Safety Nets and Wet Paint

Y’all know I love a good metaphor.  (I say “y’all” even though this blog is still private.  I know I’ll make it public again soon.)

Lately, two metaphors keep coming to mind.  The first is a trapeze artist who takes a brave leap but misses the catch and falls into a waiting safety net below.  To play that out fully, her timing was off, they miss the connection, and she’s suddenly free-falling, her carefully-planned routine unraveling.  She feels the weight of watching eyes and the pressure to land as gracefully as possible.  Sooner than expected, she hits the safety net and feels dizzy from the fall as the net bounces then steadies and holds firm.  She's a little shaken and embarrassed, but mostly relieved and grateful.  She is safe.  Supported.  Not where she expected to be, but she is okay.  That leap wasn’t right for her this time, and that’s okay.  She will gather her courage and try something new when she is ready...

Okay, shifting gears... way back in 2011, my favorite guys in all the world joined me and a couple girlfriends on a road trip to help Malori Riah paint her first home... this picture still brings me lots of joy!!

JEM was full of good quotes and entertaining stories that day, including the classic tale about how he accidentally painted himself into a corner while redoing his own garage floor, having to cross over a lot of wet paint to get out.  I’ve thought about that story a lot lately.  It’s part of why I shut down the blog for a bit.  Without meaning to, I felt like I had written myself into a corner, trapped by the sincere hopes and clearly-documented life plans made by a past version of me.  I’ve had to remind myself often that I am allowed to change course and dream new dreams!!

For years, I talked and wrote about becoming a single mom until it became hard to admit that I might want something different now.  In addition to all the roadblocks I encountered, my desire itself had begun to shift.  It’s not that I don’t ever want kids or don't believe I would be a good mom, but the “doing it alone” part began to feel more daunting and isolating than empowering and connecting.

Following Jeff's paint story all the way through was oddly helpful for me... because he isn’t still stuck in that corner today.  It was messy, and it required some repair and cleanup, but often the only way out is through!  Jeffrey was single at the time, and he didn't have to tell any of us about that.  No one would have known if he had not mentioned it, and the same is pretty true in my story right now.  A comforting thought on some level.  But truthfully, no lasting harm was done, and 14 years later, that entertaining story helped me see my own way out.  (Here's hoping my story can do the same for someone else someday.)

So here I am.  My plans have changed, I'm calming down from a dizzying fall, and I've landed in a very supportive safety net of kind friends and family and a very faithful God.  Over the past month, I have written a letter of closure to the placing parent, cancelled the Dallas surgery, worked with the adoption agency, ended my time at ITS, and transitioned all my counseling clients.  Wet paint everywhere, but it's going to be okay.  I'm going to be okay.  I am beginning to look forward, while reminding myself not to rush into anything.  To be still and breathe for a bit.  This part is messy and hard, but it's also freeing and right.

Life is moving quickly and my thoughts are still settling, but I wanted to write this out today.  If you feel trapped or pressured in any area of life, I hope this imagery encourages you!

Do the hard thing you KNOW is right.
God will strengthen the safety net.
The fall will not kill you.
❤ ❤ ❤