I put in all in a box.
Every piece of gear. Everything that reminded me of the dream that just got shelved. Every single feeling I was feeling. I put it all in a box. I taped it shut. I set that junk deep in the attic so that it would have to be dug
out. A year ago, my world was rocked at a magnitude that I hit the floor (and stayed there for a while). I left Training Camp three days early empty handed and I wanted to put all of it away. I wanted to put it all away, for good, and move on with my life.
I lived in my fantasy world for a few weeks, pretending I understood why I was standing here instead of there. I said consoling words like, “God is good!” and “God is in control!” as a means of placating others (and myself) from the bigger picture. I found
myself in a spot I never envisioned, never wanted, never dreamt of and I hadn’t the slightest idea what to do with it. So I put it away. It’s what we do.
Growing up, I remember watching a cartoon where the girl had a closet that, when opened, flooded the room with junk. Her solution would be stuff it all back quickly and shut the door as fast as possible. That girl was me, YO.
Get it away from me! In that same cartoon, you see the girl become buried beneath the weight of all of her crap. That was also me, YO! So, it’s cool, I just tried putting all of this really heavy emotional baggage along with a lot of heavy camping gear and
junk in attic to try to get rid of it. But in reality, the weight actually was suffocating me.
This portion of my journey felt a lot like Day 1 and Day 2 after Jesus’ death. Day 1 and day 2 after Jesus’ death were dark days for the disciples: they were days of hopelessness, emptiness, full of despair, meandering around
with no direction and little desire to do anything at all. And for me, all of that plus a big fat weight sitting solidly on my chest. What do I do with this box of junk that I want to shelve but actually can’t?
11 months later. A lot of tears, a lot of therapy, a lot of anger, a lot of sorrow, a lot of pain later: I had the honor of carrying that box out of the attic.
Carried that box right inside to my itty bitty apartment that I never dreamt I would have. Opened it up and sifted through the things I once believed I would never use again. Packed a bag that I nearly took back to the store
but couldn’t stop crying to do. In 5 days, I get a second chance to restart a journey that I believe the Lord has fully and completely orchestrated for us to run to completion. A race for us to run, together, in His perfect timing.
This season looked a lot like the girl with the crap from her closet burying her in her room. But somewhere along the way, as I tried and tried to unsuccessfully shove it all back in: Jesus, in all of grace and goodness, showed
up and started to help me throw the stuff I didn’t need away. He helped me place the stuff I need to keep back in. He helped me take the weight and burden from my chest and freed me from carrying it. He also has invited me to open it again, with His help.
Days 1 & 2 are dark and desolate days. For me, those days lasted 11 long months. But Day 3 is right around the corner. Maybe you’re in your second week of those days 1 & 2. Maybe you’ve been walking it for a while.. You’ve got
to be tired! I am 11 months of tired. But the dawn is breaking on Day 3. The King overcame.
The victory already has your name on it.
So! Cheers to fresh starts! Cheers to as many Day 3’s as the eyes can see! Cheers to the race y’all!
Humble and hungry. Onward and upward.
XO-Melissa
