Invitations, introverts, & whales

I won’t soon forget the day I sat on a friends couch and my response to a vulnerable question was “I don’t want to be known by no one else, other than the people that already know me. “

She said some insightful words that I buried in my mind and I kept on moving.

Fast forward two years and I find myself sitting in the middle of a spiritual mentoring session digging into where I picked up that toxic mentality and how it impacted my faith.

Imagine someone sharing unsolicited information about a painful season of your life, causing feelings to rise up and spill over.

Now all the details aren’t necessary in regards to the words that were said and by whom they were spoken or the tone in which it was said.

That was the scenario I was standing in two years ago.

There was probably smoke coming from my ears as I stared blankly at the person in my face.

In that very moment I picked up an incredibly toxic belief.

If being known by people was vindictive, spiteful, and self gratifying then I had reached my capacity.

In all honesty I likely surpassed my capacity.

And thus a new facet of adulthood became part of my relational dna.

Back in the fall I signed up for spiritual mentorship with the chief goal of being able to re-gain understanding and confidence in the gifts that God had given me.

I’ve been on this journey for the past several months of untangling the pain, trauma, and the roadblocks it has been to my faith.

I spent a lot of time on a therapists couch unpacking the trauma of 2020-2021 and how it shaped how I viewed the world.

So spiritual mentorship seemed to be the next right step on the never ending journey of healing.

Now, when God sent me to Suffolk, and yes, I mean God sent me.

(Because when I decided transition and change was the name of the game in 2024, I imagined some place exciting or in close proximity to my friends.)

But His plans were different from mine.

For the better part of the first year that I lived here I was throwing a silent tantrum.

One that I abruptly ended when I realized that obedience to God doesn’t include throwing tantrums.

That’s how you end up in the belly of a whale, fighting for your life while being slapped with fish and other underwater things.

With the thought of what a modern day belly of a whale situation might be consuming my thoughts I immediately ran home to repent.

Now, that doesn’t mean that I’m in love with this uniquely created town, but I’m grateful.

I’m grateful for the invitation to navigate all of the nuances of walking through trauma and its spiritual impact.

Now, I’m not swinging my arms wide open to be known by all the people.

But I’m learning to sit and take up meaningful space at the tables I'm being invited to join.

For an introvert it’s a huge task.

For a slow processor of trauma my giant steps look like tiptoeing.

But, some progress is better than refusing to make a move forward.

And I have gratitude in the simple small steps.

I’m grateful for a God who knows all of the details of all of the things.

I’m grateful for a God who lines up where we need to be to have space and time to find freedom and healing.

I’m grateful for a God who gently creates opportunities for us to tackle the obstacles in our way.

Sometimes accepting the invitation is easier than living in the anxiety of what the modern day belly of a whale may be.

So this summer I’m accepting the invitation of vulnerability.

The invitation of confidence in the unknown.

The invitation of community filled adventure.

The invitation of not allowing trauma to dictate the limits of my faith.

The invitation that a sometimes skeptical and vulnerable introvert has a seat at the table of joy!