Beautiful the Mess we Are

Amy Grant has a new song called Better Than a Hallelujah with the lyric, "Beautiful the mess we are." I find that short phrase ringing around my mind these days, and I draw comfort from the idea that we don't have to maintain perfect order all of the time. It's simply not possible. Sometimes we are a mess, emotionally, physically, mentally or spiritually.

There are seasons for everything in our lives. Sometimes we are so happy that the joy bubbles up inside like carbonation, spilling over to touch everyone with our laughter and enthusiasm. Other times the opposite is true, and the tiniest things bring us to tears, and the frustration is enough to utterly defeat us.

For me, a storm will come and knock me off my feet with its force. I feel frightened, alone, isolated. I wonder why people don't notice that I'm bleeding on the inside. We all have our disguises so we can function in the world when we are hurting. Kids still need to be fed, appointments must be kept, and commitments met. The world doesn't stop because we have a gaping hole in our psyche.

I know that I am responsible to get the kind of help I need, at the moment I need it. This responsibility is mine alone. I'm understanding that my reticence to reach out for help when I need it most goes all the way back to childhood, as most things do, and trying to fix it requires looking at why the behaviour developed in the first place, and addressing the emotions that surround it.

When personal work is going on inside of us, other things need to take a backseat so we can address what's happening. We can't stop everything, but I'm learning to slow down and pay attention, so that I don't gloss over it, because if I do, it will come back again and again until I properly face it. There is so much personal work to be done in each of us, and a lifetime is a reasonably short period of time, so I don't want to miss these opportunities when they come to me.

Life is beautiful, even at its messiest. This morning, I heard that still, small voice whisper to me after the latest storm which has blown through my soul, and it said, "There is enough time." Time to write, to heal, to improve myself so that I am a kinder mom, wife, daughter, sister and friend. There will be storms, and then there will be the peace which follows them, and I'm trying to embrace the mess as well as the order.