Dang it. I need a whole Kleenex box this is so freaking beautiful. It stirs such an immense gratitude. 10 years ago I lost everything for using my voice to protect those entrusted to my care. I spent 18 months begging every night afterwards to not be here at all. Then a few years later I became a writer who lost her words to a brain injury. It was learning to love myself that helped me find my way forward. After 6 years of frustration and refusing to settle for what I was told I should, I’m writing again. And I didn’t just find the words I lost- I found better ones. And I found my voice. Deeper than it ever before. You can cuss all the way- just don’t ever give up. 😉🥰
I’m in a really hard season with anxiety and depression these days, and I’m learning just how much guilt/shame is influencing that, perpetuating it. And, I’m about to start digging back into work on a memoir, in which I need to show how much that same guilt/shame drove my life for so long. It’s hard to think about writing it. But I want this sense of belonging to bubble up. And the only way to that is through the brokenness and pain. Thank you for sharing these words, KJ. You help me hope for my body and soul.
I'm learning that love is found in unexpected places. I'm grieving my childlessness (and the shame I feel in a very fertile community), but I'm leaning into loving my (literal) neighbors in the small town where I live. This month that's meant providing practical help with estate clean-up for a late neighbor's family, and fellowship with a single mom who just needed another adult to talk to. Both of those warmed my heart in ways I didn't see coming. And I wonder if I would have seen either opportunity if I was busy wrangling my own flock of children?
A year ago I lost a friendship I thought would be forever. And love has truly been the only way through the pain this year. Mostly learning to love myself.
“Perhaps the worst part of trauma—of all kinds—is the scar it leaves over the tender flesh of our trust.” Man, I feel that. I am 37 weeks pregnant and finding it SO hard to trust that I am held and the joy I am feeling will not be taken from me. I am so happy for you. Thank you for sharing your story ❤️
This is so encouraging. I’ve just been thinking the last few days in fact about how dwelling in shame is basically mentally punishing myself for not being [well enough, strong enough, good enough, whatever it is enough], and that is wholly unproductive for living life with joy. I’ve decided I’m breaking up with shame, but it may be a messy breakup considering how long we’ve been involved lol.
I’ve also been thinking about how far I’ve come, even though I’m not where I want to be. What looks like normal life to other people might be signs of healing for others.
I keep reading your words bc 1. They’re just so beautifully crafted and 2. I keep on needing them. I shared with you a long time ago that I thought my life’s main work is to root out fear (and shame) that drives so much of what I say, do, think, and how I act. God’s giving me and my husband that opportunity to re-write our family story that holds generations of fear-motivated living as a story that’s threaded through with love and belonging instead. It is ever so challenging to keep refusing fear a place in my parenting & to insist that love alone leads to wholeness, health, and true fulfillment. So, thank you for continuing to share your own journey with us and seeking to encourage us along the way.
This, particularly the bit on belonging, was what my aching prayers were begging for today. The timeliness and specificity of the soothing I received from your writing here astounds me. I have been so nourished by your writing for a couple years now, in compounded deserts where I've needed it most. I have suffered such loss, I honestly don't know how I could be as ok as I am now without your work. Without your story, which you have so generously lived, and then shared, with us.
The incredible things--terrible and wonderful both--that Love has led you to and through and onward from, have spilled into the lives of so many others, to places nothing else reached. We heal together. In our shared pain, we also share life. I'll be marveling over this wonder and weeping quietly for a bit longer today, I think.
Every post I see of yours of the JOY and goodness that is present makes me want to erupt with cheers. We get so used to choosing joy in spite of the pain. How delightful to witness beauty and goodness just as they are. Sometimes we need good things that are simply good 😭 and it brings me so much hope that goodness is here with me too.
All of this. Love, trust, belonging and more. Continuing to build my village around me as I do healing work that includes such intense grief. Your writing and vulnerability helps give me capacity in all of this.
“Perhaps the worst part of trauma—of all kinds—is the scar it leaves over the tender flesh of our trust.” This line! Trust is so hard after trauma. The scar it leaves seems impenetrable. I’ve learned scars in the flesh not only heal, but remind us that the flesh was healed where the scar remains. Maybe seeing is believing, so those scars we see are more believable when we think of healing. You’ve shown us a different kind of healing, and indeed it comes from love. The healing on the inside always amazes me. It just does. It’s so mystical. Kind of like love is mystical. I think joy is part of it. Remembering joy. Also remembering mountain tops is part of healing when we are in a valley, I think. Knowing that each ascent will be different helps with each trek. Seeing you experience what it was like to get to this place where you now are gives me so much hope when I think of healing for those I love most. Thank you. ❤️
"all I want for me and for you, more than a return to the bodies that didn’t seem as broken or the buildings that once held our prayers is to look again at our lives with a Love who has already looked at us, called us good, and is delighted to be walking (or wheeling) us home."
Thank you for your continued authenticity, KJ. I've been walking out of a season of darkness, mired in deep shame for who I am and lack of belonging...and into a season of wonder at the goodness of God and allowing myself to be brave enough to hope for true belonging. It's been exhilarating and beautiful the past few months. But... I continue to struggle with trust. Not even trust in others necessarily. But trust in myself. That I am wanted and desired and valued. What's hardest is I see myself projecting past hurts into current situations and mischaracterizing what's in front of me. There's still a little kid inside of me carrying far too much hurt and deeply afraid of abandonment. Trying to learn new ways and yet make that kid feel safe and secure is a puzzle that sometimes gets the better of me. Your continued sharing in such a hard season has given me words my soul has been longing for, and tenacity to hold the tension of caring for myself while still looking forward and embracing hope!
“And now, all I want for me and for you, more than a return to the bodies that didn’t seem as broken …. is to look again at our lives with a Love who has already looked at us, called us good, and is delighted to be walking (or wheeling) us home” oh how I needed this!
As a counselor and spiritual director, I started reading your posts and books after hearing you on Adam’s podcast…I need this for my clients and directees I thought, who come with all sorts of wounds. Then a month ago came my lung cancer diagnosis (and the shock as non smoker), and today my surgery, removing a third of my lung and waiting on pathology and to find out what is next…Suddenly I was reading about your life and most recent post to search out empathy, courage, hope, and as you said the Love looking at me, calling me good, delighting in me. I’m trusting in an expansion of that understanding even as my precious lung is diminished. Thank you KJ, I have a taste of what your ministry to the wounded has cost you.
Thank you for sharing so beautifully and honestly. I'm so glad you were able to go on vacation and enjoy it - it's so important to embrace the moments of goodness, especially when life is full of so much hard.
You asked your readers share what we've been learning about shame and love, and your post mentioned an exact sorrow that I experienced this year: "Maybe you lost a friendship you imagined would be lifelong." Sigh. That was one of my trials this past year, and it really has shaped me.
One year ago, during the week of Passover, a very dear friendship started cracking so much I was afraid it might break . . . and then a choice that was not mine took it away, semi-kindly, semi-cruelly. I didn't know where to find my footing in the newfound space between us. I was heartbroken to the core, and ashamed that I couldn't seem to fully move past it week after week, month after month. I kept stepping forward one day at a time, usually swallowing the grief and sometimes stopping to allow myself the sorrow. I threw myself into work, other friendships, hosting gatherings, ministry, and spending time with God regularly - but still the shame lingered, telling me I should be able to move on and not care so much.
You know what I say to shame? I say that the hurt that stays means I lost someone I cared for deeply, and there's no shame in that because the friendship was worth it.
As for what I've learned about love - I've learned that rather than stay aloof when I am around this person, it is better to cling to the words of 1 Cor 13 -- to strive to be patient, kind, and not envious. To persevere, choosing over and over not to be bitter. To be thankful for what we did have and what tiny fragment remains. And even if things don't change, I have the choice to keep asking God for grace every single day to keep living out these words. I can't love like that - but God keeps loving me anyway, so I know He can show me how.
Beautiful! I SO resonate with what you share, especially, loving our way back to life. Time and again, my shame stories are healed by love. Remembering and resting in the Truth that I am always and forever Beloved. 🫶🏽 In reading your lines about love moving your feet and fingers, my soul shouted: YES! In 2008 I had freak accident on a family friendly hike that should have killed me (I fell 30-feet headfirst off a cliff onto a boulder). I titled my memoir about it "Falling Into Love", because at a deep level I know it was love that not only saved me, but brought me back to a more beautiful life. Thank you, and I hope you have a beautiful day!
Dang it. I need a whole Kleenex box this is so freaking beautiful. It stirs such an immense gratitude. 10 years ago I lost everything for using my voice to protect those entrusted to my care. I spent 18 months begging every night afterwards to not be here at all. Then a few years later I became a writer who lost her words to a brain injury. It was learning to love myself that helped me find my way forward. After 6 years of frustration and refusing to settle for what I was told I should, I’m writing again. And I didn’t just find the words I lost- I found better ones. And I found my voice. Deeper than it ever before. You can cuss all the way- just don’t ever give up. 😉🥰
I’m in a really hard season with anxiety and depression these days, and I’m learning just how much guilt/shame is influencing that, perpetuating it. And, I’m about to start digging back into work on a memoir, in which I need to show how much that same guilt/shame drove my life for so long. It’s hard to think about writing it. But I want this sense of belonging to bubble up. And the only way to that is through the brokenness and pain. Thank you for sharing these words, KJ. You help me hope for my body and soul.
I'm learning that love is found in unexpected places. I'm grieving my childlessness (and the shame I feel in a very fertile community), but I'm leaning into loving my (literal) neighbors in the small town where I live. This month that's meant providing practical help with estate clean-up for a late neighbor's family, and fellowship with a single mom who just needed another adult to talk to. Both of those warmed my heart in ways I didn't see coming. And I wonder if I would have seen either opportunity if I was busy wrangling my own flock of children?
A year ago I lost a friendship I thought would be forever. And love has truly been the only way through the pain this year. Mostly learning to love myself.
“Perhaps the worst part of trauma—of all kinds—is the scar it leaves over the tender flesh of our trust.” Man, I feel that. I am 37 weeks pregnant and finding it SO hard to trust that I am held and the joy I am feeling will not be taken from me. I am so happy for you. Thank you for sharing your story ❤️
This is so encouraging. I’ve just been thinking the last few days in fact about how dwelling in shame is basically mentally punishing myself for not being [well enough, strong enough, good enough, whatever it is enough], and that is wholly unproductive for living life with joy. I’ve decided I’m breaking up with shame, but it may be a messy breakup considering how long we’ve been involved lol.
I’ve also been thinking about how far I’ve come, even though I’m not where I want to be. What looks like normal life to other people might be signs of healing for others.
I keep reading your words bc 1. They’re just so beautifully crafted and 2. I keep on needing them. I shared with you a long time ago that I thought my life’s main work is to root out fear (and shame) that drives so much of what I say, do, think, and how I act. God’s giving me and my husband that opportunity to re-write our family story that holds generations of fear-motivated living as a story that’s threaded through with love and belonging instead. It is ever so challenging to keep refusing fear a place in my parenting & to insist that love alone leads to wholeness, health, and true fulfillment. So, thank you for continuing to share your own journey with us and seeking to encourage us along the way.
This, particularly the bit on belonging, was what my aching prayers were begging for today. The timeliness and specificity of the soothing I received from your writing here astounds me. I have been so nourished by your writing for a couple years now, in compounded deserts where I've needed it most. I have suffered such loss, I honestly don't know how I could be as ok as I am now without your work. Without your story, which you have so generously lived, and then shared, with us.
The incredible things--terrible and wonderful both--that Love has led you to and through and onward from, have spilled into the lives of so many others, to places nothing else reached. We heal together. In our shared pain, we also share life. I'll be marveling over this wonder and weeping quietly for a bit longer today, I think.
Every post I see of yours of the JOY and goodness that is present makes me want to erupt with cheers. We get so used to choosing joy in spite of the pain. How delightful to witness beauty and goodness just as they are. Sometimes we need good things that are simply good 😭 and it brings me so much hope that goodness is here with me too.
All of this. Love, trust, belonging and more. Continuing to build my village around me as I do healing work that includes such intense grief. Your writing and vulnerability helps give me capacity in all of this.
“Perhaps the worst part of trauma—of all kinds—is the scar it leaves over the tender flesh of our trust.” This line! Trust is so hard after trauma. The scar it leaves seems impenetrable. I’ve learned scars in the flesh not only heal, but remind us that the flesh was healed where the scar remains. Maybe seeing is believing, so those scars we see are more believable when we think of healing. You’ve shown us a different kind of healing, and indeed it comes from love. The healing on the inside always amazes me. It just does. It’s so mystical. Kind of like love is mystical. I think joy is part of it. Remembering joy. Also remembering mountain tops is part of healing when we are in a valley, I think. Knowing that each ascent will be different helps with each trek. Seeing you experience what it was like to get to this place where you now are gives me so much hope when I think of healing for those I love most. Thank you. ❤️
"all I want for me and for you, more than a return to the bodies that didn’t seem as broken or the buildings that once held our prayers is to look again at our lives with a Love who has already looked at us, called us good, and is delighted to be walking (or wheeling) us home."
Yes and amen.
Thank you for your continued authenticity, KJ. I've been walking out of a season of darkness, mired in deep shame for who I am and lack of belonging...and into a season of wonder at the goodness of God and allowing myself to be brave enough to hope for true belonging. It's been exhilarating and beautiful the past few months. But... I continue to struggle with trust. Not even trust in others necessarily. But trust in myself. That I am wanted and desired and valued. What's hardest is I see myself projecting past hurts into current situations and mischaracterizing what's in front of me. There's still a little kid inside of me carrying far too much hurt and deeply afraid of abandonment. Trying to learn new ways and yet make that kid feel safe and secure is a puzzle that sometimes gets the better of me. Your continued sharing in such a hard season has given me words my soul has been longing for, and tenacity to hold the tension of caring for myself while still looking forward and embracing hope!
“And now, all I want for me and for you, more than a return to the bodies that didn’t seem as broken …. is to look again at our lives with a Love who has already looked at us, called us good, and is delighted to be walking (or wheeling) us home” oh how I needed this!
As a counselor and spiritual director, I started reading your posts and books after hearing you on Adam’s podcast…I need this for my clients and directees I thought, who come with all sorts of wounds. Then a month ago came my lung cancer diagnosis (and the shock as non smoker), and today my surgery, removing a third of my lung and waiting on pathology and to find out what is next…Suddenly I was reading about your life and most recent post to search out empathy, courage, hope, and as you said the Love looking at me, calling me good, delighting in me. I’m trusting in an expansion of that understanding even as my precious lung is diminished. Thank you KJ, I have a taste of what your ministry to the wounded has cost you.
Thank you for sharing so beautifully and honestly. I'm so glad you were able to go on vacation and enjoy it - it's so important to embrace the moments of goodness, especially when life is full of so much hard.
You asked your readers share what we've been learning about shame and love, and your post mentioned an exact sorrow that I experienced this year: "Maybe you lost a friendship you imagined would be lifelong." Sigh. That was one of my trials this past year, and it really has shaped me.
One year ago, during the week of Passover, a very dear friendship started cracking so much I was afraid it might break . . . and then a choice that was not mine took it away, semi-kindly, semi-cruelly. I didn't know where to find my footing in the newfound space between us. I was heartbroken to the core, and ashamed that I couldn't seem to fully move past it week after week, month after month. I kept stepping forward one day at a time, usually swallowing the grief and sometimes stopping to allow myself the sorrow. I threw myself into work, other friendships, hosting gatherings, ministry, and spending time with God regularly - but still the shame lingered, telling me I should be able to move on and not care so much.
You know what I say to shame? I say that the hurt that stays means I lost someone I cared for deeply, and there's no shame in that because the friendship was worth it.
As for what I've learned about love - I've learned that rather than stay aloof when I am around this person, it is better to cling to the words of 1 Cor 13 -- to strive to be patient, kind, and not envious. To persevere, choosing over and over not to be bitter. To be thankful for what we did have and what tiny fragment remains. And even if things don't change, I have the choice to keep asking God for grace every single day to keep living out these words. I can't love like that - but God keeps loving me anyway, so I know He can show me how.
Beautiful! I SO resonate with what you share, especially, loving our way back to life. Time and again, my shame stories are healed by love. Remembering and resting in the Truth that I am always and forever Beloved. 🫶🏽 In reading your lines about love moving your feet and fingers, my soul shouted: YES! In 2008 I had freak accident on a family friendly hike that should have killed me (I fell 30-feet headfirst off a cliff onto a boulder). I titled my memoir about it "Falling Into Love", because at a deep level I know it was love that not only saved me, but brought me back to a more beautiful life. Thank you, and I hope you have a beautiful day!