And like an animal, I was willing to mangle myself as long as I could ensure my own survival. As if I could fight my way out of hell and climb high enough to ascend into heaven. What else could I do? God had abandoned me, and so I could either rot, or save myself. God did not find me valuable enough to waste the effort himself. If he did, why would he allow me to be subject to such crushing pain and agony? I must have lost his love and favor. I could not rely on him to take care of me. There would be no presents under the tree from him.
Can I trust God? I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t asked myself that question over a million times. Walking by faith and not by sight is no easy task, and even though I grew up in a Christian home, it’s something I still struggle with. I’ve always believed that “God will carry you through the storm” (Isaiah 43:2) and I’ve heard countless testimonies that confirm that He will make good on His promises, but I lacked that one-on-one experience with God, which made it so hard to trust His word, to trust Him.
I struggle to adequately explain this feeling- it goes beyond words, beyond my understanding. It was then Jesus reassured me, “You never have to go there again.” I suffered that night, after giving birth. I carried the pain and trauma of bringing that one little life to the world.
Blood, sweat, tears, surrender, new life. With the recent celebration of Easter fresh in our hearts, these words make us think of our sweet Savior and what he has accomplished for us! His labor of love, his perfect life, his willing sacrifice, his ultimate victory and living presence with us! I deeply believe that God designed an analogous process for mothers. This labor can ultimately give mothers a rich appreciation of the cost and reward of heaven.
Cherry Snow. It was the color of the new nail polish I applied that morning. I had a slice of toast and listened to my Steven Curtis Chapman album. It was cloudy and a bit cool for the end of April, so I slipped on a jacket. Two surprise pink tulips greeted me in my front flower garden as I left the house.
I had dealt with occasional depression since childhood, and am still prone to it- and the sense of utter isolation I felt there threw me into the longest period of darkness I’ve experienced. My present was so dismal that I coped by seeking refuge in my past- my fantasy world- pining for the magical, happy days where I had felt loved, wanted, hopeful. In reality, I was cheerless and disinterested in every aspect of life.