I’ve been feeling like Ally McBeal in a dream she once had where a surgeon cracks open her chest, looks into the cavity at her scar-covered heart and says, “This heart’s been broken! This heart’s been broken a thousand times!”
Broken with regret, healed by forgiveness; broken with disappointment, healed by acceptance; broken with impatience, healed by trust. Does it ever stop? I think only when we’re six feet under.
Now, dear reader, beware, for what I’m about to admit, I would be kicked out of every workshop I’ve ever taken, flunked by every coach I’ve ever worked with, and deemed a prime “DON’T” in every self-help book I’ve ever read. For this is the strategy I decided to take on Christmas:
And wouldn’t you know that despite this valiant, multi-day effort at negativity, self-pity and resignation, a new kind of hope is being born in me. Hope that when I finally let go of trying to make it happen, I’ll be shown what I’m really meant to experience, express and give in this lifetime. Hope that when I take a break from trying to get it right, I’ll get to just be me and let the chips fall where they may. They may just be beautiful.
Last night I listened to a Rob Bell sermon on those who hunger. In it he conveys that we are blessed IN the confusion, screw-ups and pain of our lives, not just when we finally “get it all together.”
I hope it is not the case, but if your heart is hurting this holiday season and your dreams are taking a whole lot longer than you’d like, I hope you’ll hang in there and let the ache transform you.
The mess is blessed. It’s ok to be here. Something good is happening.