Healing and Reverie
pursuing wholeness in our stories
The earth moves beneath my feet, my toes in the dust. Sap binds to my bare skin as I step onto the path near the front gate, cured with drips of cedar nectar that coat the soles of my feet and sticks, thicker than honey, between my toes.
It is morning, June’s sun eager to kiss my face.
Hello.
I return to the house, trying not to scrape sap on the floor with every step. I reach for olive oil in the cupboard and bend to scrub the sticky goo from my feet. I remove most of it and straighten to soap up my sticky hands at the kitchen sink. Outside the window, to the right of the garden path, is a patch of gladiolas, their thick stalks stacked with petaled pink.
I head outside again, unlock the garage door, and climb onto the stationary bike. The view here is both stark and eclectic — muted wood and concrete, felt college banners stretched in a bold row on the left, and Justin’s hunting trophies high on the back wall. I encircle my fingers around the handlebars, and my back muscles brace as I lean forward. With my eyes closed, my legs push my feet down and around so I see nothing and everything: Amble sings to me about the breeze, the wind, and the sky.
I am the breeze. I am the wind. I am the sky.
As I pedal, I think about loving myself and letting God love me, and I yearn for that to be so much more effortless than it is.
But it was worth it. It was all worth it.
The effort of healing is worth the pain that comes with it. Healing and wholeness are worth every cost.
And the healing isn’t over yet.
After showering, I make breakfast for my thirteen-year-old niece and drive her to swim camp. The car winds through California Live Oak-spotted hills, the grass thick and gold. We sit side by side and talk about books, writing, and boys, for there is no end to mothering. Humans bear the ageless desire to love, let go, and hold.
From the camp parking lot, I call my dad; his voice carries with it everything I’ve known, loved and feared — the memory of him when I was my niece’s age, on the floor in my room, his hands stretched behind his head, helping me brainstorm essays I believed I could never write.
You can be strong as well as vulnerable. How else can you be fearless? How else can you rely completely on Me?
Outside the car are ferns, verdant and lovely, blowing fresh and wild in the breeze. They let themselves be moved, and I adore them for that. I imagine their joy of movement without any measurement, the abandonment of control, their not wanting to be any different than they are.
Let me move through you.
In two weeks, I will travel to Colorado for a week of intensive, story-based group therapy. A mentor who knows my insatiable hunger to know God better invited me to participate. I am both excited and curious — and, of course, nervous.
I am running. I am running to you.
I don’t know how to prepare my heart for articulating my story. I am back in my bedroom, thirteen years old, doubting, second-guessing, and struggling with self-contempt. That thirteen-year-old did her best; it has taken me decades to love her for it.
I love her. I have always loved her. I love you.
As the workshop date approaches, the thirteen-year-old me is pulling back, longing to retreat. I can feel her doubting herself, believing she doesn’t have a voice. I tell her she is enough — she has always been enough.
Do not be scared.
Oh, Lord. Be with me. Help me.
I am here.
At pickup time, I drive back to camp to retrieve my niece. I stretch my legs out of the car and walk toward her, her muscled body tan and strong. Her hair hangs in wet waves down her back from the pool, and when our eyes meet, her blue eyes smile. How lovely to be here. The thirteen-year-old in me, forty years later, sees her and can trust the story He always sees — the beauty of us, the breeze, wind, and sky.
Steve Cuss wrote “Relaxing Into God’s Presence.”
David Benner wrote “Being with God.”
Sample ➼ “Wild at Heart” by John Eldredge (alum)
Sample ➼ “Captivating” by Stasi Eldredge (alum)
Encounter ➼ “Loving God and Ourselves”
Audio Experience ➼ “Discover Your Beauty”
Rapt’s New “Feelings Wheel” ➼ Discover your Inner Life
We updated Rapt’s ‘Best of’ lists this week. Lots of new stuff!
Spotlight ✨ Jamie Winship is a former Metro DC area police officer who spent nearly 30 years living and working in the Muslim world, teaching people how to hear from God and live in his kingdom. In his bestselling book “Living Fearless,” you’ll take a journey into telling yourself the truth, changing your mindset, and experiencing life transformation that leads to radical courage in the face of all life throws at you.
Lee Strobel is a former award-winning Chicago Tribune jounralist and a NYT bestselling author of books that have sold 18 million copies worldwide.
Joseph Handley is CEO of A3, a global network equipping leaders, on faculty at Fuller Theological Seminary and the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies.
Dean Sikes has been on the road since January 1993, ministering in high schools, teen centers and prisons across America and the world.
Dave Ripper is an author and the lead pastor of Crossway Christian Church, a multi-congregational church in southern New Hampshire.
J.D. Lyonhart is an author, academic at the University of Jamestown and Cambridge and a co-host of the Spiritually Incorrect podcast.
Marvin Oxenham is an author and academic who has served the European Council for Theological Education and the London School of Theology.
Cristina Baker, after a battle with addition, is now a speaker, the author of “A Minute of Hope,” and a founder of Power of Hope Ministries.
P.S. Who should we interview next? Click here to let us know. And what new question would you like us to ask them? Click here to submit your suggestion.
“There is a twilight zone in our hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves—our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and our drives—large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness. This is a very good thing. We will always remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can.” —Henri J.M. Nouwen
Are there people in your help who help you see your twilight zones? Who help you discover the true you — the you God made you to be?
If there aren’t, will you call or text a trusted someone today and ask them, “What do you know about me that I don’t but I should?”
With so much hope,
Editor-at-Large, Rapt Interviews
Creator of Loop for Women
Co-executive Director, Gather Ministries
This reading brought me peace this morning. Stumbling through navigation of mother wounds and childhood trauma of my own, I was gently and unexpectedly comforted at how this made me feel seen. This is my first time reading anything from Rapt. Not even sure how I got subscribed. But glad I did. God knows how to reach us and knows what we need.
I am so very moved by your words, Jen. Specifically below:
“I think about loving myself and letting God love me, and I yearn for that to be so much more effortless than it is.
You can be strong as well as vulnerable. How else can you be fearless? How else can you rely completely on Me?
The ferns let themselves be moved, and I adore them for that.”
I am there with you, under the trees, walking in sap, feeling stuck in myself. There is a little girl, small and skinny, strawberry blonde hair framing bright, curious blue eyes. She wears a sun dress of pinks and yellows, straps tied into little bows at her shoulders. She is silly and fearless, smart and strong within. She is precious and sweet, a little girl with a GIANT heart, and a BIG imagination. She is joyful, bold, unafraid to shine with her Father’s light.
She is me at 5, I was a flower girl in a garden wedding, baby’s breath woven into my hair. I was playing under the giant oak with the other children, when my dad grabs and jerks me away and scolds me, for what, I cannot remember. I was deflated… and remained so for a very long time. Until, one day, I was staring at that pic, that darling little face, and in my mind’s eye and from within my heart, I picked up that little girl and held her close to my heart. I told her that she IS LOVED, Jesus is holding us both and will never let go! She is safe and protected. Healing is HERE! Freedom is NOW!
Jesus holds me, every part of me and every person I’ve been, and will ever be.