Have you ever read something you’ve written and thought, Holy Heck, who wrote this? It’s so good?
It’s a wonderful feeling.
Okay, and it’s also a little intimidating.
Yes, I can intimidate my own self. #MovingOn
As with anything I write, I labor for weeks in my own head about it. Collecting information, processing information, writing whole articles in my brain that aren’t quite ready for the page. Or are ready, but inconvenienced by my need to sleep, shower, or use the restroom. Ahem.
I keep re-reading my own 2021 post on presence and I just can’t say it any better. So, I’m inviting Marcy of Jan 17, 2021 back to the stage. Which was literally only one blog post ago. Because that’s how blogging has gone this year. But I digress.
Let me introduce you to Marcy of 01/21:
She’d been back in America for less than one month (after nearly nine years living in Germany). She was in a trauma fog, yet all of her mama bear survival instincts were fully engaged.
Just a couple of months before, her life as she knew it completely imploded. She and her children were abruptly sent back to California as a result of ongoing abuse in the home… abuse which had been in a kind of recovery but relapsed in big enough ways that her mission put her and the kids on a plane.
As a result of all the injury, her physical, emotional, and mental states felt like death. She hung on by the thread of her Savior who dropped an anchor of hope in her stormy sea. Accusations of an emotional affair, of not believing big enough in miracles, of not having enough faith to give the little bit of life she had left waged a brutal war against her peace-keeping and truth-abiding heart.
There was no earthly defense willing to keep her safe against an institution that claimed she was the sinner for asking for help.
Marcy 01/21 is my hero. Some of the things she endured, and would yet endure, are incomprehensible. Yet she did it. She did it by the grace and kindness of God.
She did it with the warm, welcoming, open arms of true love… not of a romantic partner, but of friends and family who’d been watching, praying, fearing, and championing across an ocean.
They, with the arms and heart of Jesus, built a nest for her and her kids. She was safe for the first time in a long time.
Well, mostly. There was much injury still yet to come, but now she had hands to hold.
I’m so proud of her.
I also wish I could go back and tell her what’s coming… more accusations, more Pharisees trying to parent her Christianity, more people telling her to be quiet: if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all (what a silencing message for those dying in their pain), divorce, lawyers, and the lowest of lows she’d ever see in people she loved.
But then, I’d take her by the shoulders and look her straight in the eyes and say,
But girl… you will rise above it. In the midst of everything, you will finally believe your worth, you will have the healthiest relationships you’ve ever known, you’ll BUILD A BUSINESS and you and the kids will be okay, YOU WILL BE OKAY, I swear. You will get certified in things, awarded for things, and swim as a mermaid. You’ll embrace your body, trauma-fat and all, as beautiful and a gift. You’ll lose your tolerance for mistreatment and your standards for healthy relationships will soar. You will hear from SO. MANY. PEOPLE. how your speaking out has saved their lives. You will find a healthy, Bible-believing, God-fearing, healthy church home. You will know God’s Word and heart better than you’ve ever known it. You will recognize mirrors from windows. Girl, you will NEVER. BE. ALONE. Like, literally, not for one second. And I know a great place when you need to be alone. I’ll go ahead and make the reservation.
I’d give her a HUGE hug, tell her THANK YOU, and weep all over her. She’d be… well, like most people who experience my feels: confused, excited, scared, wet from my tears… but I hope more than anything, assured and strengthened.
So now, without further ado… here’s Marcy of Jan 17, 2021:
This year [2021], I’m bringing presence.
When this word first settled on me, I was sure it meant that my year would be spent in the tug-of-war of being present to the now, anchored in here, while my personality wiring (INFJ) [Oh yeah, we’d need to talk about that too] pulls me inside of myself and into the future. I was gritting my teeth to win the battle.
But then God showed me that it’s SO much more.
That presence is an invitation to enter HIS.
To live in the safety I keep hunting for, the love I keep longing for, and the identity I’ve finally claimed.
As I abide in His presence, I bring presence everywhere I go. It just comes. It flows from me into belonging and acceptance and not-aloneness to those around me.
BRING. IT. ON.
This is my delight and joy… to both be known (in His presence) and know (by bringing His presence).
I am excited for this year.
I’m still in some of the most painful upheaval and life change I’ve ever experienced… but my vision has been cleared and I can see. And what I see isn’t just what’s in front of me, but the hope and promise of a loving Father.
I don’t know how you’re stepping into 2021, but I want you to know you are not alone. There is so much grace for the journey. So much love and mercy. Come as you are. I mean, if He can clean up this hot mess, He can clean anyone.
Right? A woman still recovering from the jet lag that upturned her world could still speak such life and hope into me. YES!!! “As I abide in His presence, I bring presence.”
She didn’t just say it; she did it.
Marcy 01/21… you inspire me. You changed me in the best ways. Thank you for passing me the baton for 2022… what a hand-off. You ran an incredible race; you can rest now.
With the baton in my hand, I look ahead to the next leg of the race. I can’t see beyond the curve in the road. I wish Marcy of 2023 could take me by the shoulders and say all the things… but I know she’s there, stronger than ever, healthier than ever, waiting on the finish line to run her race. Until then, I’ve got my people and MAN, they are BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE.
I know that this year, God is calling me into spaces of release. This both terrifies me and swathes me in relief. There are a list of things I’m more than ready to release… and other things I’d really rather not. I imagine those are the things He and I will get to talk about this year. But who better to help me let go than the Lover of my Soul? Literally no one.
I’ll keep bringing presence, I’ll stay Anchored to my Hope, Comforted by Peace, Fearless in truth, bursting with a New Song, as I Rest, Abide, and shine His Light.
Happy new year, friends. I’m cheering you on with everything I have.
