am I still a Pollyanna?
maybe the term "Modern Day Pollyanna" fits me better now than before?
Today I framed something and used the term "...being a pollyanna..." to which my counselor rather quickly injected, "No." stating that wasn't what I was doing at all...she then proceeded to define "being pollyanna" for me, and then what I was doing....(she saw it as growth BTW)...
I was facing something and naming it...as it truly was...no whitewashing, excusing, or explaining.
I had to have it broke down for me.
Bless. My. Heart.
I would like to offer myself up as Exhibit A that grades, degrees, awards, accolades, etc. do not a single strong brain make. *Eye Roll*
I tease. Myself. Kinda.
I mean sometimes.
In 1750 Benjamin Franklin, in his Poor Richard's Almanack, observed the great difficulty of knowing one's self, with: "There are three Things extremely hard, Steel, a Diamond, and to know one's self."
I believe Ole' Ben was onto something.
Some days I climb into bed at the end of a day, slap my own forehead, clasp my hands and say a prayer to God, and simply go to bed. Sometimes that all happens in a very fluid motion...read that as flurry of activity at bedtime.
I just can't even. Myself. I can't even over myself.
My counselor is proud of me.
Right now...and most days, that is the most I can ask for...and all I hope for...because I need the millimeter of progress her affirmation can confirm for my disrupted spirit.
The lessons are just coming so very fast.
As such, the lessons are coming ALMOST as fast as the blessings. Lest I lead the reader astray that this season is joyless, it is NOT. There are many many blessings.
|My Very First Sunrise in Haiti, June 2013|
Do you ever as an adult watch a movie you saw first as a child and think....I wondered what would have happened to those characters if they kept filming?
I wonder what happened to Pollyanna on that train, after surgery, as she grew up. Did she hold any lingering wounds or bitterness? Did she find love? A counselor? What happened to her family? Her relationships? Did she have a career?
Then I think....how many times does a person have to be knocked down before they simply don't get back up? How many times wounded? Heart broken by someone? Abandoned?
How many licks does it take to get to the center of the tootsie roll pop?
Did I just age myself?
There is a beautiful song by Lauren Daigle entitled How Can It Be (click on title for link to You Tube lyric video), and this line...
Though I fall, You can make me new
From this death I will rise with You
From this death I will rise with You
I have been writing a lot about this concept of "rising" and so tonight I am struck...is it...
...the number of times you fall?
...the number of times you rise?
...who you fall with?
...or could it be who you rise WITH?
The book of James in the Bible will rock your world.
This week I was supposed to read a chapter a day or the entire book every day. I was ambitious and thought the whole thing every day...then LIFE happened along with 15+ hour days (Monday and Tuesday)...and I did not. :/ So now here I sit on Wednesday reading through the whole thing...Like. A. Boss. and remembering why I love it so.
The best experience I have EVER had reading and studying James was on a trip in Haiti with a team and my dear friend IV. Read James in Haiti. Talk about having your head spun.
James is rich with words about wisdom, humility, serving, rising, and falling.
After the past two days, I know why the enemy wanted me distracted from re-reading James daily. Yet another reminder to hold fast to what God puts on my heart.
So here I am wrestling with myself...wrestling to know myself....wrestling to heal...wrestling to persevere...to rise...to live...to love.
Maybe even Pollyanna grows up.
Maybe even Pollyanna must allow perseverance "...to finish its work..." so that she can be "mature and complete..."
God loves us.
God is doing a good work in each of us.
Let go and let God...do. that. work.
...and with that I lay it all down once again at the foot of the cross.
*It is emotional to include this photo, but even more so to the share the backstory. I took this photo my first morning (ever) in Haiti. It was at Jumecourt, overlooking the orphanage next door (Source de la Grace) and where I would meet Tacura (the next day). I remember walking up there with my coffee, watching the sunrise, and hearing the children next door rising for the day....and singing. I was entranced. Completely. That might have been the moment everything changed for me. Nonetheless, when I started counseling and specifically the EMDR, the counselor asked me to come up with a "happy place" and without hesitation, I said the rooftop at Jumecourt at sunrise...and I cried. Today, for the first time in a long time, the counselor had to invoke the happy place and I instantly (through tears that were already falling) smiled...and she asked what I felt...and I said, "Happy." followed by, "I miss Haiti."...and I do. I miss everything about it...especially the children...and I miss the me I am when I am there. In some ways, I think I am more me in Haiti than anywhere on earth. *Ugly Crying* So...here is to each of us figuring out our happy place...and finding the truest parts of who we are...along the way. Healing, true healing, is found there.