I don’t always take kindly to being vulnerable. But, these days, when I am, it comes from a place of deep thankfulness.
When I speak vulnerably I know I am being and will be infused with perspective and strength. And by offering places of pain and shame to the world I am able to give a gift to others in similar places.
This is all because I have experienced something deeper than the darkness. It’s the light of hope. And hope is a treasure our faith gives us. This I can offer because it is true reality even and especially in this fallen, broken world and my fallen, broken life.
And, for this reason, I am incredibly thankful. It also makes Thanksgiving, Thanksliving. It is still the simplicity of this joy which we are offered–to give thanks in all things.
While heart-breaking, traumatic and tumultuous, walking vulnerably with mental illness has brought me to these days. And these days, are the ones in which I can breathe in and out, thinking of one of my children, and have my eyes well. On paper, it is highly possible I wouldn’t have been able to recover from my severe manic episodes enough to really be a mom. And yet…I do have this privilege and, I hug them extra hard.
Opening up to the grief of the journey, when I catch the eyes of my adoring husband, I remember the look of utter torture as he saw me go crazy. The depth of pain so real, when I locked him out of our bedroom. Oh my beloved, what he has endured, and yet, the love remains.
When I share something fragile, even if I have ‘worked through’ it, the reticent power of guilt or shame is cast away. And I am so very grateful.
Vulnerability has its eyes trained on redemption and so my vision is sharpened towards the lavish goodness of God.
Then, in those moments, when I am privileged enough to talk about struggles which are very present, I am thankful for the tender arms of God ever-holding, and the existence of safe people. I praise God because I haven’t always been able to receive His love in great depths of brokenness. And, sadly, I haven’t always given my heart to safe people.
In the end, vulnerability shows I cannot, truly, ever be broken. All that is God is given to me, as His beloved–His strength for my weakness, my vulnerability. I give Him and His people my pain, my tears, my broken heart, and I receive golden confirmation that I am loved.
And, what can I be, except thankful?
