But by the grace of God I am what I am

The noise extinguishes all attempts to gain mental clarity. Loud. Deafening. Instinct or intuition blast warnings in my head. Undetected. Unable to hear. Oblivious or unwilling. Keep walking. Through the crowd. Through the chaos. I don’t know how I got here. I’ve been here so long. Was there anything before this? Everything is foggy. Unable to avoid pitfalls. Distracted, disoriented by the pandemonium surrounding me. The loud. I fall in. I claw and scratch to get out. No one hears my cries. They’re carried off by the commotion. Afraid. Alone. Hurting. A microcosm of the enormous suffering to come. I don’t know that yet. I’ll learn. Every pit has its own unique characteristics. Some sprawled with jagged rocks. Some with slimy, steep embankments. Others with narrow openings lined with sandpaper that scrapes my skin off during the jostling freefall. The first pit stole my breath away. New. Unfamiliar. First is far underappreciated. Stunning. Debilitating. The English language has not a word in existence capable of capturing the essence of the ordeal. A “deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves”. Saudade. A Portuguese term that carries such a strong tone and piercing symbolism it cannot be effectively translated beyond the definition italicized above. I know it. I know it will come. It never left. Bits and pieces linger like the granules from the sandpaper rubbed and embedded into my skin. Falling. I am powerless. Weightless. Descent into the hollow is peaceful. Exhilarating even. Length of fall, unknown.  Impact with the base of the cavern certain, and excruciating. I expect it. A familiar pattern emerges. Meanwhile, the noise.

Pounding. Blaring. It penetrates every cell in my body. Deep, then deeper. Exploding. Vibrating against my skin like the clash of symbols. Permeating my being. Blurring. Blinding. Intrusive. The sun does not shine here, if it did it wouldn’t be visible. It’d be blacked out by the shadows of the crowd. The people that matter, the people that don’t, the people that shouldn’t. The air is dank and musty. Sweaty and sour. Moist, clammy skin rubbing against mine. Pungent. The smell of alcohol that’s been digested and secreted through glands forcefully trying to exude the toxin. A thick cloud hangs overhead wreaking of skunk spray but I know it’s not from any animal. Covering my face. Protecting. Hiding. Crunch! Under my feet. Sensation ruminates. Looking down.  Can’t see. Legs, feet, hustling. Hurrying. Too many, legs, feet. Cramped. Crushed. Congested. Something sticky, something squishy. Another crunch and something crumbles under my step. I feel it, I know it’s there. I can’t see it. I wonder what else is down there. Make my way through the collision of bodies bumping meaninglessly into one another. Like zombies. No obvious destination or objective, just bumping. No civilized speech heard. No intelligible or comprehensible communication. Only jumbles of mumbles. Meaningless. Fruitless. Inconsequential. All mashed together like gravy, potatoes and turkey on a thanksgiving plate. No separation. No tidy compartments per portion. Everything bleeding over onto each other. Unable to distinguish the individual flavors. Are there any?

Is there any individuality? Nothing stands out. No one stands apart from the crowd. Everyone looks the same. Some male, some female, some wearing red or blue. Skirts and jackets but nothing set apart. It’s all a blur. Passing one another. Colliding. Unsure of my direction. Unsure there is a direction. No GPS, map or information counter. Deviation. Misdirection. Wrong way. A constant flurry of movement. Circling. Bumping. Heart racing, hard to breathe. Fewer pits. Faster ascends. Callouses and dense scares take the place of open wounds. Thick skinned. Broken in. Seasoned. Stretch, tall. Above the canopy of the mob. Bumped. Off balance. Stretch again. Difficult. Absurd. Useless. Anxious for a glimpse of beyond. Only bodies. Jump. Bounce. Jarred. Jerked. More walking. With the crowd. Against the crowd. Hope floats in and out like whiffs of fresh air followed by a stale breeze. Rigid body movements, tense. Shoulders tight. Both arms pressed against my sides with hands extended forward. Formative posture to buffer the body blows. Ouch! That was my ankle. My shoulder! Something pointy just poked into my side. I hate this! I don’t want to be here. I want out! My breathing is restless and my chest heaves and caves. Faster and faster. Looking, looking, always looking. More of the same. Searching. A way out. Over there. No, over there! Am I the only one who wants out? Lost. In the crowd but separate. Among the bodies but apart. Pushing. Pushing hard. Finding a way. Making a way. No time for “excuse me’s” and polite “pardon me’s”. Get out of my way! I am coming through! Determined. Determined to escape. Out of the drudgery of this chaos. This disaster! Pushing, shoving. Mind drifts off, recalls fresh air, I’m struck with a tinge of regret for having taken it for granted. When it was there, all around me. I hardly acknowledged it. Now I miss it. I want it. I can’t see it, feel it, but I know it exists. Ducking down and burrowing through legs, trying to balance as I push through the darkness below the bodies. Knocked over, kicked. Fingers smashed. Jump to my feet quick. I’ll be trampled. No one will notice. No one ever notices. Everyone focused on themselves. No one notices anyone else. No one is significant. No one exists. Except for action and reaction of bodies crashing into one another there would be no meaningful interaction. Nothing sincere. No authenticity. No solidarity. Humanity is a falsehood. A fairy tale. Concern for others only goes as far as what can be gained. Then abruptly abandoned.

Longing for closeness. Not proximity but intimacy. Connection. Satiated from artificial and manufactured imitations. Fed up. Filled up. Sick to death. Giving up, giving in, succumbing to this world? Not even a consideration. Doesn’t even enter my mind. I don’t know what’s out there. What’s outside this crowd of insignificant people bumping into each other, but I know without a doubt, there is something. Force pushes me forward, into more people. Sweat drips into my eyes. Salty. Blurry. Stings. Wiping my face with the back of my soggy sleeve I push forward. Sweat bleeding through my shirt brings with it moments of relief. As I push through the crowd bursts of musty air collide with my skin and a coolness rests upon me. Gratitude washes over me. Refreshing. Rousing me forward. Onward. It’s deep, deep down. IT. It’s propelling me forward. An unexplained drive to continue. Self-preservation maybe? Even so, why? What’s driving this perseverance? No one knows I exist. Who would care? Why keep going? Why keep trying? Where is this coming from? Mind washes out. Thoughts evaporate. There is something. Something up ahead.

Can’t quite make it out but a burst of excitement explodes in my chest. I breathe in a bounty of dank air and lunge forward. Full speed ahead. Coming through! The people in the crowd meld into the background as I fix my eyes on an opening. A hinged gate, a portal. I see it more clearly as I wipe the sweat from my eyes. It’s there. Not far off now. Umph! The wind is knocked out of me as I slam into someone or something. I pay no mind. Rise. Keep going. Almost there. As I approach, good spills into my head. I don’t know what’s out there. It could be worse than this. It could be another crowd of invisible people bumping into each other. It could be a dead end. But my mind won’t consider that. My mind flushes those thoughts out and floods my brain with images of color. Light. Space. Not outer space, personal space. Freedom. Air. Sweet and clean. Crisp and fresh. Inhale as I position my foot to take my last step out of the messy crowd. No looking back. Pause. Hesitation. Acknowledge this moment. Whatever is on the other side, declare the end of this chapter. The birth of a new. Reach out. Push open the gate. Step out. Out of the darkness. Into this new place.

Noise fades. Off into the distance. Replaced with quiet. Calm. Takes a few moments to orient my mind. Like jumping on a trampoline then climbing off onto the solid ground. Legs wobbly. Sunshine covers my face like a gentle veil. Walk further, at a marked different pace from that of my fight through the crowd. Notice, no crunches or slushes under my feet. Instead, a cushion of green grass. So vibrant I can smell the shade of green. Trees in the distance and flowers of all colors splashed along either side of me. My hand falls to my side as I walk. Fingertips dust the petals. Breathing slows. Calms. Chest rises, inhale. That fragrance, unfamiliar but I know the bouquet. That is LIFE and TRUTH. My senses awaken. Tears fill my eyes as I drop to my knees. Overwhelming, all-consuming, gratitude washes over me. A smile stretches across my upturned face. Arms raised. Palms up. Sobbing now. Tears of immense joy stream down my weathered and sooty cheeks. To heaven, exponentially aware. Kneeling. Silent. Thankful. Grateful. Humbled. In awe. Deep breathes pull in the goodness. Washing out all the bad. It’s all back there. On the other side. I am the only person here but I am not alone. I am less lonely than I have ever been. A closeness I can’t articulate invades me. A warmth. Not like the sun on my skin but heavier. Softer. Safer. Authentic. Honest. Safe. Pure. Permanent. A warmth fills me up from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Love. Unadulterated, undiluted, concentrated, thickened, love. Unconditional. Unearned. Undeserved. Love.

The force that picked me up when I fell, the creator of my body’s natural mechanisms, the guide leading me out of the dark. God. I may be invisible to everyone on Earth. Inconsequential. Insignificant. Common. But to my father in heaven I am set apart. I am the one whom Jesus loves. I am my father’s daughter! He kept me moving forward because he has plans for me. To prosper me. For good and not harm. He sees in me what I am unable to see in myself. He knows my future and he used my past to strengthen me and equip me, to fulfill his will over my life. But by his grace and mercy have I stumbled, tattered and bruised, out of the dark. Suffering behind but never forgotten. My scars don my body like championship medals. Recognition. The rights to a testimony in the making. Artifacts that prove HIS love. Into the light. Not simply walking in it. Part of it. It overtakes me, wrapping into the fold. But by HIS amazing grace I am here. But for HIS love I …… To be continued.

“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them—yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.” – 1 Corinthians 15:10 (NIV)

My Stand (Pt.1) – That Night

The Armor of God

The pressure was on to wrap-up the assignment with a deadline looming. Down to the last hours to put an entire semester worth of research and study into a well formatted and knowledgeable exegetic work of art. All the hours spent pouring over scripture, revisiting my concordance, scrutinizing commentary while carefully verifying sources, editing draft after draft, came down to the final submission of a sixteen-page interpretation of an assigned section of Ephesians.

Anxiety wrapped me like thick dark smoke that fills a room from scorched grease left on a high flame. Hard to breathe, difficult to see. I’ve managed final papers with ease numerous times before. This time was different. Even I was amazed at my ability to carry on my day-to-day duties, responsibilities and routines while carefully covering any trace of the hell we were living. The alarms were blaring and I heard them, but turned a deaf ear. I’d gotten used to blocking out things that were hard to deal with.

Like the noise from the TV volume intended to disrupt my concentration while I read chapter after chapter of assigned text he said was a “useless, stupid waste of time”. Like the belittling remarks thrown at me like darts that I pretended had no effect. The burning sensation of absolute disgust as his whiskey-induced comatose body pressed against me at night.  I desperately tried to ignore the belligerence going on just outside the bedroom door for so many nights in a row. The hostility projected towards me was undeniable and his disdain slathered me like Vaseline. I just kept willing it away, hoping it would subside, not grow momentum. I painstakingly guarded the rage that was bubbling up inside me and I heaped scripture and verse on top of it. I prayed until my legs went numb. In my secret moments, I cried out to God and begged for courage, for peace, for wisdom, for an end to the torment. Continue reading

God Bless the Broken Pieces & Jagged Edges

Mosaic Heart

As the sea ebbs and flows washing out the discarded and then setting upon another distant shore the same unwanted junk. It doesn’t disappear, just floats around out there bumping into other rubbish following the current until being carried back up on dry land where it will inevitably be ignored by some, dismissed as someone else’s problem until it is either carried back out to sea to repeat the process or retrieved and properly disposed of. Ignored or discarded does not make it invisible. There will come a time when all our junk requires that we deal with it.

Throughout my life, I have moved through each catastrophe and crisis methodically and diligently. Gathering up the broken pieces, discarding the ones with sharp edges, and creating a new mosaic, something beautiful out of every smashed experience. What I didn’t realize was that the “sharp edges” would eventually reappear, slicing away at me until I finally step into consciousness and deal with them. Having barely breached my 41st year, I found myself with bloody painful wounds from repeatedly tossing the sharp edges back out to sea. Having already ignored and wished them out of existence many a times, here they are. Only now, the pain is real and the cuts are deep, they are visible and the jagged edges of childhood trauma, repeated abandonment and self-loathing have torn away at my flesh and rendered me incapable of managing my day-to-day life. Continue reading

With a Thankful Heart

“give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18 (NIV)

As I reflect on the past year and look back over my life I am able to see periods that were albeit traumatic and difficult to endure, they all worked for my good. I can now see what was right in front of me the entire time. That God blessed the broken road that led me to right where I am today. There are still some parts that make no sense to me and my understanding may never come, but I trust my Father and believe that while I am ignorant to the purposes behind certain events, it is and was all part of his grand old plan.

So much am I thankful for on this frigid Thanksgiving 2015. New beginnings, the washing away of old hurts and enemies. The home we now have that we prayed for and yearned for. The warmth that’s found inside. The cup of dark roast coffee that signifies the start of my day, the pots and pans that help to create family meals which allow us to share and enjoy one another creating a stronger bond and reinforcing our family unit. The fluffy cotton bathrobe that holds the power to comfort me and catch all my tears when my heart erupts with sadness over the loved ones not at our table today. Continue reading

How to Get Over a Break-Up

1 Peter 4:19When we lie down our sorrows and pick up the cross, for most of us the outward transformation is anything but immediate. It usually occurs over time and as we grow in Christ, our thoughts and behaviors begin to take shape. We are made new and with our new habits, priorities and attitudes, we may discover our relationships change as well. If you are like me, you may have found yourself in a marriage that was initially built on shared interests and mutual attraction. A worldly foundation. And as my faith in Christ grew Continue reading

Let My Roots Take Hold

“The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” Jeremiah 17:9 (NIV)

For many weeks I have endured a constant barrage of attacks and have been devout in my commitment to remain IN the Holy Spirit and use these situations and circumstances to bring honor and glory to God by manifesting his grace through my actions and my attitudes. I haven’t always found the words to articulate my yearnings to God, but Romans 8:26 says that in my times of grief and sorrow, my “wordless groans”  are interpreted by the Holy Spirit and conveyed to God on my behalf.

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans” Romans 8:26 (NIV)

Throughout this ordeal I have been overcome with a sense of peace that has cushioned my pain and lessened it’s powerful blow. But last night it was there. In the dark, alone with me. It banged on my heart like a strongman with a jackhammer. It was surreal, I could feel every hit and it sent tremors through my body and triggered thoughts of “what if”, “why” and “how”.
In those moments I wasn’t able, or maybe on some level, willing to release the pain and submit to Gods promise of peace. I suffered all the night long with tormenting thoughts about how I am not “enough” and I will never make it out in the world without my husband. I replayed over and over again his harsh words and relived again and again the awestruck moment I realized he wanted out. The suffering was relentless and Continue reading

Dear Anxiety and Depression,

“6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 4:6-8 (NIV)

You have been more loyal to me than my husband ever was. You’re never too far from sight and you always seem to appear when I am going through the most trying times. Anxiety and Depression, you have stuck with me no matter how hard I have tried to make you leave and you know all the right things to do and say to influence my decisions. You two drop in unannounced and even when I am unable to count on anyone in my life, I know you’ll be there. You’ve never called or text to say you’re are on the way, and in some of the best times of my life, you just showed up. Our relationship hasn’t always been one-sided though. Continue reading