She did not ask me. She told me. I was astounded. Silenced. Humbled.
‘Why are you sad?’
I was just 10 minutes into an English lesson with Bea. We communicate in broken syllables of English and Hungarian with Google Translate, but Bea did not need words to hear my pain. She is a mother with 10 children who has nothing in terms of worldly wealth, living in a shelter that is the last stop before homelessness, but her radar works. Finely honed. Tuned in. God made Bea that way, with extra-sensory apparel.
Bea didn’t go to the Life Rhythms seminar that Betsy Scott and I presented in October. She does not know that I am in a season of crashing, of non-productivty. She does not know anything about Seasonal people like me:
I go and I go hard.
God wired me that way.
When I am strong, I can move mountains. I percolate ideas like Starbucks brews its House Blend. Positive. Flexible. Creative. An energetic lightening rod.
Until you stuff me into a box.
Until I wear myself out.
Until the intensity blows my circuits.
My productivity ebbs and flows. I have seasons of mountain moving projects and seasons of silence. My dear friend Irina is seasonal like me. She explained it this way,
“My engine moves a train up impossible mountains until the engine gives out. And then, and then everyone looks around because they are still depending upon me to sustain the momentum. Where did she go, they say?” Sometimes, it seems that the engine quits at the most inconvenient times.
I carry around guilt like that garbage truck collects our Wednesday trash because I can feel the disparity with the organized, deadline oriented world. I do not fit. Not really.
There must be a lot of people like me. People who do not fit the mold. People who spring to life and shut down at the most inopportune moments. People who understand that their internal rhythms do not match the Chronos world.
Walking away from the shelter and Bea yesterday, the beat of my steps echoed my thoughts ‘
God who are you that you use us in such a way to be a blessing?’
Because Bea blessed me. She used her God-given talents to be an encouragement. That is how the Body of Christ was meant to work.
What you have, I need. Who you are, your wiring, your timing, your contribution – it is essential because we function as a body, not as separate pieces.
Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. But there is no place for them here.
We are inundated by messages that encourage us to look out for ourselves. We learn early that certain people, with certain characteristics, have more value. It even happens in the Church.
The Body is a unit. It functions together. Its individual components exist for the good of the other.
I am trying to learn to embrace who God made me to be because he made me for the Body of Christ. Our working in unison is a proclamation to the world of Christ’s design and function. We are His image in this garden that was once an Eden.
Maybe we begin by thanking him for his creativity in our own design.
Go ahead, take a moment and thank God that he created you as he did. Name off your traits that reflect Him to a world in pain.
Now give them back, offer them to Him for his purpose in his timing.
Sometimes, out of the silence comes wisdom. God blessed me with Bea. God reminded me that he sees. He hears. He knows. Me.
When I submit to his cadence, I become a blessing too.
So, this blog is for the One who is like me. The One that does not fit the mold. The One who goes strong for a season and then runs out of steam. The One who is creative energy rolled into human form. You know who you are.
Rejoice – for the Kingdom is better for your presence with us.
If you resonate with my descriptions of being seasonal, I would love to hear from you. Message me for more information. I would love to resource you.
2 thoughts on “body image”
Reblogged this on Patience with Questions and commented:
I love her words about the Body of Christ.
Thank you for the comment and for reblogging