full [ fool ]
adjective,
completely filled; containing all that can be held; filled to utmost capacity
I’ve been using this word a lot recently.
Full.
It’s been a full last few weeks.
It’s been a full whole year.
My mind is full.
My heart is full.
My hands are full.
I would often associate this word solely with positive images and feelings - a full belly after a large meal, a heart bursting full of gladness, fields full of beautiful sunflowers - but more recently I have been using this adjective to incapsulate all that life has been churning out; no longer cherry-picking the good from the bad.
One of my favourite times of the year is Christmas. The way the air smells different as the crispness of winter whips about the face; the cozy rooms lit by candles and scented with oranges and cloves; the closeness of family and dear friends; the way time stops still and we can entirely forget what day it is in the presence of those we love. When I think of all the warmth of feeling full, I think of Christmas Day and my post-feasting belly as I curl up in the couch and watch a movie with my family that I may, or may not, fall asleep to. There is a contentedness that comes with this sensation; a knowledge that ‘everything is well with my soul’.
That sense of fullness has been hard to capture in the past year.
Instead, when catching up with friends, I find myself trying to find words to describe what my days have looked or felt like since we last sat and connected. My mind runs over the time that has passed, logging events that have happened, interwoven with the daily rhythms of chores and the highlights of Freedom’s face or Phillip’s tender gaze.
Life is full.
As I sit and let myself be present with my heart in this moment, a lump has formed in my throat and tears have encircled my eyes. My heart is full of the stories of those I am walking through life with in this season, feeling the pressure of the burdens they carry as I lean in to hear their voices. The friends who are longing to get pregnant, the one who is walking through divorce, those who are seeking to find a life mate, the ones wrestling with their faith and those crying out to be seen, to be heard, to receive justice. Then just outside this circle of intimacy are all of the stories which come sailing through the cracked bedroom windows and from the ever-blinking phones - the stories of the neighbourhood, the outside world, the news cycles and hashtag trends, the atrocities and triumphs which rock our world and cause our systems to shake and tremble.
My heart and mind is full of all these things, trying to give adequate space to every part and chapter, every person and voice, whilst also scraping up enough scraps of time for moments like this - being present with my own heart. It is in the quiet of my room and in the space which these words create, that I experience an emptying, a letting go, a breathing and releasing.
To be full is to exist at your utmost capacity. There is no room for the more until you allow yourself the space to pour the excess out, until you give yourself permission for a little emptying. Our souls weren’t created with the capacity to hold the whole world’s sorrows. Only God can do that. We were not built with the ability to hold every story’s tensions without some outside help. We are not superhuman; we are humans being.
If you’re like me, perhaps you find yourself feeling full all the time and with little capacity left to hold another thing, another heart, another story, another event. Can I invite you to join me in a little time of pouring out? Would you pick up that small scrap of time which you were about to discard, and instead shape it with me into something you can treasure?
Find some paper and a pen, or if that is too old school for you, open your laptop and click open a blank page. Turn on some Ludovico Einaudi, or maybe Sad Moses, or William Augusto. Make sure the lighting is just right, maybe light a candle, open a window, set the scene of your room to one of peace. Now sit with these questions, let them enter your heart and roll over your tongue. There is no right or wrong response, you will not be graded in whatever words you allow to hit the page. My simple charge to you is let your heart pour out the truth, let it exhale all of its excess, and in doing so find the capacity to be once again.
What does it feel like to be you right now?
What emotions are you experiencing in this moment?
What have you been thinking about as you’ve sat and read this blog?
What stories / tensions / people are you holding, and how are they making you feel?
What helps you feel connected to hope right now?
What parts of Scripture (if any) have been helping you connect to God / hope / faith recently?
What is delighting your heart in this moment?
Upcoming event:
Check out The Refresh Gathering coming up on Saturday April 10th, hosted by my dear friend Danielle Beckmann and the incredible Dr. Barbara Shabazz. A workshop space designed to invest back into you!
