Walking Honestly

A good friend of mine sent me an email the other day with links to posts from Alece's blog archives and commented that the two posts she included links to had made her think of me.  I've only been reading Alece's blog for a short time (I think I came across it via some other blogs I read, but I'm not even sure to be honest.)  However, in the short time I've been reading, I've come to appreciate the honesty in her words.

The first post that my friend sent me was this one, that talks about wallowing versus walking.  Boy do I know those feelings.  Some heavy stuff has surfaced in my life over the last few months.  Big, overwhelming, makes me ache and tear up at a moment's notice stuff.  And honestly, wallowing does seem easier.  Healing isn't exactly an easy journey, I've learned.  Most of the time, as a process, it's pretty much miserable.  That said, I appreciated and needed the reminder in Alece's post to cling to hope.  To hold onto the one who I know is true.  To put my hand in the hand of the one who I know from experience will lead me to healing, and who has promised to walk through the deep waters with me.

The second post my friend linked to was this one.  This one touches on my own personal soapbox of depression in the church, and how we never want to acknowledge it.  That said, it touches some raw nerves, too.  While I'm not currently struggling with depression (I remain so thankful for that moment of healing that God offered to me nearly five years ago now), I'm struggling.  Life is messy and ugly, and I'm not sure how to handle that.  I trumpet honesty, but honestly, I'm embarrassed to be struggling.  I'm tired of being the one on the soapbox, and a lot of days right now I just want to melt into the crowd of seemingly "perfect" people.  And yet, I've found that I've needed to be honest with some people in my life about what's going on inside of me right now.  To lean into their support and their prayers and their love as I again seek healing and restoration of the broken bits of me - knowingly and deliberately this time, not expecting a sudden miraculous and instantaneous deliverance like the moment the depression left.

I'm thankful for Alece's words, and for the friend who brought these posts I'd missed to my attention.  They moved me in important ways today.