Heavy winter snow finally turns to rain, releasing itself to spring’s thaw.Rapidly melting piles of plowed snow create a steady stream of water running down the hill and across the city street, softening any hard winter earth that it reaches.
This rapid flow and random softening mirror what has been going on in my heart this season, and at 11:49 pm, March 9, 2015, during the first wake of the night, I type the above writing prompt quickly into the Notes app on my phone.
Write. I remind myself, returning to sleep.
The thing is, I don’t write, at first. I forget. Put off. Will get to it later. I let the tears and the tension pile up. I remain cold and distant. I stay frozen inside. Heavy piles of emotional snow heap up where I have tried to haphazardly shovel the pathway to my heart on my own, by myself, before giving up and shutting down.
There’s too much. It’s too heavy. I can’t do this.
Release isn’t easy for one who would rather hang on and control and figure out alone. It involves opening up and allowing in and sharing honestly from the hard, stuck, frozen places. I do it, though. I pick up the phone to call and reach out and keep trying until someone answers or calls back.
It takes a few tries, but the right person calls back immediately, hearing my heart, speaking warm words of truth, breathing life into the frozen places, helping to clear that haphazard pathway. She affirms what I am feeling and names what I cannot. Tears begin to flow, releasing all that has been held back.
Julie McClay lives in Virginia’s beautiful Shenandoah Valley with her high school sweetheart (and husband of 23 years) and 5 of their 8 children. She is learning that while it can be painful to face the past honestly while living in the moment and looking towards the future, it can be healing and lead to eh the hope of a brighter future. She digs through these thoughts and feelings here.