I wrote this blog post on February 6 and didn’t have the courage to publish it at the time. So here goes.
The future I had planned for burst into flames and blazed for the past year, melting down the life I knew until I was left kicking embers and covering my head with ash. Wandering through the melted, charcoal smeared rubble, I am left wondering what to do next. Rebuild, of course, but what?
For now, I focus on the tasks at hand. Keeping my house clean. Making meals. Snuggling my kids and making sure they get enough of my undivided attention and security. Working my ass off. And starting over again the next day.
This isn’t living. This is surviving. How long will my life consist of making a home and working and sleeping, and spending every other weekend when they’re with their father recovering from the previous two weeks?
I’m not who I was a year ago.
And I’m terrified.
Each day that passes, I gain a little more strength, but I also break a little more inside. I bend to the will of my Father, when all I want to do some nights is rush back into the arms of the man who tore me down. I press on; surging, then crawling, aching, then rejoicing, twisting, bending, pushing, until I don’t recognize myself anymore. I am clay, and I surrender myself to the only One who can turn this brokenness into beautiful.
My heart is alive, and I am redeemed. My brokenness still cries out. I still fail to live in the grace that drenches my sweet little life, until He reminds me with a countryside of frost-kissed trees on my way to work, that He makes my heart beat, and not my own will.
I fall for those little lies that are sweetly whispered in my naked ear.
You have low self-esteem. No, I truly don’t. Human nature is to love ourselves more than anything else. I fight it every day.
You are a strong, independant woman. Ha! The battles I’ve fought this year have been waged with a paper sword and a tattered shield. He has been my protector. He has been my strength. He has stretched out His hand of provision and paid my hydro bill and put gas in my car and food in my cupboards. Independant? No, not me. I am nothing without Christ.
And so I grasp, with white knuckles and a soul that desperately yearns for understanding, so tightly to the promises He’s made to me. I will never leave you. Never, for certain. He’s proven it so far. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. All those things he yelled and cursed and beat my heart with, are not true. I am the daughter of the King of kings. I have called you by name, and you are Mine.
I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine… I will cling to that this Valentine’s day when I snuggle my babies and long for a husband to love. No man could ever love and cherish me the way the Father does. And until He sends me the one who will try, I wait patiently by. I get up, and brush my teeth, and smile, and kiss my babies, and try to shine a little brighter. I smile to the strangers and fuel myself with His joy. I wait, and pray, and wait…