…. She has not said a whole sentence yet, I thought to myself. She was silent. She was in tune with where I was in my life and the journey I was going on through my heart. I collapsed into my chair. We start rocking, sipping tea, and I begin to tell her how I tired I am. For the next 45 minutes or so, I have painted a picture of what my week looked like, explained everyone I met with, explained the things I had sacrificed, and how exhausted I was at not understanding a balance between giving myself to my community and knowing who I was without that self-appointed role.
Here is why I come back to this porch and this woman week after week. She looked at me and said quite compassionately but matter-of-factly, “Do you think you are noble for doing all of those things? Do you think you are noble for dying to yourself? Who are you dying to Martha?” I of course fired back that I’m dying to my calling and to Jesus. This woman knows when I have taught myself a truth that is in fact, not true. “Are you?” she asked. Again, the silence.