Safe Zone: An Open Letter to My People

My dearest friend,

If you’re like me, you need to know you are safe. I’m pretty sure it’s human nature.

We need a place to rest, to cozy up, to retreat from battle.

When the world seems scary, overwhelming, hopeless, and dark, we need a place to just be. We need a place to be free of judgement, free of responsibility, free of concern, and free of worry. We need a place to unwind, to be encouraged, to regroup for the battles that lay outside the doors. We need a place where we know we can scream, cry, laugh, sleep, exercise, hope, dream, and just be. We need a place to discuss and process, to bounce ideas around, to share our fears.

For believers, that place is ultimately Christ, but we also need people, community, to walk with us on this journey. Especially in a time when it seems like the tagline “alone together” is a great sentiment, but the truth is we actually feel just alone, not together. It seems like empty words because there is no way to retreat, no way to really connect. We’re losing how to interact with each other, to be with each other, to listen and empathize with each other. I don’t want that to be the case for my people.

Now, more than ever, I need you to know, I’m willing to be your safe zone, friend.

Regardless of if you find yourself in my little corner of the internet or at my doorstep, I want you to see a welcome mat that calls to you, “Come as you are.”

When you enter my house, I want you to know you can let go. You can be yourself. The stories you share will not leave here.

I want you to come here and rest. I want you to be able to let go of all things you’re worried about. You are safe here. You are loved here.

It seems that every season of life has its own weight to bear, and in every season we need to know that we are not alone. Each new season for us is uncharted water where we need to have people who have gone before us. We need someone to listen, empathize, and encourage. We need a confidant with fresh eyes who will fight for us.

I know what it’s like to be newly married. For the first time, you’re living with someone who you’re building a life with, maybe for the first time, you’re living with a roommate. You’ve come from different backgrounds, you both have your own way of doing things, and while you’ve had the conversations, it’s just not exactly what you expected. You might be thinking, “Wow! This is awesome!” and the very next second you’re wondering, “What have I done?!” Been there. You’re probably learning that you have to work hard to protect that marriage from the Enemy, and it’s exhausting. You’re a couple of sinners who have brought all that junk together somehow expecting a level of - dare we say - perfection. There’s someone with advice at every turn, and while it may be well-intentioned, it may not be based on truth. I’m here to be a place for you to process all the emotions, the new, the raw, the good, the bad, the ugly, while you learn to practice grace in your marriage. Because as hard as it is, it’s the most tangible picture of the Gospel where we get to see how intimately God loves us. It’s worth the hard.

You see, I know it’s hard to be a first time mom. It’s hard to adjust to having to take care of yourself and a precious new little human. It’s hard to live life in three hour increments. I know you feel like you can’t get anything done, but you also don’t want to miss out on all the wonder that is that new babe. Girl, call me. I’ll cuddle that sweet little squish while you sleep. Or if you need me to, I’ll do your dishes and laundry while you cuddle that tiny miracle. I know you cry because it feels like a lot, and it so is. Your life has just been totally turned upside down; you’re trying to keep a human alive, and you’re trying to keep yourself sane…and alive, too. Not to mention, you’re hormones are raging. While you have support from your spouse, parents, and friends, it still feels lonely. You feel like you can’t share all the sadness, all the guilt, all the other thoughts you’re having right now without fear. Girlfriend, you aren’t alone. I’m here. I’ve been there, and I know what it’s like.

I know what it’s like to be human. You’re trying hard to chase your dreams, work out your fears, follow hard after Jesus, but it just seems like…a lot. It seems like you can’t catch a break, and nobody is really listening, and if they are, they don’t really understand. You feel guilty for putting in the work, giving up time with your family, and seeing little results. You feel like you aren’t enough. You feel like all you do is work. You feel like you aren’t measuring up. It hurts, and you need a place to run. You need to know you aren’t the only who has ever felt this. You to know it gets better, but for now you just need to take a minute to vent, to be frustrated, to seek wisdom…and help.

You’re feeling like this world is scary. You can’t sleep at night wondering how you move forward, navigating the world ahead. When all the media is doom and gloom, you ask yourself: how do we keep hope? When there are people more brave behind the screen constantly berating you or those you respect, pushing conspiracy theories, spewing hate, you wonder: how do we keep loving each other? Is it even a possibility? When you don’t know what to say, you fear being accused of not standing with the marginalized. When you want to speak up, you fear the cost: what will your friends and family think? Will it be loving? Is it truthful? You find yourself in the middle of the road with all these political things, and you honestly even wonder if some of it matters. But if you say that, it seems like you don’t care, like you aren’t an actively engaged citizen. You really just want to scream, maybe cry, talk through it, or just sit in silence away from all the noise for a moment. I’ll be that for you, too, friend. We can stare at the wall together if we need to. The truth is, I’m working through these same questions.

In the midst of all this, you even have to consider all your other relationships. What will your parents or in-laws think? What about those friends and colleagues you respect? How do you know when to speak up and when to remain silent? How do you navigate all these things? While all these questions rush through your head, you are still battling your parents and your in-laws opinions about how you are raising your children, and if you don’t yet have children, the decisions you’re making in your life. There’s a nearly constant pressure to make time to visit all your friends and all your family and even just acquaintances (because appearances), but your life doesn’t allow for that, so you make the effort to call or text, but that still isn’t enough. Does anyone else feel this way, you wonder. Let me help you: YES, others feel this way.

You feel a bit - or a lot - guilty for setting your priorities and boundaries and sticking to them. You’re experiencing backlash, and even some outright hate, and you don’t know if it’s worth it. It would just be easier to bend here and there…

If it feels like a lot, it’s because it is, and we weren’t meant to do this life thing alone. We were created for community, and we’ve done a good job of alienating ourselves because fear of judgement, fear of rejection, fear of losing it all. But if there’s one thing I want you to know, it’s this: you are wanted, loved, and welcome here. You need hope? Truth? Safety? No judgement? I’m here to do the best I can to give that to you. I want you to know, you are not alone. I’ll be here through the junk, holding on tight and fighting for you.

So, if you find yourself needing a safe place, you can find a spot between the scattered toys and laundry on my couch. The dishes may be piled in the sink, but there will always be some food for you. You may want to take a nap, and that’s cool because I’ve got a bed for you. You may need to laugh, and I can get that covered, too, with my baby girl’s giggles and a silly puppy. You may need to cry, and I’ll let you. (Make no mistake, I’m going to want to fix it because I’m protective of my people, but I’ll try to just let you cry).

Retreating in order to regroup is a worthy battle tactic, and we have to be sure that we are ready to fight. If we cannot fight on our own, we need to be sure we have an army with us to help hold us up when we grow tired because the enemy will being waiting to devour us in our weakness. I won’t let that happen, sister.

I will fight for you.

I will fight with you.

I will love you in the middle of a new marriage or old.

I will love you with a screaming new baby or six.

I will love you when you want to rage against the machine.

I will love you when you need to process all your thoughts.

I will love you with truth and hope.

I will encourage you to keep fighting and equip you to do it to the best of my ability.

I will guard you when you need it, and help you fly when you’re ready.

I will let you cry and scream and laugh and dream.

You are safe here. You are loved here. You are my people.

Praying for you,

K