Spinning, spinning, spinning!


I sent a text the other day filled with concern for a friend and never heard back from her. I have spun in my head since – Did I overstep a boundary? Did I say something wrong? Was I out of order? Spinning!

I do this! I have done this for a long time now. And I am reminded of the man by the pool of Bethesda in John 5, laying there for 38 years in his sickness. That’s a long time to lay suffering, waiting, hoping…that’s a long time. And Jesus turns His gaze to me, “Yes, that’s a long time, my darling, do you want to be made well Melissa?”

I have been getting stuck in my head for years now, second guessing myself. DId I do the right thing? Should I stay or go? Was what I said ok? Walking away from situations, conversations second guessing, regretting, questioning…slipping into confusion, caution, chaos!

I am paralyzed.

Pause pressed…how do I show up? I am guarded on how to show up for others.

Do I go to the hospital and check on them? Is that overstepping a boundary?

Do I call in the middle of their tragedy? Is that overstepping a boundary?

Do I bring dinner? Do I stop in with flowers? Do I text and ask how they are?

Am I overstepping a boundary?

Spinning in questions.

I want to be sensitive, I want to be honest, I want to be present, I want to be real – I want to show up as me, but I am guarded because I fear I will do it wrong and offend, push away, overstep. Why? Where does this come from?

And I feel His gaze, “Do you want to be made well?”

I have been with my “sickness” a long time. I have a history of friendships that tended to be passive aggressive, pushed me away but wouldn’t explain why, would be angry with me and I wouldn’t know what I had done… this started as early as four years old…my brokeness attracted to certain friendships that perpetuated the cycle…it’s been a long time. I have owned it all – I owned it as my own, as something wrong with me. If I could be nicer, friendlier, more giving, going out of my way, not speaking up, not causing friction, being quieter, a fricking doormat really, letting others crap on me for a long time. This history shaped me into a second-guessor, a pauser, a guarded friend that spins on how to show up.

baggage2Now, please hear my heart on this matter, I am not blaming anyone. I was broken, I owned it, that was my choice. I didn’t know any other way. The people from my past were broken too, they had their own baggage and for whatever reason I picked up some of their stuff and carried for many a mile believing their was a problem with me. I was a sensitive little girl, still am, and I carried stuff that wasn’t mine as if it was. That was my fault, my problem, no one else’s – it was my way of making things better – which never really solved the problem…it wasn’t my problem to solve, it was theirs but I owned it.

So, I have worked through alot of the past pain from middle-school, highschool and even some of my adult friendships, Jesus has healed my heart with His tender care and attention and also with the amazing women He has surrounded my life with today. I am so rich with friendship, so when these moments of spinning happen it kinda catches me off guard because I mean….really? Am I still dealing with this “juvenile” crap?

And Jesus pulls closer…“Do you want to be made well?”

Yes Lord, I want to be made well.

And so He sent a friend this morning.

Unwinding the spinning tale that has captured my mind, searching for answers that spiral out of my grasp, the stories I make up in the silence threaten to swallow me whole, they mock me and stomp upon my heart. Fear controls,”I have messed it all up.” And this friend, full of love and compassion for me, in her gentle way, just as I imagine Jesus would do, poses a simple question that silences the spinning madness that has gripped my soul, “What was the motivation of your heart?”

newspaper hearts

Ah, relief, sweet relief. That is what it comes down to…why am I doing what I am doing? It is because I love and cherish the person on the other end of my gesture and it really doesn’t matter how they respond or don’t respond…that is not my stuff, it is not my baggage to carry. I can leave it by the door and let Him tend to their unpacked bags. They have a right to respond or not respond however they choose and that choice has nothing to do with me.

te amoI choose to be made well, to show up, to not second guess myself or press into paralyzed pause. I choose to pick up my mat and walk. I choose to be sensitive, honest, present, and real, no matter the cost, no matter what other’s may think, no matter what they do, no matter! I choose to step unguarded into each situation He prayerfully calls me to step out and in to. I choose to be true to myself. I choose to love!