I had a panic attack this morning. I feel weird telling you that - I don't have them often, and I'm not sure how I feel about defining myself that way, but I told you about one a few Christmases ago, and got so many comforting "you're not alone" messages that I'm pretty sure you understand.
(I was listening to a podcast about attachment and the different effects kids bear through their lives because of the ways their parents respond / don't respond to their needs in early childhood. And while I had learned all this before, I had learned it vaguely and out of context - I mean, it was before I had kids, so I didn't really understand. Hearing it while the effects of my parenting are walking around the house is a whole new kettle of fish.) The weight of all the things I might have messed up / inevitably will continue to mess up felt heavy, emotionally, and suddenly I was fighting the worst heartburn. Nothing made it go away. And then I realized - this isn't heartburn, not THAT kind of heartburn. My body was feeling the pressure of my feelings and freaking out.
And God sent me relief, in the form of a knock at the door. It was my neighbour, popping over for coffee.
As I measured out the grounds, poured water into the reservoir, scooped sugar, added cream, my body calmed. I asked about her weekend, and talked through a dilemma she was facing. The heartburn-tightness ebbed away, and after the door closed behind her I was able to consider and pray through my fears more rationally and without physical pain.
I think He sent her to remind me of the backward beauty of Christmas -
To love my neighbour.
To give.
To pour out.
Because loving others brings strength to me; blessing another blesses myself -
Whoever brings blessing will be enriched, and one who waters will himself be watered.(Proverbs 11:25)
Love poured out strengthens the pourer.
Happy pouring, dear friends.
xo.
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