When I left the house this morning, my eyes were already filling up with tears. Closing the front door, flipping my iPod to Jesus Culture, and making sure my sunglasses were masking my tired, puffy eyes.
It’s been a really hard year, and recovering from it has been… an uphill battle.
Last fall, we lost a baby. That December my Grandmother died of Cancer, and the day after her passing, a close friend of the family was shot three times, sticking the knife of grief even further into our bellies. Two weeks ago, we lost a very close member of Biker’s Church, a husband and father, laying to rest another piece of our family. That same week, my biological mother, “texted” me to tell me she wants nothing to do with me, only days before I would go with her to bury my Grandmother’s ashes. Somewhere in between all this, I had repressed memories of sexual abuse surface, leaving me a mess. Trying to accept that you were molested, is uh…heavy, to say the least.
So, like I said I was already crying when I opened the door this morning. Hoping that a walk alone, would give me enough space to feel something and let go. I did feel something. I felt God. I walked, my music turned up loud enough to drown out the panic of my mind. Have you ever felt trapped in grief? of course you have, you’re human. And if you haven’t yet, you will.We all do, and we all have to learn, to call on hope and power, when there’s nothing but pain and fear. I know that Jesus was walking with me this morning, telling me, He’s here with me. I see Him in my mind, bare feet next to mine. Step by step, walking through life with me. And it’s in those moments, I have to choose to believe Him. And just LET HIM walk next to me. My tears didn’t stop, if anything they flowed harder.Just because God is with you, doesn’t mean the pain goes away. If anything, He draws it out of you, and it’s you’re choice to leave it in His hands, and commit to letting Him work things out for you. The only thing I’m ever called to do is…trust Him. So as I walked, I just listened for His voice. Crying still. Letting Him draw out of me, the anger, the fear, the pain, I had bottled up inside my chest. That thing I do, that happens so fast, I hardly notice it. Until one day, I just break…and everyone’s just kind of staring at me. But I know God sees me, because He kept telling me that this morning. Even if my own Mother doesn’t see me, after all I’ve overcome….trying so hard…to finally be noticed by her…..God sees me.That God notices everything I feel, and understands…always and ever understanding and good, and kind.
The day we lost the baby, it was because I fell. I feel, jogging in the rain. And on my walk this morning, I found myself on that road. When I realized, I was almost at the corner where I fell, my heart started racing. I noticed they were re-paving the road this morning…the spot where I had hit the ground running, smashing my knee into the rough concrete…was covered by black stinky concrete. I cried. If there had been any trace of the blood from my knee, it was gone. The deep cracks in the road, where I had tripped, they were filled. It’s sounds crazy, to cry at this right?! It’s a good thing they fixed it. But I was pissed. To me, this spot, is like a memorial. I felt like someone had stomped on the flowers I had left at her grave. And the rest of the walk home, I remembered that day. How I had limped home bleeding, the cramps radiating through my body. The robotic numbing daze I was in. Because the moment I hit the ground, I knew. She was gone.Maybe next time, I’ll walk another route…or maybe I’ll always go the same way…because the last time I held her inside me, it was at that spot.
Anyway, I don’t know if any of this makes sense, and in all honesty, I just needed to write it out, because for the rest of the day, I will be entertaining my three year old son, and putting a smile across this sad face. I just have to say that, just because I’m sad, doesn’t mean I don’t have hope. For the first time, in a while, I have hope through the tears. I wish my Mom would stop being a selfish and sick woman, but she won’t. I wish that my Grandma was still alive, but she’s home now instead. I wish we had our little girl in our arms, but I will one day in heaven. I wish I hadn’t been molested, but I was. And I’m a powerful and brave person because of it. I wish that I could just hug Jesus every day, but instead, I’ll just have to trust that He’s walking next me in His bare feet with his hands around my heart. I wish that people didn’t have to die, but they do, and one day…I’ll be with each of them for eternity. So until then, you’ll find me….ever fighting.
Because I promised…I’d never give up.