What is surfacing in YOU?

I took a walk today and it was blessedly warmer, and not raining.  It did my soul so much good to be out in the open air, alone except for my two dogs.  

They seemed excited for the walk too.  

We live on six acres in rural Kansas just outside of a fun and eclectic college town, and about 30 minutes from Kansas City and its many sprawling suburbs.  For me, it is the perfect mix of close and away. Today, the "away" -ness of our location felt even safer...no society to distance ourselves from, as our nearest neighbors are four-legged, and those of the people-sort are few and not immediately visible.  We are surrounded on three sides with cropland and horse farms, which means that I can garden wearing whatever I want!  

The dogs and I wandered around our property, splashing in the creek, weaving through trees and running in the open field.  It felt wonderful to be in open space, since my own thoughts and anxieties have made my mind feel crowded and confusing lately.  I know I am not alone in this.  

As we walked in the field, I saw something shiny hiding in the winter yellow grass.

I didn't need to inspect any closer to know what it was.  

Before we owned our land, it was owned by a family who had lived here for at least 25 years.  A lot of life can be lived in that number of years, and when we purchased this spot as a foreclosure from the bank almost 20 years ago now, it seemed like there was a physical representation of every one of those 25 years in the form of the previous owners' trash.  I have never seen anything like it. There were old cars, washing machines, whole trailers (like from tractor trailers!) full of junk, old bikes of all sizes, old clothing, wire, 50 gallon drums used to burn combustible trash items full to the top with ash. On the bank documents, there was even the declaration that there could be "hazardous waste" here somewhere.  Who even knew?  

On the property, there was already a type of house here (technically only a basement with a roof on it...if you're thinking earth contact, you are partly right, except it was enclosed by the earth on all sides).  It was completely rotten and full of mold, so in the first days after we purchased the property, in addition to picking up trash (in the end, we had to rent a backhoe to bury some of the larger items), we had friends helping us tear down that house.  The basement could stay, since it was concrete and in good shape, it just needed to be completely stripped, cleaned and bleached. What a summer that was!

So when I saw that shiny silver glint in the grass, I wasn't surprised.  We have cleaned up so much trash and done so well, that this place is unrecognizably lovely compared to what we originally purchased.  It truly was a diamond in the rough. But the one type of trash that keeps coming to the surface, especially out in the fields, are Keystone Light beer cans.

The previous owners enjoyed quite a few of these, it seems, judging from the number we found all over this place, with the biggest concentration having been in a crawl space under part of the house.   Every year we must find about twenty more as they keep being birthed out of the fields and creek. I swear we have found tens of thousands of them in total. These guys were professional in their commitment to beer-drinking, and brand loyal.  I literally don't think I have found ANY other brand!

Finding that beer can today made me think about how things are coming to the surface for me lately, too.  In the face of uncertainty, my anxiety and my emotions keep bubbling up in unexpected places, from impatience with my family, to wanting to numb through food, drink and viewing.  

My usual pattern is to avoid feeling my emotions and hurry to re-bury whatever surfaces before they can "get" me.  (This makes me wonder what my own soul concentration of Keystone Light cans must number). 

As I work with the Enneagram, and my therapist, I am getting a bit braver about letting them come to the surface, and then allowing myself to be curious about what message they carry for me.  It's slow work...one crushed can at a time.

I am beginning to let God use these emotions, painful and unsettling as they can be, to teach me that I can be tender with myself, as he is so tender with me. 

I am learning that I can choose to pick these cans up with compassion, one by one, and carry them to where they need to go, without being afraid that they will take me somewhere scary.  I feel so much more free in ways I didn't even realize I was stuck.  

I'm so thankful for how God used a warm day, a walk and a beer can to help me embrace the things that are surfacing in me. 

May we all be gentle and observant in these strange times.