For years now, my life has been out of my control. I have children and my life must bend to their needs. I don't mind it at times, but there are moments when I wish I could hide under the bed with a book, a hot cup of tea, and headphones that cancel out all noise. The problem is...I cannot fit under my bed...and I don't have headphones like that. :)
Yet, my life bends to so many other things. Since the economy fell, daily finances haunt my husband and I with these big, green, monstrous hands that threaten to strangle us. This impish monster tries to keep us in bondage to fear and hopelessness. There are days when it does...and then there are days when I turn out and give it a solid, swift kick where it hurts. "My God is bigger than you," I tell it, smiling at its pain. "He can beat you up. And He can beat up your daddy!"
There are days when past shame and disappointments in myself try to keep me from walking into my destiny--a destiny that my Heavenly Father molded and shaped with His own hands. I know that before I was born, God held me in the palm of His hands. He smiled at me. He took His hand and gently ran the backs of His fingers down my cheek...much like an earthly father does to his new born child. He breathed a gentle breath of life into my lungs...seeing HIS life fill me...
Sometimes, something happens to me that steals that life right out of my lungs. I become a shell of who I am meant to be. I believe the lies--that I'm not good enough, that my dreams are too big and will never happen, that poverty will be my burden in life, that I'm not beautiful, worthy, uneducated, or too broken and wounded to love others. I walk for weeks, months, letting those lies walk on my heels, taunting me. "Give up," they say. I'd rather die, at times. What kind of life is that? What kind of woman am I? What kind of wife/mother will I be when I fail in so many ways?
When the darkness seems to be too much, I fall to my knees. I can't even pray. I'm too hurt and too angry. I just want to slip away. Maybe becoming all those lies will make it easier? Maybe giving up will be less painful? Perhaps if I just hold on to the pain...hold on to my shame...hold on to all of it...
"I will rescue those that love me..."
And I do. I really do. I love Him.
Tears fall. An ear-splitting cry bubbles up from the pit of my soul. My hands are tight fists, angry and ready for a fight. I'm none of those things. I have a purpose--a beauty--a worth. I feel my Father take my chin in his hand, lifting my face to His. There is no frown on His face. With the back of his hand, he runs his fingers down my cheek--much like an earthly father does for His daughter. He smiles upon me. He rejoices over me. He pours out His love on me. And then, when I think I can handle no more of His crushing presence, He breathes a breath of life into me.
And it isn't just me...but each of us...even those who do not believe. He loves us all...the ugly, the sinful, the atheist, and the liar. He will save you...rescue from your pain if you only let Him.