She covers her eyes out of fear, not because they will see her, but see the difference, and decide to walk away.

Hey, you. I know you might feel like I abandoned you, and though I don’t blame you, does it mean anything at all to say I just didn’t want you to see me like this? After every month and every revelation that justified me not amounting to who I spent the last six months saying I wanted to be, could you have gone another month of that? I became a leaking hose of shame; one the nozzle refused to shut completely. And I know you want it all. I know you want the highs and lows, whether it be for inspiration or simply entertainment. And the truth is, in the past I would have given it to you freely, because as long as someone heard it, I had proof I existed. But this time around, I didn’t want to exist, I wanted to change. And for that reason alone, there was someone more important I felt compelled to share my shame with.

And that was God.

I gave it all to God. I gave Him my shame, my burdens, and my sins, and from there He asked for my wishes, my hopes, and my dreams. As it turns out, He was the only one who could flip my switch; fill me with the Holy Spirit and deliver me to where I needed to be all along. 

And where am I now? I’m home, in a season of stillness. I took inventory of my heart and the people in it that actually made me feel good and unfortunately, there weren’t that many. Not even the ones I found myself closest with. The ones I hung out most with. The ones that told me my back was covered when it wasn’t, but I believed them anyway.

They always say when you move up at work, there’ll be people who won’t be able to handle your success, and I knew that…I just didn’t expect it to be the people I kept in my backyard, or even my guest house. But I started moving up and a friend got jealous, and the more they saw me in my new role, it really took nothing at all for them to sprinkle their resentment in my direction. It took nothing at all for them to betray me but then turn around and say they loved me. 

So, I stopped talking, stepped away from all the noise, and came to God.

And here’s what happened next,

I started reading, A LOT.

I started four books this month, and although two remain unfinished, that’s two more than the last three months could say.

Readings

1.
when God writes your love story
by Leslie & Eric Ludy

2. 
A Woman After God’s Own Heart
by Elizabeth George
(unfinished)

3.
The Gospels of the Bible
The Book of John

4.
The Gospels of the Bible
The Book of Luke 
(unfinished)

And I know what you’re thinking, she’s changed. Well, at such a beginner level, I have. And I know that God’s a very straight forward identity and that there’s a huge stigma against religion, but what about faith? Religion is rules, yes, it’s easy to view rules as negative because if someone doesn’t want to follow them, well then, there you go. Bad rap. Nothing finds hate faster than rules do, but again, what about faith? The transformation of unwavering faith. The tangible feeling of hope. And when I say tangible, I mean, the act of giving God the pen to your life and watching as He aligns what has always been meant for you right in front of your eyes. Seeing Him speak to you in a way only you can understand; all you have to do is come to Him and ask for it — but when you ask for it, your heart has to mean it. And when that time comes, He’ll know, and when you’re ready for it, you’ll see. It’s intimate, it’s personal, it’s —

God.

But I digress. Suffice to say, my peace isn’t found in a room full of folks or late nights out free from any form of responsibility, restrictions, or chains. No, it’s at home. Alone, but surprisingly enough, not lonely at all. 

Imagine that.

Now, on to the bops.

Octöber’s Line-Up, Spotify Style

1. Watch Your Mouth by Josiah Queen
2. Everywhere, Everything by Noah Kahan
3. Featherstone by The Paper Kites
4. Fear Of Water by Noah Kahan
5. Running by Land of Color

I won’t deny I stepped away, and I can’t even guarantee I’m back, but there’s something to be said about walking away and returning when the time is right. And though I’ve been told in the past that if the time isn’t right now, it’ll never be, perhaps that’s not the case at all. If growth has taught me anything this year, it’s that it doesn’t need sound to water its roots, sometimes it needs silence. 

Maybe we all ought to give it a try. What do you say?

Think about it.

Cheers,
B.