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Breathing Room

feet in poolWhen I was a little girl, I would take a big, deep breath and sink to the bottom of the pool. I wondered just how long I could last before springing to the surface gasping for air. Truth be told, I’m an asthmatic, so it wasn’t very long before my lungs felt like they were on fire and my heart was racing in my chest. It never failed that right as I was floating to the surface, a sense of panic would set in as I used up the last of my stored oxygen.

I need breathing room.

I feel it way down deep, this primal need for space and quiet and thinking and just…breathing. Funny thing is, I’ve been holding my breath for the past eight months…longer if you count my sickness during pregnancy.

I feel it. My chest is tight and my lungs are screaming for oxygen…for space…for quiet…for a full night’s sleep or a date with my sewing machine. But, I just don’t see these things anywhere in sight.

And I wonder…

Are we about to float to the surface?

Are we about to break through and catch a big breath?

Because I just don’t feel like I can hold my breath an longer.

_________________________

As I shared some things on my heart last weekend at the 2:1 conference with Jodi, she asked my why I hadn’t written about these things that I was feeling in this very tough time with Asher, the boy who never sleeps and prefers me over everyone. My answer, “It’s just too raw. People are going to be concerned for my well-being or unsubscribe.” She then reminded me that I might have someone reading who needed to hear the very thing I write. So, here I am, wearing my heart on my sleeve for you, reader, even if it means tearing down my wall of “fine” and revealing that I’m not always put together.

I don’t know who you are. I don’t know why you’re holding your breath today. But I know this, He is able and He loves you. Whether He lifts you to the surface just in time to let you gasp for air, or He brings you a scuba mask and an oxygen tank below the surface, He is there.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.~Matthew 11:28

{ 16 comments… add one }

  • Sara May 7, 2012, 7:44 pm

    One of the greatest gifts of the world of blogging is realising that we aren’t alone. That at times everyone struggles at times we all need to find our own space to feel to breathe. At times I read my past blog posts and think I’m such a miserable one I bet people stop reading and you know what I’m sure so do. Then I receive a comment from someone telling me that I made them feel less alone.

    Blogging should be real and real isn’t always pretty and sweet it can be hard. Exhausting and scary.

    Open your heart and along with God strength you will also find the strength if others beside you xxxx

    • Sara May 7, 2012, 8:06 pm

      Thank you Sara. You are so right, blogging helps us realize we aren’t alone. I guess that’s why I post…even if it feels ugly to me. The raw writing is usually where I feel the most healing way down deep. Thanks for your comment and helping me to know that I’m not alone :)

  • Carol Anne May 7, 2012, 7:45 pm

    Oh, Sarah, as one who frequently writes from the ‘raw places’ of life, I have found that you never have any idea who you are reaching when you are transparent The last 2 posts I wrote about 2:1 scared me literally to death for all the reasons you name. Over the last year, I have been surprised by the number of times someone will approach me in public, quietly pull me aside, and tell me how my blog resonated and how much courage they take from my fraidy cat self. Bless you on your journey. I pray for you and for the situation that holds you in its grip right now. May the Lord be honey to those wounds and may he give you grace as he intervenes in his time. Love you long and strong!

    • Sara May 7, 2012, 7:59 pm

      Thank you Carol! Way to make a girl feel loved by commenting seconds after I hit publish! And my situation…it’s just a little catnapper that won’t sleep though the night. Momma is feeling suffocated at times because she can’t get a moment alone to sew, blog, or breathe. I’ve realized this Momma thing is full of dying to self…something I don’t do very well. It is a season, but one I’m ready to have end.

  • Cassie May 7, 2012, 9:05 pm

    Our youngest who is two had brain surgery in Feb of this year. I spent many months “holding my breath” and each time we do another MRI or doctors appt I find that feeling comes rushing back. Thank you for the reminder today that God is right there with us.

    • Sara May 8, 2012, 6:58 pm

      Oh, Cassie. You just gave me a dose of perspective whether you intended to or not. Thank you so much for commenting. I pray that little guy of yours is doing better.

  • Jodi May 7, 2012, 11:56 pm

    I am smiling. So glad you wrote. Keep writing and choose joy. This too will past. But please please please share.

    • Sara May 8, 2012, 6:56 pm

      Thank you, friend. Thank you for speaking Truth and Life into me last weekend. You were a lifeline!

  • Krista May 8, 2012, 7:04 am

    Beautiful! It can be so hard to let others in when you are feeling vulnerable, but it is very important because through others, you can be reminded that you are not alone and you can receive the comfort and support you so desperately need at this time. Remember that “this too shall pass” and you will once again have the “breathing room” you seek. I will keep you in my prayers.

    • Sara May 8, 2012, 6:55 pm

      Thank you, Krista! I know it will end, but sometimes the water gets a little murky and it is hard to see, doesn’t it?

  • Carol May 8, 2012, 7:22 am

    Thanks for leaving the world of “fine” ~ I needed to be reminded of this today! Blessings!

    • Sara May 8, 2012, 6:53 pm

      You’re welcome, Carol. Thanks for commenting and letting me know that I’m not alone! Side note: I’m at Panera getting a little “breathing room” tonight. Apparently, blogging about it worked in my favor! ;)

  • Sherri May 8, 2012, 6:06 pm

    Your courage is inspiring Sara!

    I hope you’ll find that you’re not only helping others, but yourself too by writing it all out. Even though I didn’t blog about it… I did hand write a personal journal thru my PPD and I believe it was one of the very things that rescued me.

    Hang in there. :-)

    • Sara May 8, 2012, 7:09 pm

      Thank you Sherri! I’ll be honest, I’m more of a fraidy cat most days. I did have PPD after my first. This time, I think it is just severe sleep deprivation that messes with my head. Most days, I feel like it is just a combination of lots of stress and severe exhaustion….which doesn’t help things in the feeling balanced department. Either that, or I’m in denial ;)

  • Krista May 10, 2012, 4:02 am

    Indeed it does! I have had a particularly “murky” year: a miscarriage followed up by my son being diagnosed with NLD, a Nonverbal Learning Disorder (similar to Aspberger’s). It was rough, but through faith, family, and friends (oh, and blogging), I proved to myself I am stronger than I ever thought imaginable. I kept reminding myself each moment of the day, when simply breathing felt like a chore, “God will never give me more than I can handle”. Trials refine us. They make us stronger, and I know you will come out the other end of your trial a stronger woman, wife, mother, and daughter of God than you could ever imagine possible. :)

    • Sara May 12, 2012, 11:26 pm

      Thank you Krista! And while I know you were just here being honest about your “murky” year, you also gave me a big dose of perspective…Thank you for sharing. I’m so glad you feel welcome enough here in my little corner of the blog world to share. My problems are trivial in the grand scheme of things, but sometimes I get crushed under the weight of them and lose my focus. So, thank you. Thank you for sitting on my proverbial couch and being real with me.

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