Janise Anderson's Blog

To Heal a Breaking Heart: reflections on half a year of grief

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds" (Psalm 147:3).

I’d miscounted. For the past few weeks, I had thought that tomorrow would mark five months since my mom went to Heaven. But then my dad said it had been half a year, and I realized I had somehow miscounted all last week.

Six months.

I was alone in a conference room when I saw my dad’s text. I started to answer when sudden tears hit me like a wave. I quickly moved away from the open door and stood in a corner. Tears kept pushing up in me, trying to break free.

But I knew if I started crying, I wouldn’t stop.

I was meeting a student in five minutes. I had to be a teacher right then . . . not a grieving daughter. Once again, like I had countless times over the past half year, I forced away the grief and went back to work.

Back in October, two days after my mom passed away, several of my family members and I went to the beach at night. It was windy and cold, but what I remember the most was the full moon.

And I stood there in the sand, staring up at the brilliance of the night sky over the ocean, as my family and I learned what it meant to be in a world without Kathy Anderson.

Kathy Anderson. Mother. Wife. Daughter. Sister. Aunt. Friend. Teacher.

She was one life in a world of millions. But she will always be the story that ended before we thought it would. On October 28, 2020, cancer stole her light and left those who needed her most in the darkness.

The night that I stood on the beach and watched the waves crash back and forth against the shore, I felt my grief rising up in me. It came with the force of an ocean, and I knew that I would be lost in its waves.

So I shut the door instead.

A sorrow I didn’t understand stood on the other side, waiting for me. But I wasn’t ready for it. I kept the door closed on my grief. I felt as if the waves were still there, pounding against my heart, but only some water trickled through. Only some of the pain reached me.

And every month since, I’ve watched the moon cycle and remembered the day we lost my mom. But I’ve kept busy and distracted, focusing on teaching and studying, on family and friends, on everything except my grief.

Now, I am graduating in two weeks. Once I walk across that stage, I’m going to go home and put away my aspirations for a while. I’m going to stop running through life.

Instead, I’m going to sit alone with Jesus for a bit, and day by day open the door to my heart a bit more.

I want to write this summer. Because when I write, I remember. When I write, I heal. And I’m ready to heal even if it means drowning in tears for a while.

But my God, my Jesus, knows the depths of my heart. He knows the sorrow I’ve faced and the grief I’ve kept at bay. He’s been waiting for me.

In my soul, I hear Him whisper, “Be still, my child, and let me hold you.”

I know what it feels like to be held, to be loved. When I lean in to hug my dad, I close my eyes. I don’t mean to, but it’s something I’ve always done.

Because when I lean on him, I feel safe.

It’s like that with God. Since I was five years old, I’ve known I could always run to God. No matter what I’ve done or where I am, I can always close my eyes and go to Him.

Every day, He walks with me.

When I turn to Him, I feel safe and loved and known.

He’s not just my Rock; He’s the Shepherd carrying me home; He’s the Father holding me close.

I don’t have my mom to turn to anymore. But I have the God that she introduced me to. I have the hope that she carried with her until her last day on this earth. And one day, because of our Jesus, I will have eternity to spend talking with her.

Six months—or even sixty years—without her will just be a fleeting moment. Then I’ll see her again, and never have to say goodbye.

Until that day, I will let Jesus heal my breaking heart and bind up my wounds with His love.

Walking Alone as a Woman: My Experience

When I was a little girl, I used to beg my dad to let me walk alone around the neighborhoods in Peru. Since we lived in a gated, semi-guarded community, my dad would relent somewhat and let me walk alone. But he was always protective of me and warned me to be very careful.

As a young woman who enjoys traveling and being out in the world, I understand the feeling of vulnerability that comes when I, as a female, walk alone.

I’ve been followed by men multiple times in at least four different countries. Since I was probably 11 or 12, men have yelled or catcalled at me. Even when I’m driving, guys in the cars around me have tried to get my attention in inappropriate and unwelcome ways.

One time last year, I went to this beautiful park in downtown Pensacola. As I drove slowly around the corner of the park, I had my windows down and my music up. There were several men there cleaning the park. When they saw my car, half a dozen guys starting yelling comments at me, catcalling, and trying to get my attention. In that moment, I decided it would be safer to leave instead of getting out of my car and walking alone around the park.

Recently a guy asked me if I considered getting attention from male strangers as a compliment. To be honest, I don’t.

I don’t feel beautiful or respected when guys I don’t know (or guys at all!) make sexual remarks on my appearance. I feel disgusted, uncomfortable, and depending on the situation, even scared when guys approach me in this way.

Men have leered, followed, and verbally accosted me. What I have experienced is much less than what other women have gone through. I’ve not been raped or molested or physically violated in any way.

But when I walk the streets, my mind stays on high alert. I do what I can to stay safe and be attentive. Whenever I’m in a city that I don’t know, I view every man around me as a potential threat. That sounds extreme and unfair, since the percentage of those men who are actual threats is low.

However, when I am alone, I don’t take chances. I have to revert to cynicism just to ensure that I don’t let down my guard.

Only if I am walking with a guy or a group, can I allow myself to relax. Men rarely approach me or talk inappropriately to me when another man is walking beside me.

Today, I saw the following quote shared on Instagram:

“We talk about how many women were raped last year, not about how many men raped women. We talk about how many girls in a school district were harassed last year, not about how many boys harassed girls. We talk about how many teenaged girls got pregnant in the state of Vermont last year, rather than how many men and teenaged boys got girls pregnant.

“So you can see how the use of this passive voice has a political effect. It shifts the focus off men and boys and onto girls and women.

“Even the term violence against women is problematic. It’s a passive construction. There’s no active agent in the sentence. It’s a bad thing that happens to women. It’s a bad thing that happens to women, but when you look at that term violence against women, nobody is doing it to them. It just happens. Men aren’t even a part of it!”

—Jackson Katz, PH.D, from his TED Talk “Violence Against Women: It’s a Men’s Issue”

As a grammar teacher, I have taught the difference between active and passive. With an active verb, the subject of the sentence takes responsibility for the action taking place. But when the verb is passive, the person who did the action is hidden away at the end of the sentence or not even present in the sentence at all.

I tell my students to think of passive as “passive aggressive” because an action is still taking place, but no one is taking responsibility for it.

The sentence “women were raped” does not reveal who did the action of raping them. It only reveals the action itself and who received the action.

Last year, one of the books I was reading included a conversation that really stood out to me. In the book, a man explains to his teenage niece why rape is never justified—no matter the situation. In the book, a teenage girl was at a party. She was dressed very sensually, she was inebriated, and she had been flirting all night with the guys around her. By the end of the night, she was passed out and one of the other teenagers took advantage of the situation and raped her. According to the other students at the party, she had been “asking for it.”

The uncle, in a very respectful and clear way, explained why none of this girl’s actions justified the violence that was done against her. He compared it to a situation where someone would’ve driven a new car to the party, bragged about it all night, and waved the keys in everyone’s face. If one of the people at the party had taken this as an invitation to steal the car, their theft still would not have been justified, even if the car owner had been flaunting the car all night.

To me, this simple example did an incredible job showing why rape—or violence of any kind—is never justified.

As we think about this issue, I know that many other difficult issues come to mind. Issues such as pornography, sex slavery, domestic abuse, and child abuse.

The world can be a dark and dangerous place because of sin.

I do not hate men. But I do hate the violence that men have done, and continue to do, against women around the world.

If there were no men at all, I would feel safe to go alone at night to the beach. I would not hesitate to solo road trip across the States or to explore Europe on my own. Yes, women do harm other women. But my ability to defend myself against another woman is much, much higher then my ability to defend myself against a man.

I believe that God gave men strength that they might protect women and children, not physically harm them. But, sin—the great corrupter of all that is good—has led men to abuse and misuse the strength they were trusted with.

I want to conclude, however, with hope. Because I do believe that despite the evil around is, we can still cling to the hope we find in Christ.

One of my favorite Psalms begins with these words: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, even though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea” (Psalm 46:1-3).

God is our source of strength. No matter what we face, we can turn to Him and call upon His name. We can ask Him for strength when we are weak. His strength is made perfect in our weakness.

Verse 5 says, “God is in the midst of her, she will not be moved; God shall help her, just at the break of dawn.”

I will not be moved by this world. I will continue to walk in faith and trust in my God.

How I Found Hope Amidst Grief

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. 1 Corinthians 13:12

There is a hole in my chest where my heart used to be. I think some people call this grief.

Almost a month ago, my mom passed away. She’s spent weeks in Heaven now, and we’ve spent too many days without her.

I know that there are many emotions I have not yet been able to process or work through. At this point, it’s almost impossible to fully understand that I will never again hug my mom or hear her laugh.

I have to keep reminding myself that my mom is gone. She’s no longer here. And she’s not coming back.

The last time I saw my mom, she couldn’t talk. Her eyes moved listlessly around the room. Pain no longer touched her face, but a weariness had settled into her cheeks and bones. I stood with my grandparents, my sister Raeya, and my dad. We sang over her, and laughed and cried and prayed.

Then I drove home. About half an hour later, I was standing in the kitchen, heating up water to make tea.

That’s when the text came.

She was gone.

I didn’t cry. Not then. I just felt numb, maybe even empty. For half a year, we’d known this moment would come. Now that it was here, I didn’t know what to do with it.

I kissed my mom goodbye that day.

The following morning, I drove back to my mom’s house to spend the day with my family and close friends. I walked alone into her empty bedroom and looked for her Bible. Her pen was stuck between the pages.

The pen marked the passage of Luke 22. Mom had underlined verse 42 which says, “Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.”

“Oh God, God.” I whispered again and again, sliding to the floor by her bed and holding the Bible tightly to my chest. “My God.”

This was the verse God had given to me weeks before. This was the promise I wanted to give back to God—that whatever happened, I would still love, trust, and serve Him.

The day my mom passed away, I texted my best friend Alessia right away. Within seconds, she texted back one word: coming. That’s the sign of a true friend. When you need them, they drop everything and come to you.

But my relationship with God is a step beyond friendship. When I need Him, He does not reply by saying, “Coming.” Instead, He immediately wraps His arms around me, and says, “I’m here.”

Psalm 46 reminds us that God is our refuge and our strength. Even if the whole world falls apart around us, God is within us, and He will help us to stand even as the ground sinks.

The beginning of verse 10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Despite the hurting within and the chaos around me, despite all uncertainties and troubles, I must choose to stand still and remember who God is and what He has done for me.

He is my Father, my King, my Friend, and my Healer. He is the greatest Physician. He did not take away my mom’s cancer, but He took away her suffering and her pain. He carried her home to be with Him. And someday soon, after this short life fades away, I will see her face to face again.

Because of God, I can experience both grief and hope at the same time. There is joy in the midst of the sorrow, and healing in the midst of the hurting. I pray that no matter what struggles you are facing you will find hope and healing in God’s arms.

He is with you at all times, waiting for you to surrender all at His feet so that you might find peace.

He is waiting to be your hope.

Nevertheless: Trusting God through Sorrow

The tears come without warning.

One minute I’m smiling and I’m fine and everything is fine.

And the next—I can’t stop crying. Everything in me breaks and crumbles; what strength I have falls away.

Moments like these happen when a kind person asks me how I’m really doing or when friends ask about my family.

Or when I’m alone, driving on long roads. If I turn down the noise and let the music fade, my sadness crowds the empty space around me. I lean forward, clenching the steering wheel as the tears fight their way down my cheeks.

In those moments, I don’t know what to say to God—or even what words I could use to pray. He knows, I think. When my spirit breaks, He hears the crack.

God is cutting deep—deeper than He has before. And as sadness knifes through me, I wonder how much worse this will get. How much more will He cut away? I resist the blade, I shrink back from its touch.

But He is the gardener and I am the rose and this is the pruning.

Only with pruning, will new life and growth come. Others have borne worse, I know. Many Christians have endured more loss and grief than I may ever know.

I’ve been cut back before, but never like this.

God does not hurry; He does not force His way through. The knife eases against my soul. I look past the blade and see His eyes. They sorrow. They grieve.

“It hurts.” I can’t say the words, but He hears them, I’m sure.

I know. He whispers, His voice about to break. I know how much it hurts. But it’s the only way.

He understands my pain because He has been through worse. He watched as those He created and loved turned against His only Son. He felt their hatred towards Jesus; He knew their every thought as they nailed His Son to a tree.

God has known the full extent of grief.

George Macdonald wrote, “The Son of God suffered unto the death, not that men might not suffer, but that their sufferings might be like His.”

Jesus did not suffer in order that I may never feel pain or grief.  But His sufferings redeem my own. Because He bore the cross, I can find hope through any trial. The pain remains but there is meaning in the madness.

And I think of when God’s Son—His only Son—fell to His knees the night before He chose to bear the cross. In the garden, Jesus told His disciples, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death.”

Exceedingly sorrowful. Beyond sorrow. His pain was more than He could bear, but He still bore it.

Jesus, overwhelmed and truly alone, cried out to His Father. He prayed, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.”

Nevertheless.

Nevertheless, Lord.

And somewhere deep in my soul, I find the words to pray.

Abba, my grief is not close to what Jesus felt that night. What You’ve asked me to do is not as exceedingly difficult. But my soul is weary and I can not bear this burden alone. I do not want to bear it at all. I do not want to watch my mom die. I want her to be there one day when I marry and when I have my own children. I want her by my dad’s side as they grow old. I want to watch her hair turn gray.

O My Father, My good kind Father whose love I feel and know is true, please, let this cup pass from me, from all of us. Please let this not be a story that ends in sorrow and grief like so many others. Please change the ending like you’ve done before. Please heal her. Please do the impossible.

But, Lord, give me the strength to say: nevertheless. Nevertheless, not as I will or as I want, but as You will.

This is Your story, God. It always has been. And I trust You with it—with all of us.

Even though the pain overwhelms me and drags me down, even though the sadness is more than I will understand, despite all of the tears and the cuts that feel too deep—I trust You. I have since I was a child, and I will every day of my life.

I know You always have a plan and a reason and purpose for every word of the story that You write. Give me the strength to say nevertheless.

A Mother’s Strength

When I was little, I remember running down the stairs and seeing my mom sitting alone on the couch, reading her Bible. She kept her Bible in a soft blue case with a notebook and pen tucked in it. No matter how busy she was or where we were, her Bible was always somewhere close by.

Today of all days, we appreciate our mothers. But even though I am so very grateful for my mom, I am much more grateful for God. I know that it was God who made my mother into who she is today.

Without Him on her side, she could not have been so selfless, patient, and kind. Without Him, she could not have relentlessly and completely loved each of us girls and my daddy.

My mom is strong because my God is strong. She is kind because He taught her how to be. She loves because He is love.

I do not praise my mom for who she is. But I praise God for who He has allowed my mom to become. And I thank Him because she is still here with me, with us.

A year ago, I sat in the hospital and watched as cancer wrecked my mom’s body. For months, chemo left her exhausted and nauseated. She could no longer keep up with the many Bible studies and women’s groups that she had faithfully served in for years.

But through it all, she kept her Bible by her side. Her faith did not waver. My whole life, I’ve watched her put God first. And as soon as she became sick, hundreds of people in both Peru and the States began to pray for her and my family. For months, I would receive regular texts from those who were praying and caring for us.

No matter what happened, I knew that my family was not alone. We were loved, so tremendously loved. And at the end of last year, when God healed my mom, I knew how blessed we were to have more time with her.

In January, my parents moved to Pensacola. For the past few months, they’ve been only a ten-minute drive away from my college campus. God placed them close to us, and as an unexpected result from the virus, my sisters and I had even more time and flexibility to be with them.

But then my mom became sick again.

I remember the first time it happened. I’d been meeting up with her to go on walks, and then, one day she couldn’t anymore. She started to feel tired and sore, and the pain came back. For weeks, we waited as she made appointments and was tested.

A few weeks ago, her doctor said she had colon cancer. Again.

I fell apart. We all did. Alessia came over, and I was just curled in a blanket, crying. I couldn’t stop crying. Fear rushed back in. But this time, I wasn’t across the world in India or walking across the stage in my graduation while my mom watched from her hospital bed in Peru.

This time, I could drive to my mom and see her, hug her, and just be with her. That has been one of the most unexpected and amazing blessings God could have given us.

But after more tests, the doctor reversed his statement. He said that she didn’t have colon cancer. Something was still wrong, but they weren’t sure what.

Then this past week, my mom found out that she probably does have cancer.

We still don’t know for sure what it is or how this will affect her. The doctors are still running more tests, but they have found several possible tumors in her lung, liver, and lower abdomen.

A year ago, God spared my mom’s life. I am so grateful that I could spend all of Mother’s Day by her side today. We don’t know what will happen next, but there is something that I do know. Something that my mom has taught me since I was a little girl.

God is in control. He is good. And He loves us so much more than we could ever know or comprehend.

For the past few years, I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to be a mom. I knew how selfish, sinful, and lazy I was. All I saw were my weaknesses.

But this year, God has shown me that it doesn’t matter how weak I am. What matters is how strong He is. And, friend, He is STRONG.

This Spring, one of my closest friends Tamara Greene had a beautiful baby girl.[image error] And God used this tiny sweet baby to remind me that being a mother is a gift and a blessing. God uses the challenges of motherhood to teach and grow His daughters.

My mom is an incredible mother because every morning, she would get up while the rest of us slept, and she would spend time with God. She rooted herself in His word,  and she brought (and still brings) all of her burdens and troubles before Him in prayer.

No matter how hard life was (or how crazy her four little girls could be), my mom kept her eyes on Jesus.

Today, we face an uncertain future. But we have God on our side, and my mother has taught us to keep our eyes on Jesus. No matter what happens, He will be our strength.

 

When Life Goes Wrong

Confession time.

I’m 22. I have a college degree. I’ve published a book. I have a car.

But I do not have a driver’s license. 

Yeah . . .

There’s a long fun story to explain the many reasons why I don’t have one. Something along the lines of illegal driving in Peru . . . moving out when I was 17 (you have to be 18 to get your license in Peru) . . . spending the following summers working at PCC or serving overseas . . .

I finally got my learner’s permit this Spring, but understandably none of my friends with cars were up to the adventure of letting a newbie take their vehicle for a spin. Their parents, who were paying the insurance, weren’t in favor of this idea either—for obvious reasons.

After I graduated in May, I went to Peru for two weeks. I was eager to practice driving with my dad. On day one, I successfully drove to the grocery store and back. On day two, when I was going to practice driving again, our van decided to completely die.

So that went nowhere.

After spending the summer not-driving in India, I went back to the States and made huge adulting achievements, like driving to Walmart without hitting anyone and driving on the Interstate for an hour (honestly, that one hour involved a lot of annoyed drivers and almost ended my friendship with Alessia).

I learned the hard way that stops signs actually meant STOP and not SLOW-DOWN-ISH. I had zero confidence in my driving ability which made practicing much more stressful fun.

During the first few weeks of the semester, I set up an appointment to get my driving test. I only had a short window to take the test and get back on campus for my job as an academic advisor. That whole week I was extremely stressed out and overwhelmed by the classes I was teaching and the ones I was taking.

But on Tuesday at 8 a.m., my dad came to pick me up for my test. I drove away from my house, but I hadn’t made it out of campus when I broke down.

I couldn’t do it.

I hadn’t given myself permission to not go and take the test. But my dad could tell I was about to fall apart. He told me that I didn’t have to go right now. I pulled over, canceled my appointment, and cried.

In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t push through and go to my test. I probably would have failed it because of how I was doing emotionally that morning.

I set up an appointment for another test, but the first available time was a month away—October 4.

During the next few weeks, I practiced more and grew more confident. I was ready for my test. Which brings us to this morning. I got up early, made coffee for Victoria, my friend who agreed to go with me, and we set off to the DMV.

Everything was going well until I sat in the car with my instructor. The first thing he did was have me roll down the front windows. The window on the driver’s side didn’t roll down, even though it had worked just fine the night before.

Then he checked my lights.

Sometime between practicing yesterday and driving to the DMV this morning, my right taillight had burned out.

The instructor said, “So . . . we have two options. Either you fix the light and come back. Or you roll down the window and use hand signals. Well, actually, your window isn’t rolling down. So now we have one option.”

Actually, we had no options. I didn’t have time to fix the light and take the driving test before I had to clock in for work

Fifteen minutes later, I drove back onto campus without a license.

Even though I finally felt confident and ready to take my test, I still wouldn’t be able to. I’d have to wait a month for another appointment that worked with my schedule.

As I pulled into my parking spot on campus, coffee accidentally spilled on the front seat. I just laughed and told Victoria, “It’s like a series of unfortunate events . . . all before 9 a.m.! Everything that could possibly go wrong has done so.”

My reaction to this series of unfortunate events?

I laughed and walked back to my house smiling.

Things rarely go as I plan them, so I try not to get too attached to my plans. When I was growing up, my parents would respond with humor when things went wrong.

Instead of cussing or complaining or getting extremely angry or frustrated, they would laugh! They would laugh together and they taught us to laugh.

I remember talking to Grandaddy Anderson about this last year. He said that he made it a habit to see the adventure in the unexpected. Whenever his tire would go flat or things didn’t go as planned, he’d just smile and go with it, enjoying the adventures that would take place.

Things are always going to go wrong. We can’t control that. But we can control how we react to disappointment. There have been many times when I’ve quickly lost my patience when things didn’t go the way I wanted them to.

But I know there’s always a plan behind the chaos. 

When things go wrong, I want my knee-jerk reaction to be laughter. I don’t want to curse or get frustrated or extremely angry. I want to laugh!

This whole week as I prayed for my test and prepared for it, God knew what was going to take place. He knew I’d have to wait another month for my test.

This is just something that can teach me patience and remind me to appreciate the kindness of my friends.  I want independence and I crave it. But being dependent on others has humbled me.

Even in the little things, God is working out the details of my life. If I can trust Him with the big things, I know I can also trust Him with things like getting my license.

So when things don’t go the way I plan it, I’m just going to laugh about it, (maybe write about it), and move on.

Life is just an adventure we get to take. And I want to enjoy every minute. 

Joy on the Horizon

Out of all the sunrises and sunsets that I’ve seen, I believe that this one is my favorite because it was one of those I didn’t go looking for.

Exactly a year ago, I laid in bed and told Alessia, “Life sucks.” But then I got up anyway and when I stepped outside, this was the fiery sky that greeted me.

It was a moment where I knew God was gently correcting me and reminding me how much love He’d shown me. How could life suck when every day was full of blessings?

That morning my circumstances didn’t change. My perspective did.

A year has passed since that sunrise. A lot has changed. I’ve cried a lot this year. More than I usually do.

During the first few weeks of this semester, I felt extremely overwhelmed by my circumstances. I remember one morning when I woke up at 5 to study and finish a paper. A lot of things happened that morning, and by 8 a.m., I was alone again in my room.

My laptop and a stack of books were next to me on my bed. I felt like throwing up. Not because I was sick—but because of how stressed out and worried I felt.

I started to sob. I curled up under a blanket and leaned against the wall. I cried until everything ached.

Then I grabbed my journal and wrote:

“Something is wrong inside me. I’m splintered. I’m wounded. I’m breaking apart. Every day I want to cry. I can’t take this—the pressure, the demands, the expectations—I don’t want any of it.

“Every day I’m falling before God’s throne, begging Him for strength. But no matter what steps I do or don’t take, I seem to be failing everyone around me. Yet when people look at my life, they are impressed. By what I’m not sure, because I’ve always been a wreck. Anyone who knows me can see what a mess I am.

“Yesterday, standing in the teacher’s room with Victoria, I had to subtly ‘fan’ myself with a test form to avoid crying. This happened five minutes before I walked into class and taught for the next two hours.”

Then I listed out 11 different situations or people that were causing me to worry.

I wrote, “but I have to find the strength. God keeps telling me to be strong and courageous! He will be with me . . .

“Okay, God. You see me struggling. You see the pain and hurt crippling me. I am overwhelmed. The waves are over my head and I can’t breathe.

“But I trust you.

“I will always trust you, no matter how hard this life gets.

“You are the Rock I turn to—You are the only one who sees the layers of worry and stress that try to tear me apart. I trust that I am right where you want me to be. I trust that these trials and sufferings will change me and challenge me.

“Grow me, Lord, whatever it takes that my heart might become more like yours.

“I pray for healing. My heart hurts right now, but I trust you with my emotions and my future. You know what’s best for me. I want to follow your leading in whatever I do.

“I pray for peace that I would not let worry take over my heart.

“Your will, not mine!”

Since I prayed this, I’ve gotten used to the classes I’m teaching and the ones I’m taking. And I can genuinely say that I love teaching. I make mistakes and mess up, but I greatly enjoy my job.

I spent this weekend in Orlando with my best friend, Alessia Flores. As we drove late into the night on Friday, I spent the first few hours playing loud music. I didn’t talk very much, which for me is rare. Usually I can’t stay quiet around the people who know me well.

But I didn’t talk because I felt like crying. And I was tired of crying. I’ve broken down so many times in the last few months, and I didn’t want to break down again.

As we drove, I struggled to breathe. Whenever I’m stressed out, I start to sound like Darth Vader because I suddenly forget how to breathe easily. This went on for a while as I sat there not-crying and not-talking, and thinking too much.

Alessia finally asked me, “What are you thinking?”

That’s a dangerous question to ask.

For a while, I couldn’t find the words. Then the tears came as we sped down the dark endless road to Orlando.

For the next half hour, I cried as we talked. Alessia helped me to sort through the chaos of emotions inside me. I realized what the problem was.

I feel alone. 

And I feel guilty for even thinking that because I’m surrounded by people who love me and people who I can invest and care for. Even more importantly, I am held close by a God who understands me and gave everything for me.

I’m the girl who really enjoyed solo-exploring Marseille every day for a month. I’m the girl who loved flying alone because it gave me time to write and think. When I’m stressed out, I escape to sit alone in coffee shops and bookstores. I woke up early in the morning so that I could be alone for hours before I had to face the demands of the day.

So how can I genuinely enjoy being alone, yet still feel lonely? 

And this is where I have to be extremely honest with myself. When I write, I strip away all pretenses and am left with a vulnerable, exposed soul. I’m left looking as weak as I feel inside.

That’s why I cannot write for others because I’d cover up my hurt. I have to write to process who I am and who I am becoming.

So here’s the truth.

I want to love and be loved.

Not just by God or by family or friends.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been obsessed with the idea of romantic love. I’m sure I fed this obsession with all the romantic books and songs and movies I consumed as I grew up.

But I believe that this desire started because of the love I watched my parents share.

My favorite question to ask a couple is how they met. The stories they tell are always unexpected and beautiful. What I wanted more than anything was to have my own story to tell. I wanted to find someone I could spend forever with. Someone who would laugh with me when things went wrong in life. Someone who would lay next to me before the world was awake and who would pray with me before we started our day.

But even though I had this strong desire, the thought of actually falling in love scared me.

From age 6, I started rejecting boys and kept the pattern up through the years. The boys who liked me couldn’t live up to the dreamy ideas in my little-girl imagination.

I assumed I would reach college and finally live out my own love story, like so many others seemed to. Instead I found myself falling into cycnism and bitterness as I continued to let fear decide for my heart. Again and again, I unintentionally lead guys on and then rejected them.

A year ago, I knew something was really wrong with my heart. I finally realized that I couldn’t trust a guy with my heart because I hadn’t trusted God with my heart. I had let fear take over in many areas of my life not just this one. So I spent months evicting fear from my heart. I worked hard to trust God and to satisfy the longings of my heart in Him alone.

The first six months of this year, I specifically focused on growing closer to God. I did not want to be driven by the desire for romantic love. God quieted my heart. I found peace and joy in my relationship with the One who loved me the most.

And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid to fall in love. 

But God still told me to wait. 

As soon as we graduated, many of my friends and classmates married and started posting their own wedding photos. I was happy for them, but my heart grew restless again. By the end of this year, my three closest friends will be married.

Over and over again, God told me to wait on Him and His timing. I kept reading Psalm 27:14 which says, “Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; wait, I say on the Lord.”

I knew that I was right where He wanted me to be. I loved that I could spend hours with Him every morning. I knew there were so many people around me that I had the unique opportunity to care for and pray for. But under everything else that I was struggling with, my unfulfilled desire remained.

If I couldn’t have my own love story, then why did I still have this desire? Was it a sin to want more than the countless blessings God had filled my life with? Had this desire become an idol in my heart?

That night as we drove to Orlando, I realized that I may no longer be crippled by fears, but I was still struggling with loneliness. My desire was stopping me from fully focusing on the here and now.

Yesterday, I thought through it all and allowed myself to feel sad because of the many different things I had been struggling with, including this desire. I remembered the verse in Psalm 30 which says, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”

I want joy to come and replace the loneliness that I have been struggling with.

The sadness inside me has driven me before God’s throne, and yes, I’ve found comfort and peace by His side. But every day the ache would come back. The heaviness would come at moments when I should’ve been happiest.

Last night my prayer mirrored Psalm 30:10 which says, “Hear, O Lord, and have mercy on me; Lord, be my helper!”

This semester, I’ve been waking up early every morning to watch the sunrise bring on the day. But for the first time, I realized that what I want more than a sunrise in the sky is a sunrise in my heart.

Last night I prayed, “Lord, I ask for a sunrise. I ask for your joy. I ask for your peace and strength. I don’t want to live in sadness. I don’t want to feel this loneliness anymore. I want to be able to shake free from these heavy feelings. I want to live joyfully, wildly, and to really invest in the people around me. Lord, I ask that you would give me a sunrise.”

I don’t know why I’ve always struggled with this desire. I don’t know why God keeps telling me to wait. Psalm 30:2 says, “O Lord my God, I cried out to You, and You healed me.” I have cried out to God and already He has begun to heal me. Even now God’s love eases the darkness out of my heart.

This morning I listened to Jeremy Camp’s new album. A few lines from his song “Wilderness” stood out to me.

”I’ve had seasons of goodness

Overflowing with life

But I’m no stranger to sorrow

Or a heart that wanders sometimes

I know the darkest night cannot outrun the sun”

A year ago today an unforgettable sunrise changed my perspective and challenged me. Today, a different kind of sunrise is taking over my life.

Maybe I’ll never have the love story I’ve wanted since I was little. But every day I wake up to the love of a God who created me and redeemed me. He pursues my heart and reminds me that my own dreams and desires will not satisfy the longings of my soul.

Only God can replace my loneliness with joy. 

I trust Him with my heart. I’m not going to let this unfulfilled desire steal my joy. I’m not going to waste today wishing for tomorrow. I’m not going to let bitterness replace my peace. 

I’ve felt a lot of sadness for many reasons this year. I’ve been knocked down by fear. I’ve fought to hold onto my own dreams. But I’ve also learned and grown a lot.

Almost every day this semester, I’ve woken up before the sun and walked under a still-dark sky as I read Psalms and listened to music that pointed me back to God. I’ve watched as the world changed from night to day.

Usually in the moment when I would give up on a sunrise, that’s when it would come. Quiet streaks of pink would cross the night sky, reminding me that the sun may not be here yet, but it was coming and would be here soon.

I was about to post this blog when I overheard Alessia playing the song “You’re Beautiful” by Phil Wickham.

The first few lines say,

I see your face

In every sunrise

The colors of the morning

Are inside your eyes

The world awakens

In the light of the day

I look up to the sky and say

You’re beautiful

I see your power

In the moonlit night

Where planets are in motion

And galaxies are bright

We are amazed

In the light of the stars

It’s all proclaiming who you are

You’re beautiful

God, you are beautiful. This world is beautiful. Whatever story You choose to write in our lives is beautiful. Thank you for every sunrise and sunset. My desire is for You. Thank you for the loneliness that reminds me I am never alone. Thank you for the unfulfilled desires that have brought my heart closer to yours.

This morning my circumstances didn’t change, but my perspective did.

Its been a long, lonely night, but this is my sunrise. Joy is on the horizon.

Our Impossible God

Our God is not impossible, but He is a God who specializes in doing impossible things.  He answers prayers we don’t even dare to pray. His does more than we can even think to ask. What we call impossible, He can do easily.

A few days ago, I read through the story of Abraham. I was once again amazed at how God does impossible things in our life and how He asks us to do impossible things.

In Genesis 22, God tested Abraham by asking him to sacrifice his son . . . his only son who he loved.

This wasn’t the first time God asked Abraham to trust Him.

It wasn’t the first time that God told Abraham to do something crazy, or that God said He’d do the impossible for Abraham.

Throughout Abraham’s life, God had taught Abraham to trust Him. God had asked him to leave everything and go into a strange land. He’d promised him thousands of heirs when he did not even have one son. He protected and blessed him through it all. God did all this to prepare Abraham for this ultimate test of trust and faith.

In the beginning of Genesis 15, long before Abraham even had a son, God told him, “Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your exceedingly great reward.”

Throughout his life, Abraham had witnessed the wild, untame love and power of God. Abraham may not have understood, but he’d questioned God before and he wouldn’t do it this time.

He decided to trust God, even if it would cost him what was dearest to him in this world.

He obeyed even as fear seized his heart, even as worry invaded his every thought, even when he had no guarantee God would spare the life of his only and beloved son.

God understood the sacrifice he was asking Abraham to make. God knew from the beginning of time, since the first moment we turned our hearts against him, that He too would have to make the ultimate sacrifice—that of willingly giving up His only and beloved son.

In Genesis 22:8, Abraham assures his son, “My son, God will provide for Himself the lamb for a burnt offering.” Abraham trusted God and Isaac trusted Abraham—the father he knew loved him. 

God tested Abraham’s faith and spared the life of his son. In verse 12 God said, “Do not lay your hand on the lad, or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.” 

Our God does impossible things for us and sometimes He asks us for impossible things.

But the truth is that all we have to do is trust. Our trust in Him leads us to obey Him. If we do this, no matter the price tag of what He asks of us, then GOD COMES THROUGH.

He does the impossible part of the deal. All we have to do is follow His lead and respond to the whispers of His love in our life. When He says go and we go—He’ll carve out the path for us to walk. We may not know why we are going or where we are going, but He’ll show us in time.

He knows that His plan for us is what is best for us. His love tests us just like it tested Abraham, but His love does not try to manipulate or trick us. His love protects us, grows us, and nurtures us.

A year ago God made two things clear to me—that He wanted me to go to India for the summer and that He wanted me to come back to PCC for my masters.

When it came to India, I had no details or plans, I just knew that was the country He wanted me to go to. When I agreed to go, God was the one who carved out that path and made it possible. He did the hard part. All I had to do was trust Him—even if that meant daily surrendering doubts and fears.

But staying for my masters . . . that was something I did not want to do. I thought I knew what it would cost me. I came up with half a dozen others plans—places to go and dreams to chase. But God gave me reason after reason to stay instead of leaving.

I didn’t want to trust Him with this.

But I finally did. And even though I did so reluctantly and skeptically, God has changed my heart. Fall semester starts in two days and already I’ve been filled with unexpected peace and joy.

My heart feels settled because I know that for now this is exactly where God wants me. He’s poured out blessings on me that I could not have foreseen a year ago when I struggled to resign my will and make the choice to stay.

God has proven over and over to me that if I listen to His voice and trust His will for my life, He will make the way. He will do the impossible. He will go before me and carry me through whatever lies ahead.

This is the most beautiful love story—that of trusting God again and again with a broken, sin-stained heart. God is ever patient with us. He will not force us to obey Him, but He gives us every reason to. He proves His love for us. He never lets us down. He never fails us or leaves us. Instead, He holds us closer.

I’m struggling every day to surrender. To die to my flesh. To submit to His will and not to become entangled again with sin. Isn’t this the whole point of our walk with Jesus? To take up our cross and daily follow Him?

We’re going to fall—and usually when I do fall it’s straight onto my face—but we don’t have to stay down. Grace gives us permission to get up and follow Him again.

During this past week, God has been slowly showing me what to write for this blog post. I’ve wanted to write it for several days, but I knew I had to wait.

An hour ago, I was half asleep when I prayed, “God, I know you want me to write this. But there’s still something missing. If you want me to stay up and write this, make it so that I cannot sleep until the words come out.”

As I got ready for bed, I opened Instagram and the first thing I saw was a story my sister Raeya had posted a few minutes ago. She had shared one of her simple, yet profoundly deep drawings.

[image error]

When I saw the picture, I quickly ran back to my room and pulled out my laptop and Bible again. Words filled my mind and I knew it was finally time to write this post. These were the words that came to me:

The gospel itself is the most impossible story of all—that a perfect God would send His one and only Son to redeem a broken world. That Jesus would leave the comfort and peace of Heaven and step into our sorrow and sin-caused suffering. That He would not see who we are, but who we could become through His redemptive love.

He loved us—impossibly so.

He saved us even as we nailed Him to a cross and spit in His face and cursed His name.

What a God! What depth of love and grace that He has consistently shown each of us! If the proof of His love and sacrifice wasn’t before us, it would be absolutely incredulous to believe that a perfect and Holy God would step into sin and darkness to pull us out of the mire and gift us a new life.

I invited Jesus into my heart when I was five years old. A lot has changed since then, but that decision remains true. When I was a kid, my absolute favorite Sunday School song was “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus.” It’s a very simple song, but I pray that it would still be the anthem of my heart.

I’ve decided to follow Jesus every day, leaving the world and its darkness behind me.

I’ve decided to follow Jesus no matter where He takes me.

I’ve decided to follow Jesus even if it costs me what I love most.

Those are scary words to write. But I want them to be more than words—I want them to ring true. I serve a God who delights in doing the impossible. I pray that He would do the impossible in my own life and that He would take over the throne in my heart. I want Him—I need Him—to come first.

This morning, my family and I attended my home church, the same church where I yielded my heart to Christ so many years ago. We sang the words of this hymn:

Have Thine own way, Lord,

Have Thine own way;

Thou art the Potter,

I am the clay.

Mould me and make me

After Thy will,

While I am waiting,

Yielded and still.

I don’t know what God is going to ask of me next. But I want Him to have His own way in my heart and life. Everything that He has given me He could so easily take away. I don’t want my love for Him to depend on my circumstances or the blessings He’s flooded my life with.

I want to love Him because of who He is and what He’s done for me. In the words of C. S. Lewis, “I want God, not my idea of God.“ Those are also scary words to write because who God is may not be who we want Him to be.

We may not want a God who asks us to trust Him completely, even to the point of sacrificing a son. God asked Abraham for the impossible. His request didn’t make sense, but He also didn’t offer any sort of explanation or reasoning. Abraham could have easily demanded a reason or fought for the life of his only and beloved son.

Instead, Abraham trusted God and obeyed Him even though that obedience could have easily cost him everything.

Are we willing to trust God in this same way? No matter what it costs us? Do we truly believe that God can answer our impossible prayers? We serve a God who does what cannot be done. He saved us even when death had us marked for an eternity of suffering. He can do whatever He chooses. All we had to do is let Him have His way.

We must trust that our God who has done impossible things can do them again.

“Enjoy your life while you wait. Enter into God’s rest knowing He will come through. You’ve seen Him move mountains before and you’ll see Him do it again.”

—J. Beck

PS: Check out “I Just Want You” by Sarah Reeves 

 

Is God Worth our Trust?

The most wondrous thing is a relationship with God. It’s a sweet friendship that runs deep.

To be absolutely and fully known and loved by the Creator of the Universe is incredible.

He constantly surprises and amazes me with the depth and beauty of His love. He’s not shy about it. He shouts it out with every unexpected sunset that sets fire to the sky. He whispers it again and again as He blesses and provides in dozens of ways every day. He hears my innermost fears and answers my prayers and holds me when I cry.

Loving God and being loved by God is better than anything else this world could possibly offer.

“But the great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, His love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins, at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him.” 

C. S. Lewis in Mere Christianity 

His love changes us and shakes us out from where we were once comfortably stagnant. He does not want us to settle for less or to become entangled again with the bondage of sin (Galatians 5:1).

On the radio program Gateway to Joy, Elizabeth Elliot said, “God’s love is a refining fire. God is in the business of purifying or changing us. God loves us far too much to leave us just the way we are. Love desires change.”

His steadfast, perfect love chases after each of us. He wants us to want Him.

He wants us to be with Him, to spend time sitting at His feet, listening to His stories and wisdom. He wants us to spend an eternity of peace with Him.

He wants us to live out the life of adventures He wrote out for us before time began.

A life without God wouldn’t be life at all.

He won over sin and death just so that we could draw near to His throne and pour out our hearts before Him. Lamentations 2:19 b says, “Pour out your heart like water before the face of the Lord. Lift your hands toward Him.”

Today I read an inspiring and challenging article about the surrendered life of Betty Scott Stam. This was the prayer that she lived by:

“Lord, I give up my own plans and purposes, all my own desires, hopes and ambitions, and I accept Thy will for my life. I give up myself, my life, my all, utterly to Thee, to be Thine forever. I hand over to Thy keeping all of my friendships; all the people whom I love are to take second place in my heart. Fill me now and seal me with Thy Spirit. Work out Thy whole will in my life at any cost, for to me to live is Christ. Amen.”

When Betty prayed this, she didn’t know the turn her life would take. She didn’t know that when she was only 28 she would watch her husband be beheaded for his faith in front of her. Nor did she know that her life would be cut short in the next moment.

God knew what road stretched ahead for Betty, yet He still asked her to trust Him with all that she was. It’s the same for us. He knows what turn our life will take; He knows the trials and difficulties that we will face. Yet He asks us to let go and trust Him.

His love for us wants what is best for us, even if it is not what we think is best for us.

Earlier this week, my friend Bonnie shared Psalm 84:11-12 on Instagram:

For the Lord God is a sun and shield;

The Lord will give grace and glory;

No good thing will He withhold

From those who walk uprightly.

O Lord of hosts,

Blessed is the man who trusts in You!

God blesses those who trust in Him and in His love. Over the past few years, He’s been asking me to let go and trust Him. I’ve fought to hold onto my heart. I’ve clung to my own dreams and plans, my own wishes and desires.

Trusting God scared me.

If you’ve read any of my past blog posts, you’ve probably noticed the recurring them of fear vs. trust. In the New Year’s blog I wrote after getting laser surgery, I mentioned my “Fear List” that I created last October. I had written out the eight things that scared me the most, like laser surgery, getting a masters, India, publishing something deeply personal, etc.

Then I pursued those things as a way to combat the hold fear had on me.

The last point on my fear list was simply God. I’d written out why He scared me:

“He’s wild and untame, someone so far beyond what I can imagine or understand. I never expect what He’ll ask of me. It scares me to spend time with Him. It scares me to really say yes–not just to a country or a person, but to possible pain, poverty, rejection, or death.

“How can I fully take up the cross? But how dare I not when He moved Heaven and Earth to rescue me from my sin, to pull me free from my filth. It scares me what turn my life will take if I completely, absolutely let go and trust Him.”

Throughout the past months, I’ve had to trust God completely, even if I wasn’t ready to yet. Going to India was 100% impossible for me but I knew that was where He wanted me this summer. He made it possible, but I had to trust Him during the months where it seemed impossible. Once I was in India, I had to trust God through the storms I was facing. He traded my fears for peace. He steadied my soul through every trial.

Now, as I am preparing for a busy semester of teaching college classes while getting my masters, I have to trust Him again. Once again, I’m facing what seems impossible for me. But I know I am right where God wants me and I trust that He will come through.

He’s never let me down. Even if I lose everything, I will trust Him. His goodness and love do not change when the Enemy’s attacks grow stronger. No, His love–His steadfast, everlasting love–remains.

He is in me. Only because of Him do I live and breathe.

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,

Because His compassions fail not.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

He’s poured out blessings upon blessings on my life, but even if all that crumbles away tonight, I still trust Him. Not because I am strong (for He knows how weak and selfish I truly am), but because HE IS STRONG. HE IS GOOD. HIS LOVE IS PERFECT.

I don’t trust myself, but I absolutely trust Him. I trust Him with everything I am and want to be. My soul will only find peace and rest in the safety of His love.

Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him. Job 13:15

What are you scared of? What are you clinging to? What have you not been able to trust God with yet? Do you doubt the love of God for you? Are you afraid to let go and let Him take over your life?

Corrie Ten Boom said, “Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.”

We don’t know what tomorrow holds. We don’t know how many tomorrows we will have. But we can trust God with every moment He’s given us. It’s not easy. But God has proven His love for us. We can trust His plan for our life even if we don’t know what that plan is yet.

In her song “Fighting for Me,” Riley Clemmons says, “Your love is winning me over. Your heart is pulling me closer. You will never stop fighting for me. Every word is a promise You keep.”

Let God’s amazing love for you win over your heart. He is the only one worthy of your trust. When you step away from fear and pride, His love will invade your life. Let it change you and reshape you and grow you. He is the God of the impossible.

And He’s written out an incredible story for your life–but you have to trust Him first.

 

Anchored in Him

Mom has cancer.

It was already past midnight on May 25 when I got the text. But once I saw it, I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. Now, a month later, I still struggle to sleep. My brain stays on until 2 or 3 a.m.

I feel unsettled, like all the pieces inside me are scattered and jumbled up. I’m restless and unfocused.

That night in Peru, I laid alone in Grandma’s guest bedroom and wrote. I was so full of words it hurt. When I was too tired to type, I kept talking, recording my words. After a few hours, I wore myself out enough to sleep.

But since that night, I’ve struggled to write. I want to and need to, but I can’t. I keep my words locked inside me where they can’t reach anyone else.

That last Saturday in Peru I made brunch for several of my high school friends. We sat in the kitchen eating oatmeal cookies while our dog Cap played around our feet.

Isabella, my childhood best friend, looked at me and said, “You didn’t go to sleep until 4 this morning. You just found out your mom has cancer but you’ve been smiling all day. It’s okay not to be okay. This is a big deal.”

Deep inside me, a storm raged and I ached to cry. A few years ago I would’ve. But I pinched the skin on the back of my hand and focused on that instead. I waited until I could smile again and not-cry as we talked.

A week ago, I woke up to a picture of my best friend’s car upside down in a ditch. I usually try not to dwell on what if’s, but this rattled me. I was in her wedding the day before I flew to India. She could’ve died or been seriously injured…all while I was asleep a world away.

Life can flip upside down so quickly.

That same day, as I was still trying to process the pictures I’d seen, I kept getting texts from my mom and family about her doctor appointments and upcoming treatments. I kept trying to push the worries to the back of my mind.

That afternoon, we met up with some new friends. I started to share with them about how my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I barely made out the words, “But she showed me that no matter what we can still trust God” before I broke down crying.

Those sweet ladies hugged me and gently wiped away my tears. As we walked away from their house, I felt like a bandage was ripped off of a gaping hole in my heart. I scrambled to throw bandaids over it to hide the wound, but it wasn’t enough.

At that moment, my roommate Lydia turned to me and asked how I was doing. Without meeting her eyes, I smiled and said, “I’m fine.” I pinched the back of my hand as I waited for the unshed tears to recede.

I didn’t want to talk about it and maybe that’s why I couldn’t write about it. When I write, I put my heart on the page. I wasn’t ready to show the world how much I was hurting.

These words are chaotic and messy and honest. But I want to share them not because I’m ready but because God’s been holding me close this whole time. I’ve known that since that first sleepless night in Peru.

Every morning, I read another Psalm and draw my strength from God’s promises of love and hope. He revives me daily and lovingly delivers me from my fears and insecurities.

He hasn’t pulled me out of this storm yet, but He’s here with me, holding me, loving me, healing me.

Whatever storm you are in, I pray you come to rely fully on God’s strength. Read Psalm 61, 62, 71 . . . or just read all of them.

Below I’ve shared the prayer I wrote right after I found out my mom had cancer. It is still my heart’s cry.

“Whatever happens, God, my hope is fixed in you. You are the only anchor I can cling to. Hold me tonight, now, because nothing makes sense and I don’t know the answers. You are the one fixed point in my life. You are unchanging. You are above the storm; you are not overcome by the waves or the fear.

Satan wants to drown me out with conflicts without and fears within. He wants to stomp out any light You’ve ignited in my soul and heart. But I will not be tossed to and fro by his deceit, his malicious ways.

The waves keep coming, pulling me back into darkness, but when I look up, I see You—and You are the same, yesterday, today, and forever.

The harder the storm thrashes around me, the more chaos rips through my life, then the more I will cling tightly to You—my Anchor and my Hope.

I claim the promise of Psalm 71:5. “For You are my hope, O Lord God; You are my trust from my youth.”

I’ve not yet seen the worst of this world. I do not know the trials I will face. But I know that without You, I’m not strong enough to face any of them. Without Your mercy, Your love, Your strength, I would crumble apart.

Keep my soul still in this storm. Calm the waves in my heart. Draw me always back to You. If I cannot sleep, may I write. Not worry. I don’t need to feel numb or empty. I am full—my heart overflows with Your love and blessings.

And when the tears grace my cheeks, may I find comfort in them, knowing You catch every one and treasure it in your bottle. You have been holding me my entire life, lifting me away from the waves and struggles of life, wrapping me tightly in Your precious love.

How undeserving am I! How sin-wretched and lost until I fell at Your cross! Your blood brought my freedom and Your death secured my life!”

It took me a month to piece together these words. Now, sitting with friends in an adorable D’Crepes cafe, I’m finally letting go. I’m hurting and I’m not okay right now. But I’m surrounded by people who love me and a God who will never stop saving me from these storms.

As I sit here, I stop fighting the tears. This time, I let myself cry.