Breaking Free

Have you ever gotten so focussed on a particular problem, or anxious thought, that your whole world seems to shrink down to the size of it? It’s as if you’re in a small room with no windows—all your thoughts forever coming back around to the thing you’re worried about.

That’s the kind of ruminating thought I was imagining when I wrote Lucilla and the Snarly Skein—a story about a girl who set her mind on a terrible tangle that was too much for her to untie. And the more determined she was to untie it, the more tangled up she became. I know the feeling so well!

If you’re feeling like that today, I want to offer you encouragement and also share a practice you may find helpful for breaking free of those ruminating, world-shrinking thoughts. This has helped me over and over again and it was the inspiration for my Lucilla book. If you haven’t read the story yet—no worries! I’ll share a brief synopsis so you’ll still be able to follow along.

In my story, Lucilla’s mom tells her the big tangle of yarn (The Snarly Skein) is too much for her, but Lucilla hides it away in her backpack so that she can keep coming back to it. When she finds herself all tangled up, some friends try to help her break free, but none are successful. The mice try to cut through the tangled mess with their strong teeth, but they’re no match for it, and the river tries to coax the yarn to loosen up, but it doesn’t work either. Lucilla lies there, soaking wet on the bank of the river and she whispers into the night, “Can anyone untangle this horrible knot?”  This place of despair is the turning point in the story.

As long as I believe I have all the answers, can find all the answers, that I am the answer, or that you are the answer—I will stay bent over the problem. Like a mathematician working out an endless solution, I’ll live in that downward facing posture.

Lucilla asks, “Can anyone untangle this horrible knot?” It’s an outward-oriented plea.

More pointedly I often cry out, “Lord, please help!” Desperate words, but they’re powerful. They acknowledge the truth that God exists, that He’s bigger than the room I’m feeling trapped in, and that I have access to Him. The simple act of acknowledging these truths creates a window.

And from this small place I can begin to look for the wonder of The Lord. I can name His goodness—every little spark that comes across my window—the beauty of His creation, all the ways He’s been faithful. And as I delight in Him, with my eyes fixed on the wonder of all He is, and all He’s done, I may not even notice the Snarly Skein untying.

“From my distress I called upon the LORD; the LORD answered me and set me in a large place.” ~ Psalm 118:5

Blessings to you as you call on the Lord and look for the wonder,

~Amy