My eyes are weary. My chest feels weighted down with years of tension finally, slowly, starting to be released. My heart aches from the loss of things that could’ve been, should’ve been. My lips are cracked and bleeding, chapped from saying the same prayer over and over, again and again. What do I do now, Lord? I feel like one of the Israelites, like I’ve been wandering in my own personal desert for 40 years. And it’s true, right now I am in my own desert, my own wilderness.
These have been some of the hardest months of my life. Now, I’m not one for posting about my deep personal life on the internet; but, here’s a quote I found that sums a bit of it up: “Family is supposed to be our safe haven. Very often, it’s the place where we find the deepest heartache.” Isn’t it sad how this rings true in many of our hearts?
While I was thinking about all of this today, I could feel the enemy whispering in my ear, “Annika, you’re just too much. No one will ever be able to truly love you, complicated past and all. Everything is just too much.”
As I was deep in these thoughts, my counselor reminded me how we serve a big God. I am in the process of healing, and it’s hard and the task seems all the more daunting every minute I still feel broken, but He is big enough to heal me. It’s a process, and that’s something I have to remember. I won’t just be fixed over night. Yet, through suffering we come to know God in a new and more intimate way that is unique to us. He is big enough to wrap me in His Grace and Love and hold me close to Him. He is my comforter. For Him, I am okay with sacrificing my past, my insecurities, my sensitivities on the alter and giving those to Him. I have to remind myself that He is big enough to make people who can handle me, and He already has. He is mighty enough to make a heart that’s after my own and is ready for me, every single part of me. And I think this truth is what will get me through. He is big enough. He won’t leave me alone; He will always be there. And I will always strive to find myself in His Hope and His Love. Now, to end this blog post, some anonymous poetry that I really like:
This is the Undoing. This is where He unravels all that was not His making. Your bones feel exposed as every hidden place is laid bare. This is the secret place, where your heart is safe. The dark, dusty corners beneath your ribs are no longer left to ache; illuminated as light curls inside. Warmth touches places abandoned and forgotten; Love gently unwinds the knots inside your skull.
Patience, He whispers.
This is Healing.