what community is? Inviting each other into the daily-ness of us and choosing to walk together without expectation. Pointing each other forward with freedom in love and the grace to become.
I understand that there is a chunk missing. The need to be known well by someone is not lost upon me, in fact, it's something I know deeply.
Last post, I quoted One Thousand Gifts a ton. I recently started my list to a thousand things I am grateful for. I didn't start because she did it in the book and it helped her. I didn't start as a hopeful entry point to grow. I started because of what she said, "I pay tribute [to God] by paying attention." I want to pay attention more. I want to be ever-looking. Eyes opened to the gospel in the every day. Because I need to be pointed back to God constantly. I have a wandering heart. I forget. I am a victim of soul amnesia. And numbering makes me look. It causes me to slow down and pay attention.
I've felt restless this past week and I haven't been able to figure out why. And as I'm sitting here writing, I wonder if it's because I'm breaking down a little deeper. Maybe when I start paying attention, I'm able to need Him more because I'm asking to see Him more.
Settledness and rest hasn't been a part of things lately. I feel caught in between. But I'd rather be here asking, waiting, and uncomfortable than wandering. I think so at least. It's easy to type that.
I think that's where reading blogs has mattered to me. When I'm feeling so restless, I am able to take a peek at other people's restlessness, peace, hope, angst. I'm reminded that this is a process. That God is present in the process because regardless of my seeing Him in mine, I can go see Him in others. And it documents my own. This past year and some months of blogging has given me reference points. It's given me documentation that God shows up. And it reminds me to keep being faithful to the process because that's vital to the result. And it's made me pay attention.
#9. Being invited into a strangers process by blog.