REBUILD

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REBUILD - Kimz Pondosities™

Last month, we reignited vitality.

And eventually, vitality asks a new question.

Not...

"Can I move again?”

Not even...

"Where do I want to go?”

Instead, it quietly whispers,

"What am I going to build with the life that has been reignited within me?” 

We discovered that renewal creates the space for life to return, and being reignited awakens our vitality to participate in life once again. We breathed deeply, we rested, we found our footing, and we rediscovered curiosity, possibility, and the quiet excitement of engaging wholeheartedly with the journey that is still before us.

For me, as I contemplated this month's PONDOSITY on rebuilding, something unexpected happened. A spark ignited within me, and suddenly I found myself revisiting a memory I hadn't thought about in years.

Truth be told…

I still have the large box of wooden building blocks you're about to meet.

When I was a little girl, those blocks were among my greatest treasures.

To anyone else, they were simply pieces of wood.

To me...

they were endless possibilities.

I could spend hours sitting on the living room floor building houses, bridges, towers, little villages, and sprawling worlds that existed first in my imagination and then beneath my fingertips. Every block had a purpose. Every bridge connected somewhere. Every room invited another idea. Every adjustment made me wonder what else might be possible.

When I finished building, I rarely believed I was finished.

I would slowly walk around my little worlds, studying them from every angle. Sometimes I would remove one block. Sometimes I would add another. Sometimes one itty-bitty change transformed the entire structure.

I remember asking my mom and dad to be careful to walk around my "monstrosities" so they wouldn't accidentally knock them over.

That's what I called them.

Not because they were ugly.

Quite the opposite.

To me, they were enormous.

Magnificent.

Bigger than life.

I hadn't yet learned the word sprawling.

I only knew they kept growing.

And I wasn't finished with them.

Not yet.

I still needed to enjoy them.

Take them in.

I still needed to walk around them.

I still needed to decide whether another bridge belonged here... another room belonged there... or whether one block needed to come down so something even better could take its place.

As an only child, those little wooden worlds carried me to places I had never been and stretched my imagination far beyond the walls of my own home.

Through building, reading, and painting, I learned to see far beyond what was right in front of me.

I don't remember ever being bored a day in my life.

Not once.

There were always new possibilities to explore, new places to dream about, another idea to build upon, another "what if?" waiting to be discovered.

As I grew older, that fascination never left me.

I remember telling my mom that I wanted to change the home she and my dad had built.

Not because I didn't love it.

I did.

I was mesmerized by everything I imagined our home could become.

In my child's mind, I remember asking if we could build a room on the roof. Our home was already three stories tall, but all I could think about was having one large room at the very top where we could see even farther—a bigger vantage point with an even broader view.

Then my imagination kept going.

"What if the kitchen were over here?"

"What if the bathroom were over there?”

Before long, I had rebuilt the entire house in my imagination.

I wasn't criticizing what my parents had created.

I was simply captivated by possibility.

Looking back now, I can't help but wonder if God was quietly planting something in me long before I had words for it.

Perhaps He wasn't simply teaching me how to build.

Perhaps He was teaching me how to see.

Perhaps that is why rebuilding has always fascinated me.

Eventually I realized I wasn't simply learning how to build little wooden worlds.

I was learning how to look at life.

Because rebuilding doesn't begin with construction.

It begins with discernment.

A wise builder doesn't begin by decorating the house or choosing paint colors, beautiful furnishings, or finishing touches. Before beauty can flourish, the foundation must be able to carry the weight of everything that will one day rest upon it.

No matter how beautiful a home may become, its future is determined by what lies beneath it.

The same is true of our lives.

The same is true of our character, our emotional well-being, our physical well-being, our mental well-being, our spiritual well-being, our relational well-being, and our environmental well-being.

Before we rebuild, we must pause long enough to ask:

Can the foundation faithfully carry what I am asking it to hold?

Is it built upon rock...

or is it built upon sand?

Has it been tested?

Will my foundation withstand the storms and the earthquakes that will inevitably come?

As a child growing up in earthquake country, we were taught in elementary school what to do when the ground began to shake. Looking back, I realize those lessons reached far beyond earthquakes. 

I have had the unique experience of living in several homes in earthquake country, each built upon a very different foundation. One rests upon solid bedrock. Another was built upon landfill. Another upon sand, yet an extraordinary engineer designed it to stand firm.

Together, they taught me a lesson I have never forgotten.

When the ground begins to shake, the foundation absolutely matters.

One house stood because of where it was built. The others stood because of how they were built.

Life has its own earthquakes.

A frightening diagnosis.

A broken relationship.

Financial uncertainty and insecurity.

The loss of someone we love.

A dream that suddenly crumbles beneath our feet.

Circumstances beyond our control.

So, what keeps our nervous system calm?

What helps us regulate when life feels scary and out of control?

What keeps anxiety from becoming our foundation?

What kind of foundation allows us to remain standing when everything around us is shaking?

Those questions require something our world rarely encourages.

Discernment.

Faith.

Belief.

Hope.

Discernment is the willingness to pause...

to look carefully...

to prayerfully examine what is really there...

to ask for wisdom...

and to have the courage to respond to what we discover.

Because before you rebuild, you first have to clear away the rubble.

That's construction truth.

You can't strengthen a foundation while debris is covering it.

You can't frame new walls while pieces of the old structure are still hanging in the way.

You remove what is necessary to rebuild soundly.

You remove what prevents access to what lies beneath.

Sometimes what prevents access is clutter, old assumptions, fear, yesterday's successes and yesterday's failures, grief that has never been acknowledged, and losses that have never been faced.

Sometimes it's simply something that faithfully served its purpose in one season but no longer belongs in the next.

Sometimes it's learning to say goodbye to a relationship—or to the things that prevent us from moving forward in the healthiest of ways.

Sometimes everything has to come down before something stronger can be rebuilt.

And sometimes the foundation remains, and you can build from there.

The beauty is found in discerning the difference.

And the good news is...with God, you never have to rebuild alone.

Because He is the Master Builder. The God I have come to know and believe never asks us to erase our story.

Our story helps shape who we are.

By His grace and mercy, He invites us into our own redemption story. Nothing in our lives is wasted when it is surrendered into His hands.

He redeems.

He restores.

He rebuilds.

And He does it with us.

Perhaps the question isn't simply...

What am I trying to rebuild?

Perhaps the deeper questions are…

What is the root of the overwhelm?

What is blocking my progress?

(Could it be me, myself, and I... the three amigos?)

What should still stand?

What foundation has God already provided that is strong enough to build upon?

Rebuild is not the opposite of brokenness.

Rebuild is the natural response to hope.

Nobody rebuilds because they have given up.

People rebuild because somewhere deep inside they still believe beauty can rise again.

Etymology

The word rebuild combines the prefix re-, meaning again, anew, or once more, with build, from the Old English byldan, meaning to construct, establish, strengthen, or make into a dwelling.

To rebuild is more than simply building again.

It is the intentional work of examining the foundation, clearing away what prevents access, strengthening what remains, and wisely building what comes next.

Pause & Contemplate

Pause for a moment.

Without rushing to fix, change, or solve anything...

simply reflect.

What area of your life is quietly asking to be rebuilt?

What has become so familiar that you no longer question whether it still belongs?

What foundation has faithfully carried you?

What foundation needs reinforcement?

Pause & Center

Take a slow, deep breath.

Quiet the noise.

Release the need to have every answer today.

Ask for wisdom.

Ask for discernment.

Ask for the courage to honestly see what needs reinforcing, what needs repair, what needs releasing, and what is ready to be rebuilt.

For me, the greatest comfort of all is this...

I was never meant to rebuild alone.

The One who created me is the Master Builder and my faithful Partner on this journey called life.

Pause & Commit

Today I choose to rebuild with intention.

I will not rush what requires wisdom.

I will not cling to what no longer belongs.

I will solidify the foundation before I focus on the finishing touches.

One faithful decision...

one thoughtful choice...

one carefully placed stone at a time.

💜💜💜

It all brings us back to where we began.

"What am I going to build with the life that has been reignited within me?"

Perhaps now you know.

Or perhaps you're just beginning to discover the answer.

Either way...

it's time.

Because rebuilding has been waiting in the wings.

💜💜💜