Folks in the Carolinas spend a week on the coast in the summer. There are campgrounds, motels, hotels, and houses for people to enjoy the warm Atlantic Ocean. When I was a little girl, our family took a road trip to the Outer Banks, a detour from our usual trip to Myrtle Beach. We had a purple gremlin hatchback, not ideal for traveling long distances.
The two-door was an absolute shitshow for two small kids on a five-hour drive to the beach, so Mom rented a Lincoln Continental. That G-ride kept the two of us from hitting and whining the whole time and probably gave my parents a break from the glorious gremlin.
The Outer Banks of NC are fun for families. The area has five beautiful lighthouses to visit, beach houses on stilts, sunshine for days, fried popcorn shrimp, tartar sauce, and hushpuppies. Another crowd favorite is the Wright Brothers Museum. If you’ve ever flown in an airplane, it’s because the Wright Brothers invented it and successfully flew the first plane in Kitty Hawk, one of the oldest outer banks communities.
The brothers tried and failed many times on Kill Devil Hills, home of the largest sand dune on the east coast. Our parents thought it would be good to make us climb it, a noble choice I am sure my mother deeply regretted. It was hotter than hell and half of Georgia, and my mood was sour. Did I want to climb and see historic NC sites that I’d studied that year in fourth grade? Obviously. Did my parents forget that we were on Kill DEVIL hills? Absolutely.
Mom, Dad, and my brother made it to the top of the dune and picked me up on their way down. The only thing I remember is refusing to climb to the top. My legs felt like concrete, and my belly ached with the tension of wanting to finish with my family and deciding I couldn’t. I refused to go further, sinking into the sand in stubbornness and frustration. Tears stung the back of my eyes, and the lump in my throat threatened to wail, but I controlled myself with anger and anxiety. If I could put on a mean face like I didn’t care and if I could worry myself sick over disappointing my parents, then I wouldn’t have to deal with the hurt I felt over being pushed to finish. I’m sure I wanted to cry and connect but instead went numb and isolated.
The other thing I remember about that trip? It was my all-time favorite family vacation. That’s the beauty of togetherness. We push and pull, hem and haw but find a way to intertwine ourselves again.
Little Ashley is still teaching me. I revisit my memory of Kill Devil Hills often because I see this pattern of total honesty and fear of vulnerability in my life. (Am I an 8w9 to the tee? Yes.) Quitting the right things comes naturally to me. It does not even make me feel bad. Start a lousy book? Honey, you won’t see me finishing it. Discover a person is toxic? Girl, Jesus will never leave you, but I will. Realize that a career path is more of a burden than a blessing? Watch me ugly pirouette while pivoting, baby. To this day, I don’t regret not finishing the climb. I stayed true to myself and my body. But as a child, I didn’t know how to do that vulnerably.
My pattern is to skip over hurt and tiredness in favor of anger and anxiety.
Monday, two friends at my church hosted a night of lament for gun violence in America. We read Psalm 13, and you may be familiar with this one because it starts with, “How long, Lord?” At this point, the phrase is guttural.
During our community shares, we listened, cried together, and when it was my turn to share, I confessed that I was going numb. I am struggling to connect to the volume of tragedies. I cannot keep up. I am overwhelmed as a mother, a person, and a follower of the way. It takes significant energy to stay soft.
Tears are critical to my tenderness. What is crucial to yours?
As I listened to others share their stories, as we grieved together, sat silently in community, and read a psalm of lament, I felt my heart of stone yield to a heart of flesh. Lament leads to acceptance, which I believe is the foundation for integrity and trust. It is a path of repentance and praise. I repent, Lord, from my pride and tendency to hide my hurt and not deal with exhaustion. I am sorry for the anger that helps me hide and the anxiety that keeps me isolated. Lament always tells the truth. In pain and suffering, we are not hiding the reality that living is terrifying. The prophet Jeremiah warns against sugar coating when he says1:
“They dress the wound of My people with very little care, saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace at all.”
When we lament, we express to God the honest sorrow and outrage we feel over our personal lives, communities, and nations. Then, we ask God to respond to our pain and make a request for him to do something about it. Lament in scripture also inspires us to remember the faithfulness of God who has delivered us in the past and praise the one true God who is good even when the world is not.
Will you allow yourself a moment today to lament? To trust that this ancient spiritual practice will lead to deeper connection and tenderness? If you feel so led, sit still and upright, perhaps with your palms open, and take three deep belly breaths. If you see your chest rise, try again. Rest. I’ll leave you with Psalm 132 that ministered deeply to me (again). Notice what phrase stands out to you and why. Pay attention to your body. Where is God as you practice this time of stillness? What are you longing for, asking for, believing for? Consider recounting your repeated deliverance. May the Lord bless you, sustain you, and remind you that your vulnerability is not weakness but strength.
I am blessing you today, beloved. Go with God, our Mother-Father, in good grace.
O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever?
How long will you look the other way?
How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul,
with sorrow in my heart every day?
How long will my enemy have the upper hand?
Turn and answer me, O Lord my God!
Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die.
Don’t let my enemies gloat, saying, “We have defeated him!”
Don’t let them rejoice at my downfall.
But I trust in your unfailing love.
I will rejoice because you have rescued me.
I will sing to the Lord
because he is good to me2.
Jeremiah 6:14
Psalm 13 NLT