I lost my mojo. My friend Liz and I call it losing our Elvis.
You know those seasons in life when things seem to be going well? You’ve got momentum and courage. And, opportunity. Your marriage is solid, the kids are in good places, your prayer life full, the pen moves and words flow. The days aren’t necessarily easy, but your feet are light when you are dancing with the Holies.
Then suddenly, Elvis leaves the building.
In a whoosh, like a magic trick gone awry, the tablecloth is yanked off the banquet table by a dark magician with an insidious laugh. Dishes are scattered, chipped, and broken. Everything tumbles out of order, falling in disarray. Confusion kicks Peace in the shins and Fear moves to the head of the table and sets up new rules.
Noisy, bossy, imaginary voices spew all the answers to ALL THE THINGS. The rules, the formulas, the paths to success, the right way to do this. And, that. You know in your core — a place more precious and trustworthy than your gut — you are hearing lies, but your heart is tender, vulnerable, and scared.
Of course, this sucks. A cloud of despair hovers as you wonder what happened? Did I do something wrong? Why is the ink in my pen dry? Why is my tongue heavy and lame? My thoughts tangled?
Life moves in distorted slo-mo when you’ve lost your mojo.
Gather & Love
So you do the only thing you know to do. You gather a few wise women to your table and you ask them to pray.
Last Thursday, four women sat at my kitchen table and listened. And prayed humble and mighty prayers. For me. For my family. For the ministry of The Turquoise Table. For all the tables that you put in your front yards last week. By name you were prayed for. And, you in Canada with the daffodils. And you in Ohio with the book. And each of you who come to this place for recipes and encouragement and community. These sage women who have raised me in Christ prayed like David weeping the Psalms. For humility. For clarity. For wisdom. For peace.
They petitioned for Christ alone to speak all the answers to all the things.
Immediately, the snares loosened. I could feel my shoulders gently give up their stronghold next to my ears. As the women prayed, I heard the Lord whisper, “sanctification.”
Such a big and churchy word. I had to look it up. For the rest of the day, and into the next, I scribbled notes and Bible verses. Like sipping the ocean through a straw I took in all the salty waters my mouth could hold. Learning. Seeking. Desperately trying to make sense of my spiritual funk, this dark night of my soul.
Ask. Seek. Knock.
Life beckoned me to move forward. I stretched out of my fetal position on the couch and ran mindless, but necessary errands. In the car, I asked Siri to play my favorite song by Rend Collective.
Three times, Siri misunderstood me. Three times she queued up Van Morrison instead.
By now I was driving and unable to fiddle with my phone so I sighed and listened. In the late 80’s and early 90’s I was a huge Van Morrison fan. But I hadn’t heard the song Bright Side of the Road in ages.
By the second verse I heard it. His voice. Like the scene in The Book of Acts when the Holy Spirit descends and speaks in a language that all can understand, it was no longer the Irishman I heard but the song of my Savior. Singing in a language I understood.
The Bright Side of the Road
From the dark end of the street to the bright side of the road
An invitation… come.
Little darlin’ come with me, help me share my load
Come to me all who are weary and burdened
We’ll be lovers once again on the bright side of the road
No longer a passing fancy from my youth, You are the lover of my soul. . .
Into this life we’re born, baby sometimes we don’t know why
Remind me of my calling, my purpose, keep my eyes firmly set on you
Let’s enjoy it while we can, won’t you help me sing my song
With joy, I will sing for you for the rest of my days
From the dark end of the street to the bright side of the road
So there I was in the parking lot of The Container Store singing my heart out, the minivan swaying, keeping time. I don’t remember how many times I pushed repeat so I could sing the song again. And again.
But, in the twinkling of an eye The KING entered the building and took center stage.
Cynthia Herron says
Absolutely beautiful, dear Kristin!
Have so been there. Thanks for speaking to what many hearts need to hear today.
And your last line? Sublime!
Thank you, Cynthia. I feel your hugs and send many more your way!
Diana Trautwein says
Dearest Kristin – you know I love you. I love all that you do, and think and teach. But THIS? This is simply perfect. The entire analogy is genius and you’ve told it so very well. And you’ve been vulnerable in the process — thank you, thank you.
I’m so grateful for you, Diana. For your prayers and long-distance friendship — in the dark nights and on the bright side of the road. oxox
Celeste Hubert says
I am laughing. I am crying. I am so blessed to know you and be fed by your talent. You touch hearts like no one else. Thank you for sharing your gifts, amazing Kristin!
Well, if you are already laughing and crying scoot on over here so we can add dancing and singing to the list! Love that we get to do life together, Celeste. We need another lunch date with CFT soon, too. xoxo
Maggie Tate says
You are amazing! Thank you for your real-ness and honesty. So glad you shared that moment with us 🙂
Thank you, Maggie. I almost didn’t share, but when Jesus shows up through the voice of Van Morrison, how could I not?!?! xoxo
Lizette Fleher says
Love this! So beautifully written.
Thanks Lizette. Missing you — it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other.
Jane Kovacs says
Absolute perfection. It’s like you are in my head … but you put it to words so much better than I could. Thank you for writing, for sharing and for praying.
Jane — trust me you do not want me messing around in your head. LOL. But, thank you for the kind words. And, thank you for believing in the beauty of community at the turquoise table. You know, the timing of this story involves you. Since the rain postponed our gathering last Friday I had the gift of time which is when I was praying and ultimately listening to Van Morrison. God is good. And, I still got to sit at your table. Love you!
Oh Kristin, thank you for sharing! So many times I have felt the same way and it is so comforting to know that others have been through similar times. I loved hearing how she spoke to you through the song in the parking lot-keep on shining!
Van Morrison’s greatest hits is one of my faves! I’ll be singing this song the rest of the day!
Dawn Russell says
I love this….and love it some more!! I needed this exact post today. Thank you.
Lindsey Hartz says
Love everything about this, sweet Kristin. Love how you are stewarding this place of hope and grace and friendship well!
Jolene Underwood (@Faith_Eyes) says
Gosh I love this! I frequently find myself moved by lyrics, even when they weren’t meant the way I take them. I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons is one that really stands out for me. I needed these lyrics often over the last year plus. Man, you should have seen me running with wild flailing arms around the lake to this tune. Well, maybe not. But you get the idea. 🙂 Rejoicing with you for moments like this! God has such a fun way of connecting to our hearts when we need it.
Brooke McGlothlin says
you’re one of my favorite people ever. I love your God-story…how it keeps unfolding. So glad he met you 🙂
i needed this story. I needed to be reminded that God uses whatever He wants to speak to our hearts–sometimes, He even uses Van Morroson.
Praying for you now, my friend. And with you. Xo
Mary Boyer says
This is the first time I have read your articles. Thanks to the Ohio girl with the book! :-)This was just what my soul needed to boost me! Thank you so much for sharing your soul and the beautiful way God used Van Morroson to reach out to you!! Bless you!!
Megan Willome says
I love you, Kristin!