Loneliness is a strong emotion.

I've thought about that a lot. And about how there is a connection between loneliness and bravery. About loss and ache, pioneering and soldiering on towards the next sunrise.

 I read this in a book recently and i really liked it:

"There are so many ways to be brave in this world. Sometimes bravery involves laying down your life for something bigger than yourself, or for someone else. Sometimes it involves giving up everything you have ever known, or everyone you have ever loved, for the sake of something greater. But sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it is nothing more than gritting your teeth through pain, and the work of everyday, the slow walk toward a better life. "

Perhaps because it suggests that the ordinary is bravery. That living each day, within its routine and normalcy, finding firm footing in the non-spectacular is noteworthy victory. Or perhaps I desperately need that to be true as I continue to walk in the now, trying not get anxious about the future or frustrated by the past. I need bravery to not be reserved solely for the outwardly heroic among us - the ones that do amazing, stage worthy work for the kingdom - but for those that make peace with where God has placed them when its so far from where they dreamt themselves to be. I need bravery to be living 'wholeheartedly' as Brene Brown would say, in the regularness of life.

As I think of that, I keep arriving at this same point; I have richness in my life right now. I can tangibly recognize the hand of God in this season. Although the promotion at work is challenging and difficult, I see the Lord changing me, growing me, and stretching me through it. I see him changing my attitude and teaching me to rest in the uncertainty that is in my work culture. For me, learning to 'roll' with the unknown is a huge deal. He has opened my eyes to the unique opportunities before me both at work and in the lives of those around me. I am challenged by these, blessed by ability to use my gifts to love those in my life.

The richness is constant; in my morning swims, in the candles burning bright and slowing by my bedside, in the summer heat with a bowl of fresh homemade guacamole and sparkling white wine (strange combination, I know). I see richness in conversations about life and walking with the Spirit, in ramblings of new motherhood and big dreams. In the melodies of soulful songs and the silence of late nights when the rest of the world is sleeping.

But sometimes those blessings cause that ache. That ache for being understood and that ache for intimacy. I see the richness, but the richness begs for more and reveals a painful emptiness inside of me that demands relief. Sometimes all i can do is cry and beg the Lord to keep changing my heart to see His presence in my life a little more clearly. Because that aching hurts too much and the loneliness is overwhelming. Living vulnerably and honesty within the tension of richness and that ache feels like bravery.

My walk with the Lord has changed so much over the last couple years. Desperation for intimacy has been the single greatest catalyst in my understanding of grace. Because sometimes in my groaning for deepness and richness to touch my heart I touch the Hand of grace and I become strangely, peacefully aware of the God who loves me deeper than words can express. Its strange how pain and ache and trial and tribulation so often leads to the Well that never runs dry. And that changes my life. The grace that the Lord extends to me to be fully vulnerable with my frailty changes me.