Too-big boxes lazily shoved into their tiny bathroom trashcan, that’s what I spotted when I walked in my boys’ bedroom bathroom. My inner organizer immediately wanted to grab those boxes out of the trash and take them down to the recycle bin, but instead, I resisted and left them there. The boys would remove those boxes on their own. If they didn’t, they would be walking any additional trash to a trashcan in a different room, bound to eventually wear them down. They needed to learn that huge pieces of trash can’t be shoved into tiny trashcans for someone else to take care of it.
The trashcan reminded me of my Lent. No….I was not shoving too big boxes into a trash can, but I was shoving some pieces of my life into a mental trashcan, trying to ignore and let God carry those memories away, so that I could move on. Instead, God was leaving those boxes in clear view, so I couldn’t ignore them. He wanted to help me break them down, so I could be free of the burden.
Through Lent, I followed a book that was leading me to themes like abandonment, shame, fear… and the beautiful healing power of the sacraments. My mind was first drawn to a really bad relationship I had in my early 20s—think end of college and post-college. The decisions I was making then feel so foreign to me today. I was trying to reinvent a more independent, fun version of myself, and in the process, found myself tolerating completely crappy behavior in a relationship with an “older” guy in his mid-late 20s for over four years. There is a lot of disgrace that wells up when I think of decisions I made across those years.
I had been trying to live more freely in my early young adult years. I had been trying to break free of my parents’ very strict, scrupulous way of parenting, and instead of finding out who I was, living authentically like me, finding out who God created me to be, I had pushed in the complete opposite direction. I wasn’t living. I was simply trying to NOT be what I had been in my preteen and teen years. If I was quiet then, I would be loud. If I didn’t drink much then, I would make up for it now. If I always followed rules then, I would break rules now. What had felt intentional at the time, a “redefining of me,” was really a rebellion against a childhood weighed down by carrying heavy things that I shouldn’t have shouldered.
(I do want to say here: I was well-provided for and my childhood has many great memories, but the experience of “weight” I carried was real and something I chose on my own to a certain degree…you may have experienced something similar, and I encourage you to look closely at it even if you were brought up in what most would consider a safe family environment.)
During Lent, I had some pretty raw, honest conversations with God. He was trying to show me in clinging to these places of shame from those early adult years of being on my own, I no longer trusted myself. What formed as a result is a person who is incredibly noncommittal, who hates being the one to make a decision, who passively let her career develop, who is afraid to be judged, who is afraid to make the wrong decision, who really keeps many relationships at the surface level for fear of subsequent expectations or influences.
Have you ever been in this place? Ending up at a place in adulthood where you are asking yourself: how did I get here? Did I even choose this path? Did it choose me? Am I discerning anything? God was gracious though. He would not move the boxes. The nudges became more and more—“Look at Me.” God was asking me to look to Him for guidance and understanding about what needed unfolding in my life before I could really make space for healthier, more joyful living.
Honestly, the visual I had for most of my Lent was not a box but a massive stone at the base of an all stone wall, and I was just kicking at it, so that the rest of the wall could come down. Through praying on this, I realized I created a wall to keep my life controlled and what I thought was steady, but instead, I realized I had boxed myself in with tons of walls.
I told God I can’t break this down on my own. In some ways, I didn’t even know where to begin because much of what I was wrestling with had become so entrenched in how I relate to other people. Likewise, my sons didn’t really know how to break down their boxes, so my husband helped them break it down, and they took it out to the recycle bin where it belonged.
God has helped me too. I still have some work to do, but I can feel the shift. These pieces of my life are breaking down, but I’m still trying to get them to the recycle bin. Not to relive these parts of my life, staying shameful or self-protected or self-reliant, but instead to learn from them. I want to carry them to a place where I can reuse them in a way that draws me close to the Lord, that possibly benefits others, that helps me be a better mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend, and that conforms me more to who He wants me to be in this world.
I am so grateful for a Father who breaks through walls of my heart which feel too big to change, too hard to soften, too ingrained to remove. I am so grateful for the healing power of the sacraments. I am so grateful for family and friends who are patient with my shortcomings and who help unpack these weaknesses. I am so grateful for children who remind me that I still have a lot to learn as a child of God.
Is God asking you to breakdown something taking up space in the wrong places? Invite Him to help you. It might take longer than expected, but it’s better than the effort it takes to work around it…
Leave a Reply