Just Breathe

Sometimes you can see a movie or hear a song and it meets you right where you are. It sums up how you feel; puts words to your hope or your hurt. I've had a few of those moments. It's like you want the world to hear or see it the way you do because maybe then they'd understand what you're going through. If they could just hear that lyric or watch that scene, they'd feel your pain or know your joy.

I watched the movie Hope Floats so many times during college that I literally broke the VHS tape. (That's right. I said it - VHS.) I wasn't married, of course, and I didn't have a child like the main character, but I could so identify with her heartache. I knew firsthand that feeling of being so hurt by someone that for awhile you couldn't find yourself in the midst of the pain. I also knew the reality that when you are wounded that deeply, you can't imagine ever letting anyone near your heart again for fear they would shatter what's left. I watched those scenes and somehow, seeing her hurt made me not feel like the only one.

I haven't seen that movie in years, but the other day it came on television. It's not even the whole movie. I didn't start recording until about a quarter of the way into it. There are commercials and pieces of the movie that are missing. (I know because I can almost quote it.) But none of that has stopped me from watching it about 17 times in the last 6 days. What has captivated me the most is that I no longer hurt when I watch it. I don't identify with the pain of her loss. While I remember the way I used to feel, I identify more with the hope she finds in rediscovering her own strength. The man who hurt her is a blur in the background of the man who loves her back to herself. Several times as she interacts with this new man, he forces her to just be still. He doesn't push her; he just quietly tells her to "breathe."

It seems like a simple thing, breathing. But when you're convinced the world will fall apart if you don't hold it together, sometimes you don't realize you're holding your breath until someone tells you to breathe. Today was a lesson for me in breathing. David let me sleep in, took care of Brynna and arranged a sitter so we could have the whole afternoon/evening together. He brought me flowers and got me a new bag. (What can I say? Handbags are my love language.) Less by what he said and more by what he did, he told me to breathe. And here are the lessons I learned:
     1. When someone lets you breathe, he is assuring you that, even if just for a moment, he'll handle the rest
     2. You have to let him

You I have to let him and it may not look the way I want. It may be slower than I would have done it. It may be a different route than I would have chosen. At those times, I just need to breathe. I have to stop trying or talking and just breathe. I have to stop anticipating and fixing. And breathe.

What are you holding that's too big for you to carry? Just breathe.
Who can you look to for help? Let them.