Hallelujah Highway

Celebrating the Journey

Rupture. Then, Resilience~ Kristi

on December 4, 2013

Rupture 2


My last post chronicled Rupture—a profound, emotional shattering of my expectations for my next (unborn) baby.  Rupture caused a week of barely sleeping, which left too many hours stewing in intense emotions in the dark.  Rupture left me sobbing the cry that contorts my face into the most unbecoming positions one night after work.  My daughter tried to offer comfort by hugging my sobbing shoulders with a worried, what-can-I-do-to -help look in her eyes—a true moment of mothering vulnerability.   Rupture forced me to walk into work the next day with red, puffy eyes that left my team teacher and students asking, “What happened to you?”

Rupture didn’t care.  Rupture forced me out of my ego’s version of the pulled together woman and placed me in a space of bottomless pain, darkness, and sadness.  Rupture needed to burst the awesome bubble I keep in order to avoid facing things I am unwilling to process.  Rupture needed me to feel the feelings of longing that I had suppressed for a long time.  Rupture needed me to evaluate my actions and make sure they were in alignment with the vision I held for my life.  Rupture was here to push me out of my comfort zone and into a space where I had no control.  All I could do was surrender and be.  I had to let Rupture rip through my life and obliterate what it needed to.

Rupture was like an erupting volcano.  Explosive. Hot.  Transformative.

Rupture was ugly and messy.

Rupture was necessary.

I had to trust that God had sent Rupture for my evolution and that Resilience would follow.

Some of the friends who read my essay reached out.  They could feel the pain and wanted to help.  They wanted to know what they could do, but I didn’t know.

A friend sat with me in my classroom after school and we talked about Rupture.  He pointed out the blessings of my life—I have a beautiful daughter and a peaceful home, I get to affect and influence over 170 students on a daily basis, and I have an amazing family and supportive friends.  All true!  I know this on a deep, intimate level, but it brought me no solace.

Over the years, I have learned my friends have different strengths, which serve me in various ways.  But, Rupture exposed Truth about two types of friends I have:

One type of friend needs me to be happy, alright, and in a good place.  This kind of friend needs me to be in my awesome bubble because they know how to connect with me there.  This connection is co-dependent because we feed off of my happiness and light.  They leave our interaction a little more uplifted, and I leave our interaction thankful that I didn’t have to be vulnerable.  I could just project happiness and light and not expose that I battle my darkness too.

Then, I have friends who will climb down into the muck and mire of my shitty-swamp and sit.  They know that my muck and mire has nothing to do with them.  It is a creation of my darkness.  As they sit, they hold lanterns of light that help illuminate the path out of my darkness.  They hold up mirrors that reflect my brilliance back to me when I forget.  They hold space for me to grow and pray for my evolvement.  Most importantly, they trust me to return out of the muck and mire because they know that Resilience follows Rupture.  They trust that God is working in me and allow me my process even if that means allowing me the privilege of Rupture.

Henri J.M. Nouwen writes:

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

Resilience has beaconed me from my shitty-swamp.  Like a white lotus flower, a symbol of “in-light-I-was-meant” (enlightenment), I have budded out of the dark muck and mire and bloomed towards the light.  In a season of thanks-giving and gratitude, I am beyond appreciative of my friends who don’t need me to be happy all the time, who allow me to be with my uncomfortable feelings, and who trust me and Resilience.  It takes courage to allow a beloved friend to be authentic, real, and genuine and not every friend has that gift.


Resilience reminds me on a daily basis—if it is God’s Will, my next baby will be in God’s anointed time and not my appointed time.  I am not perfectly healed from Rupture as there is still heaviness on my heart from the thought of not having another child.  But, Rupture came to do what it was intended to do, which was to obliterate my expectations and Resilience is making room for God’s Will.

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