And So I Choose Freedom to Love

You say being your brand of Christian (which, of course, is the True Christian™) is so much better and fulfilling and joyful and free. But I'm not so sure.

Your christianity says "Women submit to men and must be under their authority and have restrictions on what they can do for God and humans, roles they must fulfill, and anything outside these roles is sin and less-than." 
But without your christianity, I am equal with my husband and have no restrictions on how I can serve God and others. I and my daughters are free to follow our hearts and dreams and be who we want to be, who we were called and created to be.

Your christianity says "Men must be assertive, leaders, and fit into this box in order to be acceptable as men". 
But without your christianity, my husband and sons are free to be whomever they want, and to live their lives without restraints, and to love without boundaries, and to be feeling human beings, and to not worry about being labeled as "not man enough".

Your christianity says "Children must be smacked in the name of God or they will turn into perverts; they were born wicked and it must be trained out of them".
But without your christianity, I am free to treat my children as people, with rights, desires, and minds; free to see them as innocent and beautiful and to treat them with respect and grace and The Golden Rule.

Your christianity says "There are restrictions on gender display and anyone outside that is unacceptable, an outcast, a second-class citizen, an abomination."
But without your christianity, I am free to express my gender however I want and free to love and fully accept people who also do so.

Your christianity says "There are tons of rules and restrictions and laws on how you are to think and act and if you fail those, you are in sin and must repent and if you don't repent, you'll go to hell". 
But without your christianity, I am free to live and love and laugh and dance, and to only make sure to treat others how I want to be treated, to respect, love, and honor myself and everyone else.

Your christianity says "Those who don't follow our rules are excluded".
But without your christianity, I am free to include anyone.

Your christianity says "If your child is gay or transgender, they are an abomination and a sinner".
But without your christianity, I am free to love and accept my child exactly as they are.

Your christianity says "Morality trumps love".
But without your christianity, love IS morality, and love trumps all.

Your christianity says "Everything that goes against what our Bible says cannot be true and must not be considered; you must close your mind to every other idea; they are works of Satan to deceive."
But without your christianity, I am free to think critically, to consider all ideas and evidence, to open my mind to all kinds of incredible possibilities, scientific discoveries, historical perspectives, and interesting philosophies, without feeling threatened by them. To see God as so much bigger than the boxes we put Him in, and His creation as "very good".

Your christianity says "Everyone who disagrees is going to hell".
But without your christianity, people are free to be tolerant and kind, even in disagreement, and live not out of fear of punishment, but out of love of people and life.

Your christianity says "Fear and suspect everything from 'The World' " and makes everyone your enemy until proven otherwise, until they join your club and agree with your religion.
But without your christianity, I am free to live with wisdom and discernment, without fear and suspicion, proving what is good and throwing out what is not.

Tell me again why I would want to give up a full life of freedom and love and acceptance and inclusion? Tell me again how your "christian" life is better than my "heathen" one, how your restrictive relationships are better than my inclusive ones? How is anything you are teaching Good News for me? How is the picture you're painting attractive in the least and why would I want anything to do with it? Because, Hell? Is that all you got? It's not really enough for me anymore.

A kingdom ruled by money and fame, kept intact by control and by keeping many of it's citizens at second-class status, shunning people declared not good enough for any number of arbitrary reasons. Top-down power and corruption everywhere. Fighting over everything. Don't question, just obey. Patriarchy. Abuse covered up, victims ignored or blamed. Fear used to control and manipulate. Oppression. Power-hungry leaders lining their pockets with money of the poor. People told to conform to the status quo or leave. "The least of these" squashed, dismissed, or used as pawns in political games. The strong preying on the weak and shooting their wounded. Intolerance and bashing, all disguised as "love" but looks nothing like any love I've ever wanted. Persecution complex. War against those different. People declaring they are special and better than and set apart yet acting worse than the people they think are not as good as they are.

These are what I see when I look at the Church in America. This is what drowns out the people who are still trying to actually follow Jesus. So much ugliness, I am ashamed to call myself Christian. I can't do it anymore. I refuse to associate myself with that label. It is no longer my identity. It only brings up ugliness in the minds of the culture around us (and in my own mind), not love or peace or humanness. Everything is so backwards of what it is supposed to be, what it once was. I am heartbroken and angry and so very done. I love Jesus, and I try to love people. But I cannot in good conscience call myself Christian any more. I'll just be over here, living, trying to love others though imperfectly, but with inclusion and tolerance. Trying to wade through the mess that is my spiritual journey, authentically and with honesty. Trying to raise children who will not perpetuate such pain, who will make the world better, who will fight for the weak and downtrodden, instead of self-righteously stomping them into the ground like my generation has done. Please, don't try to "convert" me. Don't offer empty cliches, I've heard them all before. I used to use them myself. Don't quote Bible verses at me, I can out-quote you and I flat-out don't care. I want nothing to do with American Christianity, though I love so many of you still a part of it and that won't change one bit. I understand why you stay, you beautiful people with hearts of gold. But I cannot stay where I am not welcome, and the people I love are not welcome because we do not fit into neatly labeled boxes. I hope you can understand that too.

I choose love, joy, peace, kindness, honesty, justice, mercy, redemption, equality, and inclusion. It's all I can do anymore. 

Hindsight

Four years ago today, our home and all our belongings went up in smoke. That event started a chain of events that changed our life and brought us where we are today. Such a crazy whirl-wind. It's strange to think about, actually...that if our home hadn't burned down, we wouldn't have had to take out a loan against our property and we might still be living in Washington among our family. The constant "what ifs" keep swirling around in my mind. What if I had unplugged the heater before I went shopping that day? What if I had put my wedding ring on before I left? What if I hadn't left at all but had been there to stop it? Or the worst, what if I had left my kids at home with a sitter instead of taking them with me?

If I close my eyes, there are some very vivid memories that flash like movie scenes in my head. As I wrote a year later: "So many memories are coming to me as I type this...so many emotions. My dad crying in the parking lot of Wal-Mart because he was so glad we were alright. Pushing a shopping cart around the store, dazed and trying to think about what I needed for my babies. Leaning against a DVD display, crying my eyes out because I realized that our wedding rings were one of the casualties. Letting my siblings and parents take over as they one by one showed up and filled my cart with things that they payed for out of their own pockets. Going home only to realize that "home" was gone. Getting phone calls from friends who wanted to know how they could help. Holding my babies, afraid to let them out of my sight for fear that something would happen to them, too. That was a dark night. I lay in my husband's arms, unable to sleep, listening to the steady breathing of my children. They had no idea that their entire world just changed. The tears just kept falling...I couldn't stop them. It was all so overwhelming, so shocking."

I was mad at God for a long time after that. To be honest, I've been angry a lot in the past few years for many things. Nothing has turned out the way we thought it would. I wrote not too long ago: "When is life supposed to work? When does the whole "all things work for good" promise actually come into play? For years now we've done what we thought God wanted us to do, followed Him with everything we have, and for what? To get patted on the back and told "well done"? Yeah, that'll put food on the table. I know that God still works miracles. Is it too much to ask that He could work one for us?"

But I've learned something since then. Sometimes miracles happen in tiny steps instead of big bangs. Sometimes they take years to come to fruition, a building and swelling of little moments that one day become something grand. Or even something ordinary and unnoticable to passers-by, yet understood in the hearts of those who notice; every-day miracles that we wake up to and forget are just as extraordinary as the grand ones. Sometimes it takes tearing down to build up. There is no formula for a life of blessings. The rain falls on the just and unjust, time and chance happen to us all, suffering is no respecter of persons.

Of course, hindsight is always 20/20, as they say, and the day I stood looking at the ashes of my life smoldering before me I had no idea that it was the first of many unfair, unhappy events that would make us feel like we lost all control of our lives and leave us standing in unfamiliar territory wondering what was next.

I've learned something else about life. There is a time for every season under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die. A time to laugh, and a time to cry. A time to tear down and time to build up. I can complain and be angry about what I perceive as the "bad" things, but that won't make them disappear from my life. They are part of life and we can't change that. Sometimes they serve to bring us to a place where we wouldn't have gone without them. Would I be in Montana now, surrounded by great friends and more beauty than my soul can hold, with hope for the future if my home had never burned down? Would I have ever found this place of peace with life if I hadn't known unrest? Would I be the strong person I am now if I hadn't fallen to my knees, crying in agony a few times, my legs refusing to hold me up any longer? Would I appreciate freedom as much if I didn't know bondage? Would my marriage be as strong as it is now if we hadn't been stripped of everything and forced to face things we were ignoring? Would I be enjoying the moments of pure bliss as much if I didn't know what raw pain felt like? I don't know. Ask me 30 years from now. Hind sight being what it is.....

This journey isn't over yet. I have no idea where we're going from here. I know less now than I thought I did the day I was digging through the still-warm ashes looking for our wedding rings. But I think I'm OK with that. I'm enjoying the journey (most of the time), enjoying looking back and understanding what brought us to where we are now. It sure as hell wasn't much fun getting here, but here we are. Everything beautiful in its time, everything redeemable by the God I follow who makes all things new. Thank God for hindsight....I think it give us hope.

Stand Up

All the lonely people cryin'
It could change if we just get started
Lift the darkness, light a fire
For the silent and the broken-hearted.....


For all of you that have helped to light a fire....to shine a light in a dark place of bondage and pain and brokenness: thank you. You are a voice for those who have no voice. So many tears, yet we've begun to see so much healing and freedom.

Won't you stand up, stand up, stand up,
Won't you stand up, you girls and boys;
Won't you stand up, stand up, stand up,
Won't you stand up and use your voice.

You have stood and said "No more!" You have been so brave, telling your stories, speaking of things ugly and unspeakable. Standing, speaking out, using your voice.

There's a comfort, there's a healing,
High above the pain and sorrow
Change is comin', can you feel it?
Calling us into a new tomorrow.

And you whose voices have been shut up, listen and let us speak for you. What is happening to you is wrong. You don't have to suffer at the hands of others. We will speak up for you, stand up for you, fight for you, until your voice is silenced no longer and you can freely add yours to ours.

When the walls fall all around you
When your hope has turned to dust
Let the sound of love surround you
Beat like a heart in each of us.


We were you once. Our walls fell down, our hope vanished. But someone was brave enough to reach down and pull us out of the rubble. Someone was strong enough to speak the truth about our worth. Someone was fierce enough to condemn the oppressors. Someone loved enough to rescue us, tell us we were worth it, tell us we were beautiful and loved.

Won't you stand up, stand up, stand up,
Won't you stand up, you girls and boys?
Won't you stand up, stand up, stand up,
Won't you stand up and use your voice.

And now we stand with them. We stand for spiritual and physical freedom. We stand against those who would take that from us and the ones we love. We stand together and we will not shut up our voices. As long as there are people who think it is their right to take away the rights of others, we will not be silent. We will continue to reach down and remember the One, and the ones, who pulled us out of the rubble of our lives. Who cared enough about people they maybe didn't even know, to speak up and stand up.

Won't you stand up, stand up, stand up,
Won't you stand up and use your voice?

The Rest of the Truth About Motherhood

"Motherhood is wonderful."

"Being a mom is so fulfilling!"

"I wouldn't trade jobs with anyone in the world!"

"Being a stay at home mom is the best/easiest/most fulfilling job there is."

"Motherhood is the highest calling a woman can have."


I think we've all heard these statements and others like them. But how many times have we heard other mothers say these sorts of things:


"Sometimes I think all I do is wipe snotty noses and poopy butts."

"I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"I don't really know who I am anymore."

"I am so tired of being the nanny, cook, and housekeeper!"

"Some days, I want to lock myself in my room and cry."

"I can't even pee by myself!!"

"I'm so scared that I'm going to mess this up."

"I can't do this anymore."

I think that we, as women, have done each other a disservice. We've painted the picture of motherhood with pastels and left out the dark, ugly colors. When we were younger, before having kids, other women told us all the wonderful parts about being a mom and we got the impression that that's all there was. When life showed us that that was only half of the picture, we felt like something must be wrong with us. Like we weren't doing it right. But instead of accepting this as part of the equation, we just kept perpetuating the one-sided perspective that was handed down to us. And the myth of pastel-painted motherhood just kept on going.

Nobody told me I'd go crazy for lack of sleep. Or I'd feel overworked and left out and forgotten. Or that there'd be days I don't want my kids and wish they'd just go away. Or that I'd turn into someone I don't even know. No one talked about how scary it is to be responsible for the life of another human being. How my house would never be clean. How hard being a mom is. How tedious and painful and depressing life can get. All I ever heard was sunshine and roses and high calllings. And if there was anything bad, it was masked in humor and dismissed.

We feel like if we complain, we are selfish brats. That if we even think "what about me?!" we're self-centered and need to gain perspective. We are afraid of even asking other women "is it normal to feel this way?" for fear that what we believe about ourselves will be voiced and proven true: that there is something wrong with us, that we are a bad mother. Or we feel guilty because so many women desire to be mothers and can't and look how much we've been blessed. We feel like we must be missing something because having kids isn't the sunshine trail that other women said it would be. That other women sit around and talk about. Our Facebook statuses are supposed to be all about how wonderful our husband is and how amazing it is to have beautiful kids and how we just adore our life. And we just keep painting in pastels and roses while the darkness builds in our souls because we are ashamed to let those bold, dark colors show on our canvas. Because every other woman's canvases are only pastel and light.

Ladies, we need to be honest with each other. We need to stop giving an unbalanced view of motherhood; stop passing on the myth that motherhood is all rainbows and tell the rest of the truth: that sometimes, often, stormclouds are part of the picture. And they can be nasty. We need to release each other to be sincere, open, and honest with our feelings and struggles about motherhood by being honest ourselves.

So let me be the first. Motherhood sometimes sucks. Really, it does. Sometimes I wonder what in the world I was thinking. I wish for my life back. I wish for my body back. I wish for unlimited time with my husband back. Sometimes I scream at my kids and stomp my feet because one of them smeared poop all over the wall, one wiped spit all over the coffee table, one is pitching a fit, and everyone is crying. Sometimes I can't do anything but cry because I'm so tired and so lonely for adult interaction and so fed up with poop and I haven't eaten anything all day or slept in months or had a shower in days. Sometime I'm jealous of my husband who leaves for work for days and who isn't enslaved to school schedules and meal times and poopy diapers and laundry. I feel like I've lost myself and my life is in shambles and I must be doing everything wrong. And I desperately need to know that there isn't something wrong with only me. That other young mothers go through this too, and they survive and I'll survive. That I'm not the only mother in the world who's put my hands over my ears and yelled "Go away and leave me alone!!" I need someone to tell me "Yes, this sometimes sucks and it's hard when your kids are little. Yes, it's worth it. Yes, I've often felt that way. You're not the only one. You can do this."

Girls, we need each other. We need each other to be real. We need to stop telling one-sided stories and own up to our fears and failures. We need to stop feeling like we don't measure up as mothers because we don't always like being a mom. We need to encourage each other and love each other enough to tell it like it is. I'm guilty. I find myself trying to dress up my kids and my life and look like I have it all together when I know I will be around other people. I catch myself only telling the good parts like I'm trying to impress someone. I'm afraid of admitting my convoluted, confused, unsettled, stormy thoughts. I want to look like the other moms I see who seem to glow and float along gracefully though their mommyhood.

Motherhood is wonderful. But sometimes it's not. It can be amazing and joyful. But sometimes it's awful and sorrowful. Sometimes it's lonely, isolating, and hard. It's beautiful and fun. And sometimes not. It's messy and full of poop and snot and spit-up. But it's also full of color and love and excitement. You're not always, every minute of the day going to enjoy it. You may even hate it at times. You'll miss long showers and peeing by yourself and eating hot food. And that's OK. We need to stop trying to be super-moms and just be normal, human, and imperfect. We need to admit our fears so that other women will feel free to admit theirs and maybe those fears once spoken won't seem so scary and insurmountable. Those tears we cry in secret need to be cried in the open so they can be wiped away by understanding, laughter, comradery, and grace. And maybe, just maybe, the hard things won't be so hard, the ugly things won't seem so ugly, the storm clouds so ominous, and the dark colors will be allowed to mix with the pastels to form an exquisite picture of life.

The Year of Redemption

This morning our pastor encouraged some quiet time in which we were supposed to look back over the last year to see where God had brought us. I didn't want to at first. There's a lot of pain in 2010 and I'd rather it just stayed there. But I did anyway. And I realized for the first time that 2010 wasn't just another year that's now only memory. It was our year of redemption.

We've been through hell the past few years. Starting when our home burned to the ground in 2007. Our faith in God and people has been sorely tested. It's felt like we've drifted in a never-ending fog for so long that we've forgotten what the sun looks like. 2010 started where 2009 left off: in a fog of uncertainty, doubt, anger, pain, and questioning. It seemed as if God had forgotten us. Or, worse, was up there enjoying making us miserable.

But you know how sometimes when you come out of a dense fog, it happens so gradually that you don't notice at first? Then all of a sudden you're like "whoa, where'd the fog go?" That happened to me today. I don't know when or how but the fog is gone. And the sun is brilliantly shining.

I looked back over the year and I saw the steady, faithful hand of God, even when I pushed Him away. Even when I railed against Him in anger. He never left. What kind of love is this that stays and waits for you to notice it? While still loving all the time? That's some crazy love.

We had lost so much yet we almost gave up everything else. But God.... all the great stories have a "But God" in them. But God restored our marriage. But God gave us a new life. But God soothed our hurting hearts and started the slow process of knitting them back together again. But God, who seemingly took everything from us except each other (and we almost lost that), has begun to restore and give back ten-fold. "But God, who is rich in mercy....."

Oh, I still have questions, believe you me. I still have doubts. But it's not a belligerent questioning anymore. I feel at peace, restful in the presence of a God who never left me. Even when I resented Him. Even though there is so much I don't understand and wish didn't exist. I will always question. It's just who I am. I look at others who are in the midst of painful struggles and I wonder why God has brought us through the fog and not them. Yet...He did bring us through, and I think that's the point. Took waaay longer than I think it should, but I guess it was just long enough.

I have to throw my hands in the air and let out a belly-laugh. I didn't realize until this morning that I felt so free. That the smile that used to be my signature but left for a while is back. That I have hope for the future that was totally non-existent just a few short months ago. That God did this.

If you're still in the middle of some painful stuff, I wish I could offer you a formula to get out of it. But I can't. Cuz I didn't do this for myself. Last I checked I was still wallowing in my pain, alternately resolving to fight and giving up. I don't know how or when, but God came through. Just when I thought He never would and didn't care and to hell with it all anyway. I still keep pinching myself to see if I'll wake up from my peaceful rest to the tumult that I'm familiar with.

We're not even physically better off than we were at the beginning of 2010. But spiritually....God has given us abundant redemption. I have no idea what this year is going to hold. I'm a little nervous when I think about it. Maybe it is our Year of Hope. Hope that things will get better and that our love, which has outlasted a few storms, will only grow stronger.

Hind-sight is always 20-20 they say. I guess they're right. I wish I could've seen what I see now while still in the middle of the fog. But maybe I'll remember the next time the fog comes around.

2010. Our Year of Redemption. Abundant redemption. Who woulda thought?

"Out of the depths I have cried to You, O Lord;
Lord, hear my voice! Let Your ears be attentive To the voice of my supplications...

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, And in His word I do hope.
My soul waits for the Lord More than those who watch for the morning--
Yes, more than those who watch for the morning.

O Israel, hope in the Lord; For with the Lord there is mercy,
And with Him is abundant redemption.

~Excerpts from Psalm 130

Without A Dream....

I was perusing the job listings on Craigslist, looking, hoping for something that my husband could do that would let him come home every night, let us be a family again. While thankful he even has a job in these hard times, sleeping in the same bed only one night a week is getting really old, really fast. And when the weather turns, he'll be out of a job. So I'm constantly looking for something else.

I came across a job posting that went something like this: "Ranch Manager Position open. Commercial ranch looking for manager in eastern MT. Horses only operation. Along with monthly salary, provided will be: 5-bedroom, newer house, vehicle, benefits, utilities paid, and all the beef you can eat." I think I sat there, gazing at the screen, my mind wandering, for several minutes. I can't explain the feelings that came over me, overwhelming me. They were so strong, I involuntarily reached over and closed the website. Getting up from the computer in a daze, I couldn't seem to focus on anything for the next several hours. Something had been stirred in my heart that had long been silent. It was uncomfortable and disconcerting.

Later, after the kids went to bed, I opened the book I'm reading and read these words:

"It as become and informal tradition of ours around the turning of the years to do a little dreaming, allow desire to bubble up from our hearts...It's good for the heart to do some dreaming; it pulls you out of the rut, and lifts your eyes to the horizon. Hope follows, like children running to the song of the ice cream truck. Desire awakens hope, and hope is really good for the soul...Now, we don't know what the coming year holds. But we have found that if we don't dream about our lives then we are simply swept along by the torrent of demands, feeling like hostages rather than mature adults taking charge of our lives....So what is the mission of your marriage? What are the two of you called to do together? Can you name it? "We are in this together" is essential for the boy and girl in the fairy tales. Finding a shared mission as a couple is essential to a vibrant marriage....Our hearts are made to live a life that matters, a life of epic significance. Surviving the week so you can hit the food court at the mall on the weekend is not enough....In the same way that God has hidden adventures and surprises in the earth He gave us, God has also written dreams and desires deep in our hearts. Finding those dreams and desires, and sharing them as a couple, is one of the most romantic things you will ever experience."*

And I started to cry.

I realized that I, that we, had forgotten how to dream. That we'd become so hardened, so cynical, that dreaming seemed pointless. You see, we once were very young and had so many dreams and plans for our life together. We just knew that the world was open to us and God was for us and life was brimming with hope and joy and possibilities. Then life happened. We lost our home to a fire. We mortgaged our land to rebuild. The job market disappeared and we lost our home and property to foreclosure this year. Sky had to take a job trucking to pay the bills. The kids and I live all week without him while he sleeps on the side of the road in his truck. Our daughter was diagnosed with autism. Strain took root in our marriage, each of us falling into our own addictions and shame and anger. And the light and hope we once had for our lives slowly was choked out of our hearts. We put up walls to protect the gaping wounds of disappointment. No more dreams. We shoved our desires way down deep in hopes to quench the longing that reminded us that life isn't what it was supposed to be. If we allowed ourselves to think about "what if?" those thoughts only produced anger, despair, and resolve to forget about them.

But that one job posting awoke everything that had been sleeping and stirred our desires once again. It has always been a deep-rooted desire, even before we were married, to live and work on a ranch. To raise our kids with a love of the land. To use our hands and our hearts to be a part of something that was bigger than us. We were convinced that God had put those desires in our hearts for a reason. We almost realized the dream once. Then the bottom dropped out of all of our plans.

We talked about it this weekend as we drove through some of the prettiest country God ever made. How we've forgotten how to dream. How we can't seem to get past "why even bother?" How we are so afraid of wanting something because we are afraid of being disappointed. Again. It's easier to just go through the motions and live from paycheck to paycheck and forget that we ever had any dreams in the first place.

And yet....

I feel like I woke with a start and didn't even know I was sleeping. I'm tired of not dreaming. I used to be such a dreamer. So I'm letting these desires sit there. I've decided not to stuff them back into oblivion. They're uncomfortable, but they feed my starving soul. They hurt and prod at the wounded places in my heart, the lies that say "your life doesn't matter, God doesn't care, dreams are stupid, why hope for anything?". I'm not entirely sure what to do with them except let them be.

And since faith without acting on it is worthless, I replied to that job posting. And I made fliers that state "Hard-working, adventurous, loving family in search of full-time ranch work". My heart beats a little faster just looking at it sitting on my desk. But it's about to go up all over central Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado. Who knows...maybe God has put us here with what we have for a reason after all. I'll tell you one thing...it's a lot easier to dream here. There's a whisper of promise in this place that has been soothing and wooing our souls since we moved here. Saying "Awake, you who sleep, arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light". And I think we're beginning to listen. If that turns out to be the only reason we are here, then it is reason enough.


*From Love and War, by John and Stasi Eldredge.

A Lot Like Me

baby I'm afraid you're a lot like me
you can't help feeling everything
I can see you trying to hold it in
I see your eyes and your trembling chin

And for you and myself I will pray
let our weakness become our strength

baby there are some holes you just can't fill
you try and try but you never will
baby I believe a God who can
he loves the boy and he'll love the man

And for you and myself I will pray
let our weakness become our strength

~A Lot Like Me, by Sara Groves

Hope

There is a flutter of something in my heart tonight. Something that scares me yet makes me feel...lighter somehow.

I think it is hope.

Like a breath of cool air on a hot summer night, it is elusive, and teasing. But perhaps that is because I am still holding it at arm's length. Still suspicious of it, afraid of it, wondering if this is too good to be true.

I've been doubting for so long. Hurting for so long. Angry at God and wondering if He even exists or cares about me. Wandering, trying to make sense of the last two years. When eveyone I trusted and loved failed me and broke my heart, it seemed like even God had forgotten about me. I know now and have known for a while that He's holding my heart, even when I'm doubting Him. This is what keeps me sane.

But as a new chapter in my life begins, a stirring deep inside is starting. Can it be that I can begin to breathe again? That I can hope for healing, joy, intimacy, and good things in life? I am afraid of hope because I hate disappointment. It has always been a struggle with me to hope for anything. I have had to purpose to hope, even if it means being disappointed because life without hope isn't life. It is death to the soul.

I so badly want to take in this elusive feeling of hope like a much-needed breath of air. I want to pray again and believe God is actually listening to me. I want to know that He loves me and has not forgotten. I want to read the Bible without feeling cynical and angry. I want to feel again, to be passionate about something instead of this dullness that has so long taken over my heart.

People around me think I'm amazing. They think my life is so perfect. That I'm so strong and spiritual. But they don't know what lurks in the dark recesses of my soul. I long to bring it to light, to be rid of it and all the pain it has caused. But it isn't my sin, my story to tell. It is the story of others who have broken promises and forced me to keep secrets too heavy to bear. I have fought for life and love for so long alone.

But now....something is different. If I can, for a moment, set aside my fear and anger, I can see light and joy. My soul feels lighter but I'm still afraid of embracing it. Afraid it'll vanish yet again and I'll be left to struggle along...again. Maybe staying dull is better than hoping and longing only to hurt again.

But no. I must acknowledge Him and His Presense in my life, even if I can't feel it. There are roots in my heart that the Enemy of my soul can't pull out; promises engraved in the pages of my life story that cannot be ignored. If He is the God of redemption, than my time is coming.

"Out of the depths I have cried to you, Oh Lord!
Lord, hear my voice!
I wait for the Lord,
My soul waits,
And in His word I do hope;
My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning...
Oh, Israel, hope in the Lord!
For with the Lord there is mercy,
And with Him is abundant redemption."
~From Psalm 130