Thump! Woosh! Wump! I looked over from the front deck, where I was finally returning the shovel to its resting place after 40 minutes of shoveling feet upon feet of snow. "You've got to be kidding me!" I grumbled. I'd just finished clearing off my 4Runner when a gust of wind whipped through the trees, nudging them to dispose of the snow on their heavily-laden boughs, right on top of my newly shoveled vehicle. Heaving out a resigned sigh, I picked the shovel back up and trudged to my car to get rid of the freshly deposited snow.
Yesterday afternoon was spent in much the same way: constant shoveling and trying to keep up with the snowfall and create a wide enough space so that I could even rev my car up the driveway. The berms are easily over ten feet high, and it feels like a fool's errand to shovel out all this snow because it just. Keeps. Snowing. I cleared a foot at least yesterday, and another foot today. So, why do it? Well, out of necessity. I understand that if I don't tackle the task now, the snow will just keep piling up, making it harder to shovel later. Sure, it's hard work that will leave me sore and aching tomorrow, but it also makes tomorrow's task easier.
I feel like I've reached a similar point in my emotional life. I'm a whole-hearted giver, someone who wears my heart on my sleeve, and as such, I am constantly asking for advice and direction from others in my life because I don't always trust my emotions, and honestly, because I'm a people-pleaser. Where should I go next? What should I do in this situation, or in that situation? Should I stay in California? Should I move back to the Midwest? Their answers, pure in motive and honestly helpful, nevertheless pile up on top of my heart and my spirit like swirling snowflakes, drifting higher and higher and obscuring the still, quiet voice in the depths of my spirit. It's often easier to put others' desires and dreams for my life in front of God's desires and dreams for my life, and that's what's gotten me to this point.
One of my goals in 2019 is to start peeling back those layers, digging through the advice, the words, the opinions of others that have piled up in my heart, so that I can expose and truly hear God's voice--what HE thinks of me, how HE loves me, how HE wants me to find my identity in HIM. And now, as I find myself at another crossroads in life, it's never been more important for me to grab the shovel and start clearing out the snow. It's going to be painful. It will leave me aching and sore, but it's effort better spent now, as it will make decision-making processes easier and clearer tomorrow.Author Shauna Niequist's words in her book Present Over Perfect resonate clearly with what I'm going through right now,
"I've always trusted things outside myself, believing that my own voice couldn't be trusted, that my own preferences and desires would lead me astray, that it was far wiser and safer to listen to other people--other voices, the voices of the crowd. I believed it was better to measure my life by metrics out there, instead of values deeply held in my own soul and spirit."
If I don't take the time to shovel through the layers and depth of emotions and tangled up questions in my heart, God's truth and what He wants to reveal to me will remain buried. I will remain stuck, overwhelmed in drifts of cluttered thoughts and harried strivings instead of doing the painful work of stripping back years of people-pleasing, perceptions of who I SHOULD be, what I SHOULD do, what life SHOULD look like.
One of my favorite quotes from a beloved pastor is this: "Love God, and do what you want." I've always believed that means following rituals, rules, laws, and previous generations' perceptions of what a "successful" life looks like. In reality, I think I AM loving God no matter where I go, or where I end up. I seek to serve others and know I will always try to help those in my life to the best of my ability. Other than that, what else is there to worry about? It doesn't matter where I live or what I do.
Perhaps that freedom is what scares me the most. Perhaps that realization is what has kept me stuck inside the house, refusing to go out and shovel through the past, the pain, the pre-conceived notions of how my life should look. It's safer here. But once I deal with everything, I have the freedom to go out, to do, to stop comparing my life to the "metrics out there". And it scares me.
It's been easier to listen to others' voices, to take others' advice, than to look deep inside myself and listen to my own desires and dreams. Don't get me wrong--others' advice and wisdom is good, Biblical, and often necessary to make strong choices in life. However, I'm learning that it's also important to look at how God has made me, to listen to His Spirit inside of me, and to let that be a deciding factor, as opposed to allowing the forces of others' opinions surrounding me to sway me.
Hours later, I'm warm and cozy inside, curled up with a good book. I glance out the window; the snow is still coming down. I'd rather stay inside and cuddle with the dog right now, but I know that if I don't start clearing out the driveway again, I'll never get out tonight.
Similarly, if I don't grab the shovel and start digging through the voices that surround me, that have piled up in my spirit, I'll never gather the courage to freely chart my life's course based on what Jesus wants for me, as opposed to what others might want for me. Just like the snow that seems a constant here in Truckee, so the voices and opinions of others are truly a constant in my life. What I listen to, though, and how I let it affect my life and decisions is 100% my choice. I need to do the hard work now so that I can be free to go and do and love for Jesus. I pull on my snow pants, boots, coat and gloves, and stride out into the snowstorm, determined. Time to get back to work.
