at tears within me.

God,

I’ve lost my mind. Really. Can someone be this emotional? I never said I wanted a child. Well, with Michael I did. Not for right reasons though. I was so overcome with the fact he thought I could write or that I could raise someone. A baby. I am one, you know? My emotions are all over the place. I can’t stop touching the incision, the place where there will be a scar. God, I should trust you with this healing. I am afraid of what’s on the other side. I want to be held now, so tightly. I want to be told everything will be alright and weep wh

FMF: should.

So, I’m trying something new: writing letters to God in actual paragraphs. This is as close as I got in 5 minutes. I don’t think it’s that bad. I honestly thought it would be a poem. I’m so used to breaking up my words that putting them together is weird and almost foreign.  

Everything feels that way. This letter is about my recovery of healing from a hysterectomy. I’ve wanted to write about this for awhile, but have felt afraid. I don’t how to articulate the sorrow, the way I saw God show me His face. The compassion of the nurses and the way I learned as much as I want to talk, so does everyone else. There was a night nurse I learned this from. We all long to be heard.

She fed me jello and lingered with me when other patients needed her. We talked (well, I don’t know how much talking I did with my medicine loopiness) about books and TV. She told me about buzz lightyear and woody. I immediately smiled when she said she got her nephew a pull string Woody. Her smile was glorious. What I felt in my heart to be heard, noticed and seen, I saw in her eyes. 

It showed me how when God wants to spend time with us even in very difficult circumstances, it isn’t a “hey, do this for me, would you?” It’s more, hey, I wouldn’t mind if you asked me questions and I share my heart with you. I don’t always want you to do something. I want to be with you. And you with me.

All I’ve thought about since coming home from the hospital is, how does a woman leave her children to go take care of others who may or may not acknowledge her? And do it with such joy, patience and kindness at 12 AM, 2 AM…? It was Jesus right before me as I was weak and sad and alone, but when He spoke, something quieted. I just wanted to stay there with the ginger ale and the jello, the smile.

Presence changes everything, especially when you’re still enough to appreciate not only the receiving, but the giving of ears to listen too.

I could go on, but it will make me cry most likely too. Learning a lot about myself lately. Like this:

 

And this:

I’m on the launch team for this new devotional book from Bonnie & ughh, so good. There’s probably going to be more graphics and rambles until I review later this month, so look out for those. ☺️

All this aside, the fact that I’ve been afraid to write here and this came out clearly shows the lie I’ve been believing I’m not a writer with no purpose is just that: a lie. Oh Lord, let Your light and love be my trust. My hope. All these new things that feel risky, You will continue to light the way and keep my feet from slipping. You will uphold me with Your unfailing love. Support me. And when my emotions swirl and spill before You, may Your comforts delight me. Thank You for healing me today.