The Messy, Miraculous Middle

If you’ve spent a significant amount of time in the Christian church then you’ve more likely than not been told how an 11-day journey turned to 40 years, in reference to the book of Exodus, where Moses leads the people of Israel out of Egypt and into the promised land. When I have heard this text preached it is often as a warning about how disobedience and idolatry will delay your promise but may I posit another perspective? As I reflect on the painful season I am coming out of I consider the people of Israel who left not only a place but a way of living that was all they knew. While most of us would emphatically declare that we would never ask to return to slavery/bondage as the children of Israel did on multiple occasions, how often have we, in the midst of closing one door and awaiting the opening of the next, returned to what we outgrew or what hurt us because “better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”  

For me, I’ve found that the hallway between closing one door and walking through the next is usually split into two parts. First is the messy part of the middle that may come with regret, grief, confusion, and anger. Even if you made the choice to close the proverbial door, you may start questioning your decision-making skills, your capability to choose, do, or be different, or if better is even possible.  On this side, I learned I had to be radically honest with myself about what these losses/endings had me believing about myself, others, and God. The children of Israel had seen the miracle God performed through Moses when they crossed the Red Sea but on the other side, they were experiencing freedom for the first time and learning about a God they had never seen before. You don’t unlearn trauma in 11 days. You don’t stop yearning for a routine, no matter how dehumanizing, in 11 days. You don’t believe different, more, or better is possible for you in 11 days. You don’t understand grace, freedom, peace, or unconditional love in 11 days. So, when doors close and seasons end, why do we rush through the grieving process instead of sitting with the discomfort that growth and change requires?

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In our rush to appear better or reach the next goal, what have we actually learned? What has actually changed in our beliefs and actions? Can others highlight the tangible evidence of your growth? What was actually uprooted to make space for what you’re hoping to experience in your next chapter? When you can answer those questions, you enter the miraculous part of the hallway. Once you’ve been able to extract the lessons from that last chapter, you enter the part of the journey where you start integrating those lessons. When nostalgia has you yearning for the past, you’re able to honor what was without sabotaging what’s to come. Guilt nor regret keeps you stuck in “what-if” spirals. Waiting no longer feels like a punishment and you become content with and embrace this new “normal.” On this side, hope no longer feels like wasted energy. Anxiety turns into anticipation, fear becomes faith, and joy comes mo(u)rning, after mo(u)rning, after mo(u)rning.

Don’t miss the beauty of who you’re becoming in the middle.

Grief to Glory

While millions of people celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ today, I want to take a moment to sit in the tension that comes before experiencing/witnessing the miraculous.  To bear witness to and honor the weight/toll of the grief that occurs in the in-between. In the part of your journey when you’re ready for the pain to not be so raw, to no longer be worn down by the disappointment, fear, or anger, and when you stop wishing for situations or yourself to be like it used to be.  For most of us, the loss we experienced on Friday won’t be resolved by Sunday and too often we’re not honest about how long it takes to get to Sunday and what it cost us to make it to Sunday. My most recent journey to Sunday, because by virtue of being human there will be many journeys to Sunday, was a year in the making.

A year of being honest about how deeply disappointment and denial has impacted me. A year of giving myself permission to be angry. A year of betrayal. A year of bitter tears. A year of isolation. A year where I had to decide to let go of the dreams I was sold/told and finally dream for myself. A year of no longer convincing people to see me. A year of questioning and re-evaluation. A year of both/and.  A year of keeping promises to myself.  A year of intentional gratitude. A year where I finally stood my ground and honored my boundaries. A year of increased vulnerability. A year to reset in preparation for my rebirth.

We’re not patient or gracious enough with ourselves in the midst of grief even though we know it changes and marks us in indelible ways. Like a caterpillar turned butterfly taking flight for the first time, as you emerge from up under the weight of your grief, I pray you appreciate the version of yourself that got you through the darkness of Friday and Saturday and embrace the version leading you to Sunday and beyond.

You are changed and so your life has to change too; may the bloom be glorious!

Spring Equinox

Happy Spring!

I don’t know what the weather looks like where you are but I hope you get a glimpse of some blooming flowers and the sun shines on you just a little brighter.

I had a completely different introductory post that I finalized on Tuesday night and God came through like a wrecking ball yesterday morning and had me rewrite the entire thing.

See, releasing this blog is terrifying for me. I was literally so nauseous while finalizing that post, I thought I was going to throw up. Thank you to my sister friends Bean & Vee who made space for my anxiety while telling me I still had to be obedient. People have been telling me to write curriculum, devotionals, and books for a long time and I always look like a deer stuck in headlights because why on earth would they possibly believe my words could ever matter that much. Truth is, various life’s circumstances led to me choosing to muzzle and mute myself despite one of my favorite people telling me years ago that “your voice means too much to everyone to not use it.” The fear of being seen and the responsibility that comes with others interpreting my words in ways I may not have intended have kept me from sharing so many of gifts however God said no more & now you’re reading my words on Beyonce’s internet.

I decided to launch this on the first day of Spring & at the time of my birth because of the significance of this season and it being what feels like a new year & rebirth. The end of 2024 completely shattered my heart. I took hit after hit after hit after hit from October through December and while January 1st was a really good day for me, I can’t lie and say I wasn’t still reeling from what 2024 had put me through. While I had an idea of what I wanted 2025 to look like, I wasn’t in the position to hit the ground running and would not have been able to maintain any kind of momentum I may have made. And to be honest, a season where things are dead and dormant doesn’t really reflect the hope and expectancy that comes with a new year.  So, I spent the last 3 months reflecting not only on 2024 but truthfully my entire life. At 35, based on the ages my ancestors passed, I have probably lived 1/3 of the life I can expect to live and so as I look ahead to the next third, I am not only asking myself hard questions but making the necessary changes in order to live not only the life I’m called to but the one I desire.

Life is for living and if I have to write every post with tears in my eyes or a lump in my throat, that’s what I’m gon’ have to do. Zora Neale Hurston said, “There are years that ask questions and years that answer” and this blog is the fruit of a year where all I did was ask questions.  “What was the reason?!” is a question that I LITERALLY ask multiple times a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. While I surely don’t have any of the answers, in the same way that I create curious and compassionate spaces for clients in my day job as a licensed professional counselor, my desire & prayer is that this blog is a space for you to reflect on and answer questions that assist you in making sense of the unfathomable. Whether you’re in a year that asks questions or answers them, may this space provide, refuge, understanding, hope, and encouragement to keep believing and living in a way that reminds us that ALL things are working together for our highest good!