10 Years.

Every Monday night during the spring semester of my sophomore year I remember  begrudgingly sneaking out of my apartment to walk into an emotional hell. There were always really great sugar cookies though.

Some weeks we would go around the room and share why we were there:

“My son was killed by a drunk driver last month. I still can’t even believe a child could die before their own mother.”
“My grandmother that I took care of for decades finally passed away.”
“My husband killed himself driving drunk on his motorcycle 6 months ago. Maybe it was his own fault?”
“My wife died from breast cancer and now I’m alone taking care of our kids.”
“My daughter had a rare heart condition and died at 6 weeks. How am I even supposed to think about having another child?”
“My parents died when I was in high school and I don’t want it to hurt anymore.”

I’ll never forget this woman in her late 20’s. From the second she came into the room each week to the second she left, her eyes were glazed and shiny. Maybe she just had over active tear ducts? The first week she came she couldn’t say anything comprehensible through her crying. It literally took her 5 minutes to get out the sentence, “My mom died 10 years ago and I’ve never been able to move on.” TEN YEARS AGO. And she couldn’t even say it.

“At least my mom only died 5 years ago and I can say it comprehensibly,” I thought and patted myself on the back. Watching her, I freaked out because I saw what would be me in 5 more years if I didn’t start to receive God’s love again and understand how He really saw me, my broken heart and my broken family. I was exactly like that sobbing woman. I just covered it up a little better. Every Monday my pride debated to even attend the meetings, and every week I left with puffy eyes and was so glad I did.

That first week I met that woman I distinctly remember sitting in the church’s parking lot sobbing just like her, “Lord, when it’s 10 years after my mom’s death, I do not want to be like that. Lord, heal me. Heal her. I want to be free.”

This is the only picture I have of my parents on my computer right now. I think it’s from when they were dating in the 70′s. My umma was about the same age I am now.

So today it’s been 10 years. On the one hand, I’m amazed at how much God has comforted, healed, freed, taken care of—loved me—and how much more of God I know as my true Father. I very likely wouldn’t be the woman in Christ that I am today or so intimately know Him as I do now, without having tasted His goodness in that brokenness. And on the other hand, I can’t deny that some of the same core heart issues and insecurities I had a decade ago still exist in me now.

I used to hate this date every year. But there’s something so sweet about anniversaries, if you could even call this one, filled with reflection and tears in response to His faithfulness.

In my worries and insecurities today, do I still see His sovereign hand and trust in His promises?

Romans 8:28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Do I still worship Him—knowing that my life is much less about my comfort and much more about His glory?

Job 1:21 “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”

Lord, help me to place my HOPE in YOU. To be complete, simply because I have YOU. To always remember that gaining more of YOU is always worth it.

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