I am a feelings person. I am not shy of my feelings in the least. On the contrary, sometimes I am too connected to my emotions. But because of that, when the big ones roll around I am often wary. There are seasons— of grief, of pain, of fear, of change— when it feels like even one more thing will be too much to hold. If it were a staring contest, I’d blink first. But unacknowledged emotions don’t just go away. Ignored things rarely do. But in a year like most of us are having, what can we possibly do with everything we’re feeling, particularly if we don’t have the time or the energy to address them head on?
There is a children’s picture book about a duckling named Daisy and her mom. The duckling wanders here and there distracted by the things that ducklings get distracted by, and her mother gently and patiently calls behind her, “Come along, Daisy!” For some reason, this struck me, and I have adopted it for myself. When one of the big, earth-shaking emotions makes itself known to me and I don’t know quite what to do with it, I turn with as much gentleness and curiosity as I can towards it and say “Come along.” I frequently say things to myself such as “Come along, anxiety. We’re going to go do the dishes.” Or, “Come along, grief. We’re going for a walk.”
It’s a funny image, but it works. This change in posture towards what I’m feeling has been tremendously helpful. As someone who identifies strongly with my emotions, it helps to acknowledge them, to give them space to teach me, and in a strange sense to honor them. But it also helps to limit their sphere of influence. I can listen to them and learn from them, but they aren’t the whole picture.
But this shift didn’t come along (pun intended) all on its own. It is rooted in something deeper. In this season of big emotions, the verse that keeps coming back to me is from Isaiah 41:10:
…do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
This passage reminds me of something deep and true— I do not need to be strong enough, capable enough, or brave enough, to tackle what I am feeling. God already is, and God with me. Henri Nouwen has a lot to say about facing the hard stuff, too, and his words have been an incredible encouragement to me. He reminds us that Jesus has triumphed against all the things that scare us— all the brokenness, all the death, all the injustice, all the things we feel like we can never possibly address. It may not feel like it now, but the victory is assured. In his powerful book The Inner Voice of Love, originally a journal of spiritual imperatives written to himself in the midst of turmoil, he writes:
“Trust the victory and let your mind and emotions gradually be converted to the truth. You will experience new joy and new peace as you let that truth reach every part of your being. Don’t forget: victory has been won, the powers of darkness no longer rule, love is stronger than death.
Henri Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love, p. 92
It is this reminder that gives me the courage to speak with gentleness, curiosity, and patience towards my overwhelming feelings or thoughts. God is with us. God strengthens us and helps us. God upholds us. The dark and overwhelming things aren’t the end of the story. It may not look like it, or feel like it, but because we know this, we can turn to our terrifying feelings and say “come along.”
Wellspring 