Let’s just be real. I’ve been hurt. Over and over again. And then some more after that. By lots of people. Most of them family. But before you run away, thinking I’m going to talk about how sorry you should feel for me, don’t. Because I’m not.
But today I feel like I’m barely breathing. The heart pain has become physical pain. I feel like I’ve lost everything. My husband, my grandson, my daughter. They’ve all been ripped from my hands….and not by my own choice. I cannot even tell you how easy it would be today, to just let it all fall to the wayside and give in. Give in to the pressure, the pain, the void….and run far, far away. Let me tell you, I am on the very edge this day, this moment. So I go to God. And I come to you. And yes, part of me (the flesh part, the need-for-justice part) wishes I could pour out all the ugly details of the past couple of years, but I can’t. I won’t. Because not all of it is my story to tell. And none of our stories are finished. There is much more to be written. So let me just say this. I am battling to face the fact that there are apologies I will probably never get, trying to let go of the need to be understood, that will never come. I am clawing with the tips of my fingernails to keep on solid ground, to hold onto hope, and trust that everything comes to an end eventually. I am fighting to forgive and love and walk with the wounds of being wronged. And they are deep wounds. I am struggling to not lose sight of the beauty that is in front of me in this life. Today, right now, I can’t see any of that, but somehow I know it’s there. I am fighting for healing.
So this morning I read something by James Goll, that struck me. He was talking about his wife’s book, A Call to the Secret Place…
“When a swallow builds its nest, it will first find a barn or other structure with a supply of mud close by. It will carry mud and twigs in its little beak, making trip after trip, carefully constructing a sturdy nest on joist, strut, or rafter beam of the barn. The outside of the mud-dauber-type structure dries and hardens, becoming very solid and secure. Yet the inside of the nest is lined with downy feathers and is soft, warm and inviting. The thought struck me: Swallows build their nests the way they do because, instinctively, they know that the safest place to build is up against the wall. But we humans use the expression “up against the wall” to describe feeling trapped or being out of options, when we have no place to run and no way out.
Spiritual storms, winds, and billows will blow into our lives, pulling us this way and that. Sometimes, in the face of winds and danger, we know there is a place of safety in God, but still we don’t fly to that safe place in Him. Instead, we fly away, resisting the wisdom that tells us to fly to Him. Why do we all seem to do this? I believe that it’s because we all know in our spirits what flying toward Him will mean. We know it will require first going to the Cross.
Peace, safety, comfort, rest are found in God, but testing and discomfort are also woven into His design. Therefore, we should turn around and start running toward what is uncomfortable, because that is exactly where we are going to find Him. We will find our rest only after we choose to nest on a crossbeam.”
I. Am. Up. Against. A. Wall. A really, tall, strong, immeasurable wall. Everything in me wants to run away. To get away from those causing me pain. To extricate myself from this continual cycle of struggle. And yet, I read this today and see that, yes, I am up against this wall. Do I , yet again, choose to allow Him to help me build a nest of warmth and safety with Him or do I fly away? Do I quit before He’s finished? Today I want to. But I won’t. I. Will. Not.