Right now, we’re taking a few days away as a family in the Galilee – one of our go to places when we want to relax and have a change of scene. The children love it here and there’s something about the birdsong in the trees and the shimmering waters of the Kinneret (as the Galilee is called in Hebrew) that instantly fill me with peace.
The picture at the top of this post is a photo I took looking up at the trees as I lay in the hammock outside our holiday cabin.
Everything feels calm and tranquil.
And yet…
The moment I begin to relax, other unwanted thoughts start to intrude into my mind.
Thoughts of war and rockets and sirens and hostages and fallen soldiers and suffering children.
Last night, as I slept in our beautiful cabin beside the serene waters of the Galilee, I had a series of vivid and confusing dreams with an underlying sense of danger. I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep.
Funnily enough, I didn’t feel upset about my disturbed sleep. In a strange sort of way, I actually felt relieved.
I did what I have learnt to do when I wake up in the night. Rather than tossing and turning in bed, or worse, reading the news on my phone, I took my sketch pad and colouring pencils and found a quiet place to sit down to write and draw.
I knew that I needed this time to think things through and process… even if it was in the middle of the night!
I find that during the daytime, I struggle to enter into the sort of emotional realm where processing can happen. I’m busy during the days. The children demand my attention. My schedule is full. To be honest, I’m probably keeping myself busy quite deliberately in order to avoid having to think about painful and confusing realities.
But yet I know that I need to.
And so, deep down, I am actually thankful when my dreams catapult me into the realm of emotional openness. I make good use of these nighttime hours to write and colour and think and grieve. Even if I know I’m going to be tired in the morning, it’s a price worth paying.
I know this process will take time. It’s not the sort of thing I can hurry… as much as I want to.
I look forward to the day when I will be able to talk in the past tense about the horrific realities that are currently all around. I look forward to the insights and pearls of wisdom that some future version of myself will be able to draw from today’s nightmares.
But I’m not there yet.
Right now, things are still splintered and raw. And it’s only in my dreams that I really have the courage to face up to how I’m feeling.
Tomorrow, we’re checking out of our holiday cabin and returning to the busyness of everyday life. Our break hasn’t been long enough. I feel like I need many more days doing nothing at all, just lying in the hammock next to the lake, looking up at the trees and the blue sky beyond.
Nothing feels quite right at the moment, and I don’t really know to make it right.
But still, I am thankful for these days we have had as a famiy, together in a beautiful place. And I am thankful to God’s Holy Spirit in me, waking me up in the night and giving me the grace to cry and work through deep and hidden hurts. I know that this process will lead to healing… it may just take a bit of time.
Higher Than Me 