Intense. Just Intense.

June seems to be a busy writing month for me. Storms have been whirling around me but I haven't taken (had) the time to sit, write and get it all out. It's a process, you know. A difficult, ugly, dark process. A few of my very close friends (lucky gals ;)) have walked through the recent storms with me. Besides them, very few people know the depths of our journey.


The entire school year (for us educators) is like the middle of winter (for all you non-educators) where you work hard, sleep little, and take extra vitamin C just to get you to your next scheduled vacation. You're stressed but "healthy" and unstoppably driven while totally exhausted. By lunchtime you ask yourself "Have I gone to the bathroom today?" and at dinner you ask yourself "Did I go to the bathroom today?" It's just our life. Busy. Busy. Busy.


Then the vacation countdown begins. A week of moist salt air mixed with the light scent of coconut sunscreen. You can almost feel the condensed water on the rimmed glass and you all but taste the coolness of the chilled pina-colada. Seven days. Six days. Five days. Three days before your vacation you notice that your throat is a little sore, but you ignore it. Two days before your body is a little achy. Ah, probably just nothing. Then, the day before your vacation- wham. The fever hits. You're sick. Sick-sick. Like I-can't-drag-myself-out-of- bed-for-the-life-of-me-sick. Like how-in-the- world-am-I-going-to-drag-my-sorry-butt-on-the-plane-sick.


Educators can relate to this, I know. I've been one for half of my life now. We push and push and push until we finally have a vacation and then WHAM-O. Sick. We let our guard down and start to relax and then our bodies catch up with us. Those late nights, long days and extra sugary birthday treats catch up with us and we get sick. Sick-sick.


During the school year I have little time to process through the efforts of emotional release which I do best through writing. These past ten months have been especially difficult. But I pushed through. I pushed and pushed and pushed until WHAM-O, I needed to write. That's when the "sickness" came out. I shared some of my writing with my close friend the other day. When I asked her what she thought she smiled gently and said, "It was intense." Yep. She knows me well. She's one of my sisters in Christ who has weathered some of life's most intense storms with me. "Too dark?" I asked her.

"Intense." She said. "Just intense."

I have to admit, I'm pretty good at holding it all together. God has given me the uncanny ability to smile, laugh and hold my mask up pretty well. Lots of times I don't even give God a second thought during the day. I say good morning to Him without fail and then begin my day. Sometimes when I hit the pillow at night I fall asleep in the middle of my prayers. I don't take the time to get into His word like I should. I don't walk in the Spirit throughout the day like I should. I operate on auto-pilot which works marginally well most of the time.


Ok, well that's a lie. It really doesn't work marginally well. It seems like it works marginally well until I sit down to write and all the suppressed hurt, anger and fear spills out onto the screen like..... (well, you know). The feelings I shoved behind the mask or chose not to acknowledge begin to ooze. I begin to feel bitterness from years of betrayal and abuse. My heart blisters from my intense self-doubt and lack of self-esteem.

Who am I? What have I become?

At that moment I realize that the mask is not my friend. It is my cloak of comfort. My miserly disguise.





I love Jesus. I know Jesus. I have given my heart to Jesus. But I struggle. I choose to live behind a mask, a cloak of self-preservation. When I break, He picks me up. When I shatter, He's there. Why do I refuse to live consistently under the shadow of His wings? Why do I, like a child in rebellion, refuse to live consistently within His sufficient grace? While my writing may still be intense, I could experience strong emotions while walking safely in his presence. When I do it "alone" I subject myself to calamity and lions lying in wait. "He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" Micah 6:8


Put down the mask. Pick up the sword. Choose to live with consistency inside his protection. Stand firm and know that He is God.

PSALM 91 NLT (NEW LIVING TRANSLATION)

1 Those who live in the shelter of the Most High

will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

2 This I declare about the Lord:

He alone is my refuge, my place of safety;

he is my God, and I trust him.

3 For he will rescue you from every trap

and protect you from deadly disease.

4 He will cover you with his feathers.

He will shelter you with his wings.

His faithful promises are your armor and protection.

5 Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night,

nor the arrow that flies in the day.

6 Do not dread the disease that stalks in darkness,

nor the disaster that strikes at midday.

7 Though a thousand fall at your side,

though ten thousand are dying around you,

these evils will not touch you.

8 Just open your eyes,

and see how the wicked are punished. 9 If you make the Lord your refuge,

if you make the Most High your shelter,

10 no evil will conquer you;

no plague will come near your home.

11 For he will order his angels

to protect you wherever you go.

12 They will hold you up with their hands

so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.

13 You will trample upon lions and cobras;

you will crush fierce lions and serpents under your feet! 14 The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me.

I will protect those who trust in my name.

15 When they call on me, I will answer;

I will be with them in trouble.

I will rescue and honor them.

16 I will reward them with a long life

and give them my salvation.”

(www.missionariesofprayer.org, 2018)