Operation

When I told Julie I had sent out a little invite to the blog, she said, "Now all will see the tortured eeyorish soul within." And I thought I was all daisies and sunshine!

Of course, Jules has dried more than her share of my tears (and let's face it, snot) off her shoulder over the years, so she should know. But I think the reason I'm excited about writing, here and in general, is because I feel really good these days.

In fact, this may be the happiest time of my life. Over the past few months, it's felt a little bit like Somebody was playing that game Operation on me, squatting there and patiently lifting out all these little tiny broken shards with a pair of tweezers. And you know, when you get a splinter taken out--fear/anxiety/insecurity/name your poison--it's just a big relief each time, and you're so aware of being whole.

And about two weeks ago, I felt this intermittent and unexpected sense of confidence and security. Like I would start worrying about something, and then I would suddenly know what it would feel like to feel confident and full of faith, and I could sort of turn off the worrying (something I'd never had much success with before). I would tentatively reach for it, and it would be there.

At my church a couple of days later, I went up for prayer--we have time after the service where you can ask and people will pray with/for you; it's my favorite part of our service. I said I felt like I was being given a gift of faith. And the woman who prayed, my friend Kim, said she kept sensing this word "confidence" (which was the word in my mind too, sort of like applied faith). It came and went for a few days, and then I had one really awful, anxious day. I started doing a Bible study, reading each chapter that mentions faith in the Bible. And then that day was over, and it was just a day.

And I don't know; it just feels different. It doesn't even feel like it's a stretch a lot of the time; it feels like the gift is in my possession, to inhabit more and more evenly. Not that I won't ever have anxious times, but that they're temporary while the security of faith is mine forever. If I had a different personality, maybe now's when I'd jump up and say, "Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!" But instead I just sit on the floor in my room at the foot of my bed and blush and smile and whisper into my hands, "Wow, I used to feel the opposite. Thanks."