The Repainted heart

Your will be done.  Words I’ve said hundreds of times. Words I have heard even more. Your will be done, Lord.  Sometimes the prayer comes with the desire to be obedient, giving up my will to give into His will wholly.  Other times praying them brings peace, joy in knowing He’s in control.  And then there are the times I grit my teeth in darkness, and mumble them out of resentment.  How dare He. How dare you, God.

Beginning in my toddler years, at 2 or maybe 3 years old, a family member began to molest me. His actions broke my mind, wounded my soul, and damaged my body.  In order to survive, my mind fractured.  The memories were buried deep, my small body bearing the stress as well as it could.  I was always sickly. As soon as I was in college it finally shattered, and my mind began to show its fractured state as well.  I couldn’t keep up with the work load, with frequent bouts of memory loss.  I had lesions on my brain, and I was in constant physical pain.  The doctors did what doctors do and ran test after test.  I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, Raynaud’s syndrome, chronic fatigue, IBS, and for about a month, MS (they were wrong about that one).  Yet I could not remember what happened until I was 29 years old.  4 years into my marriage with the most patient man I have ever met.

So, needless to say, there are many times when praying for God’s will just makes me bitter, even angry.  The questions are there at the back of my mind; how could You allow it to happen, God?  How can I trust your will now??  Why? WHY would you place that burden upon me, so small?

This reviling of Him seems at least somewhat justified, at least that’s what I tell myself.  But then I remember where the words “Your will be done” come from.  Jesus said them, full well knowing what was coming towards him.  Betrayal. Abuse. Unimaginable physical pain. Death.  And the worst part- separation from his Father.

You see, in Gods design, I would have never been hurt.  I would have never suffered. He never intended for me to be broken in this way.  He never intended for any of us to be broken.  He created us to never be separated from Him.  The brokenness does not come from Him: it comes from a hurting, broken, torn, and sick world.

I, and you, live in a broken world.  We will not escape unscathed. This is where redemption comes in, this is where God’s will brings joy and hope.  I was not created a broken, shameful, fractured little girl.  My identity is not “victim” or “hopeless”.  His will is to take the horrible abuse that shaped my worldly identity and strip away the layers until I am the person He created.  His will is that I trust Him. Trust in His goodness. Trust that He is restoring me in the midst of the painful memories. Trust that I will eventually be restored to His original plan.  And, trust in that plan- the one that we all began with.  The one Jesus made possible again by bending to God’s will.  

So, Your will be done, Lord. Even when I don’t understand .

 

 

 

 

 

My husband, Neil, and I have been married for 11 years.  Our marriage is like most healthy marriages in so many ways.  We are very different people, and like most of our married friends, there is a balance between us.  While my husband has certain things he does that drive me batty, there are times I drive him nuts too.  Let me give you some examples:  I am a creative slob, he likes things very tidy.  I go with the flow and half the time don’t remember (or care) where that flow is headed, he loves the calendar and planning and knowing what to expect.  See how that works? Balance.  There’s some health in those differences.  I need his predictability, and I tell myself he needs my free spirit

But, our marriage has some big differences, too.  Neil provides a stability for me that most wives don’t need.  It took a ton of patience on his part to get both of us to a healthy place. When we first got married I nearly went off the edge.  Intimacy was nearly impossible, I was angry with no reason that I was aware of.  He got the brunt of the chaos that was unleashed in my mind, and, for a guy that likes things neat and tidy, I seriously rocked his world.  Physically ill, I could not drive because I passed out multiple times a day.  I couldn’t work, take myself to the Dr, go to the store.  Cooking or cleaning was a challenge because I never knew when I would black out.  He was taking care of me, our house, adjusting to the usual changes marriage brings, and working full time.  Yet he never wavered.

He is an amazing guy.   And he is not perfect.

He is a man of prayer who loves Jesus and knows that he needs God.  We would not be here 11 years later if he did not have God to hold him.  Had he given up on me, I probably would not have had the courage to heal.

He is my anchor.  His roots are deep in God’s grace and when fear or memory or whatever other emotion overcomes me he is firmly planted so that we are not swept away.  Oh, I have my own relationship with God, and it is of utmost importance.  But one of the ways God has held me and kept me safe is through Neil.  He is the physical manifestation of Gods love.

So, those times when he’s driving me batty I try to remember how far we’ve come together.  We have walked every recovered memory, every trip to the hospital, every joy and sorrow together.  He may not be perfect.

 But he is my anchor.

 

Well, here it is.  My first official blog post.  Had you asked me a year ago, or even 4 months ago, I would have said it would never happen.  After all, I am not a writer, I’m somewhat bad at typing, and I have a bad habit of forgetting to use caps lock (so please just go ahead and prepare yourself to silently forgive me when it happens).  However, God just keeps nudging me.  Those gentle whispers in the back of my mind.  The voice of a very wise friend.  The the very obvious class offered just one week after praying for help.  After all, this story is not mine.  It is His, and my place in it is to share it and all He has done through it.

You see, I am a trauma survivor. My memories are buried deep, in rooms with walls painted and repainted over and over again until I didn’t recognize the truth anymore. It was only after many years of illness and emotional turmoil, and some help from friends and my amazing husband who God placed in my path that I could begin to remember. And through remembering, God begins the restoration, like the artist He is, returning His creation to the work of art He intended me to be.

 

 

So, this blog is intended to be about His story.  Of how He takes brokenness and creates something new. How, in a world where people are broken, He responded by sending His son to die and rise again all for the purpose of having a relationship with me, with you. His perfect plan to take what is broken, dirty, covered, and painted with lies, and repaint it into His perfect piece of artwork.  To restore our relationship with Him so we can be healed over and over again.  My prayer is that as you read this blog you would find courage to face the hurt in your own life and seek that relationship that restores.