Jesus Knows the Darkness

There are moments when we draw near to God naturally because we are happy and want to give Him the praise that He deserves, because nothing beautiful comes from this world we live in other than by the grace of our God.

But what about when our hope is torn, when our fight or flight instincts kick in and we are surrounded by the darkness of our minds, what then?

We turn to God in a pleading manner to rid us of this pain and agony. Why do we feel so deserted as if no one hears our cries, as if no one knows our pains. Why won't someone do something to ease this monster inside of us that is raging for relief.

What if God wants us there- in the dark for a moment? What if He welcomes this darkness in our lives to dwell within us because of something blessed within it? What if we welcomed the darkness, the pains, the struggles? What would we discover?

We might discover that God has never left us or forsaken us. He Promises that He will be the light in the dark. He Promises that we can not be taken from Him. He Promises that we are his and we are beloved. He Promises eternal life with Him, if we accept Jesus for who He is- God's one and only Son, the lamb of God, our King.

So who is this Jesus? How does He know what I am going through?

Because ... "He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, ad we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.  But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. " Isaiah 53:3-5

Let us not forget that He went through whatever it is that you are going through. The darkness will not swallow you up and eat you whole. It's okay to sit and be still and feel the pains as they come, we will get through this. Jesus knows.

I Travel Alone

Dear (soon to be ex) Husband

Memories in Boxes

"It's a process."... I keep telling myself that. 

It's easy to become overwhelmed when I am surrounded by boxes of memories. Memories that I must unpack one moment at a time.

Letters from my Grandmother, my brother, my dear friends. Birthday and anniversary cards in my husband's handwriting. Some of them saying "you are the love of my life", "every year with you becomes more wonderful", "I love you more now than when you were younger", "you are the most beautiful women to me", "you are an amazing mom and wife"... 

Pictures of us from our first Christmas. Pictures celebrating of our first daughter's birth and so many more, we were such proud parents. 

I know we are not supposed to live in the past. Looking at all those pictures and the smiles we had on our faces. The little bits of joy we shared. We had a life together, we had created a little family together. 

In spite of all the hurt and anger we had in the end, my heart hurts the most deepest pain from seeing everything that we can no longer have. 

Empty Bed

I need some verbal affection, to go with all this sexual tension. You fill me mind with lusts and wanderings, but my heart is left with just wonderings. I want you to grab more than just my breasts, but my spirit, my mind, my breath. You tell me nothing and yet you keep asking for more, with your quiet conversations and loud hesitations. You act like my friend when we are in secret, but play pretend just to keep it. Am I only good for you in your bed? Till you are overwhelmed with what's in your head? You refuse to share anything concrete, but keep things flexible and sweet. My heart can not bend like yours, it longs and begs for more. One of these days I will walk out of your door. You will be left empty and scattered, why didn't you take the chance to say what mattered? Days and weeks, months and years will go by and eventually that hole in your heart will fade, like the smile on your face, the memories will just be erased.

Reflections: Mirror and Self

As I sit across from myself, observing what I see in the mirror, I stare blankly back. I can see some definition in my thighs, that line cutting down the side, I feel a sense of relief. Then I scroll up to my hips and my stomach; small wrinkles remain of what once held my babies. I move my eyes upward onto my breasts the fullness of them lacking as they slope down. I look up to my face, meeting my eyes in the mirror -and I see my daughter's face in mine. That sad, empty look staring back at me. Why  am I so sad? Where is her smile? I feel as though I will never be loved. I feel as though I never have been loved. I try to shut out the thoughts that leave me so hollow. I know that only my savior can fill this place within me. But where is He?  He can not hold me, or talk back to me. In my quietness, I begin to shed tears that fall so softly down my cheeks- I barely notice them. There is so much sadness and fear, that I will never be enough. My history has taught me not to trust. My father and mother abused, neglected and abandoned me. The men in my life have had their way with me, using me up for their fleshly desires only to leave me alone and tainted. All I ever wanted was to be protected and cherished. Why do I sell myself short to those who will just use me? Is there any hope for someone like me?

The Beginning of The End

He spoke those words to me on the eve of Mother's Day. The words that say "I'm done", "I give up", "I don't love you anymore", "you are not the One". He spoke them so quietly but so matter of fact, "I want a divorce". My heart knew it was time to say goodbye. I nodded in agreement.

What I didn't know was those words would destroy everything. While I tried to regain myself, to build up some courage, I was losing control. My heart sank further and further away from my little family. I cherished every precious moment with them, but my light was fading fast.

Depression creeped in like a thief in the night. It made me bitter, angry, fearful. Every hateful and controlling word he spat at me sunk deeper into my soul. I didn't feel worthy of anything good anymore. While the realist in me said that it was just a facade, the lining of my subconscious began to tear away. The more my nightmares grew and became so vivid.

I remember waking up and crying every night. I would wake from these terrors in fear of my death, in fear of my children being robbed from my bosom. The pain I felt deep within me leaked into my everyday wanderings. I became a ghost of myself, I felt tortured.

Then one day I sank so far away. I was ready for everything to end. I no longer could breathe. My lungs had collapsed like my hope. I wanted so badly to feel no more pain, I needed my tortured soul to rest.

I prepared for the end. I wrote out my plan, I shared my thought with one I didn't think would worry. Then all I could think of was how dark this cloud above me had become, I would be sending those around me to a personal hell. I delayed, frozen in this thought. Still completely unable to breathe or move beyond the grip of death.

And then I was given hope.