All My Love, Gennavieve

I did not consider myself heartbroken. In fact, far from it. I felt grateful, free, and excited for the next steps ahead in my journey, but I am heartbroken. Brene Brown, Ph.D. defines heartbreak as, Any struggle that takes away our capacity to practice love and to receive it. Not until I allowed myself to sit with my heart and feel what was missing did I realize the truth of my heart's state, broken. In the next step of my journey, I entered a new community, a wonderful community with nature screaming God's glory, adventure calling every minute, and a staff who seeks the Lord first. This step also removed my ability to extend and receive love from those who sweat, studied, sacrificed, and served beside me. I am heartbroken for those I left behind in Texas. I failed to recognize I was heartbroken because heartbreak is associated with grief. I live in a constant state of denial when it comes to grief. I did not want to feel the emptiness in my heart for those I left or

The previous camp I worked for had a cultural slogan which said in an obnoxiously ridiculous squeal, "I love my job!" Whether it was said in true appreciation for the workplace or as a band-aid to make you feel better when you're scrubbing a dirty toilet or cleaning vomit from a cabin floor, the phrase reminded us of the true gift to serve in the ministry of a camp setting. Presently, I find myself genuinely saying, "I love my job." The reasons which inspire this thought are wide and diverse. I find it a thrilling practice to remember the Lord's faithfulness in an expression of thankful praise. It is more than a counting of blessings. It is a reminder of God's character and the power of His sovereignty, especially in answered prayers. It reminds me of Hebrews 11, often called the "Hall of Faith" chapter because it outlines individuals who trusted God and experienced His faithfulness. So, this post is an outpouring of a grateful heart f