Behind the journey

Behind the screen, that’s where I want to live.

I’m tired of letting my worth be found in fleeting words and temporary affirmations. These feelings I have are not invalid, but they’re not the voice that matters. Sometimes as I sit here at my desk working from home, I really feel like there’s no escape. No going away, no offline mode, just pushing through.

But this journey I live is in no way a mistake. I’m no longer serving with hands open, heart stretched, camera poised. I now sit with blue light glasses, typing fingers, and monitor bright. The world of working from home is, a little lonely.

It’s a lot harder to identify the good from the bad voices when reruns of TikTok and IG reels play constantly in the background.

And today, with even just a mild headache and a slight sore throat..the enemy now has me in his hands. I laid down and, hand on my forehead, wondered if there was something wrong with me.

Why does it feel so hard to focus right now? Why does even the simplest task feel disproportionately big?

As I closed my eyes, I felt bothered and irresponsible. If you just go back to your desk, open up that powerpoint you’re working on, and muscle through — things will be less daunting. But what I did instead? I closed everything. I opened my personal laptop, and began this blog. And yes, I’m still “on the clock.” But what does it matter if my brain feels like it’s deconstructing with every minute that passes?

Lord, I need you. I don’t know what I’m doing here sometimes and I feel less than capable. I cringe at the times when I’ve smiled on camera and sunk to the bottom of condemning waters in my head.

I have so many ideas, so many things I see the potential for — they are the flare lights that guide me back to myself here. I guess being okay means believing before seeing. It means trusting before falling. Or stepping away before spiraling down.

While I’m a little unstable on my feet right now, I can walk on this tightrope because I’ve been here before. And you were the netting, you never let me fall. Lord, even when my body and mind seem to reject your kindness, may the faithfulness of your Presence guide me safely through every terrain. Help me to believe that the journey is beautiful. And that behind the journey is always weak being made strong in perfect love.

I’m not strong right now, and I need you all the more. So today I’ll praise you for frosty taro nails, a light pink water bottle, and pictures that remind me of community. I’m grateful to be here, to see my small green houseplant living each day and soaking in the light filtered by my window panes.

I’m glad that I stopped to write this. I’m glad that I’m not perfect, and that the cracks in my having-it-together invite your grace to show up powerfully time and time again.