Womanly Wednesday: A Guest Post On Being Torn

Today’s Womanly Wednesday post is by a woman whose friendship has impacted me deeply.  Taylor Thomas is not only an amazing artist (check out her website here), but also a compassionate friend whose joy and authentic desire to know and love people show me Jesus on a daily basis.  She asks the best questions, has the most ridiculous sense of humor (and the highest pitched squeals of joy), and expresses the deepest, most broken parts of her heart more poetically and honestly than anyone I know.  She was the co-maid of honor at my wedding with Haley George, and is closer to my heart than just about anyone.  It  is an honor to have her share in this space today.  

Being torn is being okay.

Torn,
Between what I can see and what I cannot
Between what is and what isn’t
Between longing and satisfaction
Between prayer and praise
Between the embark and the arrival
Between who I am and who I will be tomorrow
And the next day
And the next day
In-between.

Torn, 1 (detail)

I could have settled—in fact, I felt myself settling. Let me take you back to the day that I decided to apply for graduate school:

After a good four months of talking myself out of the notion of returning to school, I received a nudge (a.k.a. a much-needed kick in the butt) from a person who saw more potential in me than I dared to see in myself. Waves of “why would you NOT do this?” pulsed from behind my eyes, but my response? —I’m going to wait it out, sit here, stare at this screen, this email, until the proposition feels less scary. You see, my past experiences with school were anything but easy. I never knew a period of study to be anything other than consuming, leaving me mentally and physically unhealthy. For a girl who hates her struggle with control, I had reason to hesitate over the choice to enter a situation that had always reared my battle.

So, I froze on my bedroom floor. But only long enough to understand that my body and my mind are not made to be stagnant.

Sound of Stagnancy

Are we made to be stilled? —yes. Made to know peace? —yes. But made to be stagnant would require a stripping of an intrinsic longing for growth—and this, we all have.

I think everyone can resonate with the feeling of wanting to grow. Mine, particularly, felt like a thirst for more—a “more” I couldn’t describe, but wished to grab. Art has been an increasingly life-giving process over the past two years, and I have grown into a style and voice that I can call “my own.” There has always been this bigger vision for my work, and my purpose, that I have been given glimpses of—whether it be through the power of dialogue surrounding a piece, or other artists who have made marks on the world. I see the way a mark on a canvas can make a mark on a person. My heart pounds for that impact. I want to grow past the boundaries that any state of stagnancy would allow. Hence I made my choice: I will move.

Taylor and her cat (also named Taylor)

If I were a perfect imperfect person, perhaps I could tell you that once I made the decision to attend San Francisco Art Institute, I moved forward like a sailboat on serenity-blessed waters. But, in true Taylor fashion, I have skidded across the last few months of preparation like a roller skate with faulty breaks. Confronting fear and releasing control is hardly a one-time-choice kind of act. I didn’t realize that saying “Yes! I will go!” meant trusting God with all aspects of this opportunity He placed in my hands. And I was trying daily, weekly, to plan, to mentally prep, and to brace myself before things unraveled to quickly without my consent.

Torn, II (detail)

Finally, a sweet friend opened my eyes to how much I could actually enjoy the unknowns that I was fighting so hard against. I will never forget his words:

 “The reality is, you made this proclamation to run with trust toward 8 weeks of growth and adventure…only to try your hardest to figure out what every inch of the adventure will look like and require. Imagine it like this: God says, “Hey Taylor, you get to go on a 4 hour hike to an unbelievable peak today!” And you proceeded to pack a bag: a case full of water, food for 10 weeks, a GPS system, a flashlight, 12 batteries, a toiletry pouch, a dresser for clothes, and a list to remind you of “what to do when…” What else would God be asking other than, “Why in the world are you packing a bag? Don’t you know, I’ve got you?”

Tower Over, Tuck Me In

That moment changed me, and changes me still; I am given a breath, every time I go back to the truth that God is holding and keeping me as I walk the unknowns of His process.”

With that truth in mind, I go back to my initial statement that being torn is being okay. I consider this life to be one in which choices come with our every breath, and being torn [a.k.a. not fully together, not all the way there, still in-between one place and the next] is precisely the position for dependence on God.

Torn, I

Torn, II

I still yearn daily for the ability to see and prepare for what is coming. But along with the feeling that my comfort, success, or understanding is at risk, comes the overwhelming assurance of God’s goodness. He gives—so that there can be glimpses that bring me excitement. There can be answers to prayers worth anticipating. There can promises that I count as already fulfilled, and ones to be filled again and again.

As I find myself flailing around in my first day in San Francisco, I still feel the fear in my belly. But smiles that do come are not forced; for they result from this:

This I know, is good. This:
Stack full of cards,
the friends who wrote them
scent of home
I can carry at heart.
My knees how they wobbled
and packing that bag
my mom and her hands
sealed it and me, tight.
Talk of that time
I sobbed trepidation,
the folding of fear
as it weakened itself.
“I cannot contain it,”
a purpose that murmurs
over one hurdle, to
stampede the next
streamers that curl
in place of caution. Tape
to hold
my colors inside.
A pastel yielded
to dust as it made
marks, sifted self
and lessened my pride.
The sight of my own
body, boxed by white walls,
spills-out, builds-up, up-
roots, cleaned to create.
Memory to serve me
well: I’ve been cracking
but broken breaks out
with more life to its song,
the feeling that right
came up from the wrong.

There is unbelievable peace when you recognize that as long as there are unseeable things, there are pockets to fill with dreaming. There is an endurance that ignites one’s walk when the process of feeling the legs move becomes more satiating than the thought of an end.

Being torn, is the same as being held
In-between. One can learn to love this place.

I’m not kidding when I say this girl is an incredibly talented artist and writer.  Check out her website here or like her on Facebook to see pictures and updates about her beautiful art and stories!   You can find our other Womanly Wednesday posts here.  Feel free to stick around and explore the blog, click any of the buttons below to find Sobremesa Stories on social media, or enter your email here to get posts sent right to your inbox!