I'm not very good at letting myself feel things when I should. At least that's how I reprimand and rationalize myself when the feelings just won't stay stuffed down. I'm hard on myself. I think we all are, in different, debilitating ways. We want to function. We want to fulfill expectations with a reality that will make us feel better about the things we just can't control.
We want to compartmentalize.
Emotions in the corner.
Insecurity somehow slips into each of those tightly bound spaces and unravels everything. The what ifs and the fears and the happy possibilities become tangled into a magnificent twist of confusion and worry.
We understand nothing.
We do nothing.
I do believe, in optimistic and maybe naive moments that we can work our way out of self destructive habits. I want to believe that each of us can learn to live in the moment and see outside of our selves. And I know, like a blind man feels with distinction a tree, a face, a hand of something he cannot see, that God is there, is present in my day-to-day guiding and protecting and providing for me. But I also feel the gravel, the steep hill and rushing currents as I work through the hard, unknowable, incomprehensible things. Each movement forward feels shaky and precarious. I don't like being unable to see the end of the road and I don't like not knowing how long it will or won't take to get there, wherever there is.
It's these thoughts that catch me when I'm alone and squelch my solitude, my peace. And so last night, there I was, alone in my thoughts, putting away dishes before friends came over for coffee and listening absent-mindedly to Led Zeppelin in the background, when my husband came up behind me to dance - a regular occurrence. He placed his hands on my hips and swayed to the bass beat and for a minute I let him, lost in the song and remembering how exactly we wound up here.
It was my love for Led Zeppelin that made me impulse-purchase a really rad t-shirt right before I went to college. And it was the t-shirt that made Matt notice me from across the classroom way back in the day  when we were just two kids, trying to survive college and find someone whose music taste didn't make us vomit. And it was those early spring nights when we listened to vinyls and cassette tapes and talked about we had in common that made us realize: there's no one else that we'd rather rock out with than each other, forever and ever, I Do, amen…
And now here we are, adults, married, dealing with day-to-day life together and wondering, each of us, where we're headed and how to get there. And it's not always glamourous and he's not a famous rockstar [yet] and we're flat broke, and he sometimes comes home to find me weeping into a couch cushion or zoning out as I stand over a sink of dirty dishes, but we have each other and that's really good. Because I had no idea that buying a Zeppelin shirt would be the catalyst for changing my life and meeting my future husband. And whatever happens or doesn't happen - real or in our insecure imaginations - we have that opportunity to stop in the midst of it and see how far we've come. God provides, in surprising and subtle ways that we aren't capable of imagining or orchestrating on our own.
I need to stop, listen, dance in the now, where I'm safe and sound in what He's already given me.
I am not alone.
[Engagement photo taken by this talented dude.]