Walking through or into darkness, it is often hard to find hope. Moving through turmoil and turbulence doesn't seem to lend aid. You find yourself hungry for the change, but despairing that it might not come. Where in this darkness are you likely to find light? Where in the turbulence is the steadiness?
Though it seems melodramatic to say, as this is hardly comparable to other much darker difficult places I have known, I have found it difficult lately to have hope; to be joyful. This state isn't typically noticeable to those who don't know me all that well. While I've grown more blunt as life has taken the edge off my timidity (I'm sure some would read this and think, "What timidity?"), most people say that I'm always happy.
Case in point, in a very normal occurrence for me, last weekend two strangers remarked at it. One man I met interrupted the flow of conversation to indignantly inquire as to what I was "giggling" at. Of course, not only was I largely unaware I was even doing it, but hadn't a clue as to its inspiration. Not in a crazy, get-her-help sort of way, but it's just something I do all the time - not to mention get called out for regularly. I suppose it's peculiar to not withhold ones outbursts. The other instance was with a French man I met (less surprising that he should take note of my abnormal happiness, as the French tend to be more reserved in their expressions). After hours of conversation, most of which had been translated triangularly due to my out of practice ear, he told our friend he noticed that I smile all the time. I remember explaining this to others when I was in Paris with a cheerful shrug, "Je suis heureuse! [I'm happy!]".
I have been so out of sorts that I have been retreating to be alone as much as I can stand, being a rather undeniable extrovert. Subconsciously yet consciously avoiding that, when in the company of people, they want to talk about things. Further irony is that I'm a verbal processor... This is all exactly what I do when I shut down: isolate and muse. Though it may sound strictly negative, (and maybe someday I'll decide that it is,) I know I'm doing it and yet I'm fairly certain it's just what I need.
There are a few gems of activities where I can distract myself. Thankfully, sleep is still one of them. Running. Volleyball. Prayer. That's the big one. Currently, the idea of sitting down with the Bible is exhausting. Worship has felt a little dry. I felt like I couldn't lead people when I barely have the capacity to ponder my own circumstances, so I put down my small group. But prayer...it's this bizarre space where I'm focusing my energy and my communication with God on others, yet I feel alive and whole. That is my zone right there.
It simultaneously scares and excites me, because I do worry that I'll say the wrong thing, but it's also so great when somehow I say exactly the right thing and I can see the person before me being encouraged. I leave those interactions with more fuel than I came into them with. God showed up, and met someone where they were at, getting at me in the process! It is the only beautiful battle, one where freedom is truly bestowed; that is a sacred space. There, there is joy and there is hope amid whatever darkness.
That is not specific to just me, which I think may be the best part.
