A spindly branch of wattle blossoms from the bushland at the end of my street. And a spindly 'think' from my journal where I'm musing about faith and trust and the Refiner's work of love.

***   ​

You
meet me
where the heart is aching.
You
hold me
​when the cracks begin to show.​

So... here's an honest post. 
Last month I decided to take a 'break' from social media. (You can read more about why I did that here.) That word 'break' is kind of ambiguous though, isn't it? I remember way back in high school when the boy I loved suggested we take a 'break' from our teenage romance. I quickly realised 'break' meant 'break up'. So, what about me and Meta? Are we over? Or are we just readjusting the boundaries of our relationship? 
Silliness aside, it's been a little confronting to go cold turkey on my relationship with the socials. It's unearthed all sorts of questions. And it's only been one month! 

​If you read my last blog post, you might be thinking that my author life has been very busy and productive lately, and I guess this is partly true. But behind the scenes of these exciting opportunities another version of the story is in progress. A much slower one. One that has me grappling with the gift and struggle of how to ‘be still’ (Psalm 46:10). ​

Thinking to myself about limits and disappointments, weariness and pretense, I wrote this in my journal. I know the word failure can be contentious - it's not a popular word to apply to ourselves - but despite all the positive self talk in the world, and the way we can spin our failures to be steps towards success, I believe there are still days when we feel/know our failing deeply. This 'think' is for those days. ​

***

​Quit pretending
that you have it all together, 
that your dreams came true
and you look upon your life
with satisfaction. 
The truth is
and you know, know, know it

I wonder what would happen if we were honest. Really honest. 
About how we felt. About how we've failed. About how it feels to fail 
and then try pick ourselves back up. 
Or, perhaps, to be picked up and held. 
Steady. 
Safe. Loved. 
Yes - even in our broken, faulty, fumbling state. 
If we were honest enough to be like that...
What would happen? 
​I've been thinking about honesty and failing for a while now.​