I see you.
Life’s hard, but so is math. At least it is for me. No, for real. Sometimes, it all doesn’t add up the way we think it should. You know what else doesn’t add up? Hurt. Disappointment. Deep pain. Loss.
“If only,” we say. If only things were different. If only they would change. But what if they don’t? What if we can’t fix it, control it, or glue it back together?
We all have things that don’t go according to plan. Things that are not working like we’d hoped. Parts of our life that feel out of rhythm, chaotic even. Expectations that have gone unmet, hidden pain we aren’t allowed to share, or ruts we are trying to get out of.
The truth is, pain is pain. We all have it. The things that got us here and the intensity of our pain vary greatly, but the process of healing is the same. Whether it’s a season or a life-long amputation we are learning to live with, we are all in process. And, we all have a choice.
What do we do when life doesn’t look like we envisioned it would and we can’t change it?
We change how we see it.
What if the very pain that set out to destroy us was the birthplace of awakening? What if we already have all we need, not to fix the pain, but to transform us in the midst of it?
If you’re anything like me, I believed beauty was just on the other side of where I was standing. But now I know it’s right where we are; we just have to train our eyes to see. You can, too. See, that is. Perhaps you just need a reminder or the time and space to cultivate this perspective.
I’ve had many guides over the years help me see. Two of the most significant guides are my children, Jayden (2006-2017) and Brooklyn (2009-2018), who passed away from a rare genetic disorder. Through unimaginable loss, God continues to use my circumstances and guides along the way to teach me how to slow down and pay attention to the beauty right in front of me, beauty birthed right in the center of my pain.
I am spending the rest of my life helping and holding space for people to see from this vantage point. Through writing, speaking, teaching, and one on one spiritual direction, I love to bring comfort, hope, and inspiration to anyone who lets me walk next to them for a bit on the journey. Because as Ram Dass said, “we are all just walking one another home.”
There is a truth about going from type A to plan B: it invites us to embrace our limitations and the untidy parts of our stories. That requires work. Lots of surrender, vulnerability, laughter, and tears. It’s the only equation that adds up. Only then are we able to be captivated by what God is doing in our life, instead of being held captive by it.
There is beauty right where you are. Walk with me scared. Come broken like the rest of us and watch God transform your pain into something beautiful. Watch Him redeem suffering, bring purpose to your pain, and show you things you could never see without it.