for the way home

“It never occurred to the princess that in all her waiting in that tower, she could have let down her hair for her very self. I mustn’t depend solely on others to bring the kiss that heals me. I had to do it myself, with God’s grace and presence. I needed to embrace myself, knowing that sometimes God’s arms were my arms. I needed to seek help, yes, but I also needed to untie my own ankles. That is Rapunzel’s task.”

-Sue Monk Kidd

“I closed my eyes then I saw Him, walking around the rooms of my heart. Moving the furniture, doing the heavy lifting, flinging open windows, cleaning out the clutter. I saw him looking down toward his wrist with anxious delight, waiting for me to wake up and see all the work that had been done. This deep renovation of my soul. I saw his eyes gleam, I saw a grin on his face. Pure pride. I saw me, high on his shoulders, while he did the work that felt impossible on my own. That’s when I knew I didn’t wanna be asleep any longer. I wanted to be wide awake for my life. I wanted to join the party.

It was the day the lights came on. I’m coming home.”

—journal entry, 2019

It was years back when I learned my name meant “whole.” It was the year I felt the furthest from it. More of that to come soon.

But I thought how funny of God, to weave identity into our very DNA before we even went looking for it? Always seeing us for who we are. I began a deep unravelling, learning that what I believed to be so “broken” was always an invitation for love to come up close and convince me otherwise. To get to know the inner parts of my own sweet self better than I ever had gotten to know her before. To let love get its hands on me, up close and uncomfortable. To let my tall walls fall and let delight offend the shame. To let myself find out, over and over, what it means to belong. How good this good news really is.

But what I didn’t expect to find was how wonderfully made I was all along. That all parts of me had a seat at the table and a story to tell. No more fixing or perfecting or trying so hard. They simply got to be. It’s the journey that’s become a deeply sacred part of my walk, my story, the glimmering hope I’ve found through my own fire, that it really does get to be better than we can ask or think or imagine. Welcome to a little corner where we’ll celebrate the baby steps, the healing, the hope in all of the becoming. I hope you’ll take some words for the road home, that you remember the fire that’s been blazing in you all along.