onion.

11 05 2016

i read the other day,
‘Life is like an onion;
you peel off one layer
at a time… and sometimes
you weep.”

this is my peeling
and weeping season.
i’ve had so many seasons
where i felt like God
was stripping me raw
and bare.
where i knew He was trying
to show me something
about myself,
and take away all the things
that were unhealthy for me.

but in this season,
i’m doing the work.
i’m looking at my heart
like an onion,
and for the first time
i’m strong enough to
peel back the layers
on my own.
and i’m also being
strong enough to weep.
truly truly weep.

i think there are seasons where
we need to take in
that full- deep breath,
out of the depths of our pain
in order to breathe in the fullness
of His love and grace.
like taking a huge breath
before jumping into a deep sea…
i’m taking in these huge deep
breaths out of my pain
before i allow His love
to wash in and truly
cleanse all of me.

if you know me,
you know i’m a cry-er.
i’m a big sentimental baby.
everything makes me cry
whether i’m happy or sad.
frustrated or proud.
i cry.
it’s the default emotion
that comes spilling out
and i’ve also always hated it.
and hating it doesn’t
seem to make this season
that much easier.
because i’m not getting teary-eyed
over a gift or a flower,
or a baby animal.
i’m not hurt by what someone
did or didn’t say.
i’m not mad about an injustice
being done.

but i’m weeping over what
was and what wasn’t.
i’m weeping over what will never be.
i’m weeping over what i see
in all the broken and shattered
pieces of my little porcelain heart.
i’m weeping because it seems so
unfixable.
i weep because i’m angry
and want to scream at anyone i can,
not because of anything they’re doing
but because of this intense
heart surgery i’m going through
and i cannot adequately explain it.

but i weep also because there is
a tiny ray of hope,
a spark that says this is
redeemable and restorable.
this isn’t how it’ll look in the end.

so as i peel back these layers,
i’m allowing myself to weep
and (trying) not to feel guilty about it.
i’m allowing myself to weep
and to feel the pain.
but i’m also allowing myself
to weep,
because i believe He is asking
this of me.
i will weep as i hand
Him piece by piece.

i don’t know if i will ever stop running
from life.
right now i seem to cling
to my brokenness more than anything
during this process of peeling back
the layers.
but what i do know is,
if i have this thorn in my side for the rest
of my days,
it’ll force me to look to Him,
to cling to Him.
and whether i choose to see this or not,
i have fallen into the arms of my Savior.
and i will also weep for joy
when i reach the top
and stand with the anthem
of victory over my life.
whether it happens soon
or in the end of my days
i honestly do not know.
but i choose to believe it will happen.

and when it does,
i will weep one more
with gratitude.

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