That title sounds like the title to an Austen novel, doesn’t it? Don’t worry – this writing will be nowhere near as satisfying, I am confident.
I’ve had Spastic Brain for a while. I have so many little trains of thought that seem like brilliant ideas until I try to get them on paper then they get derailed. I even thought of doing a Reader’s Digest style blog, with lots of miniature tidbits of thought. But still – what’s the point in sharing all that turmoil with you unless I could find the unifying cohesion?
That’s where I’ve gotten stuck. Every time.
And it’s not just with y’all. I have unfinished conversations that are a month old on multiple fronts.
And, yet, no one is surprised. No one is pressuring me to finish the conversations. No one is chastising me for my Spastic Brain. I’m getting the same response I’ve grown used to hearing: “It’s ok. I know you.”
I really, really want that to be a conviction. I want to find in that reputation the motivation to change. But, instead, it’s a comfort. It’s a relief. I guess that’s my Spastic Brain’s way of telling me I know myself.
Without much hope for giving cohesive answers, I walked into a meeting today where we discuss how God has been messing with us. A few of my answers even ended with “That’s it. I know it wasn’t very cohesive but…”
I gave my Reader’s Digest tidbits and began to see a pattern:
Some things have been moved to my backburner because I’ve been overwhelmed and, when I get overwhelmed, I tend to tighten up my range of priorities. It’s how I work – No offense intended to any of the areas of my life that get dusty for a while; it’s just my survival mechanism. But those backburner items have other caretakers, and those caretakers have been busy. They’ve picked up my slack, without chastising me. I find that both comforting and motivating.
It’s yet another aspect of how community has become so important to me. In my small little family, in my responsibilities at church, to SonBeams, to my career, I can’t be everything I want to be all the time. But I have a wonderful community of support. I can accept their support because it’s a two-way street. We’re all in this together. I hate to ask for help but they let me feel needed so I can accept help without feeling like a burden. WHOA.
I get a heaviness in my chest when I type those words. I think I just hit a vulnerable nerve inside me. Moving on…
In the midst of my Spastic Brain, I’ve had a couple of friends need assistance from me. I can help, or I can’t. They ask again anyway, next time. They don’t run out of favors and they don’t give up on me because I’m unavailable once or thrice. We’re all in this together and they know they're never a burden.
There’s that heaviness again. Seriously, what is it? Is it the word “burden”? Ugh!!! Now my hands are beginning to go numb. Lol… Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic. But, seriously, shake it off, Laurie. Push forward. Talk to your community.
One friend recently asked me for help with the right words in a particularly difficult situation she was facing. Her request tugged at a raw heartstring since, unknown to her, I’d recently been through a similar situation. I emailed her a prayer I had written during my trial asking God to comfort my grieving heart. I apologize for being vague but this is one of those stories that shares someone else’s personal details. That’s not mine to tell. The point of my sharing is that she went on to share the prayer with others who were grieving and I thought of all the players involved in my own story and how happy they would be to know that a rippling effect of our story was helping others. What a beautiful next chapter to pain.
You’re not seeing much cohesion in all of this, are you? Here’s what I realized in the meeting today: Despite how Spastic Brain I’ve felt and despite how disconnected that makes me feel from God, He’s still been there. Look at all the ways He’s still working in me and through me. God doesn’t derail when we do. He doesn’t go hide in a hole when He gets overwhelmed. He sticks around to comfort and to keep working His plan. When we’re too discombobulated to focus on more than the immediate task at hand, He’s still in charge and in control. He IS our community and He IS the cohesion.
I had that breakthrough today during the closing prayer of our meeting (Yes, my Spastic Brain was wandering. It derails even during prayer) As all the pieces finally slid neatly together, my focus returned just in time to hear the pastor pray, “The turmoil in our lives is a reflection of our own brokenness” then He thanked God for sending Jesus into the turmoil. How’s that for confirmation?
I hope you are doing well, Son-Beam, and I hope you forgive me my Spastic Brain yet again. (And the million times in the future I will ask this kindness of you again) Thank you all for accepting my brokenness and I thank you for sharing yours with us. For there, we find our Savior walking around.