There was a mystery puker at my house on Saturday night. The next morning, I did interviews to check everyone’s wellness and determine whose mother needed to be informed. Later, I received a text from one of the mommas.
“He said he really doesn’t think it was him. He said, ‘There was another girl there that’s running a marathon and she runs a lot and I think it could have been her.’”
If you don’t know me personally or live nearby, I am the other girl he was referring to. He informing on the investigator. However, let it be known that I do not run fast enough, ever, to induce vomiting.
Luckily, all the little humans woke up seemingly fine.
Seemingly fine.
We all seem fine. Even when we’re not, a lot of people put on the “I’m fine” face, but sometimes under the surface there is hurt. Pain. Grief. Guilt. Shame. Embarrassment. Things you hold in your body that trigger memories you wish would go away. And when someone asks, when someone pries into it, “I feel fine. I am fine. Everything is fine.”
Just hold it together. You’re okay.
But sometimes you’re not.
Suffering happens.
There are ugly, ugly things that cut us to the core. Experiences and situations that change who we are, how we think, and how we view the world.
Eleven years ago, I was in the middle of one of those times. Luckily, I was surrounded by a village of people who loved the Lord and loved me enough to step into the suffering with me. People who gave up time and energy and strength to sit in a ditch with me until I was finally ready to stand up and climb out.
(Totally thinking of Shadow from Homeward Bound right now.)
Exodus 17:11-13 says, “Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed, and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses’ hands grew weary, so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side. So his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. And Joshua overwhelmed Amalek and his people with the sword.”
There was a job for Moses to do. Hold up your hands. But he was weary. The people around him knew it. So they gave him what he needed to keep going in his weariness. Moses didn’t need someone to take the job away from him. He needed someone to help him keep doing it.
There’s so much solitude suffering that takes place. People put on a bold face and say “I’m fine.” But what would life look like if we admitted we were weary and accepted help? What would life look like if we admitted we saw weariness and offered help even at the expense of being told, “I’m fine. I don’t need it.”
One thing my Buddy reminded me of daily in the depths of my despair was that fine is not a feeling.
Fine, at times, can be a mask. It isn’t always a lie, per se. Sometimes it’s simply the best word we have when we don’t yet know what we’re feeling.
It’s a placeholder for emotions that are complex, an automatic response to avoid sharing actual emotions. And, realistically, no, the majority of us aren’t going to pour out our life to people we pass in Walmart, but what about those people we’ve spent years getting to know, years letting in, years developing a connectedness. Those people who truly love us.
Getting familiar with emotions is a big part of my work.
There’s something I use called an emotion wheel that helps expand one’s emotional vocabulary and get more specific with what they’re experiencing.
I feel fine this morning.
But digging deeper, here’s what I actually feel.
Joyful
Interested
Free
Insecure
Curious
Anxious
Valued
Inferior
Creative
Hopeful
Nervous
Trusting
Peaceful
Exposed
Optimistic
Amazed
Excited
Eager
Then we could get even more specific here. Amazed by the power of God’s word. Excited to watch my nephews play football tonight. Anxious and exposed because of the weird dream I had last night that consisted of me standing in front of a whole room of people botching a presentation and keeping the attendees three hours longer than what they’d planned for. Skipping slides that made absolutely no sense to me and wondering what was on my pants. Hopeful because I believe Christ is who He says He is and will do what He says He will do.
I’ll stop there.
The thing about emotions is they’re useful. They give us information. They help us navigate our journey, but they don’t always do well in the driver’s seat. I trust my emotions to drive the car about as much as I’d trust my eleven year old feisty daughter to drive the car.
Another thing I know about emotions is that when we accept them and stop neglecting their presence in our lives, they don’t have as much power over us. When we accept them, we acknowledge they’re there in the passenger seat, giving us good information, but they are not dragging us off our path.
Sometimes we say we’re fine because we’re protecting ourselves from being seen. And sometimes we need people who love us enough to look a little closer.
Sometimes helping someone doesn’t mean fixing their situation, explaining God’s plan, giving advice, or making the pain disappear.
Sometimes you just hold their arms up. Sometimes you just sit in a ditch with them. Sometimes you just fill the empty space with presence and silence.
When we’re in the midst of feeling something intensely, we don’t necessarily have to obey it. We can notice it. Name it. Make room for it. Listen to what it’s trying to tell us. And then choose what we do next.
Maybe that’s part of what it means to live in community. Not expecting everyone to always be fine. Not demanding that people explain their pain before we’re willing to help. Not trying to fix every ditch we find ourselves in.
Sometimes we just notice the weary arms.
And we hold them up.