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.…
A single tear drips on the bed as I stare at the white wall we painted when I felt hopeful.
Depression is a funny thing; you don’t always see it coming. But it comes crashing like those waves at the Outer Banks that almost drowned me. We laugh about it now, how silly I looked running from the shore. But it scared me.