Surrendered Embrace 

“I believe that all of our lives we’re looking for home and if we’re really lucky, we find it in someone’s loving arms. I think that’s what life is—coming home.” 

–Anita Krizzan

“Leave your bags at the door”, that is the phrase impressed on my heart during my prayer time soon after the new year. Not just one word for the year but a sentence. This could have taken on a weighty or demanding tone yet I felt relief. It was instead a gentle, light and gracious invitation. The way a loved one might welcome you home after a long and weary journey. Taking your bags before entering the house and then pulling you into a secure, all encompassing embrace. All the burdens, weariness and weight from the journey rolling off, relief and comfort washing over all your senses. 

My word last year was freedom. In many ways through the year, God taught me what His freedom looked and felt like. He revealed this to me by his peaceful presence in very tiring times. As well as through his compassionate presence in past pain, giving me breakthroughs to more complete healing. God very tenderly revealed to me the ways I have functioned as a burden bearer most of my life and the ways it was beginning to take a toil on me physically and emotionally. The invitation to release my burdens into His more than capable hands was extended to me time and time again throughout this last year. 

Even so, I have struggled to surrender all that burdens me. This season has felt like walking with forced effort upon shifting sand. Between an ailing parent and children morphing too fast into young adults, things are changing way too fast. I want to hold tight as if in letting go I fear I will fall into a dark unknown abyss. Yet it is the burdens that I attempt to wear like ill-fitting armor that will eventually weigh me down and pull me under. 

A treasured memory comes back to me with the words, “Leave your bags at the door”. I smell the warm welcoming aroma of gardenias. The front door to my grandparents home opening wide. My grandpa greets me with a smile and takes me in his arms enveloping me in the biggest bear hug ever. A wave of relief washes over me and I breathe in his presence and his love. The weariness and worry sliding off my shoulders. My heart felt lighter, more free. I was home again. 

In this season of constant shifting sand, I can stand strong in the One who is and will always be my firm foundation. Resting in the truth that I am invited into a lighter way of living. Free to surrender my heavy load at the feet of Jesus. He unwaveringly and ever patiently waits to welcome me home into His stable, secure, all encompassing embrace. 

“Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.””

Matthew 11:28-30 NLT

I stumbled upon this prayer in the Lectio 365 app after receiving the words, “Leave your bags at the door.” It was confirmation for me that this indeed was a word from the Lord. My hope is that it will resonate with you as well. 

Holy Spirit, You make all things new. Awaken my heart to dream new dreams in the new year. I set aside any baggage or worries I have been carrying, releasing my heavy load, and finding home in your presence. I breathe in Your pursing love towards me. ~Amen

*This post is dedicated to both my grandpas as well as my great-grandpa. They all exhibited God’s loving presence in my life and I was lucky enough to have all three of them into my twenties. I am referring to my grandpa Jack in this post, the one with the sunglasses that I believe has an uncanny resemblance to Jack Nicholson. He was by far the best hugger especially as he approached the end of his life. 

**The photo above of a house is a depiction of my grandparents home, painted by a friend of my grandma’s. My grandparents home was a special place, a constant stability all throughout the shifting sands of my childhood and into early adulthood.