Writings of a Beholder 🌿 1.6.23

The radical choice of self-compassion

Jan 6

Weekly writings of a beholder 🌿

The radical choice of self-compassion

Well, friend, here we are.

We made it to a new year, journeying together into new unknowns — perhaps carrying the same questions and fears we did only a week ago when it was still 2022. The turn of the year and the days that follow may be unfamiliar, but the weight we carry and the dreams we harbor are still lingering just beneath the surface of our souls. Those remain the same. Maybe a little more illuminated or maybe a little less clear than they were yesterday. But they’re here, and so are we, and that’s something to celebrate.

I shared in last week’s letter that I’m carrying a desire to handle the new year with gentle care. Rather than rushing in, goals and guns blazing, I’m responding to my Savior’s invitation this year to move slowly, pay attention, and practice self-compassion.

This doesn’t mean I don’t have intentions, desires, or dreams for 2023. It just means that I’m letting go of the reigns this time.

I’m taking my time this time.

I’m moving at the pace of the Spirit this time.

I’m holding time as a gift to be treasured rather than something that needs avidly pursued before there’s none left for me to grab at… this time.

I participated in an online event last week hosted by a writer and spiritual director that I’ve recently connected with over social media named Izabela Cormier. She cultivated a space for me and others to come and reflect prayerfully on the year we were leaving behind as well as what the Lord may be inviting us into in 2023.

One of the questions she offered us was,

“What heart posture is Jesus asking you to adopt this year?”

As I sat in prayerful silence, eyes closed and hands outstretched, an image began to form in my mind.

I was sitting on a bench on top of one of my favorite hills in one of my favorite places on all the earth. If you’ve been around here long enough, you probably already know I’m referring to the coast of Maine.

As I sat on my bench, drinking in the vastness of the blue sky and the beauty of the ocean in front of me, Jesus came to sit next to me. I turned toward Him on my bench, warmth and peace filling me as I basked in His presence, and asked Him the same question Izabela had asked all of us there.

“What heart posture are you wanting me to adopt this year, Abba?”

With a kind smile and a gentle pat on my hand, Jesus stood up. With feet rooted to the ground, He closed His eyes and extended His hands.

After a few moments of remaining that way, He whispered,

“I want you to remain open to my leading, rooted in Me and My Love with hands outstretched in a posture of receiving.”

Open.

Rooted.

Receiving.

You may not know this about me, but I’m not a very open person, which is probably why you wouldn’t know that. I struggle with vulnerability and tend to fall into the self-preservation trap of not trusting that God will provide for and protect me. Because I’m so self-reliant and so used to building my walls, I struggle sometimes to be vulnerable with God and others.

This struggle has kept me from connection and community and deeper communion many times.

2022 was a big year of letting some of that go and healing the root of why I am that way. Of naming it and acknowledging in God’s presence as I held it up to His loving light. In doing so, bits and pieces of my true self have started to emerge, and have even chosen to stick around.

But sometimes, the weight of my own struggle can feel really heavy and all-consuming and sometimes I feel like retracting back into my self-protective shell.

Can you relate?

In the midst of this though, I hear the Lord’s loving compassion toward me in my struggle. His tender patience with me always brings me to tears, feeling like a sacred invitation to come Home to Him and who I truly am. It’s in those gentle moments with Him that I’m reminded that my growth and healing begin with being rooted in Him.

That my healing doesn’t depend on me so much as it does the Spirit of God working and moving and loving within me.

All He requires of me is my brave and fear-filled yes.

So I place my hand on my chest — right over my heart — when the anxiety rises and the temptation to control and retract rises up. I place it over my heart and hold it there, envisioning God’s very own hand in place of my own, as a way of saying,

“You’re ok. You’re loved. You’re safe. You’re well on your Savior’s way.”

And then I breathe deeply the grace that is as free to me as the air around me and thank my faithful, loving God for His compassion that constantly melts my hard, weary heart.

That constantly brings me back to the center of myself.

I share this with you today because maybe there are some hurts, some struggles, some dark places you’re still wrestling with — ones that didn’t suddenly fall off just because 2022 turned into 2023.

Ones that you’re still carrying, heavy and loaded, on your tired shoulders.

And instead of trying to contain them or push them down, to retract and give into the shame that so readily comes for us all in the midst of our battles, maybe the Lord’s invitation to you today is compassion.

A hand over your heart.

Rooted feet.

Open hands.

A receiving of Love and Light.

I suppose compassion is its own kind of heart posture, isn’t it? A radical choice we make in the face of all that’s dark and difficult and dire to accept our humanness and acknowledge God’s greatness — our great, big, scary, wonderful need for Him. Maybe today, the invitation is to let compassion bring us to the feet of Jesus, giving our own feet a needed break.

So, here we are.

Here you are. In a new year. Maybe carrying new dreams and intentions. Maybe carrying the same hurts and disappoints and darkness.

In all that we carry, may we remember that God’s not done until it’s good.

May we remember that You, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. (Psalm 86:15)

peace be with you,

celia

A breath prayer for the new year

breathe in:

You, Lord.

breath out:

Are full of compassion.

*if you’d like to learn more about the practice of breath prayer, check out this blog post I wrote titled, How to Use Breath Prayer.

Resources & fun things to pick up

If like me, you’re feeling overwhelmed by the new year, maybe the practice of discerning the season of your soul will be of help to you. In the latest blog post, I share the different characteristics of the soul seasons, some reflections to help you tend to your inner life, and end with a little prayer: Discerning the Season of Your Soul

I read this beautifully written article by Jennifer Burger this week about crossing thresholds and I thought it was perfect timing as we all find ourselves at the threshold of a new year: Have the courage to cross into the threshold of Jesus’ arms by Jennifer Burger

My friend and fellow writer, Kari Bartkus, is offering an 8-week journaling course called Journal Gently designed to help you experience God’s presence in the midst of grief. I went through the 8-week writing program myself, and it was incredibly healing and life-giving. Check it out here: Journal Gently

Grab some breath prayer cards, a journal, and other contemplative resources from my Etsy shop: The Beholding Co.

Grab a copy of my Bible study, You Are Beloved: a 21-day study on how to root your identity in the love of God, over on Amazon.

An invitation to pause & reflect

A regular practice of reflection helps us recognize what’s going on beneath the surface of our souls so that we can name it in the Lord’s presence. Because as we learn to name what we feel, what we need, and what we long for, we’re also learning to discern the Spirit’s sweet, gentle voice within our hearts and lives.

Take a few moments today or this weekend to journal or contemplate with the Holy Spirit the following question(s):

What hurts do you carry that could use some compassion today?

I’d invite you to name them, hold them up to the Light of Love, and then explore some different ways that you might show compassion to yourself this week. Maybe it’s a hand over your heart, maybe it’s a hot bath. Pray and let the Lord show you what you’re needing most and then give Him your yes.

xo,

celia