This past December…
I landed at the very bottom of myself. After a year of incredible growth, my body and soul had turned inside out, and although I want to say I wisely chose to rest, the truth is I had burned myself to a point where I had no other choice. Mental and physical health have a way of shutting off the lights unexpectedly.
To the friend who has found themself in a season of burnout, sitting in their remaining ashes and realizing they too feel inside out, I wrote this journal for you.
"When trees go dormant for the winter, it's because they've sensed a shift in levels of daylight. It's at this point that they begin making changes at the cellular level to become more tolerant of cold temperatures. A tree's metabolism, and other internal processes, also slow down in order to conserve energy." - StateForests.org
When I look at the trees, I marvel at the poetic wisdom displayed in their trust each winter. Sensing the shift in light, they choose not only to slow down and rest but to intentionally cut off external growth until the light returns months later. I wonder if the true secret to experiencing abundance is in emulating the rhythm of the trees. It's knowing when to grow and when to rest, when to harvest and when to hide away for winter. For many of us, though, intentionally cutting off growth feels impossible, almost terrifying
As a child of a cycle breaker and growing up in a lower-income household, I resonate with these feelings of scarcity. My dad came from poverty, the real kind where he was in and out of the Chicago foster care system, so the fact that all 7 of his children always had food to eat and loving parents to hold them was an incredible feat. But still, we found ourselves praying for small things like school books and new clothes as we grew out of old ones.
To be clear, I had a wonderful childhood. I share this because I know how the voice of scarcity plants its roots deep within your bones, following you like a shadow, always whispering new fears that you must overcome.
And where we cannot trust, we also cannot rest. The thing about trust is you cannot reason your way into its reality; you have to test it before knowing the outcome on the other side.
As I've been forced to sleep longer in these dark winter days, trimming back growth to the point where I feel anxiety prickle at my skin, I find myself being forced to trust in the promise of abundance. Trust that there is enough room for me to rest; there is enough grace for me to try and fail; that opportunities are not finite, so it is okay to leave money on the table.
Scarcity and abundance both remind us of our lack of control. However, where scarcity puts the weight of control on our backs, abundance lifts the burden and places it on the God who created both us and the trees. Like the trees, who come alive each spring and fall asleep each winter, we are made with limitations that depend on receiving things outside our ability to manifest. And I wonder if this was God's kindness, to remove the responsibility of always needing to perform so we can experience the freedom of resting in His abundance despite our limitations.
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