This morning, after my shower, I opened up my little pot of face cream.
When I peered inside, it looked empty. (Darn.) I really can’t afford to buy another jar of that cream right now. (Double darn.) But upon closer inspection, I spotted at least two generous swipes of cream just under the rim of the jar! (Hooray!)
As I smoothed the cream over my freshly washed face, I looked in the mirror and thought of all of the creams I’ve probably wasted in the past. Back when I had a lot of money, a jar that likely had some remaining goodness lurking under the rim was easily discarded. It was much nicer to buy a new jar than to deal with a jar that required the use of my pinky and a bit of extra effort.
That’s just how I was when I had money.
In fact, I remember tossing out more than one tube of toothpaste with loads of product still in it simply because I didn’t like how the flattened tube looked in my drawer! But now? I’ll try to squeeze the very soul out of a tube of toothpaste, and even settle for the suggestion of minty paste on my bristles if I have to…
There’s usually more than you think left inside of used up things if you’re willing to look for it…
I know that now.
I’ve made a lot of discoveries about myself during the past decade or so of my life, and writing it all down and then posting these discoveries as blog entries constantly reminds me of the many layers of life lessons that have deeply humbled me and redefined the life I lead now.
It all started with the loss of the many things in my world that I took for granted, and never expected to have to live without. But slowly, the struggle and the strain wore me down, and then… I nearly lost the most important parts of myself. All of the honesty, goodness, and belief I had inside of my heart got used up, and… I got so very, very lost.
When I look back on the person I was when I returned from England, I feel like I resembled my jar of face cream today. When the lid was on, I was contained, and no one knew how little was left inside of me.
But I did.
I spent my entire time away emptying myself. I beat myself up, poured myself out, and tried to rid my mind and heart of every deceitful thought that had no Truth. I even attempted to kill the storyteller in me in case she wasn’t safe to indulge anymore. But that part of me seems to be mostly untouchable.
I sense the storyteller in me holds the roadmap back to myself, and to my greater purpose…
But I suffered through moments of sheer hatred for who I had become, and for how I had chosen to face my most enduring life challenges; and, I discovered moments of grace and understanding that comforted me inside of my stillness. I confessed my thoughts and fears out loud — and in secret — and most nights, I cried myself to sleep. I begged God to show me the way, but I also told Him how tired I was.
The emptiness that I had created physically hurt.
But I had this remnant of hope that something worth saving was hiding underneath the rim of the seemingly empty container called me. I realized that it might be easier to toss out the old and try to find something new, but easier isn’t always better. Easier isn’t always right. The wise girl in me already knew that empty could be refilled — if you don’t throw away the jar. And, upon closer inspection, there was still love inside of me…
