I remember the last time my life felt like tabula rasa…
I’ll never forget that day when I walked that route I took everyday from my office to the subway station. I knew that it was the last time I would ever take that route again. I was no longer stuck in a cubicle for 8-10 hours everyday. It felt scary, but I also felt like I was free, like the world was once again full of possibilities.
That’s exactly what I feel right now, and I’m here, in a coffee shop, grinning like a complete idiot, because I know… I know… Everything’s going to be okay. I’m safe. Life is beautiful.
She mentioned me in a comment yesterday, tagging me to listen to a Steffany Gretzinger song, called Cece’s Lullaby on Spotify. I, instead, ended up listening to her song, Out of Hiding, for the first time.
Come out of hiding, you’re safe here with Me,
There’s no need to cover what I already see,
You’ve got your reasons, but I hold your peace.
You’ve been on lockdown, and I hold the key.
The feeling was tangible. Something inside me broke, or perhaps more appropriately, something was unlocked. This deep hope, this unflinching rage, this fight in me I didn’t even know I had.
It felt like after everything around me was leveled, I found myself still standing, protected and safe beneath His wings, and after taking a look around me, drinking in the sight of the aftermath, there’s this strange, eerie calm. This resolve. It’s time to rebuild.
And the great thing about new beginnings is that the only limit is your imagination.
And oh, as you run,
What hindered love
Will only become part of the story.
There’s comfort in knowing that what Elisabeth Elliot said was true: God’s story never ends in ashes.
I can’t explain to you what’s going on within me right now. To be so alone, but for the first time in a long time, not lonely, because I see it. I see Him. In the middle of the starkness of the spaces that surround me, it’s clear that my tabula rasa comes with an army.
The wilderness is beautiful, because it is meant to direct me to victory, to promise, to provision.
I don’t know what lies ahead, but I do know that the person who started this journey is not the same person standing before you now.
The slate has been wiped clean. Everything is possible again. My sad, joyful, thankful, paradoxical heart can hope again.
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