Jumping, lifting, pulling, slamming. These movements came from returning to the gym yesterday. One thing that has been hard after my miscarriage is returning to the gym. Perfectionism spills out when I never knew it was lingering. It doesn't measure up, considering I don't feel the need to do everything just right. I'm okay with kitchen mistakes, not hitting PRs at the gym, & not always meeting "said goals."
Although as I was jumping, lifting, pulling, slamming & breathing through each phase, I found myself closing my eyes to simply be. As my friend Jordan tells me, "Sometimes it's not about hitting PRs or pushing yourself to the max, but simply about getting your body moving, because it needs it." Isn't this so true. Walking through life in this season of loss & grief, there are mirror images all around me. Too many to count. This season is not about pushing myself, but keep both my physical body moving & my spiritual & emotional body moving.
Moving in the sense of not holding my tears back, simply because it's convenient for everyone else. Even more so, convenient for me.
Turning left off the exit from the gym, I look up at the horizon, and there lay the east hills with soft light breaking through amidst the Autumn fog. This heart & soul of mine broke. Amidst all the unknowns of emotions or what lies ahead (do I want more kids now? can I go through it again? do I trust in the goodness of God with it all?). The author of creation gave me his picture to gaze upon. He was saying, "Kamille, I made this morning for you to enjoy. And just as the light emerges from the fog & dark, so will I emerge from these ashes you carry."
I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains?
No, my strength comes from God,
who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.
He won't let you stumble,
your Guardian God won't fall asleep.
Not on your life! Israel's
Guardian will never doze or sleep.
God's your Guardian,
right at your side to protect you—
Shielding you from sunstroke,
sheltering you from moonstroke.
God guards you from every evil,
he guards your very life.
He guards you when you leave and when you return,
he guards you now, he guards you always.
His goodness. He's been reminding me constantly of his goodness. Do I trust his goodness? The hills, the light, the breaking of the fog all speak of his never vanishing goodness over me.