What does that mean? Willingness? What does it look like?
It feels like open hands. No clenching. Not grasping. Not chasing.
I want to pray for my heart to be open. For my soul to be surrendered. For my mind to be moldable. For my house to be a haven.
I don’t want to live in control and fear and chaos of the unknown. That is what used to lead me right towards a bottle. Now the feelings still come, but it leads me into different places. I can seek solace in a meeting, or a burger or a writing time. I seek solace in other ways that help me to feel and not numb.
I pray for willingness to have courage.
To be a leader.
To be a trailblazer.
To ask for help.
To sit in my pain and feel it.
To not have the answer.
To wait for God to show me.
To not rush around fixing.
To hold a safe place.
To be uncomfortable and not jump out of my skin.
To repeat all of this hourly if I need to.
I tend to want to race and rush. I have a need to tweak and meddle. I have a long legacy of fixing and forcing.
I can rally the troops….but I have to ask myself if I really want to rally them and if I do, can I serve them and not lose my soul along the way.
In the willingness I find my why. I find my answers to questions that I didn’t know I had in me until the answer rises to the surface.
In my willingness I find me, the me without the glossy on top and the sprinkles to make me more enticing to you from the glass case.
I find my heart when I am willing to hear and seek and sit still long along to wait for her to not be afraid anymore.
I find me in the willing walls. I find me. I find me. I find me…