Glimmers
I found I can care again.
I’ve been lost in my own head for a long time. This isn’t a new place—I have a very vivid imagination, and I frequently internalize. But it usually only lasts minutes or hours.
Not months.
It’s sort of like living on another planet. Or the moon, in a bubble. I can see everyone, and I know and can hear them, but it’s through a tether. And like any world of imagination, it’s quite pleasant there. And dangerous.
Realms of the unreal allow any possibility, any fantasy. But there are no walls to keep out danger, or horror. The rules of the real don’t apply.
Last night, I was sitting on the couch—a storm raging outside and in my heart—in a dissociative state, when my wife asked me, “Are you okay? You look like something’s wrong.”
And something was wrong. I crossed lines everyone asked me not to. But I wasn't about to admit that.
Hello guilt, how is my old friend.
It’s difficult to put into words the power I’m fighting. It’s mental, emotional, physical—all at once. And the only assistance I’ve mostly gotten is the word “stop.”
A lot of anger and disappointment. Not enough hugs. Not enough, “I’m sorry, I love you. You can get through this.” But there is some, and that's been life-saving.
I've gotten “why”. But really, who wants the answer: that I am incomplete. Broken. Disabled. That I’m looking for parts that have been missing my whole life. Hiding who I really am. A machine assembled without its core, trying to build itself from spare parts.
The people in my life all need me. The drain is constant and real. And if I don’t refill my source—that reservoir from which I draw—it will kill me. I kind of forgot that for a long time.
I think I'm finally ready to start making real progress.
Like the Millennium Falcon, I may not look like much, but I've got it where it counts.
I’ve been taught that doing for others brings peace and wholeness. And maybe that’s how I’ve managed to keep going, even broken and incomplete. That missing happiness? It comes from helping.
It’s a paradox. Helping exhausts me. Helping heals me. If I stop, I recover, but stay broken.
Interesting. It’s about balance.
—
A serious storm blew in last night. A torrent. Tornado watches and warnings, flash floods for hundreds of miles. It’s been a long time since we had weather like this.
So I did what I’ve always done: I called my friends. I checked on them. Made sure they were okay.
Everyone was. Everyone is.
But what I found was something I’d forgotten: giving words of affirmation is a gift that edifies the giver. I wasn’t an imposter. I was someone who cares. It felt good—after not caring for so long, a byproduct of burnout.
It felt strange and foreign, this act I’ve done countless times before: speaking to someone and asking if they’re okay. And I realized I’ve been lost too deep, too long, in my own mind.
Between my mental break, depression, guilt, grief, heartbreak—for my wife, for others, for myself—I forgot the one thing that’s gotten me through these decades:
Service to others.
A friend said to me a few days ago, “People are what gives us the motivation to keep going. The reason we preach. Live. Love. People are what our hearts need.”
I love people. Not all people. Some, honestly, we could do without. But I especially love the good ones—the radiant ones. The only reason I’ve lived the life I have is because of the ones who inspire me.
The acts of kindness others perform make me want to be kind. Being kind makes me feel whole.
A friend said to me Sunday, “When I’m feeling out of balance, I just do some small act for someone. Not so much that I’m left exhausted, just enough for them to feel loved—and for me to still have some energy.”
And I thought it was one of the most inspired things I’d ever heard. I don’t have to be all or nothing. I can just be. I can dance one dance.
I don’t have to be the band too.
Fight the all-or-nothing.
Let the small be sacred.
#essay #writing #100DaysToOffload #confession
Judges 6
Trust is vital
But the Israelites again did what was bad in the eyes of Jehovah, so Jehovah gave them into the hand of Midian for seven years.
The hand of Midian dominated over Israel. Because of Midian, the Israelites made hiding places for themselves in the mountains, in the caves, and in places difficult to approach.
If Israel sowed seed, Midian and Amalek and the Easterners would attack them. They would camp against them and ruin the produce of the land all the way to Gaza, leaving nothing for Israel to eat—no sheep, bull, or donkey.
They came with their livestock and tents as numerous as locusts. Both they and their camels were too many to count, and they came into the land to destroy it.
So Israel became greatly impoverished because of Midian, and the Israelites called to Jehovah for help.
When the Israelites cried out to Jehovah because of Midian, Jehovah sent a prophet to them. The prophet said, “This is what Jehovah the God of Israel says: ‘I brought you up out of Egypt and out of the house of slavery. I rescued you from the hand of Egypt and from all your oppressors. I drove them out before you and gave you their land.
I said to you: I am Jehovah your God. You must not fear the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell. But you did not obey me.’”
Later, Jehovah’s angel came and sat under the big tree in Ophrah, which belonged to Joash the Abiezrite. His son Gideon was beating out wheat in the winepress to hide it from Midian.
Jehovah’s angel appeared to him and said, “Jehovah is with you, you mighty warrior.”
Gideon replied, “Pardon me, my lord, but if Jehovah is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonderful acts that our fathers told us about when they said, ‘Did not Jehovah bring us up out of Egypt?’ But now Jehovah has deserted us and given us into Midian’s hand.”
Jehovah turned to him and said, “Go with the strength you have, and you will save Israel out of Midian’s hand. Am I not sending you?”
Gideon answered, “Pardon me, Jehovah. How can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father’s house.”
Jehovah said to him, “I will be with you, and you will strike down Midian as if they were one man.”
Gideon replied, “If I have found favor in your eyes, give me a sign that it is really you speaking to me. Please do not depart from here until I return with my offering and set it before you.”
Jehovah said, “I will stay until you return.”
So Gideon went in and prepared a young goat and made unleavened bread from an ephah of flour. He put the meat in a basket and the broth in a pot. Then he brought them out under the big tree and presented them.
The angel of God said, “Place the meat and the unleavened bread on this rock and pour out the broth.” And he did so.
Then Jehovah’s angel reached out the tip of the staff in his hand and touched the meat and the unleavened bread. Fire flared up from the rock and consumed them, and Jehovah’s angel disappeared from his sight.
When Gideon realized it was Jehovah’s angel, he exclaimed, “Alas, Sovereign Lord Jehovah! I have seen Jehovah’s angel face-to-face!”
But Jehovah said to him, “Peace be with you. Do not be afraid. You will not die.”
So Gideon built an altar there to Jehovah and called it Jehovah-shalom. It remains in Ophrah of the Abiezrites to this day.
That night, Jehovah said to him, “Take your father’s young bull and a second bull seven years old. Tear down your father’s altar to Baal and cut down the sacred pole beside it. Then build an altar to Jehovah your God on top of this stronghold with a proper arrangement of stones. Take the second bull and offer it as a burnt offering, using the wood from the sacred pole you cut down.”
So Gideon took ten of his servants and did as Jehovah had told him. But he was too afraid of his family and the men of the city to do it by day, so he did it at night.
When the men of the city rose early the next morning, they found that the altar of Baal had been torn down, the sacred pole beside it had been cut down, and the second bull had been offered on the new altar.
They asked one another, “Who did this?” After they investigated, they said, “Gideon son of Joash did it.”
The men of the city said to Joash, “Bring out your son. He must die, because he pulled down Baal’s altar and cut down the sacred pole beside it.”
But Joash said to all who stood against him, “Are you going to plead Baal’s case? Are you going to save him? Whoever fights for him should be put to death by morning! If Baal is a god, let him defend himself when someone tears down his altar.”
So on that day, they called Gideon “Jerubbaal,” saying, “Let Baal contend with him,” because he broke down Baal’s altar.
Now all the Midianites, Amalekites, and Eastern peoples joined forces, crossed over the Jordan, and camped in the Valley of Jezreel.
Then Jehovah’s spirit came upon Gideon. He blew a ram’s horn, and the Abiezrites rallied behind him.
He sent messengers throughout Manasseh, and they too rallied behind him. He also sent messengers to Asher, Zebulun, and Naphtali, and they came up to meet him.
Gideon said to God, “If you are truly going to save Israel by my hand, as you promised, I will place a wool fleece on the threshing floor. If there is dew only on the fleece and all the ground is dry, then I will know that you will save Israel by my hand, as you said.”
And that is what happened. When he got up early the next morning, he squeezed the fleece and wrung out enough dew to fill a bowl with water.
Then Gideon said to God, “Do not be angry with me. Let me make just one more request. Allow me one more test with the fleece. This time, let the fleece be dry and the ground be covered with dew.”
That night God did so. Only the fleece was dry, and the ground was covered with dew.
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Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
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