I'm not quite sure what I'm going to write tonight. Which makes this all the more adventurous and scary.
I've been verbally processing this season out with good friends. God bless their ears, their eyes, their arms.
Their ears, because they've listened to me bark about my own bitterness, my own frustrations, my anger towards God and still dare to say, "Patrice, but we know who you really are..."
Their eyes, because for the last month they've watched me at my physical worst and still told me I was nothing but beautiful, glowing even...in my weakness.
Their arms because they've hugged me and held me more in this last month than I've been held in the last few years.
The storm is seemingly raging, but I'm now finding my sweet spot in the eye of the hurricane. Swirling can be happening all around, and yet, there's a stillness within me. I didn't know this was possible. Not like this.
See, there are stages in your teenage years that you think the angst and emotional turmoil might just overtake you, but you overcome.
And then your twenties come and you feel invincible and vulnerable all at the same time. Which leaves you at times, an insecure wreck. But again, you over overcome.
And now, in my thirties, I feel "out there" - like dang. This is it. This is really happening. This is my life. So much is the same, so much is different. But there's a new sense of security that hits your soul.
You feel more comfortable in your own skin. But concurrently you feel how quickly life can alter in the blink of an eye, how precious and fleeting it truly is. And as much as you know, you realize you still don't know enough. And all that you know is not all that there is. And you'll never know it all...not on this side of heaven.
And yet, I do feel this sense of deeply rooted peace.
It's anchored itself within me.
I didn't try to put it there, believe me, I was too busy panicking trying to figure out my entire future.
But when I got a little still this week, and stopped looking to the right and to the left frantically, I realized a gift had been given to me.
Oh, so that's why they call you the Prince of Peace...
My needs have been met. I have been fed, I have been nurtured, I have been prayed for, I have been checked on, and texted throughout the day to make sure I was okay.
My heart-needs have been tended to.
In the midst of it all, the fight remains: to not become jaded...
I don't want to come this far in my journey, to simply phone it in.
The fight will always be, to not become jaded...to have a heart that is receptive to love. A heart that hopes and is quick to believe the best about a person and not the worst. A heart that is so very aware that everyone is fighting their own battles on their own battlefields on almost any given day.
I tried writing in my personal journal this morning, writing down the dreams of my heart. The whole process felt like going to the dentist. Just awkward and painful.
And I thought, Wow God you have your work cut out for you, because my heart is in critical condition, and only You can truly revive it...
But amidst the fog, I can still see a few things...
The beautiful and grand love story that is meant for me.
The moving stories I'll get to produce and tell through film once again.
The ways in which I will help other artists find their voice.
And a place of retreat and refuge to speak into the hearts of my favorite people on the planet: Teenagers...
Dancing...I can always see myself dancing...
But see, none of these things will hold its ultimate weight for me, unless the presence of God is completely saturating every moment and place of dreaming.
He's home to me.
And the countless times that I thought my own mountain top would bring fulfillment, I would find myself at the top, and think: "Meh. It's alright."
But that moment I sense the peace, joy, gentleness, kindness, presence and strength of God, everything becomes a million times better. And I think to myself, "Yes, this is what I was made for. Now I'm LIVING."
A wandering stops. And a completeness of sorts takes over.
I've missed this.
But oddly enough, I think His overshadowing presence is enveloping me in a profound way--yes, even in this hurricane of a season.
I'm letting go.
My heart is broken. But it has not flatlined.
And now we watch to see how this will all unfold.
There's something about directions being given to you verbally, versus feeling autonomous in reading and figuring out the directions for yourself via a paper map.
It's time to simply listen and wait...and to let the Navigator lead and speak on these matters...