Let Me Miss Out

If you read my previous blog post about healing in the hallway, this builds on that.

If healing in the hallway is about surrendering to the in-between, then this post is about what happens next—when you're there longer than you expected and your fears of being forgotten start whispering louder than your faith.

What I believe is true underneath the tension of feeling lost in our "hallways" is this lie: that there is no value in waiting for something good to come around.

I think we live in a culture that conditions us for instant gratification and a quick lifestyle.

But when we finally surrender to God and say “yes” to His timing, it also means we say “no” to so many other things.

I remember when I quit my gym. I was so nervous. I was nervous to tell my trainer I wasn’t coming back—or at least that I didn’t know when I was gonna come back. I was scared of disappointing him. I was scared of being “cast out” of the group and forgotten. I was scared they would say things about me when I wasn’t there. I was scared the group of women I got so close to would forget about me. I was scared that unless I was the one to constantly show up and reach out, I would be left at the curb.

Maybe you’ve felt this way on your athletic team, at your job, in your friend group, or in a relationship. You keep showing up—not because you want to, but because you feel like you have to. Like if I don’t, they won’t… and then everything will fall apart.

One thing I learned was that in order to have peace and freedom in my life, I had to take the risk of letting go. I had to stare down my fear of being forgotten, talked about, and misplaced—and choose myself over any of the perceived negative consequences I was sure were going to happen to me.

If you’re anything like me, I’m scared to be left behind. I’m scared that if I don’t pursue, no one will pursue me.

So I become the one who always shows up—for everyone, for everything—until I’m completely worn out. I’ll plan the party, host it, show up with bells on, and make sure everyone’s having a great time. I’m an integrated overachiever, a recovering people-pleaser, and an all-around limit chaser.

This fear of being forgotten or rejected has kept me bitter, resentful, and burned out longer than I care to admit. Because what will I have without all these things? What will I have without this relationship, without the approval of my friends, my boss, my parents?

But here’s what I’ve learned in the silence, in the absence of all these things:The world keeps spinning. Life moves on. And actually—everything in the world is not, in fact, held together by me.

That would be God. And that’s most definitely not me.

Yet I pretend my inner world is controlled by me.

And I was—and still am—wrong.

It’s a lesson I continually learn: to let go. To let things drop. To allow for dead space, white space, quiet, and peace. To not be the one to text first. To be the one who chooses myself and my peace—and lets others take responsibility for how they respond.

And maybe their response is radio silence.But in that silence, I now know where I stand. I can separate truth from lies.

Lies tell me I am unloved and will never be chosen.The truth is: people who truly love me, love me when I choose me—when I enforce my boundaries and when I pursue a life of peace over a life of chaos and constant pursuit.

I’ve been so blessed to see, in this hallway season of life, who has come and walked beside me. Not carrying me. Not offering an escape. Just being present. Letting me walk myself through a hard time. Even when I have nothing to offer them other than my presence—that’s enough.

And that’s so encouraging. It puts the devil in his place—the one in my mind who told me I was unwanted and unloved—and instead shows me I am deeply loved and not forgotten.

Not only has God shown me this truth through others, but through Himself.God doesn’t just tolerate my slowness—He waits with me. He doesn’t rush me forward—He paces with me. Even when I don’t have someone to walk the hallway with me, He is still there. He walks the hallway in silence with me—sometimes reminding me where I’m headed, and sometimes just giving me the confidence to know I am not alone. I am not lost. And I am loved.

So if you’re afraid of what will fall apart when you let go, I want to remind you: What’s meant for you won’t pass you by. Let it fall apart. Let the rumors spread. Let the disapproval come. Because on the other side of letting things fall apart is letting God show you how everything comes back together.

He has made everything beautiful and appropriate in its time. Even you.

He has also planted eternity [a sense of divine purpose] in the human heart [a mysterious longing which nothing under the sun can satisfy, except God]—yet man cannot find out (comprehend, grasp) what God has done (His overall plan) from the beginning to the end.

—Ecclesiastes 3:11 (AMPC)

Love you.