Therefore lift your drooping hands, and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.

Hebrews 12:12-13

. . . but rather be healed. It occurred to me yesterday that I would have come up against all of this sooner if I had been quicker to get to the things I’ve been called to . . . but that’s also why I hadn’t. I literally have not had what it takes. It requires so much of me emotionally to be an artist. To create and share good and honest art. To tell authentic stories and sing the truth to the glory of God. It requires so much energy from me to interact with and really see people after I’ve stood up in front of them and let out the voice that only I have . . . the voice that wouldn’t be reverberating through the planet if I were not here to release it.

The risk and hard work of curating song collections, the resources it takes to record and release them . . . all the effort it takes to indebt yourself to a team of people by agreeing to be accountable and available to them . . . i.e, a job. It’s too much for me to handle. I am not that well-adjusted.

I thought I was . . . I present well. But I have come to the end of myself. My body knew that seven years ago {and I’m writing a song about it now} when my holistic dr. and chiropractor respectively informed me that my adrenals were tapped out and I was living with the weight of two heads on my shoulders. They were both evidently alarmed that someone my age would be so . . . spent.

I’m discovering that much of what I had attributed to my personality type and birth order goes beyond just those things to a more fundamental deficit. My birth order colors and contributes; and it’s probably the case that my personality both determined and was affected by my attempts to navigate, compensate, and cope with what was missing during significant periods of my development . . . what I still need to be filled.

It’s like I’ve had a door closed in my heart. And God has been patiently waiting for me to let the handle go; to give Him even a crack He can flood in through with Light and with an even more specific and personal love . . . emotional intimacy. He cares about how I feel about things. Selah.

How have I not known all this time? What a staggering blind spot I have moved through the world with. Which may also answer this mysterious myopia I developed around third grade. Some other symptom of not having enough to see fully or far . . . living in a blur. ‘blur’ just now was not a link; it’s pink for emphasis. I have not seen.

But the Great Physician is healing me.

so I will take heart.


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