Low Tide

Jess. She always does this to me.

“I miss your writing.”

I know what she’s really saying…

“What’s going on with you, cause you’re still absent.”

When she said this, I felt a twinge of guilt.

She’s right. When I don’t take the time to put pen to paper, I lose myself in the shuffle of life, and 3 weeks later I’m crashing and burning.

“I know you. Your introverted self is crumbling from not having the opportunity to speak with your heart and mind.”

I’m paraphrasing. Because whether this is what she said or not- it’s what I heard.

Tides have been on my mind, as a result of this very unconventional, scary, challenging, and beautiful year. In my recent history, I’ve found myself in low tide… that retracted, heaving backward motion that is accompanied by an energy, which could be described as wounded.

Low tide has defined a journey I’ve been on for—to be honest, I’m unsure of it’s longevity, but I am deeply aware of it’s toll on me.

Low tide has been like that one long yoga pose that burns and aches and it pulls all of your energy inward to the core- it settles you deep within yourself, amidst apparent safety.

Waiting.

Just waiting.

Held breath.

Yoga pose.

Until the inevitable crash of the next wave.

The final wave of low tide. It has hit my world… the tightly held breath has dissipated and the aching muscles of my core have shifted from exhaustion.

To be honest, that little area of safety you find within the withdraw of low tide, is terrifying, tiring, and has no respite- other than to surrender to high tide.

Want to know what’s scary?

Moving into an apartment by yourself, with a budget that is worked down to the dollar.

Starting over in a new city where you have to literally go seek out community.

Going to a new church in said city, alone, and not knowing what questions to even begin to ask at that newcomer lunch.

Scary is; the shift from low tide to high tide.

I think plenty of people would like to romanticize living overseas, doing the volunteer thing… those people have never done it. It is the phase of my life that has shifted me as an individual more than any other time, occurrence, situation, etc. in my life.

It changed me.

In all of the good, bad, and ugly… and I mean ugly, ways.

I have never been more aware of my humanness, and my bent for what my heart desires.

It was my low tide. 

That morning, during the really scary church service that I went to alone, the pastor said this about the proclamation of the gospel coming to earth: “they had been longing for Jesus to put things back together- to restore everything, and to renew their calling.”

It couldn’t be more perfect.

This gathering that happened during my low tide, my retracting into supposed safety, my gaze out to the world that was untrusting and wary of everything that crossed my path, my wounded energy claiming it’s place like a warrior attempting to protect the mistress of the tide.

I was like a caged animal, just sitting back in the silence, refusing to speak any of my truth to the world, waiting for the new moon to allow me to exhale into a high tide.

This is what this change is to me.

This is what a new chapter is.

This is why I’m being called to something new.

This is providence.

Because, He knew.

My time of low tide needed to end.

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He’s calling my retracted sense of self to come back to a deepening in Him.

I’ve been watching and waiting for the safety of His call during my low tide- longing for him to come put things back together- to restore everything, and to renew my calling.

To work out the implications of His calling to me.

Wave upon wave.

 

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