The truth?

This past year I lost myself.

My entire self.

Somewhere between those days I spent in a hospital begging God to not let me lose my mom, that morning when I woke up at the age of 28.4 and literally could not walk, that day I had to look into my precious little boy’s eyes and utter the words “I’m so sorry…mommy can’t hold you”, that moment when the pregnancy test had two lines, that time when the bleeding started and wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t help but think I’d never really know this little baby…it happened.

I crawled up in a ball and stopped living.  It just seemed like the thing to do.

I put on a good show.  I took a lot of pictures.  I hurt some good friends.  And I did a really great job with not returning phone calls.

And that God that I’d known my whole entire life had suddenly become very unfamiliar.

I listened to these beautiful words and poems written about this great God, and yet, I honestly didn’t care.

I felt badly that I didn’t care.  I’d berate myself for hours.  I’d try my best to figure out how I got here.  I’d question if my entire previous life had just been a delusion.

But I’d been so sure…

I glanced through journals where I poured my heart out to that God.  Pages of moments where I sat in gratitude for all He had done.  And it seemed like some “other” person.

I couldn’t figure out how I arrived here.

Indifferent.  Cold.  Confused.

One morning, I gathered in a room filled with people.  People with stories.  People whom I love.  And we did quite an odd thing.  We sang together.  (Because let’s be honest – when do you get into groups and sing together?  It really is an odd, yet beautiful thing)

We sang about a love that was deep and wild.  And my heart could not have felt less connected.

But as we sang,

You are waking hearts to life

I asked God…would you somehow find a way to awaken mine?  If it’s even possible anymore.

I didn’t believe He would.  Maybe I didn’t believe He could.  Maybe I didn’t believe He cared.  Maybe I was afraid that I had just gone too far.  And maybe I knew He could, but I was scared He wouldn’t because I wasn’t cool enough.

But I kept thinking about that part in the Bible where Jesus tells this story about how the shepherd leaves the 99 to go find the 1.  And I was pretty sure I was that 1.  And so I hoped He would do what He said He does…

Days and weeks and months have passed since then.  If I’m honest, it’s still hard to open my Bible.  Somehow in the midst of it all I started praying and sometimes it still feels like a random compilation of words that I try to use to get this being to do what I want Him to do.  But…

Something is changing.

I can’t fully describe it.  But hope is returning.

And somehow – He’s awakening my heart.

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