I remember writing this note , I was in my bedroom of the Mill house. I hadn’t slept the night before, up with a baby, and up with the demons that terrorized me. No amount of melatonin, or wine calmed me. The only thing that slowed down my racing heart was scripture, and writing.
I could hear the demons in the hallway scratching the walls as I wrote.
I read it aloud, made sure the demons heard, and I went to sleep. The next morning I had my biggest breakdown, and ended up in the hospital. My body temperature was dangerously low from a massive panic attack. It was then we decided that night we had to move. I had fought the good fight, and I was still alive. But my body was quickly failing me, being attacked from all sides.
My husband sent me to California to retreat from trauma, and he began the journey to finding a safe home for me. It came in the form of a remodeled home built in the 50’s, and soon with much prayer and blood sweat and lots of tears, he gave me my dream home.
I wanted to encourage you today that dreams DO come true, even though God’s schedule is different from ours. The journey to a big dream is never a clear path. On your way you encounter the enemy from all sides, he tries to make sure you never reach your destination.
In the season before we arrived home, the song by Jenn Johnson held me together:
” Don’t look to the right or to the left, just keep your eyes on me.”
When Adah turned breach. When our SUV was Repoed. When demons taunted me in all hours of the day in my own home. When friends betrayed me.When people accused me of misleading other women. When I had to teach myself to breathe. When I was sure the demons were wrapping their arms around my ribs. When babies were ripped from my womb. When I had to birth them in pools of blood. Alone.
You see, your pain is not the identity you need to carry. Satan wants you to think you walk this world as a victim, but you are a VICTOR!
It’s always a treat to me when I meet women who have been through immense pain , but never compare it to others. When they tell their stories with a smile, a tear in their eye and a mischievousness wink knowing they have won.
When pain happens, it leaves a mark on our souls. A hole in our hearts, and cuts on our bare feet from walking through sorrow. I will never be the same after losing children, but I don’t need to be.
The scars add character to who I am today. Without them I would surely lack compassion and empathy for those grieving today. Hurting, aching for their dreams to come true.
I am here to tell you today that you are heard by our Father. In fact, he holds all your tears in a bottle, and for some of you, in gallons and tons. He keeps them all the same.
I pray today that you feel him pouring them out onto your spirit, and refreshing you where you were once thirsty, but now it is quenched.
This morning I broke out the articles written by an author on the family that build this home from the ground up. I taught the children what kind of people they were, and how much they helped people.
Though the article does not touch on their trials as a family, I feel confident they had them. That they aided to their success in ministry. To love people with a deeper love.
In this home they:
Led people to Jesus
Hosted field trips
Created a library for the whole town of Asheboro
Created a museum of medicine
I know why they did all those things for people. Perhaps they had been hurt too, and wanted to offer help and open doors to those less fortunate to themselves.
Perhaps our wounds heal faster if we allow others to nurse us back to health, and in return do the same for our neighbors.
Our dreams never become reality until we believe they are there for us to have. Our dreams become more colorful if we give back what we have received.
You, you’re stronger than you think you are.