Beyond Platitudes

    I’ve got a pile of platitudes and inspirational quotes I want to chunk in the trash. Let go and let God. Just pray more. Have enough faith and you will make it through the rough waters.

     Not working.

     Not for this season of my life.

     Hi. My name is Krista. I was married for 13,011 days. Now I am not. My life did not turn out like I planned. You can judge me for that, but please know I have already spent too much time judging myself for the end of what I thought was forever.

     God gave me permission to leave. In fact, he told me that I had walked around this mountain long enough. Now, turn north.

     The first time I heard him it felt like a revelation. Then it didn’t. All the spiritual platitudes crept in like vines to wrap up my resolve. They nearly strangled me. Even though I knew what God told me was truth, I started listening to the voices from my youth that told me I must have done something wrong to be here, alone after so many years.

     

     

    I did all the right things I had learned would help. I chose joy. I screenshot lovely sayings that helped me through my day. I read words of encouragement from friends and family. I retreated to the Sunday School lessons and five-point sermons that had gotten me through my youth and early adulthood.

  The gestures got me through a moment or a day, but I could not hold on long enough for them to get me to the other side of my grief. Inspiration could not lift the lid to reveal what was stewing deep within my heart. I do not care how many times I chose joy or positive thoughts, the turmoil in my heart was still there.

     Words are my primary love language, but fix-it-all sayings began to read like a language I couldn’t translate any more.

       I met the feelings head on recently as I sat on the same black futon that I sat on more than two years ago; when the reality of the rejection sunk in and I broke into a million pieces. As I sat there again, purging belongings I'm not sure I need in this part of my journey, I cried again. The buried parts started making their way to the surface, wanting reconciliation. They had waited a long time to be seen and dealt with, buried beneath the sayings and songs and words I used to keep moving forward. The platitudes retreated to the background, leaving my grief on the stage alone. 

                                    

 

     Turn north, God said again gently as I sat there. Hold fast to My words, they are the only ones that matter.

     I still don’t understand so many things. Sometimes I still feel like a quitter, but I didn’t have anything left to give. God saw that before I did. Now I’m crossing the bridge to the other side with His hand in mine. I’m ready to see where ‘north’ takes me.   

     Life's a journey. Pay attention.