Permission Not to Be Okay
When the dam walls broke and grace laid a table for rest
📖📖 "And the angel of the LORD came back the second time, and touched him, and said, 'Arise and eat, because the journey is too great for you.'" — 1 Kings 19:7 (NKJV)
🕯️ Today wasn't a great day. After I got home from The Crate, I phoned a friend, hoping to help her process what had been bothering her. Instead, she gently turned the conversation towards me and asked how I was doing. She wouldn't load more onto me before knowing where I was at.
✍️ So I shared honestly. I've been struggling with a tension in my body, a tightness I can't quite name, like a clay jar holding more water than it was ever shaped to carry. I felt it last Tuesday at the doctor's office, when I could no longer contain the tears whilst waiting for him to type up Clive's prescription and blood test request. It came again on Thursday as we waited for Domino's to finish our pizza after taking Misha to the doctor. During a meeting later that afternoon, it was perceived as extreme nervousness. I didn't realise it at the time, but it was something deeper: the trembling of a heart that had been holding its breath for far too long, a trauma suppressed in order to contain the chaos, fear and overwhelm.
🪨 Here it was again after an ordinary morning. She offered to come and sit with me, whatever I needed, but I didn't want to be a burden. There was something about her kindness and compassion that weakened my resolve to be okay. She shared her own experience of watching her hubby collapse, and how long it took her to process it all after initially going into management mode. I recognised myself in her story. Management mode is a place I know well — appointments kept, prescriptions collected, everyone carried, the cracks quietly glazed over so no one would notice.
🕊️ She prayed for me, and when she gave me permission not to be okay, the dam walls broke. The tears flowed uncontrollably whilst she stayed on the line, simply present, the way the Holy Spirit stays. Misha came out to hold me until I finally settled, my boy now holding his mama. That's where Clive found us when he got home early from the office, not having felt capable of staying the full day. Three hearts, each a little cracked, gathered in the same tender place.
📖 I slept the rest of the afternoon, and once again I'm reminded of Elijah. When he was overwhelmed and spent beneath the broom tree, God didn't lecture him or hurry him along. He sent an angel to touch him, gave him food and let him sleep. Then He came a second time, with the very same tenderness. Today, my friend was that angel.
✍️ I think of the kintsugi bowls I love so much, how the gold never hides where the break happened; it honours it. Perhaps tears are part of the mending, the place where pressure finally finds release so the Potter's hands can begin filling the seams with something precious. Tonight, as the house grows quiet, I'm learning that being strong for others was never meant to mean being sealed off from my own need. Even the strongest wings must fold to rest, and tears must flow.
🌱 I'm not okay yet, and that's alright. The journey has been too great for me on my own, and He knows it. He isn't disappointed in my weariness; He's keeping every tear in His bottle and setting a table for my rest. His love doesn't wait for me at the end of the mending. It meets me right here, in the breaking.
📖 "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." — Matthew 11:28 (NKJV)
My story for His glory, changing the world🌏 one 💔heart💖 at a time. — Patrizia
🕊️ So tonight I lay it all down, the tension, the tears and the tiredness, into hands that have never once dropped me. The dam has broken, and what flowed out has made room for something gentler to flow in. The bowl doesn't have to stop overflowing before it can be held with tenderness, and perhaps that's the truth worth carrying into tomorrow, too. Grace is near. Rest is holy. A new day will hold its own mercies, and He'll be there before me, already waiting with bread and water and a whisper of love. 🌱 You don't have to earn the right to rest by reaching the end of your strength. You're allowed to receive the same compassion you so freely pour into others. 💖
- Where have you been holding yourself together in "management mode", and what might it be costing you?🤔
- Who has God placed in your life to give you permission not to be okay?🤔
- What might your body be saying that your heart hasn't yet put into words?🤔
- How is the Lord inviting you to receive rest, nourishment and care, as He did for Elijah?🤔
- Can you trust that every tear you've cried is seen, counted and held by Him?🤔
I'm not weak because I'm weary. I'm a beloved daughter of the Father, safe in His hands even when I come undone. My tears are counted, my rest is holy, and my broken places are exactly where His golden grace is pouring in. I belong to Him — cracked, cared for and being made whole.
Father, thank You that You never ask me to be okay before I come to You. Thank You for the friend who stayed on the line, for Misha's arms around me, and for Clive coming home just when he was needed. You saw every tear at the doctor's office, in the queue for pizza and in that meeting, and You weren't ashamed of a single one. Holy Spirit, come and loosen what's been held so tightly in my body and soul. Where I've lived in management mode, teach me to receive again. Like Elijah, let me eat what You provide, sleep without guilt, and rise only when You say the journey ahead is ready for me. Fill every crack with Your gold, Lord, and let my broken places become a testimony of Your tenderness. For everyone reading this who's been carrying too much for too long, hold them close tonight. Give them permission to rest in You. In Jesus' Name, Amen.
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