We just want someone to understand
The land of the in-between + how we offer ourselves the love we wait for others to give
I shared a message on Sunday with a wonderful community of people in Bend, Oregon. Bend Church will always hold a unique spot of real estate in my heart. My dad served as their pastor for a season and both my parents serve there now in a number of ways. The community welcomes me in as one of their own when we’re in town.
We talked on Sunday about how we’re invited to make room for the people we love to evolve and grow. The Jesus story is a story of name-changing transformation. The phrase, “that’s just how they are,” doesn’t really work in the beloved community. We’re loved exactly as we are and invited to continue becoming the fullness of our true selves. It’s a wild and beautiful way to live.
Here at The Thread, we’re all about pulling one tangled up string at a time, as we gently and courageously show up to this life we get to live. Here’s a thread that emerged on Sunday that we could untangle a bit together.
The land of in-between
This is for our readers who find yourself in the land of in-between. Maybe you’ve stepped into a new way of understanding yourself. Or you’ve recognized harmful patterns that you’re seeking to interrupt. Maybe you’re feeling the nudge to try that thing you’ve long wanted to. Or you’re making a life transition that’s left you feeling uncertain and fragile. Wherever you find yourself in that liminal space, I imagine it feels quite tender. Raw. Nerve-wracking. Even alongside the peace that might be emerging too.
That vulnerability makes perfect sense when we take a step back. In times of transition and change, we can’t rely on our perfectly constructed sense of self anymore. The image that we hope others see when they look at us is shifting. We feel naked. Undefended.
Problem is — the people around us still look at us and see who we’ve been. But that’s not who we are anymore.
The dissonance is real.
It’s unsettling. Frustrating.
Waiting for them to understand
When this happens to me, I notice that I long for people to understand the new parts of me that are emerging. How is this not the first thing people see? Why aren’t we talking about it? Maybe they don’t believe me. Maybe I’m making it all up and I actually can’t change. If only they would get it, then I could really step into this new chapter…
I have a soft spot in my heart for those of us stepping into new parts of our story. The change is often monumental for us, but others rarely perceive it that way. The super hard pill to swallow is that the early season of this kind of work is inherently lonely.
We’re seeing and feeling things that are shaking the ground of our understanding but no one else feels the earthquake. We question and doubt ourselves. We lack the validation and affirmation that our emerging self looks for to know we’re heading in a good direction. Can someone just tell me I’m heading the right direction? This feels good but it’s scary. Can someone see me?
Crickets.
The best news ever
In the story we explored on Sunday, it’s not the people around us who typically see those early seasons of growth. But the One who made us does. (Since we’re deeply accepting of a variety of spiritual journeys in this space, we’ll use the name Love to describe this energy. You may call it God, the Divine, Source, etc. All names for Love are welcome!).
Love knows the emerging you.
Love’s been there the whole time.
Love sees you. Believes you. Honors you.
You’ve never been alone. Ever.
When you ache for people around you to know the fullness of your story, know that Love does. You don’t have to wait for everyone else to understand before you step more fully into this chapter of your story.
Maybe it’s enough that you and Love know.
A practice
Consider this journaling prompt as a way to explore:
Write out a conversation with the part of you that feels unheard and unseen. Offer your compassion and affirmation.
Dear Unseen One,
What do you want me to know today?
Where does it hurt?
I believe you…
I’m with you…
Last week, we talked about the beauty of helping people feel truly heard. Today, we can practice offering that gift to ourselves.
A blessing
May the new life shimmering within
find a delightfully safe home
deep inside the fear it longs
to replace
May the new questions
dancing at your surface
reflect the hope of stories
aching to emerge
May you
breathe
yourself
home
Beautiful words! Thank you.