I want so badly to re-create my life. I procrastinate. Entangled in clutter, I fear every dream I could ever realize is in the past. Immersed in relationships that hurt, I fear loneliness is worse than the futile hope that others will love me if I just try harder.
In a constant state of tension, I often realize I am holding my breath. Begging my mind to quiet, pleading for peace, all I want is to breathe. I do not breathe, though. If I breathe, I will cry. Crying is a release and release means things must change. I do not know how to change. I do not know what needs to be changed. I am afraid. I do not trust God, to help me. I do not think I deserve even God’s love.
Flying begins with the tears of surrender I do not want to cry, as I clean my sink for the first time. I cry for dreams that had become fantasies, for the hope thrown to sinking ships. I cry because I am lost.
Flying, I learn that chaos is a grief that comes when I give love, hope and dreams to my past, to others, to perfection, but not to myself. Clutter looks like love, when my dreams and yesterday are inseparable. Suffering feels like love, when I rely on hope in relationships that wound. Imperfection is the shame, of being unworthy of an answered prayer.
Flying starts as a fragile process. It takes courage to release the tears of sorrows, frustrations and grief. Letting go, lightens. Habits, sustain. Gratitude, transforms perspective. In the smallest of baby-steps, I learn the difference between a dream and a memory. I learn the difference between hope and anguish. Letting the tears fall into God’s forgiveness and care, my soul frees its clutter, too.
In my Shiny Sink, I dream, I hope, I cry, I breathe. In my Shiny Sink, I FLY.