Vulnerability and band aids.

There’s a reason that first aid kits in commercial kitchens usually stock band aids in gaudy bright, fluorescent colours.  You actually want a chef/ cook/ kitchen hand to notice when their manky old band aid has come off, cos you don’t want that in your meal. No ma’am.  No sir.

Band aids.  Bandages.  They serve a purpose, for a time, but sooner or later those puppies need to come off your body and be disposed of properly.

I’ve been thinking about ‘vulnerability’ lately and have been thinking that vulnerability is a little like a band aid that needs a little bit of help to be ripped off, before it falls off.

When you have a wound, a little or a big ‘owie’, there’s a need for it to be covered up for a little bit. You need to keep the wound clean, and clear from infection.  You also need to to protect it a little from further bashes and bumps.  You don’t want any more blood loss. (And by the way, look after yourself dear ones when you do have a band aid on. One of the stooopidest things I’ve done in one of my jobs was go to work straight after getting a blood test done. You don’t ever want to cut up twenty kgs of carrots after having some blood suckered out of your arm.  Nope.  No you don’t.)  Back to the band aid.  That band aid isn’t designed to stay on forever.  It is only a temporary stopgap.  At some stage your wound will also benefit from a little fresh air – this too has healing powers.  And we all know how gross it is to see band aids that have come off when people haven’t expected that – there’s something really repulsive about seeing them not disposed of properly.

I’m learning that vulnerability is a little like a band aid that needs you to take it off.  We need to open up to each other.  We need the healing power that comes in the salve of one another’s kindness and caring – but that is only possible to apply properly, when we open up to one another. When we expose our wounds to one another. When we peel back our band aids. Then we can bear one another’s burdens.

The band ‘Rend Collective’ recently wrote ‘it is in the rawest, most gaping, and angry scars that authentic faith is often found’.  Scars expose testimonies – testimonies shout of God’s grace.  God’s favour.  God’s loving kindness.  God’s ability to scoop us up and out of whatever messy situations we’re in.  God’s restorative power.  God’s healing strength.

One of my darling boys scratched his face with a long fingernail when he was merely hours old.  That precious, soft and smooth skin on his face was scarred.  He’ll always have that little reminder on his cheek. My own body has scars of battles with hot fudge (I seriously lost), and a stomach stretched to its limits by whopping big babies.  But its not the scars on our bodies that need the most healing – its the ones in our very souls.

It is a hard thing opening up to friends.  There’s trust that must be mustered up.  There’s swallowing of pride. There are doubts and uncertainties that raise their ugly heads.  Sometimes confidences are betrayed, that’s just a reality of life. But you know what?  The pay off that comes with sharing your heart anyway, is worth it. The healing that comes when you do become vulnerable yourself, is worth it.  The reciprocity that happens when you need a friend, and when the friend needs to be needed – creates  levels of shared experience that can’t be faked and can’t be created under any other circumstances, other than this shared vulnerability.

C.S Lewis said ‘We need others physically, emotionally, intellectually; we need them if we are to know anything, even ourselves’. It has taken me a while to learn this, but I totally agree with him.  We don’t know what we don’t know…..friends can help us with this…..we need others more than we may think.

I don’t want to leave a nasty trail band aids lying around all over the place – peeled off at the very worst of times, in the very worst of places, so I’m learning to make myself vulnerable. And to rip off those band aids when I can.  To open up.  To share my heart.  To let the soothing words of others heal my little nicks and scratches.  I’m pretty sure it is worth it.

first aid photo

 

 

 

Permission.

I wanna be like Penny when I grow up.

With her beautiful twinkling eyes, ever present smile accompanied by love crinkles, feisty spirit, and good natured jesting with her husband, Penny is just the kinda lady I want to be.

Penny was a guest speaker at a conference I just attended. She shared from her wealth of knowledge and experience. She encouraged and she blessed. She told wonderful stories from the early days of the Vineyard Church movement, but the biggest and bestest take home nugget of gold I got from her, out of all the other truths she shared, was permission to just be a work in progress. And isn’t that what we’re all crying out for these days?

There’s this thing out there in the big wide world, that says we need to do it all.  And be it all.  We need to have ‘it’ all sorted, and have it sorted yesterday. 

And sometimes we can do it all.

Whatever ‘it’ is.

But none of us can do all the things we may wish to do, all of the time, no matter how hard we try, no matter how constant the pressure is, whether is it really there or simply implied…..

If you’ve been reading my blog for any amount of time, you’ll know I am a Christ follower. I love God and I love walking my Journey with other Christians. But even in some church circles, there’s sometimes this belief that you should have your life mostly ‘together’. And often this belief is accompanied by the thought that you should only share your struggles from a place of victory, a place of overcoming. 

But the fact is we’re all on a journey. Whether you’re a christian or not, I believe that we are all at different stages. We all have things we can do, we can’t do, things we shouldn’t do, things we should do, to be the healthiest and happiest versions of ourselves we can be. 

And I think we can all do with hearing what Penny had to say at a session yesterday. A panel of women were asked how they deal with anxiety and worry, and I felt like Penny gave us a very real and raw answer. She sat on the stage and very graciously admitted that she didn’t cope with anxiety and worry very well at all. That this is something she struggles with, and she relies on others to help her get through times when worry consumes her. 

This was in a nutshell giving us permission. 

Permission to not have it all together. Permission to have areas in our lives where we need to lean on others. Permission to be works in progress, no matter how far along our christian walk we are. Permission to be real and raw and honest. Permission to be ok with our flaws and troubles. 

Time and time again I’m reminded of community. Of friendship. Of reciprocity. Of people standing in the gap for others. And yesterday Penny reminded me of   the importance of vulnerability, of not ever having to appear as if life is always easy and good. Permission for that is a gift, and a gracious gift at that. 

I wanna be like Penny when I grow up. Just like Penny.