It's the way I see you. Well all the way, but not really. From this one sided place of me, I write to you. On what giggles me. On what guts me too. Protected by a screen and a myriad of keys all lined neatly in rows, I push. Past places where insecurities sit and where hush feels better. That's how I know I was born to press letters.
Being a feeler is tricky. It's very much like being naked. Forget all the middles like muscles and tendons. Yes, skip over tissues and vital organs too. A feeler knows bones. A feeler navigates with the heart.Bleeding comes from both.
I've known this bleeding truth since I was just a little girl. Because God? Well, He put magical there in my chest. He gave me His safe place before I ever knew it was my kinda sacred at all. Through the years, I've allowed foreign sanctities like jealousy and fear and putting on aires bully His place made just for my insides. Voices like, "who cares" and "you are no expert" have made roll call far too often just as the school bell rings. There they sit. Students in my classroom of bones. And everyday they're present, nothing is learned.
One sided and reminded, I remove them from my school house.
"Excuse me, I am a feeler.
And you don't belong.
Be on your way, please."
For in my classroom, I instruct the hurt. The ones who don't know how to say it, but feel it just as equally as me there inside. I write for the ones who need a break. From seriousness and super humans thoughts. Yes, I write for the bones who just need reminding that the human life can be hilarious when we all bring our truths to the surface. Equal parts laughter, light hearted & letting go: we're all naked.
This weekend I took a nasty fall. It occurred at the end of my 6 mile run. I was in my final sprint to finish, when the toe of my shoe caught on uneven terrain. In an instant, I was in flight only to land completely on the underbelly of my left forearm.
With nothing broken, I am heavily bandaged. Bruised with much of my skin gone, my body works to rebuild. Immediately, God begins healing. This accident is my reminder. To push. Past places where insecurities sit and where hush feels better. To expose the magical God put in my chest. Bones & heart, Meg. Bleeding comes from both. And the healing that will happen will be so much bigger than just your letters pressed.
Up & on the blog this week:
Entry #3 in my #kmaccardiparty. To catch up and play along, by all means, go here.
And, last but most definitely not least, whose stopping by for #cheapthrillsthursday?
It's gonna be a great week! I look forward to seeing you around these k.Mac parts.