over the two months, the process has been hard.
I am not even close to exaggerating when I tell you that the slightest of things bring me to tears. yesterday, I saw a teenage boy riding home from school in the car with his grandpa and I cried because I remember how sweet and tender and foundational the high school years are and I so badly hope that he becomes someone really special and really great. I cry at dogs, I cry at memories, I cry at art. I cry at all the words, I cry at the Word, I cry at beautiful things are – even when they look a little broken.
it seems that all of the huddled emotions of the last year of my life have come to the forefront and they are running from my head, out of my eyes. lol, but really. I don’t think it is that I am so sad, but rather, that I am so emotionally overwhelmed. this season is one of being overwhelmed. I’m trying to soak up the days, though, so I let those tears fall.
I’ve been trying to learn to trust the process. the process has looked like not getting into grad school and it has looked at telling my mom bye (she’s only working in ND until May, but still). it has looked like job hunting. it has looked like all the hard conversations and all the prayers for heart change.
it has felt like anxiety in the minutes before I fall asleep at night. it has felt like needing a break, but pressing on more because this too is only a season. it has felt like the warm embrace of a friend that loves me and sees me. in the same way, it has felt like a friend saying “let’s go sit, we need to catch up”, and finding those old seats in Merritt and talking about my hardened heart.
the process has felt like the relief that I cannot even describe as I climb into my covers, pull my blankets up to my chin, and fall so hard into a different reality. it has felt like the roughness of dyed wood as I remember building that table and creating that piece and pouring my heart into something so good. surely, that process is worth it.
the process has looked like taking the long way home because, oh my gosh, I might lose my mind and I need ten more minutes by myself. the process has looked like making more of the 1 hour break that I get on Thursday by running to Target and listening to Judah and the Lion so loud that I cannot hear anything else for the rest of the day. it has looked like processing all of the things in the ways that my introverted head and so-emotional heart needs to.
the process has smelled like lots of Starbucks coffee because I’m finding myself there almost all the time. smelled like everything bagels, stacked with sesame, salt, poppy, and all things heavenly. how did I go so long without liking cream cheese? it has smelled like that sweet boy at corner bagel that asked me what’s next, the one that chose to see me, and told me to keep him posted about all the Texas things I’m praying for.
the process has sounded like “oh, I’m so sorry.” and like pieces of the Word, pinging on my phone, because my friends get that this season is hard and they want to encourage me. the process has sounded like the silence from other friends and the volumes that that speaks to me. in a totally different way, it has sounded like the “hiiiiii” over the phone, the one from that friend that moved away but loves me anyway, praise the Lord for her. the process has sounded really a lot like chaos in my head, but, oh, if I can trust it a little longer, then a little longer, then a little longer.
but I’m finding that in the process, I begin to look more like Christ. my heart begins to think on whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, what is lovely, whatever is commendable. it totally makes sense – when I learn to trust Christ in the process, I can be more like Christ.
I’m going to trust this process. I’m going to trust the hard and the easy and the good and the bad. I’m gonna trust because I don’t really have a choice. here’s to trusting.