HARROWING VULNERABILITY


Believe it or not, that's what I want etched into my tombstone. And, yes, I want a monolithic one. 
Today marks a week that I have been without my wallet. Here's a scoop of insanity for you: I know exactly where I lost it, it was at the Rubio's on 7th Avenue. That's a good fifteen minutes from my home. But that isn't stopping me from continuing to look for my wallet under every piece of clothing or book here at the house. 
It feels like I lost my identity and I'm not ready to let go of it. I want the old me back. I don't feel ready to encounter the unknown and not yet. 
Yesterday as I walked the trails, I begged God to hurry up and transform me. When the words “hurry up” left my lips I suddenly recalled that verse in the Bible where it says, “a day is as a thousand years” to God. (2 Peter 3:8) Then I really begged God not to make me the female version of Enoch. This transition of change is beginning to get to me. I know life is waking me up. I know I am living real. I know I am listening harder than I was previously but dammit, I'm really uncomfortable. 
So uncomfortable, in fact, that pie and ice cream aren't doing the trick of lulling me back into complacency. 
Here's the truth of it:
Life is never what we plan for. (If it is for you, please PM me because I wanna know your story.) For example, I've always wanted three kids but I never planned for them. If I had, I would've invented disposable clothing in my 20's. Another example, love. Who plans for love? I know we all want it but who really plans for it? And, more importantly, can you actually plan for it? My heart has been broken more times than I can count on four hands. I'm finally at a place in my life where I can see there are good heart breaks. Seeing my children grow into autonomous beings is a good heart break. Seeing that an end must happen before there can be a beginning is a good heart break. I say broke to mean opened up. It rarely feels good to be broke open but it is a part of growing. The human maturation process is a heartbreaking one. 
I'm in the midst of great changes. On some days I don't want to be a part of it but on every day I am grateful because it is making me harrowingly vulnerable. And, who of us gets to have that on their tombstone?
There is not one day that goes by that I am not humbled by something or someone. For example, this morning I spouted off like a king to my sweetheart about my difficult life and then I asked, out of courtesy, if she had anything of concern to her that she'd like to share. She did. She shared and I cried. I cried at my damn self-centeredness. I cried that someone I love so much was feeling bad about herself. I assumed only I was allowed to do that. I cried because I realized that a lot of us are going through loss and difficulty. 
Dear Lord, remind me each and every day that love is the only thing that remains. Loving others is never for nothing. If you have a friend that you trust to share your vulnerable side with then do it. And, then ask that friend to share something with you. My sweetheart told me that she wouldn't have shared what she did had I not asked. 
As odd as it sounds, life is a miracle. You are a miracle. If no one is smart enough to tell you that, pull out a mirror and tell yourself: YOU ARE A MIRACLE.
I love you. Keep going.

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