The words came out like venom. And in that moment, I meant each one. It’s not even just the way my body looks. No, it’s the way it feels. It’s the persistent bloat that presses tightly against even my sized-up jeans. An ever expanding pressure; a ticking time bomb. It’s the searing, twisting cramps that creep slowly through my entire abdomen as we head back home instead of going to small group. It’s the feelings of failure as I hear my baby cry and can’t run to him. Or the pain of his weight on my stomach while nursing him during a flare. It’s the wrestling with God over withheld healing. It’s the frustration of missing out on another family walk.
It’s the fact that I can’t even capture all the things it does to me in words. It feels like a prison—a place where pain reigns. …
I hear myself say it. “Oh, how I wish he’d let go of the control he doesn’t have.” And my heart is pricked. Because I know, that’s a word for me too.
An anxious mama mothering an anxious little boy. I think, what could be a bigger train wreck? But I know God is trustworthy. And he’s given us each other. A mama who can empathize and a little boy who acts as mama’s little mirror.
He will be faithful my sweet boy to grow us both. And to be with us through the tears we both shed. And the years it takes for us to feel safe, secure, at peace.
May I be a safe place for you here on earth. But more than that, may I point you to Jesus, Our refuge. Our security. The place where peace is found.
The crabgrass creeps in, weeds reach high toward sun rays, across the full length of what’s meant to be a flower bed. They seek to overshadow every bloom and cover every inch. But beauty reaches higher. Abiding, abiding.
And I think of my own heart weeds. The ones that try to prowl upon my soul, telling stories of unbelief, loneliness, and a God who forgets his promises. But I believe beauty reaches higher, by the grace of God alone. Pointing me to the Son. Abiding evermore.
Have you ever decided to open up to those around you only to have them use your honesty as ammo? What happens when someone who is supposed to protect and love you wounds you so deeply you begin to question everything? Maybe it was a friend, a fellow church member, or even a pastor. You start to wonder who can you trust? Who won’t use your honesty, vulnerability, struggle, or grief against you? Their words may even cause you to question your identity or worse, your salvation. Is there anyone you can run to now?
Friend, there is. You can run to your Lord who sees. More than that, he cares. He knows the nitty gritty details of your pain—the words that wounded you that you can’t share. He sees how confused you are and the questions racing through your mind. The injustice you’ve experienced is not lost on him.…