I’m not afraid of tears. I have a tender heart and historically I cry easily. That’s fine. Crying can be helpful and cathartic. Crying can clue us in to the deeper stirring of our emotions and give us good data when we slow down and name the feelings or the why behind our tears. Tears can even help us notice the movement of the Holy Spirit.

Yesterday I mentioned that things have been a bit B-A-N-A-N-A-S. I have definitely been experiencing a combination of life disruptors—especially the logistical disruptor of sickness and chosen change disruptor in the form of a massive learning curve as I produce my first digital course.

While I’ve been working longer hours lately and have been in major problem solving mode as I’ve faced and resolved one tech challenge after another—all while one or another of us has been sick in turn—I noticed something remarkable last week.

We were in Florida staying at my brother’s condo. We’d been there over a week but it wasn’t quite the trip that we planned. We had planned for it to be mostly vacation with me spending two days “working” as I lived into some of my responsibilities as a director on the Luther Seminary board. In reality, both Andrew and I ended up bringing a lot of work to Florida—me because I’d experienced tech challenges that put me behind schedule in releasing the next course module and Andrew because he was in a super creative writing flow. Also, the weather was cold for Florida so we barely went to the beach. Also, we were sick. (There were some bright spots—Shout out to the Beymers and the Knapps!)

Back to what I noticed . . .

As often happens on the day we travel home, I was feeling a little stressed. It was the usual cleaning/packing/catching a plane stress but this time paired with the stress and frustration of “I can’t get these @*!&#$ videos to load into the member area.” I was experiencing levels of stress and frustration that have quite often led to tears in the past.

But not that day. And it wasn’t because I was stuffing them down.

I had a moment when I asked myself, “Am I going to cry?” The answer was “no.”

I simply didn’t need that emotional outlet that day. I had deep enough reserves to navigate several weeks of disruption and a more intense pace of work and still have capacity to navigate that stress-filled day.

How did I get there? Over the course of the last 14 months, as I invested in my year of rest and renewal, I also made space to honor and process the impacts of all the life disruptors that had built up over time. 

I made space for the grief.
I made space for the fatigue (mental, physical, emotional, spiritual).
I made space for the steep learning curve of starting something new. 

In that space, I experienced healing. I experienced renewal. I experienced a coming home to myself. I learned that space is an essential component of my renewing life rhythm.

We can’t always control what life disruptors come our way; but we can learn to anticipate, create margin for the unexpected, and make space to process the impact when we are in a season of disruption.

Reflection:

What do you need to make space for in this season in order to experience healing and renewal?