Faith when it matters most

This article won’t go out for a couple weeks, but I am currently writing it from a bumpy bus seat as I commute back and forth for my family. Although this is a pretty tenuous time in my family’s lives I do my best to keep some things private. It’s important for the sake of my family’s privacy but also because the details are only important to those involved.

The lessons, however, are the very basis on which I practice my work and model possibility for those who choose to lean into me once in awhile.

It’s amazing how much perspective is available when the unplanned and unwanted things in life come our way - how trivial problems evaporate, how gratitude and grace land right at your feet, and how much space for BS shrinks. Well, I would say I am in the thick of it all.

There’s nowhere to be but right where you are. Even when you wish to be somewhere else. This reminder is the sweetest offering anyone could ever give you.

As a business owner I tread that line between appreciating what I’ve built, keeping it moving, and planning for what’s to come and sometimes I wonder if that planning for what’s to come gets in the way of what is actually here?

I wanted to post something on Instagram in the midst of it all but didn’t because I felt like no one actually wants to see or hear the truth, they merely want to doll it up and parade it around as self-propaganda. I am no exception. I do this too. We all do this. But for what purpose?

What good is promoting a beautiful life if you can’t feel your feet on the ground when life goes amiss - and I assure you it will go very amiss.

What good is doing the work if when it counts most, you can’t access a space inside yourself that actually feels like home and like it can all be OK?

I realize these questions are a bit rhetorical, but they're necessary. Every life experience is a doorway to something, but it doesn’t mean you always want to walk through it, and this is OK.

Sometimes we walk through with one hand covering our eyes. Sometimes we walk through glacially to get a grip on whatever is happening on the other side. And sometimes we downright refuse and slam the door shut - forgetting that we carry the door inside ourselves.

We carry the door inside ourselves.

What does it mean to practice faith when it matters the most? In my line of work we talk about faith with an air of obviousness, like you just grab hold of it when you need a little. But faith isn’t a luxury or even a lifeline. When it really matters it’s more of a plea.

I believe it goes hand in hand with surrendering to the moment, and that can be the scariest experience of all. It’s admitting you don’t know what’s to come and you can’t control what’s to come, but maybe in the midst of it all you can conjure up just a tad bit of hope that it will be just as it needs to be. No matter how painful or inconvenient that is.

As I sit with my family right now I am struck by how little I can actually do. How little we can ever really do, when we want to the most. And how OK that is. It isn’t a blind acceptance of what’s unfolding and it isn’t a passive surrender to the chaos. But the sooner I surrender to the fact that life will continue to unfold the way it always has, the sooner I can be with what IS instead of what I wish could be.

This is all I ever want for my fellow human peeps. To be. I know that sounds so simple and maybe naively so it is. But so much of what we struggle with is anticipated or already gone.

We have this gift with every moment. The people who are right here, now. The opportunity that is right here, right now. And the dream that is in your mind, right now. Stay with that awhile even if it means slowing down or even stillness - because in the stillness there is so much truth.

More truth than most of us can sometimes bear, so I understand wanting to rush through it all, numb out, take radical action, or move quickly. But what is possible if you didn’t? What is possible if you let the slow present be exactly what it is?

Personally, I can breathe more deeply and appreciate more fiercely. I can see what’s actually there, and instead of rushing to sugar coat it or glam it up for social media, I see what really matters like never before. And in THAT moment all there really is, is grace.

A ton of beautiful, compassionate, patient, grace.

Andrea Wilborn