A month before my 38th birthday last year, I laid
in bed staring out the window into the dark night. My mind wandered in sleeplessness, and my
heart ached in confusion. My life had
ended up far south of WhereIAlwaysHopedVille. I had a couple decisions in front
of me – give up or fight. I was in a
little Airbnb in Portland, ME with a beautiful bay of water out the back
door. Giving up meant I could walk right
out into it and float away. Fighting
meant I could lay right here until the sun rises – until there is light again,
and I see a way to do this. At that
point in life, I had thankfully learned to look for light no matter how dark.
So as I gazed out the window, I locked my eyes on a streetlamp. I imagined Jesus himself had just erected it
there for me to remind me He was there. I watched that pale glimmer until I finally let myself fall
asleep. The next morning I made a pot of
coffee and drank all of it and made the decision to fight – mostly for
the love of the woman inside me.
I just looked back at my social media post on my 38th
birthday last year – the month after I made that declaration to fight for her –
I was bare faced, messed up hair, and embracing the vulnerability and bravery
of the woman I was becoming. Today at
year 39 I’m still celebrating that 38 year old. At the darkest time, she made a choice to
hope. At a time when I felt like I could lose so
much, I decided it was the best time to gain ME. So I prayed more than ever – (but don’t lose
me here, folks – this isn’t the “pray your way to getting good news and happy
things” kind of cookie cutter spirituality). This
was my desperate plea for God to remind me who He was, who I was, and what we
were together. I knew I could pray about
all those dark things, and they may stay dark, but I needed to know what the Light could do in the midst of it. For
instance, when people thank God for answering their prayers of removing their
cancer while another Jesus-loving person with praying friends dies from it, how
do we reconcile this? I can’t, and I don’t even try to anymore. What I know for absolutely sure is that
Jesus shows up to bring comfort in the dark. He brings the Light even if the
dark stuff still comes. And that’s how we can make it when things aren’t going
our way. That year I looked for
streetlamps, car headlights, and flashlights. I lit candles, plugged in
nightlights, built fires, and lit matches and just stared at them – and then
prayed a prayer heard from one of my favorite writers, Ann Lamott – “Help me. Help me. Help me.” I knew it may quite possibly stay dark, but I
knew I would find Light every time. This
process woke me up. I came to know Jesus
and the Holy Spirit – not just a “Heavenly Father” who I thought needed me to
perform and do things right. I sat in my favorite chair a lot and practiced
nothing but being there and letting Jesus be there too. And I always lit something – a candle or
maybe a fire under my own ass. I was
learning to love myself and others from the place Jesus already loved me - in a complete mess. It was crazy.
I was delivered blow after blow last year, and I just kept
looking for Light and finding love and comfort every time. I kept loving harder from a bigger place and
presence outside my humanity. At some
point I may share more specifically about those hard times (it’s all simmering appropriately), but my most important lesson on this 39th
birthday is that it is always worth seeking Light and fighting for mySELF – it spills out into my other relationships in a way I could never
have done out of my own human strength.
I love myself and my people more every day. I forgive myself and my
people more every day. Happy year 39 to
ME.
