When I declared 2016 to be my year of the soul, I was imagining something peaceful and reflective. A year full of contemplative moments. Days dripping with meaning and contentment. With candles and depthy, soul-stirring music accompanying me at every turn.
What I did not anticipate were more of the ugly cries than my usual. I did not expect to have my heart so bound up by the lives of some tiny people in Costa Rica. Or that I’d be so overwhelmed by the plight of women and children all over the globe even though I don’t believe feminism has the answers to their angst. I didn’t think I’d wrestle so much with issues of my own calling and vocation. I did not anticipate wondering if I could handle another second of mothering or growing so stinkin’ weary of making yet another meal for my family. No one told me that I might stress-eat a whole bag of Dark-Chocolate Milanos because raising two very strong-willed teenagers is scary and hard when your soul is engaged in the whole ordeal. Or that I’d have terrifying moments of wondering if God really meant it when He made me the p-dub (pastor’s wife) or if I should really be the one leading our precious church’s women’s ministry. You could never have told me that I’d leave my Bible closed for a few weeks at a time and just want to play Sudoku on my iPad instead.
I didn’t expect to feel so raw and exposed. And want to run from that. Not what I expected at all, actually.
As if a person could really tend to the garden of her soul without getting dirt under her fingernails.
There are many outward forces that can render a garden fruitless. Crushing storms and hungry critters and root-killing pests all threaten the health of a garden. I know this to be true – literally and figuratively. I even sort of expect them to come in this sin-stained world of ours. I have even trained my mind and heart to be on guard against them. But, there are also inward forces. Weeds that have been left to grow hidden and unchecked. Or, worse yet, that have broken off at the surface but not been pulled out at the root. Invasive vines that intertwine themselves with the good plants. Depleted soil that hasn’t been cultivated, fed or watered.
It has been these inward things that are the source of my surprise and angst. I’m not sure there’s any easy, painless way to deal with those. Deeply rooted weeds don’t get yanked out without some digging and disturbing of the soil. Removing invasive vines can leave a barren spot in the garden or render a good plant weak for a time.
So, my year of the soul has been much harder than I expected it to be. I’m not saying it’s been bad or that I want take-backs. It’s been profoundly good. In the eternal, God’s economy kind of way.
Thankfully, I’m not toiling over my soul garden alone. Never alone. I’m cooperating with the Master Gardner. Yes, sanctification is a joint affair. I am tending to my soul by working out my salvation with fear and trembling. But, He superintends the work, pouring out streams of living water for the withered plants and cultivating the soil that surrounds them. He supplies what I need to say “no” to another bag of Milanos. His mercies are new every single day when I feel like I don’t have what it takes to mother or be the p-dub. He feeds me through His Word, speaking grace and mercy over my soul. He supplies me with a husband and an abundance of dear friends who know me and speak truth to me and laugh with me and pray for me. He surrounds me with stories of redemption so that I do not lose focus on the bigger, kingdom-sized picture.
And, sometimes, He gives me candles and peaceful moments in beautiful spaces, too. Because He’s just like that.
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