What do I need? If you’re like me that can be a loaded question. It's one of those questions I ask myself when I am trying my hardest to seek health. If I take a moment to stop and ask my body and my heart that question, they often moan back with one or two-word answers, depending on the day.

“Sleep.”
“Freedom.”
“Alone time.”
“Sit down.”
"Cry."

In the book, "Emotionally Healthy Spirituality: Unleash a Revolution in Your Life In Christ," Peter Scazzero says, “Ignoring our emotions is turning our back on reality. Listening to our emotions ushers us into reality. And reality is where we meet God. . . . Emotions are the language of the soul. They are the cry that gives the heart a voice. . .”

I often hear the cries of my heart's voice, that's not the hard part. Over the years, I've begun to recognize the unique warning signs my body and my soul offer me in times when health is lacking. For me, it's an over-dependence on the approval of others, a bubbling over of emotion when I receive feedback, a lack of patience with my closest people, and a tightness in my shoulders that lingers. Seeking health for me is less about hearing the cries of my heart, and more about listening to them and responding to them.

I think about times when I hear my 15-month-old cry from his nursery in the middle of the night. When I hear the wrestling from the monitor on my bedside table, my brain activates, my eyes open. It's like my body is wired, waiting, ready to respond.

As the crying increases, I pull myself out of bed and walk briskly down the hallway. I walk into his room and, before the door is even fully open, I say, "It's ok, bubba, mama's here." I grab him, arms outstretched, and stick his cheek on mine, something that comforts us both. We make our way over to the chair and rock together sleepily until his body totally relaxes, a weight on my chest. The crying stops. He just needed me to acknowledge him, respond, and sit with him.

When we hear the cries of our hearts do we respond with the same sense of urgency and tenderness? I know that I don't. I'm quick to recognize those warning signs of unhealth and move on, ignoring them until I reach a breaking point, usually a point that's even harder to recover from. What would it take for me to stop, acknowledge those cries of my heart, and sit with them until they pass?

It's a tough choice to make in the midst of all that life has for us, the priority of my own needs seems low when the urgency of other stuff stands in the way. It's also just uncomfortbale. I don't like sitting with all that weight, I want to move on, get out my duct tape, and DIY a silver lining on the situation (as my friend Annalyse would say). With the help of my people and the Holy Spirit, I begin to listen to the cries of my heart and respond to them. I go on walks, process with a trusted friend, take a deep, intentional breath. In those moments, I also try to remember that I'm not doing it alone.

I like to imagine God as a mother who hears even our faintest cries and runs into the deepest parts of our hearts, picks us up, and rocks with us when we just need a moment to feel connected. When we seek health, we sit in the reality that God made us fully human, made to feel. Responding to those feelings is an act of worship, honoring the strong bodies and uniquely beautiful hearts that God created. Next time we hear the cries, let's get up and run to them.

To seeking health together,

—Amanda Montgomery

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