As we played in the backyard, Wesley chased my shadow across the fence line. His little voice shouted “mama, mama” as he followed it with outstretched arms. His little two-year-old hands grasping air said it all—it was there but not there enough to grasp or hold tight to.
Sometimes I feel like a shadow of myself, lost in my thoughts, overwhelmed by my circumstances, and overstimulated by my life. It’s as if I’m watching my life from afar, somewhere high above the ground but still close enough to see it all play out. I’m often a spectator standing to the side rather than being an active participant in my own life. Sometimes I would rather be in the audience rather than the star of my own show.
I think we all experience this type of shadow-living at times. We merely exist instead of living. We’re either stuck in the hard stuff and going through the motions or we are avoiding something and unsure how to move forward. I’ve had moments—entire seasons even—where I’ve looked back and wondered how I even go there. Did I simply pass through space like a vapor? Did I float to this point as a shadow, not really there or awake to life?
But we have to come back to ourselves somehow—fully immersed in our life, shadow and body as one. I’m still asking the question of “how can I come back to myself—wholehearted and fully present?” I long to reach a place of fullness, but I often retreat to the shadows where it feels safe and out of reach of my son’s grasping hands or life’s expectations or the hard stuff that breaks down my armor.
The only answer that I come back to is God: remembering who he is and who he created me to be. Remembering the call he’s given me and the purpose he’s placed beneath my feet. Remembering his goodness in my life that beckons me on toward wholeness and oneness within myself.
I am created to be plentiful. I am called to do more than live in the shadows of my life. I am predestined with value and purpose that cannot come from the places I hide. A half-lived life is not the purpose God has given me. I can no longer call the shadows home.
It’s only by God that I can return to myself and the fullness of me, the multitudes I contain and exude. I am not a shadow, and I seek to find myself once more.
Today, when we return to the backyard, Wesley will seek my shadow once more. As he calls out “mama, mama” I’ll step forward into the light. I will allow his grasping hands to find me and pull me close. I will tell him, “I am here. I am fully awake to this life.”
Lauren, you have a TRUE gift sweetie. I love hearing your thoughts and reading your words. Your insight is so deep and meaningful. Thank you for always opening my mind and heart.