Being the Pinata

There are some weeks, where life just seems to catch us, hang us up by the nuts like a piñata, and then take a few more swings.  And then you're just hanging there - bruised, battered, and waiting for the final blow, and the candy to all fall out.  But it hasn't come yet.  So you're just waiting...  and waiting.  And waiting.

This has been one of those weeks.  I apologize for speaking vaguely, but this is neither the space nor the time to elaborate more on that, suffice to say, I'll probably share more later, and it's been a helluvaweek.  And if you're the praying type, well, you know what to do...  and thank you.

But all that to say, as I've found myself in the midst of this week, in the midst of the hanging upside down, waiting for whatever comes next, I've found myself face-to-face with the ease with which I slide into preparing for the worst always - preparing for the final piñata-splitting blow, as if it were inevitable rather than possible.  Writing blog posts (in my head) processing the worst, even though it hasn't happened yet.  Preparing myself mentally to come undone.  Mapping out every possible alternative and possible outcome, most of them not positive.   Letting fear steal joy, even after writing this post so recently.  Even looking for metaphors for the candy, within my own hypothetical piñata metaphor.

And at some point, a few nights ago, I had to stop myself, and realize...

Whether it will, or won't, happen - it hasn't happened yet.  And while not blindly ignoring the possibilities - on either side, positive or negative - I cannot live in a reality that has not yet happened.

Either way, somehow I have to find a way to live in the now.  Even with all its uncertainties, fears, hopes, and unknown.

So me, us, at the moment?

We're clinging to the crucified, broken, victorious Savior. 

At church this morning, during communion, I was struck by the fact that what we are told to remember is "His body broken for you... His blood, poured out for you."  Our Messiah, our hope, is not just a good teacher, telling us how to be whole from a high and lofty place.  But broken, bruised, and bleeding on our behalf, in the trenches with us - and able to lift our heads, because he rose from the dead, in victory out of and over that place, those places.  He is not a stranger to brokenness, or pain.  He weeps alongside us.  And while He does promise to bring beauty out of the ashes, he does not scorn the ashes, the tears, or the hard places.  And so we cling, in hope, to Him - the resurrected, victorious Messiah, who still bears the holes from the nails - in this place.

We're looking for joy in the now.

Not a false joy, which ignores and says that the hard places - the now - does not exist.  Not a happy-go-lucky joy which tries to put a smile on your face and smile away the clouds.  But a sober thankfulness, which acknowledges the joyful things present in the now, in full-light of the hard.  And part of that is looking outside of myself, and being thankful out loud for others.

We're letting ourselves feel.

The full spectrum. With full grace.  And not trying to figure out what we "should" be feeling or "should" be doing or "should" be thinking or "should" know.  Should can be absolutely toxic to growth or healing when it leads us to try and live a life other than our own.  And there is a time and place for moving on, moving forward, but it's not just yet.

We're hoping.

Not blindly.  But with true realism, in the balance of what ifs.  And asking for what we want, not what we think is realistic or plausible, or most likely.  With "thy will be done", yes, but with true desires expressed, that trust that God wants to hear our unlimited hopes not a cautious answer that we think is reasonable.

We're letting friends love us and care for us.

And that adds to the thankfulness.  I hold to, our understanding of friendship will never be deeper or stronger than when we're a mess and we let someone else, who is trustworthy and close, in.

And we're waiting.  In the now, not in the future.  

It's not conclusive, but that's where we are, so that's where we end for now.

KD