Grace and Misadventures

Do you ever feel like you can’t catch your breath?

No, I’m not talking about physically - though I often feel that way from going up and down my stairs a few too many times in a row.  It’s something I should be working on, but I always find excuses.  (:

I’m talking about emotionally, spiritually.  Do you ever have those times when it feels like you’ve been metaphorically running, to or from something, and your lungs are burning with every breath and your chest is squeezing with pressure and your mind is reeling and your eyes are stinging and you just simply can’t anymore?

That’s how the last week has been for me, and for some reason, it was more intense than I could have anticipated it to be.

For those of you that know me, you know that I had one of the most incredible summers.  It was a roller coaster ride for sure, but once I got off, I realized how great it had been.  The adrenaline has carried me into the fall and I’ve been enjoying the view from the top of the mountain.  I’ve been closer to God, friends, and myself than I’ve been in a very long time.  My plans were unfolding as I was hoping and life was good.  You know how it is - the air at the peak is sweet and refreshing, and everything looks clear from up above.

There were definitely rocks in my path, stones of insecurities and fears that the devil was scattering about to make the path rougher, but I was doing okay in confronting and avoiding them.  I tripped once or twice and even stubbed my toe, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.

Until about a week ago, when I stumbled on a particularly large boulder and fell.  And let me tell you that when I fall, it is not graceful.

I suddenly felt alone, confused, afraid, lost, abandoned, hopeless.  The more I tried to shake it off, the more it hurt.  The baggage that I still have yet to lay down suddenly felt ten times heavier as it pressed on fresh cuts and bruises and rubbed against old scars.  What were once just whispers of the devil became shouts, a continuous ringing in my ears, so loud that I couldn’t hear myself think.  The air turned from clean and refreshing to stale and thick and confining.  I didn't know what direction was up.

And because old habits die hard, I hid it.  I curled up into a little ball.  I felt ashamed for going from a high point to such a low.  Instead of reaching out to those I know love me, I withdrew.  I swallowed all my feelings and let them burn inside me instead of sharing them.  I let myself be crushed by the weight of these emotions instead of letting others, who were willing and ready, help me.  I screamed when no one could hear.  I cried when no one was around.  I put up ridiculously fragile walls to barricade against anyone who might try to see what was really going on.

Words can’t explain how blessed I am to have my friend, my Gem, who saw past my facade and cared enough to do something about it.  When I told her to step away before I hurt her, she didn’t listen - she stayed right next to me.  When I told her to go to sleep and take care of herself, she ignored me and stayed up much later than necessary to talk to me, even when I pretended I wasn’t listening.  She even enlisted the help of other people when it was a bit more than she could handle.  It’s nothing she hasn’t done in the past or wouldn’t do again…but it meant more than usual this time.

It really showed me Jesus, and was a gentle reminder that I am never alone.

My Gem illustrated how Christ persistently pursues us, even when we run from Him.  Tam reminded me how powerful a simple prayer can be.  Z helped me see so many beautiful, undeniable truths in God’s Word to push back all the lies I’d been believing.

Through these incredible friends, God’s truth was made clear when my vision was blurred.  His comforting words hushed the screams of fear and insecurity that filled my head.  His unfailing love stilled my failing heart.

I’ve again claimed the verses that had been my anchor of the summer… 2 Corinthians 12:9-10: “And He said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee; for My strength is made perfect in weakness.  Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then I am strong.”

It’s not going to be easy, because I still have to heal from these injuries, but I’m at least standing on my feet again.  This time, when the going gets rough, I’ll be sure to hold tighter to God’s hand.  I’ll surround myself with those who can help instead of turning away.

And I’ll remember from this little adventure that God’s grace is always enough.

Hey, that's a song, isn't it?  (: