We spilled out our heart, it got shoved back. We spilled out. Though beautiful, we were not seen.

I…I took it back before there was a chance to be rejected again. I decided to keep my heart to myself. And, so the pattern goes.

The truth is, I have often spilled in the wrong places, the wrong times. Being authentic doesn’t always mean entrusting fragile parts of ourselves to just anyone. Sometimes the most authentic thing we can do is to say, “I’m not sure about you.” There are people safe to say that to, people who understand. If you speak to someone who isn’t ready for that, be gentle, but know they are not ready for more either.

I’m a talker, a writer, a feeler. I’ve made so many mistakes in regards to all of it. But the biggest one did not involve being those things, rather it was in trying to hold it back. If I am not those things, I am not myself. I’ve spent time there. If I am only those things, and don’t spend time listening, reading, guarding—myself would lack. I’ve spent time there too.

Yes, plenty of mistakes navigating the how to be too. I’m human. Oh, am I. If Jay and I have said it once this past month we’ve said it a dozen times—every strength comes with its coinciding weakness. Our beautiful wholeness has a parallel universe, a capacity to operate fully…in brokenness.

Ever meet a liar? Tell them the truth, they are meant to be a storyteller, in wholeness. Ever meet a depressed empath? Teach them truly caring for others means first taking care of their own soul. And, so the pattern goes.

The other night I was feeling so pent up, so in need of release of the whirling inside me, I went to the wrong place to release it—social media. An hour later, I deleted said release and I sat with myself, knowing, and then I just fell asleep. Exhaustion always has a lot to say.

In the morning I woke quieter than the night before. Aware of my need still, but also the deeper beneath it. I thought the way forward was through questions. I was right. But I was asking the wrong audience. I needed to pray and I needed to get quiet enough to hear my own honest voice…then ask more outwardly, if still needed.

It’s strange how honest can get misplaced for surface. But it seems that serves its purpose too. One layer at a time we go deep. Surface first—and you know, sometimes that’s the hardest? So, we have to look or feel a little foolish maybe. We have to ask questions in the wrong places.

Yet, when we do, feel foolish or spill out our hearts in the wrong places/ people, there’s a second misstep looming worse than the first—deciding to keep our heart to ourself. It sure is tempting and easier to say, “Never again”, or “I’ll do this on my own.” But it isn’t good.

I am human, a misplaced social media post is not the worst (by far) of my missteps. I told you, I’m a talker, a writer, a feeler. My husband doesn’t always have time for all of that. Emotional affairs have not been beyond my reach, replacement of true love for something that fills the space. (But doesn’t satisfy.)

I am human, I have felt the shame and loneliness of failure. I have been tempted and I have fallen into the ease of “I’ll never again be/do that again” and “I’ll do this on my own”, the essence of both being, “I don’t need you”. Sigh. Sad days spent in the loss of the wreckage these fiery defenses bring.

A warrior is meant for travel. When she camps out in one place too long, muscles atrophy, her warrior heart beat grows faint. Camping has a place—and you know, sometimes that’s the hardest too? Yet, it can be, when we are sure we linger, we wait for another, it’s ourselves we meet.

It can be chilling to stand still in the feeling of the flimsy shelter of questions, to admit the shame (real or imagined), to get baptized and free from it all. So there’s a place for camping in a warrior’s life, a time to live near the river and immerse regularly.

There’s a time to rejoin the tribe too, to risk our lives side-by-side, to entrust. Because who’s kidding anybody here, does going it alone actually keep us safe?How long will we believe such rubbish?

There’s a time to enflesh trust and de-robe our hearts, release our “I don’t need you”. There’s a time to make missteps in safe places. Safe, not because arrows aren’t flying there, rather safe by the definition that you are not alone there.

Yes, we will fail one another. Yes, we can still succeed. Yes, when you spill, you are beautiful. We draw near to see, we just may not always understand. Wait for me, wait for we. Let’s be human together.

Two are better than one,
    because they have a good return for their labor:
 If either of them falls down,
    one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
    and has no one to help them up.
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
    But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered,
    two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

Needing, with you. Being human, with you.



Hi, I’m Raynna Myers. I’m an author, photographer, homeschooling mom to six children, and a wife of 19 years. I’m creating to be the life-giver I was created to be, in the image of my Creator. This is where I share as I learn, because we need each other.

I’m glad you are here. Subscribe to stay connected? I’ll send you my poem, Bound by Light, to say welcome and thank you.

Find my book of prayers Pray, Like a Woman in Labor on Amazon.