Being a Chicken.
Someone told me yesterday that my social media makes it look like I’m having the time of my life. That surprised me, because the truth is I’m walking through some of the biggest fears I’ve ever faced.
The beautiful thing is, I really am living my best life as I navigate the hard stuff. I think what shocked me in the statement was realizing there is joy here. I have always wanted people to see Jesus, not just my struggles. I see Him in the beauty of nature and in the compassion and love of people, and I want you to as well. I’m also realizing there’s something important about being honest and human too.
For me, the road I have traveled has been a rough one, but it comes naturally to share the moments of beauty, the light, and the things that catch my attention along the way.
I don’t mind sharing hard things. I’ve done that before. What feels harder to share is just how much I’m in between right now, needing clarity, direction, work, and a place to live, a home.
I’m not alone in any of this, and I think that is part of why I do not always share the harder parts publicly. I have emotional and spiritual support like never before. I’m being cared for in ways that really matter, and I’m grateful for that. The people God has placed in my life, along with the daily provision I’m seeing, are giving me a deep sense of safety and a quiet assurance that it’s going to be okay. That hope is filling me. I’m rich in friendships and love, and those things give me a sense of home without walls. At the same time, I need those four walls too. I’m learning how to stand back up on my own and step into what’s next with wholeness and joy.
As a memoir writer, I want to be authentic and transparent. Right now, I’m needing the basics in life, and I feel embarrassed about that. I should be established. I should be retiring. I should be in better shape physically. Losing everything has cost me in all of these areas. It has been a lifelong search. I have been, and still am, looking for a place to call home. Each day, I’m doing what I can to keep moving forward.
I have gone to ask for help so many times, and then I chicken out. Or maybe it’s pride. I have never wanted to take anything “for free” from people. I am a giver, but I also want to face the fear of asking for help. So if you know of any opportunities, whether it’s work, housing, or something that could open a door, I would be so grateful to hear from you. If you have ever thought about reaching out or connecting, I’m open to that too. I have skills I can offer, and I’m ready to work.
There is a lot I don’t know yet, but I do sense something really good ahead, and I’m moving toward it, sometimes shaking, sometimes unsure, but continuing to take the next step as I feel the Lord leading me.
It doesn’t feel accidental that I find myself here while writing a story about losing everything and still finding home in the midst of that loss. That is what Pop’s Place: What Remains has always been about.
Maybe this season is asking me to live it first, to truly, deep down understand what home really is, even before I fully have one again. Finding joy in the assurance that God knows what’s next is what gives me hope and steadies me.
