Leaning

Sweet conversation.

Sitting upon what my friend has dubbed the "vomit couch" yesterday, I did just that. I churned out my thoughts and fears and frustrations and processed through it. Not all the way, but for the first time in awhile I spewed to someone who wasn't my family. It was like a breath of fresh air.

I just cannot shake the thoughts I've been having about grace moments and curse moments. What do I number as grace and what do I number as curse, and what moments do I just let pass me by? Overlooked. Cheapened. Unvalued. I've said it before. I am trying to number because I'm trying to look. To let my days carry their own weight.

Sometimes I look ahead to the next year and a half of college and I think, "how can I make it through?" Not that college is a miserable thing, at all. But I'm antsy. I long to be somewhere where I fit better, where I feel known more. And it's overwhelming to look ahead and see abyss. So I count. I start trying to look at the value in the today. To find grace in it all because I have to. Because if today isn't able to transfigure, then when will it? I've made it to nine. Because most days I forget to look. And I think the not numbering has been just as weighty as the numbering because it shows me how often I just move on, how I forget with ease.

An encompassing word I would use to describe the past few years of my life is redefinition. In other words transfiguring. God has been taking the "Christianity" I forged in high school, and making me lean into it and find beauty. It's been a long process. Time-consuming. Heart-consuming. Some days utterly exhausting, and some days completely exhilarating. And I know very well I am just in the midst of it all. I know this because I see my selfishness. I see how compelled I am to look at myself, what I need, want, value, hate, and to define "good" by that. Maybe leaning into the ugly of my life looks like leaning into the frustrating places and ask to see the beautiful. It means I have to lean hard into Him. And I worry that won't be enough, that I will still be dissatisfied.

Can you had a single hour to your life by worrying? (Matt. 6:27) Does worry ever add anything? Sitting on the vomit couch I asked that. I looked at what I have been fretting over. And all I saw was the worry had taken from me. It had taken life, experiences, and sight. By letting my fear consume me I have willingly blinded myself from counting, and therefore seeing things accurately. It hasn't added anything to me. Insecurity has done nothing but take from me. But realizing that won't stop tightening of my stomach and the whispers in my head.

I have to ask the questions. To look. To lean hard into the fear. And I don't know quite how to do that. Sitting with Friend yesterday was a step into that. I verbalized it out. All of it. The fear, the excuse, the realization. And I saw. Seeing allowed me to ask. It's convinced me of a place I need lean hard into to find grace. To find accurate vision.

Maybe none of this makes sense to anyone else. I never thought I would be so impacted by just the thought of counting graces. But I am. And that in and of itself is a grace.

#10. Vomit couch