A show of hands for anyone who’s currently or has in the past participated in the A Woman’s Heart…God’s Dwelling Place Beth Moore study? My study meets Monday nights, led by my BFF Jill.
I am loving this study. Loving, loving, loving. It is speaking to me like none of her studies ever have. (I probably always say that, but this time it is true!)
So, being me (the formerly shy, introverted, wall flower, That Girl turned This Girl)…I felt led to share on you some Rhema.
Like most women (don’t even get me started on men) I know, I have my very own Pit. When the going gets tough, I get going…straight to my pit. While I’m standing here, at the top of the pit, looking down (and trying not to be holier than thou about it because we all know that any second I could be pushed or willingly jump in), it shocks me that I would even consider going there. Up here it is warm, sunny, happy, and there are lots of daisies growing. And blessings, Lordy are there ever Blessings!
Down there, it is dark, oppressive, unfamiliar, and lonely. After all…my life is up here. My husband, my children, The Girls, my family, my home.
Or is it just that I am so near-sighted? When I first actually jump into the pit…it, too, is warm, sunny, happy and there are lots of daisies growing.
At first. It is comforting and even familiar. Until it all goes horribly wrong and I wake up and smell the lilies (not daisies), lilies…which always remind me of funeral parlors…and death.
Death. That is all that is waiting for me in that pit. Death of my marriage. Death of my relationships with my children. Death of my job. Death of my faith.
Let me share with you that I haven’t been in that pit in a awhile (Praise Jesus). And yesterday I figured out why.
Every morning, since my last vacation straight to
hellthe pit, I have been bringing it to God. Some days more so than others. Some days on my face in the hallway or the living room wailing. WAILING. Snot running down my face, beating my hands on the floor, wailing. Not pretty. But, hallelujah, effective.
I had so gotten away from Him. There was no intimacy. Little contact. An occasional wave as I ran by on my way to “My Busy Life”.
We all know that when this happens, He brings our busy life to a screeching halt. Praise Him, He did that with me.
You see, this entire thing with Lucy was just as much about me as it was her. I get it. Did I say, I get it? Because I really get it. Lori. I get it.
It wasn’t just about her anxiety/panic attacks and inability to perform on the volleyball court. That was the result of symptoms I’ve been missing. Seeing, but not acting upon. And the helplessness. Oh, man. I can’t begin to tell you the feeling of helplessness watching my baby girl clearly panicking on that volleyball court. Clearly gasping for breath walking down the hall to her class because her heart is pounding, her ears are ringing, and she just wants to run.
I have so been there. At her age. Not knowing what was going on. Not having anyone to turn to (wallflower, introvert, that girl…remember?). Scared, frightened, thinking, “you really ARE a freak! You just thought you were before, but this proves you really are. No one else is going through this, you can’t even leave your dorm room, can’t even go to a party with The Man, can’t even get out of bed to go to work. Freak, freak, freak.”
My Lucy is NOT going to grow up thinking that. Thank You, Jesus, for putting me through it so that I can help her!
Bring it to Him every morning. And I don’t mean just in the flowery, little devotions either. They are all good. I do them. I love them. But I’m talking
The joy, the sadness, the worry. The anxiety, the praise, the worship.
The problems with your spouse (yes even about s*x…He created it, remember?)
Beth reminded me that God is the One who allows things to happen. To semi-quote Beth Moore, and hopefully not massacre her thoughts and words, “Bad things happen that are common to all (wo)man so that we may be part of the human race and minister to others with love and compassion.” Minister to others? Others, in my book, begins with those others that live in my home with me. My spouse, my children. Those I run into every day. Even the idiot in the parking lot (another story for another time, but basically, Jesus died for him, too).
What is it that REALLY sends me straight to my pit?
Fear that I am not valuable to God. That He will not come through for me, That Girl turned This Girl.
And that fear and unbelief? It brings me right back to faith. I have got to bring it to Him every morning. Or I’m lost. In that pit or any of the other homey little pit places I have made in the past.
Lucy is BACK. There is a bounce to her step. A confidence in her walk. She’s happy and calm and school and at home and she kicked booty the other night at volleyball.
Lest I am pushed right back to the pit…
Thank You Jesus for the work You have done in Lucy and in me. Keep us focused on YOU. IT IS YOU that has brought us here and You that I worship and give Praise to for helping my sweet girl. Never let me forget it. Amen.