Pouring Out My Oil

Your body is not broken.
Your body is not broken.
Your body is not broken.

Those were the words Sarah, the mother of Isaac said at tea today.

She grabbed my face and lifted it the way only someone who truly knows pain is able to. Then she said something that I’ll never forget... “It’s all oil anyway.” Whether it’s 8 minutes of pain or 80 years. Whether it’s a miscarriage or a wedding. Whether it’s disappointment or a celebration. Whether it’s loneliness or contentment... it’s all oil anyway. ⁣

We sat there together and cried... she brushed my hair back and started singing. The more she sang, the more tears fell... ⁣

There’s something really beautiful about singing out your oil... ⁣

Sarah walked out and as she was closing the front gate she turned around and said “ Elizabeth, you can measure your bravery by the amount of oil you’re willing to pour out. Keep pouring it out. It's the only way to live.” ⁣

I smiled and waved then swallowed back more tears because sometimes having someone tell you that you’re brave is just the reminder you need to remind you that your body is indeed, not broken and that it’s all oil anyway.