It's been a while, so with hands shaking and mind fumbling, here goes nothing.
I started this blog in the wake of my first breakup, and from that place of loss a beautiful thing sprouted forth. Like flowers that spring up through chicken poop. When you initially fertilize a garden it stinks, but give it time and you won't be smelling the poop anymore, but the roses. That's what I have found to be true.
I am starting again in another place of loss. Might as well take advantage of this full-circle moment, right? But if you look back to my first breakup post, and then to this one, I would hope it looks different. I'm older now. I have gray hairs. Swings make me dizzy, and life sure is too. But this time is different. The breakup was a mature one, I have no anger. No resentment. No teen-angsty spoken word. And although the crashing out of love was not nearly as loud and dramatic, I am more torn than before. The love was a more mature one, too.
This time I just have hope. And where is the source of my hope?
Over a year ago, well before any of this, I went on a retreat with some Carmelite Sisters. On this retreat were many talks regarding various topics in the Catholic faith. After one in particular, as I was reflecting on it I was very inspired. Like a strong wind had blown the words into my midst and it was all I could do to whip out my phone and type them down before they flitted away. Now I find these notes again today, in my place of loss, and I know without a doubt they were not for an inspiration for Katherine of a year ago, but intended for Katherine of today, who needs a reminder of why suffering and loss is okay.
And I feel convicted to share it, for anyone else who is experiencing loss. Who finds themselves broken, rejected, wondering what the heck is the point to all of this. For anyone else whose life stinks.
"I can't be scared of being wounded because if I look at my heart and see wounds, then look at His heart, what will I see? It is pierced. My wounds make me like Christ and we are united. Life will wound me. Regardless of what I believe in. With Christ, wounds have purpose. Without Him it's just scar tissue... I don't know what God wants me to look like. I don't know what a 'perfect me' is. Instead of trying to be a 'perfect me' I must keep my eyes on Him. Looking at Jesus, that is who I need to be. That is what I want to look like. Jesus on the cross, with all that He is, is my mission statement. I will be wounded, humbled, sacrificed. But I will also be love. I will be self-sacrificing, I will be obedient. I will be a teacher and a healer. I will be an encourager. A lover. Strong...
So I will not shy away from something that might wound me, rather I will rejoice. Because He is inviting me to become more like Him. To walk with Him on the road to Calvary. And to then be glorified with Him. I will praise Him in every hardship, every wound. Every stab through the heart. Because then my heart will be like His, pierced."
Right there is the source of my hope. In a God who inspired me over a year ago, so I would have the encouragement I needed today. In a God who knows hardship. Knows heartbreak. Who didn't deserve it, and got dealt the poor hand anyway. I have hope in a God who wanted to know our pain, and so came down and experienced the worst of it so that when I am heartbroken 2000 years later, I can have hope in a God who knows. Through this pain, just like He promised a year ago, I have felt like I know Him better and am closer. Amazingly, in the middle of all this stink, my faith is actually being made stronger.
Amongst the poop springs poppies.
Have hope, do not be discouraged for we are never alone. Know my prayers for you.
Kat
