Sometimes you don’t need someone shouting instructions from outside the cave. You need somebody willing to come inside and sit with you until your eyes remember the light.

 

Hey Everybody,

Have you ever needed somebody to come find you? Not because you were physically lost.

People knew exactly where you were. You went to work. Answered the phone. Showed up for the meeting. Laughed when something was funny. Asked everybody else how they were doing.

You were functioning………And still…some part of you had quietly wandered into a cave.

My mind has been on these types of caves lately.

The emotional spaces we retreat to when life gets too loud, loss comes too frequently, responsibility feels too heavy, or our hearts simply haven’t caught up with everything that has happened.

Every cave isn’t depression and every quiet season isn’t dysfunction.

Sometimes we’re tired, processing, grieving, recalibrating….and sometimes we simply need somewhere dark enough to stop performing for a minute.

I understand this place all to well……

I saw an Instagram post this week that said: “People Know You. They Don’t Always Know What It Takes to Be You.” I’ve been thinking about that statement alot….

People can know your name without knowing your weight. They see what you’ve built or experience your strength.

They benefit from your wisdom and laugh at your humor.

They assume you’ll figure it out……What they don’t always know is what it takes to be you.

They don’t know how many conversations you replay before falling asleep.

How many people you’re praying for. How many things you’re carrying that aren’t yours to publicly explain. How much courage it took to walk into the room looking completely normal. How much grief can sit underneath a genuine smile.

And sometimes…

you don’t want to explain it to anyone……..

You don’t have enough energy to give everybody a guided tour through your heart.

You just need somebody who knows enough to notice.

There’s something sacred about being seen. Not simply observed. Heard or tolerated….but truly

Seen.

Being observed says: “I noticed you were quiet.”

While being seen says: “You’re quieter than usual. I’m here.”

Sometimes being seen is its own kind of rescue. And I for one am truly grateful for it.. People who are able to show up this way I call: Lightbearers.

People who don’t stand outside the cave yelling: “Come on! You need to get out of there!”

They come looking…. They bring a little light and they DON”T use that light to interrogate you.

They use it to help you see. See the moment, see yourself and see God again….

A Lightbearer doesn’t always have an answer.

Sometimes all they have is a dinner, a prayer, a ridiculous meme or text at exactly the right time that simply says “You’ve been on my mind.”

Lightbearers sit beside you without turning your pain into a project. Sometimes they make you laugh when laughter felt far away.

Other times they simply say:

“You don’t have to explain anything. I just wanted you to know you’re not alone.” Thank God for those people.

The ones who don’t require you to become well before they’ll sit with you.

Who can handle your silence without making it about themselves.

The ones know the difference between giving you space and abandoning you to it.

Who aren’t intimidated by your strength and therefore aren’t confused by your softness.

And perhaps someone reading this needs to hear something else…Thank you for being one.

Thank you for the calls, the meals, the prayers. The “pitbull “ persistence in asking the really important second question of :“I know you said you’re okay, but how are you really doing?”

You may never fully know what your presence interrupted…..

I remember studying about the life of Elijah in the Bible. After tremendous victory, we find this powerful prophet depleted, afraid, isolated and eventually hiding in a cave.

I love that Scripture allows us to meet him there. Not only Elijah the prophet or miracle worker calling down fire.

We also meet Elijah tired, scared, overwhelmed.

Human…. and before God gives Elijah some great spiritual revelation, He lets the man sleep and feeds him. Then lets him sleep again, then God feeds him again. I love that because sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is eat something and go to bed.

Apparently, heaven understood this principle before wellness culture did. 😂

Later, Elijah encounters God through a gentle whisper. maybe there’s something in that too.

Not everything God does in us happens loudly sometimes healing arrives quietly.

One conversation… breath……or one laugh.

One safe person.

One moment when you suddenly realized: I felt joy today.

I’m learning to notice small joy. I’m not waiting for the vacation or special days or the perfect week. I’m talking about little stuff like ridiculous text from a friend or a song in the car.

Ten uninterrupted minutes to yourself….Laughing so hard you briefly forget what you’ve been worried about.

A memory that finally makes you smile before it makes you cry.

Taking a deep breath and realizing your shoulders have been sitting somewhere near your ears all day.

Little moments.

I’m counting them ALL …….. because sometimes joy arrives as evidence that my heart is still open and that grief hasn’t taken everything.

Evidence that hard things and beautiful things can occupy the same life.

Psalm 30:5 tells us that “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”

I’m beginning to understand that morning doesn’t always arrive all at once.

Sometimes morning comes in inches. ….A little light under the door.

Then a little more……Then enough to see the room maybe joy returns that way too.

I’ve been thinking about hope differently.

Hope isn’t pretending. It isn’t positive thinking with a Bible verse attached.

Hope is the quiet belief that what I can see right now isn’t the entirety of the story.

Hope leaves room for God…..I don’t know how. I don’t know when….I don’t know what this looks like on the other side.

Still…

I believe there is more.

Hebrews 6:19 calls hope an “anchor of the soul.” Anchors don’t stop storms they keep us from drifting away inside them. Some days hope is bold other days hope sounds like:

“God, help me make it through today.”

Both count.

Two Things I’m Carrying This Week

1. You don’t have to disappear because you need space.

There’s a difference between solitude that restores you and isolation that slowly convinces you nobody cares.

Take your space…..Rest….. Turn down the noise…..Cancel something….Pray….Cry….Sleep.

Find something that makes you laugh and leave a door unlocked somewhere.

Let one safe person know where you are emotionally.

You don’t have to tell everybody everything.

Just don’t become so committed to protecting your peace that nobody can reach you inside it.

Being capable doesn’t make you invincible. Let somebody carry the flashlight for a minute.

2. Don’t wait until life feels lighter to look for light.

Joy doesn’t disrespect grief. Laughter doesn’t mean you weren’t hurting.

Rest doesn’t mean you stopped caring. A beautiful moment in a difficult season isn’t betrayal.

Take it. Take the breath….the nap….the lunch.

Answer the friend’s call….Play the song… As one of my sisters always reminds me stand outside and let the sun hit your face……

Thank God for five minutes when your heart didn’t feel quite so heavy.

Maybe finding joy isn’t pretending the cave isn’t dark. Maybe it’s simply noticing somebody left a candle burning for you.

I’ve spent a lot of my life being a lightbearer… And maybe you have too.

Encouraging….Helping….Leading….Praying….Making people laugh….Holding space.

Reminding people that tomorrow exists.

That’s special and sacred work. but I’m learning…

Lightbearers need Lightbearers too…. even the person carrying the flashlight gets tired.

Even the encourager needs encouragement.

And the leader needs somewhere to sit down.

People may know your story and they may even love you deeply.

And still…

they may never fully know what it takes to be you.

God does…..Every breath….every private tear…. every thought you didn’t say…every moment you almost gave up..every time you showed up anyway.

Every cave……every hiding place……GOD sees you.

And every once in a while, I believe He sends somebody carrying just enough light to remind you.

So thank God for the lightbearers.

Thank God for the people willing to come looking…..

Thank God for the ones who sit.

Thank God for the ones who stay.

And if you’ve been carrying light for somebody lately…

Thank you for being a Lightbearer.

You may have thought you were simply checking in.

They may have experienced it as God whispering:

“I still see you.”

Carry your light gently this week and when your light feels a little dim…

please let somebody come find you too.

PS. ( Thank you for coming to look for me and shining light in the cave. 😉)

I’ll meet you back at HOME.

— LJ