Scrolling our Stories

Maybe you feel it too.

How the highlight reel of others stunning views can light up the screen and spill over into the sameness of our own everyday.

How the full arms, fresh newborn faces,  families gathered, glasses raised in celebratory cheer can land on the hollow of lonely heart and empty space. 

The celebrations, gifts opened and children growing, relational trust  deepened over years of living and loving,  and magical moments feeling like movie scenes.

The catalogued squares of dreams chased, homes built, goals accomplished, travel taken and  victories celebrated – hollowing deeper our own lack.

The beauty created – paintings and poetry, embroideries stitched and scenery sketched, words written and lyrics lifted –  beauty, so much beauty bearing witness to the resilience of others – as our own souls feel stifled, sad.

The visions and mission statements, the courage  and clarity of others running fast in the marathon of life can find us  in our own slow  fog of not knowing. 

And we know – we know it is not all there is. The families gathered warm and smiling and together in the squares – not picturing the noise and mess and chaos, the tears and arguments and exhaustion behind the smiles and sheen. 

The highlight reel of stunning views only a snapshot in the sameness of anothers everyday life. 

The beauty created – words written and songs shared – spun together at their own deep.cost of tragedy and loss – moments of solitude, constraint and persevering in pain. 

The vision and courage and clarity of others a moment in time – not detailing their own hours in the fog of frustration, the loneliness of lagging behind, the perseverance of pressing on through pain. 

It’s not all there is – we know.

But what if it IS still there?

What if the warmth and joy and beauty and vision and togetherness is present – and we are missing it? 

And so we stop. 

And close our screens and shut our eyes to the noise and instead of scrolling the stories of others we scroll slowly through our own.

Taking note of the absences – the no longers, and not -yets, maybe never – will – be ‘s. 

We pay attention to the catch in our throat, the sting, the ache that surfaces. 

We grieve what is lost or never was found in the folds of our own stories in the present of our own day – to – day. 

We grieve what others might hold as our arms ache empty – we grieve what they have been given that for us has been taken away or never was to be.

Mothers close. Fathers present. Babies to treasure.  Children to grow.  Love to deepen over years of commitment. Health to carry into each day.  Focus for goals. Time. Capacity. Energy. Togetherness. Travel to beauty and people loved. Finances. Provision.  Creativity. Community. Communication. Safety. Home  to exhale and breathe peace.

AND THEN. 

We look long enough to pay attention to the warmth that gathers, the peace that settles, the memories that bring hope as we scroll through the years. 

We celebrate the beauty of love finding and filling in unexpected places. Presence coming close in the grief – friendships deepened in new and beautiful ways. 

We celebrate the homes we have found in places we didn’t know to look, tables gathered around that have enriched our world, moments when our empty arms were filled .

We celebrate perspectives shifted to see new views right where we are, beauty surfacing in the deep dark of a winter night. 

We celebrate the pinpricks of purpose and clarity and vision connecting one small dot at a time. The perseverance to push through the fog –  seeing the moments of light breaking through in the texture of our own storied sky.

We celebrate beauty created from our own pens and paper and paint and lives lived   – scattered through difficult days but present – even in the stifling and constraints. 

And as we scroll through the years we see MORE.

More presence. More beauty. More purpose. More resilience and vision and stunning views close to home. More celebration that we are living and breathing and stepping courageous into tomorrow. 

We see just how far we HAVE come. And just how much we DO hold. 

And maybe we don’t need it all. All we see spilling across squares of light as we scroll. 

We need just enough. 

And perhaps we will find it – right here in the folds of our very own stories ❤

“Gratitude turns what we have into enough” Melody Beattie