what seems to be the end to us is just the beginning to God...
I woke up to silence. The house was completely quiet. Quiet enough that I could hear myself think. Sometimes we really need to do that but we allow distractions to pull us every which way and we do our best to drown out our thoughts. That's what I've been doing for the past two weeks because it's easier to stay distracted than let my mind run wild with "what ifs."
But I decided to enjoy the silence. To enjoy the quiet and allow myself to think. To filter, to process. I looked at my phone to check the time before rolling out of bed, and I scrolled through a list of text messages that said, "I'm praying for you!" I was glad. Peace filled my heart and I was thankful that God has surrounded me with so many prayer warriors or I might be a basket case otherwise.
I stepped out on the back porch and stood in the sunlight. Scout, my ever faithful companion, joined me. I scooped her up in my arms feeling pretty sentimental that this is our last day together - just the two of us. We've had a lot of time together over the past 5 years, and I was thankful that we were getting to have one more before we add a new girl to our party. As I stood in the warm light, fresh air surrounding me, my heart began to swell. My mind went back to October 2011 on the day I stayed home from work. The day that seemed to be the end.
The day that was really just the beginning.
The first week of October had been full of absolute turmoil. Pure H - E - double hockey sticks if I am being honest. A long, difficult, week full of stress and anxiety. It was the week I stopped eating because I had developed so many stomach ulcers that food made me sick. Any food. I didn't have an appetite anyway, so I guess that helped. I stopped sleeping, too. I've never had an out of body experience, but that week gave me an idea of what it might be like as I was living this life that did not feel anything like mine. I felt like a shell of a person, and I was wreck. A wreck because I knew what would happen after the weekend. I saw the writing on the wall, and it was a countdown. Every day that week I pleaded with God. Surely not, Lord. Surely, not. Surely this can't be happening. You can move mountains. You can raise the dead to life. You can walk on water and part the seas. Surely you can fix this, too. Your word says a day is like a thousand years to you, so there's time. I believe you can do this. I know you can. I need you to. And fast
But the weekend came. The distraction showed up just enough to help me make it through a miserable two days, and I was so thankful that Monday, October 10, 2011 was Columbus Day. Thank you, Christopher, for finding America. Because that meant I didn't have to go to work. That meant that maybe I could buy a little time. Maybe this one day would turn into those thousand years, and before bed I would find myself on the road to recovery. After frantically searching for a counselor, God opened the door for a late evening session, and my heart was flooded with relief. This was the sign I had been praying for. God was working and moving not a moment too soon, and this was the answer. The turning point that would get me back to the place I felt I needed to be because it was all I knew. It was all I had experienced. Even if it wasn't the best for me, even if it wasn't God's ultimate plan for me, I had put all my eggs in this basket and the thought of it turning over created more fear in me than I ever knew possible.
I walked into a quiet house that night. Silence was deafening, and I didn't like it. I didn't appreciate it. In fact, I hated it. The quietness taunted me, laughing at my failure and increasing my misery. And I fell into bed with Scout, numb, with tears streaming down my face because even though I understood that God could do anything, I also knew, deep down, that God was going to be answering my prayers in the very way that scared me the most.
"Do not be afraid," Every time He shows up, He prefaces his greeting with those simple words. Do not be afraid. Because He knows it's easy for us to be scared. He knows how we operate, and He knows that fear is usually our first resort and trust is our last. And so He always finds a way to speak to our fear. To remind us that His perfect love drives out all fear. That He did not give us a spirit of fear or timidity, but of power and love and self discipline. And as I stood on the back porch this morning, the sunlight shining on my face, I remember feeling afraid of what was to come. Afraid that I would never be truly loved and accepted. Afraid that my life was over and that my heart's desires would never be met. I remember feeling afraid of what other people would think, were thinking, and I was afraid of how I was going to move forward. How would I ever heal? How would I make ends meet? How would I find happiness and joy? How would I ever find God's purpose for me with a life that felt broken beyond repair?
I wouldn't.
But He would.
Today is the last day of complete silence in our house. I kind of like the fact that Scout and I are ending it the way we began. Not just the way we began, but the timing, too. Because this Monday, October 10, 2016, on Columbus Day, five years to the exact date, I will spending the day at home once more. This time, not by myself, but with my husband and our brand new daughter. A home that was once darkened by heartbreak and silence, now filled with God's healing light and laughter. A home where I have learned to trust again. To come to know what love really is and what faith really looks like. A home that is built on truth, on God's word, and a place where I don't have to be afraid. Because I am bringing her into a home where she will be loved not only by her mother, but dearly loved by her father. Into a family that has been praying for her and into a family that God has beautifully designed by His grace and mercy.
Thank you, Lord, that what we often see as the end is only the beginning to you. Thank you that you take our fear and replace it with your peace. That all of the "what if's" and "how will I ever's" don't stand a chance in your grand plan. That you would take a life of brokenness and repair it in a way that is more beautiful than it ever was before. That would would provide in all ways, turn ashes in to beauty, sorrow into joy, and tears into laughter. That your purposes can't be thwarted by human plans, and that our failures are really just excellent opportunities for you to display your magnificent power. Thank you for redeeming my life and meeting my heart's desires in ways that only you could.
And thank you, Lord, for Columbus Day.
But I decided to enjoy the silence. To enjoy the quiet and allow myself to think. To filter, to process. I looked at my phone to check the time before rolling out of bed, and I scrolled through a list of text messages that said, "I'm praying for you!" I was glad. Peace filled my heart and I was thankful that God has surrounded me with so many prayer warriors or I might be a basket case otherwise.
I stepped out on the back porch and stood in the sunlight. Scout, my ever faithful companion, joined me. I scooped her up in my arms feeling pretty sentimental that this is our last day together - just the two of us. We've had a lot of time together over the past 5 years, and I was thankful that we were getting to have one more before we add a new girl to our party. As I stood in the warm light, fresh air surrounding me, my heart began to swell. My mind went back to October 2011 on the day I stayed home from work. The day that seemed to be the end.
The day that was really just the beginning.
The first week of October had been full of absolute turmoil. Pure H - E - double hockey sticks if I am being honest. A long, difficult, week full of stress and anxiety. It was the week I stopped eating because I had developed so many stomach ulcers that food made me sick. Any food. I didn't have an appetite anyway, so I guess that helped. I stopped sleeping, too. I've never had an out of body experience, but that week gave me an idea of what it might be like as I was living this life that did not feel anything like mine. I felt like a shell of a person, and I was wreck. A wreck because I knew what would happen after the weekend. I saw the writing on the wall, and it was a countdown. Every day that week I pleaded with God. Surely not, Lord. Surely, not. Surely this can't be happening. You can move mountains. You can raise the dead to life. You can walk on water and part the seas. Surely you can fix this, too. Your word says a day is like a thousand years to you, so there's time. I believe you can do this. I know you can. I need you to. And fast
But the weekend came. The distraction showed up just enough to help me make it through a miserable two days, and I was so thankful that Monday, October 10, 2011 was Columbus Day. Thank you, Christopher, for finding America. Because that meant I didn't have to go to work. That meant that maybe I could buy a little time. Maybe this one day would turn into those thousand years, and before bed I would find myself on the road to recovery. After frantically searching for a counselor, God opened the door for a late evening session, and my heart was flooded with relief. This was the sign I had been praying for. God was working and moving not a moment too soon, and this was the answer. The turning point that would get me back to the place I felt I needed to be because it was all I knew. It was all I had experienced. Even if it wasn't the best for me, even if it wasn't God's ultimate plan for me, I had put all my eggs in this basket and the thought of it turning over created more fear in me than I ever knew possible.
I walked into a quiet house that night. Silence was deafening, and I didn't like it. I didn't appreciate it. In fact, I hated it. The quietness taunted me, laughing at my failure and increasing my misery. And I fell into bed with Scout, numb, with tears streaming down my face because even though I understood that God could do anything, I also knew, deep down, that God was going to be answering my prayers in the very way that scared me the most.
"Do not be afraid," Every time He shows up, He prefaces his greeting with those simple words. Do not be afraid. Because He knows it's easy for us to be scared. He knows how we operate, and He knows that fear is usually our first resort and trust is our last. And so He always finds a way to speak to our fear. To remind us that His perfect love drives out all fear. That He did not give us a spirit of fear or timidity, but of power and love and self discipline. And as I stood on the back porch this morning, the sunlight shining on my face, I remember feeling afraid of what was to come. Afraid that I would never be truly loved and accepted. Afraid that my life was over and that my heart's desires would never be met. I remember feeling afraid of what other people would think, were thinking, and I was afraid of how I was going to move forward. How would I ever heal? How would I make ends meet? How would I find happiness and joy? How would I ever find God's purpose for me with a life that felt broken beyond repair?
I wouldn't.
But He would.
Today is the last day of complete silence in our house. I kind of like the fact that Scout and I are ending it the way we began. Not just the way we began, but the timing, too. Because this Monday, October 10, 2016, on Columbus Day, five years to the exact date, I will spending the day at home once more. This time, not by myself, but with my husband and our brand new daughter. A home that was once darkened by heartbreak and silence, now filled with God's healing light and laughter. A home where I have learned to trust again. To come to know what love really is and what faith really looks like. A home that is built on truth, on God's word, and a place where I don't have to be afraid. Because I am bringing her into a home where she will be loved not only by her mother, but dearly loved by her father. Into a family that has been praying for her and into a family that God has beautifully designed by His grace and mercy.
Thank you, Lord, that what we often see as the end is only the beginning to you. Thank you that you take our fear and replace it with your peace. That all of the "what if's" and "how will I ever's" don't stand a chance in your grand plan. That you would take a life of brokenness and repair it in a way that is more beautiful than it ever was before. That would would provide in all ways, turn ashes in to beauty, sorrow into joy, and tears into laughter. That your purposes can't be thwarted by human plans, and that our failures are really just excellent opportunities for you to display your magnificent power. Thank you for redeeming my life and meeting my heart's desires in ways that only you could.
And thank you, Lord, for Columbus Day.
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