Good morning…
“As terrific as chemo was on my body (and soul),” she wrote to me after yesterday’s post, “losing my hair was an indescribable blow. I felt diminished, even invisible, and it was difficult to face myself in a mirror. Wigs, scarves, and hats felt fake and uncomfortable. I am sure that this huge ego recheck was and is a blessing…. but let me say that the red that appeared on my head after chemo was and is an overt celebration of hair!”
I liken her reflection to my experience of being pruned back from the simple life of my childhood dreams in 2003.
With my husband and our four kids, then two, four, six, and eight, my ego had fallen in love with small town, Pennsylvania living, nestled naturally near close friends and extended family. As terrific as it was for God to called my husband back to minister to the needs of the Lovett School community, losing the life I loved was an indescribable blow. Knowing only one couple in the Vinings area of Atlanta, I felt diminished, even invisible, and it was difficult to face myself in the mirror, lonely and tearful day after day. Meeting friendly strangers, mumbling through the motions as a wife and a mom, and struggling to find my place in this big, beautiful city felt fake and uncomfortable. I am sure that this huge ego recheck was and is a blessing… but let me say that emerging as a prolific writer was like the surprise of red hair appearing on a bald head after chemo. Journaling daily had been my private lifeline for years, but, as a book hater with dyslexic tendencies, I had never written for others to read. When my soul was pruned back to God alone, the Holy Spirit in me picked up a pen and began to share words with the world.
Me, a writer? What an overt celebration of God’s creative potential!
As terrific as this time of “sheltering in place” has been on our dogs, the environment, and our sense of global connectivity, losing our old dream life is an indescribable blow. As we are each pruned back to God alone, what creative, red haired growth might surprisingly appear on the bald head of our discombobulated lives?
From the end of the earth I call to You, when my heart is overwhelmed and weak; lead me to the rock that is higher than I [a rock that is too high to reach without Your help] (Psalm 61:2, AMP).
I remember my two deepest prayers born from that painful, pruned-back period in life. “God, please grow Your Something from my nothing.” and “Draw me to a calling I cannot do without You.”
…Sue…
