But.
A couple of weeks ago I watched a TED talk on vulnerability and courage. The speaker was rather transparent about personal struggles and then asked the audience if they feel weak when they make themselves vulnerable.
Now I'll ask you, do you feel weak when you admit you've been anxious, depressed, jealous, overwhelmed? When you confess getting caught up in pornography, over-eating, rage, drug problems, pride and power, etc.? Do you feel weak or strong?
Many people raised their hands to that feeling of weakness.
Then the speaker spun the question - I just shared my issues with you and was super vulnerable - do you think doing that was weak or strong?
Strong.
I realised when people get up and speak, or write on a blog or confess in a small group, they don't seem weak at all. They seem powerful, courageous and strong. They are beating down shame and stepping out in a brave way to expose their weakness.
I am strong when I expose mine.
You are strong when you expose yours.
Then yesterday I was watching a TV show I've become slightly addicted to called Backstage and one of the characters said "Sometimes being honest about our weaknesses is when we're being the strongest."
Bam. There it was again. Vulnerability is strong.
So.
Now I am going to bow to the lesson and share this writing.
Write about cubby houses and how they represent an imitation of life.
When I was a little girl one of my favourite books was about another little girl who made a cubby house inside a big bush. She set out chairs and food and had a friend over for a tea party under the branches. The draw card of that story and its sweet illustrations was that I desperately wanted a bush cubby of my own. I actually tried to have one but our bush was the wrong shape and my cubby didn't really fit anyone or anything the way it needed to.
I had two real cubby houses in my back garden, one tiny and another full size, decked out with a vinyl floor, butter yellow walls, a little stove, fridge, table, chairs and all the things needed to cook, clean and pretend to be grown up.
A cubby house is where you can pretend to live real life when you're not old enough to actually do real life. Kids are super attracted to that stuff.
My great joy in my cubby was in everything being in place. The blissful feeling of pots, pans, cutlery, food being tidy, organised, in its correct location. I was awful at keeping it there but every once in a while my mum would declare a cubby house clean up and we would make it beautiful again.
The bush cubby - I'm not sure what part of it was so attractive. It was many things to me. A special secret hide out, a one on one meeting with a friend, a little room fitting so neatly inside a tree, an area laid out so beautifully, a time to have tea and sugar away from adult eyes. The pictures in the story brought me such pleasure and I so longed to be a part of it.
None of these desires, joys, goals, have really changed. I'm not imitating life anymore, I'm living it for real, and still it looks the same. I can't keep a clean house but I long for one and find joy in the moments of organisation and order. I love to hide away alone and escape the world. I want more connection with nature. I long for that one on one company, for that friend to say yes, I will come and have tea with you in the beautiful, private little space you have created for us.
Our hearts don't really change as we grow up and they don't really lose their longing. I'm still dreaming of things I probably can't have, like a perfectly ordered house or a picture perfect relationship in a special peaceful place. I likely can't ever have them, yet I never stop hoping and I can't stop trying to bring them to fruition. Life is frustrating when you are always chasing and never seeing results.
What does God say?
He says he sweeps up the mess with a dustpan and brush. He puts things in order. I need to surrender the job to him.
He says he wants to meet in that secret place, one on one with rustling leaves around.
My hiding place, my safe refuge, my treasure Lord, You are.
God puts the longings in our hearts that never die out. He plants hope. Surely he has a way to bring fulfilment to them.
A couple of weeks ago I watched a TED talk on vulnerability and courage. The speaker was rather transparent about personal struggles and then asked the audience if they feel weak when they make themselves vulnerable.
Now I'll ask you, do you feel weak when you admit you've been anxious, depressed, jealous, overwhelmed? When you confess getting caught up in pornography, over-eating, rage, drug problems, pride and power, etc.? Do you feel weak or strong?
Many people raised their hands to that feeling of weakness.
Then the speaker spun the question - I just shared my issues with you and was super vulnerable - do you think doing that was weak or strong?
Strong.
I realised when people get up and speak, or write on a blog or confess in a small group, they don't seem weak at all. They seem powerful, courageous and strong. They are beating down shame and stepping out in a brave way to expose their weakness.
I am strong when I expose mine.
You are strong when you expose yours.
Then yesterday I was watching a TV show I've become slightly addicted to called Backstage and one of the characters said "Sometimes being honest about our weaknesses is when we're being the strongest."
Bam. There it was again. Vulnerability is strong.
So.
Now I am going to bow to the lesson and share this writing.
Write about cubby houses and how they represent an imitation of life.
When I was a little girl one of my favourite books was about another little girl who made a cubby house inside a big bush. She set out chairs and food and had a friend over for a tea party under the branches. The draw card of that story and its sweet illustrations was that I desperately wanted a bush cubby of my own. I actually tried to have one but our bush was the wrong shape and my cubby didn't really fit anyone or anything the way it needed to.
I had two real cubby houses in my back garden, one tiny and another full size, decked out with a vinyl floor, butter yellow walls, a little stove, fridge, table, chairs and all the things needed to cook, clean and pretend to be grown up.
A cubby house is where you can pretend to live real life when you're not old enough to actually do real life. Kids are super attracted to that stuff.
My great joy in my cubby was in everything being in place. The blissful feeling of pots, pans, cutlery, food being tidy, organised, in its correct location. I was awful at keeping it there but every once in a while my mum would declare a cubby house clean up and we would make it beautiful again.
The bush cubby - I'm not sure what part of it was so attractive. It was many things to me. A special secret hide out, a one on one meeting with a friend, a little room fitting so neatly inside a tree, an area laid out so beautifully, a time to have tea and sugar away from adult eyes. The pictures in the story brought me such pleasure and I so longed to be a part of it.
None of these desires, joys, goals, have really changed. I'm not imitating life anymore, I'm living it for real, and still it looks the same. I can't keep a clean house but I long for one and find joy in the moments of organisation and order. I love to hide away alone and escape the world. I want more connection with nature. I long for that one on one company, for that friend to say yes, I will come and have tea with you in the beautiful, private little space you have created for us.
Our hearts don't really change as we grow up and they don't really lose their longing. I'm still dreaming of things I probably can't have, like a perfectly ordered house or a picture perfect relationship in a special peaceful place. I likely can't ever have them, yet I never stop hoping and I can't stop trying to bring them to fruition. Life is frustrating when you are always chasing and never seeing results.
What does God say?
He says he sweeps up the mess with a dustpan and brush. He puts things in order. I need to surrender the job to him.
He says he wants to meet in that secret place, one on one with rustling leaves around.
My hiding place, my safe refuge, my treasure Lord, You are.
God puts the longings in our hearts that never die out. He plants hope. Surely he has a way to bring fulfilment to them.
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