Thankful Thursday (5/1)
Words.
Words are powerful.
Drag you down. Lift you up. Wrap you in truth. Smother you with lies.
For the last, at least, six months, words have tormented me. Lies have seeped into my innermost being and threatened to swallow me whole. I have tortured myself with these lies, with these daggers. I have been brought, brought myself really, so low that a new day didn't seem like a gift. More like a curse.
I have felt like a failure as a wife, as a mother, as a daughter. As a Christian. I had truly begun to believe the lies that satan was spewing into my thought-life. I was bitter, angry, mean-spirited, harsh, cruel, and any other word you can think of to describe someone living far from truth. Far from Christ.
All because I let myself believe that our current situation was the end of our journey. That we were stuck. For good. I have felt desperate to get out of this hole. Get away. Move on. And, I couldn't see a way to do that. To be honest, I still can't sometimes.
I have WANTED to be kind and compassionate. Slow to anger and quick to listen. I have wanted to be those things that I pray over Jack each night. The things I pray for our sweet baby on the way. But, I have yet to be them. Because I haven't asked. Well, I asked a few times, but mostly, I've just stewed. Stewed in my depression and lack of joy. I hid it from the outside world lest I should feel like even more of a failure. I led others to believe that everything is magical and rosy and one giant fairy tale come true. A lie of omission.
Words of untruth.
And, then.
Thank God there's usually an "And, then" moment.
I started reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. Several people a few years ago had recommended this book. The name made me curious but never enough to actually buy the thing. The library didn't have a copy, so I gave up.
And, then.
Mrs. Voskamp writes a blog, and my friends Linda and Kathy often share those blog posts on Facebook. One caught my eye. I read it, felt convicted, but not nearly enough so. But, in my haste to leave the page, I did see that there was a picture of her book cover. I remembered my friends sharing with me what a beautiful book it was. I remembered I was interested in reading it at one time. So, I browsed online for it, and there happened to be an excerpt of the first chapter here. I clicked on the picture, the excerpt popped up, and I couldn't stop reading. I splurged and bought the kindle version and picked up right where I had left off. If I'm not taking care of Jack or doing chores or spending a few moments with The Husband when he's home (or writing on this blog), I'm reading it. I can't begin to tell you how her words have affected me. They just have.
They lit a spark.
Then, today, I read this story of a family who was in the midst of those severe tornadoes that hit the South recently. Y'all, I bawled. I'm going to be completely upfront with you right now and say that if you don't have five minutes to let the tears pour down, a box of tissues handy, and possibly a friend to hug afterward, then maybe you shouldn't read it. I didn't have a friend to hug at the moment, so I did the next best thing. I sent the link to The Bestie and to my sister, and then I cried some more. And, then I thought and prayed. At one time, not so very long ago, I, too, felt that assurance, that deep trust in the face of losing so much, and much hope followed.
Words. The words of that blogger, the words of her grieving friend, the almost-prophetic words of her son.
Those words lit another spark.
I want to be lit fully. I want to be on fire again. On fire for Jesus. On fire for life. On fire for my family.
My apologies. I know that was a very long, very word-y introduction to today's "Thankful Thursday" post.
Here goes.
Today, I'm thankful for:
1. The gift of eye- and heart-opening words. Spoken or written truth.
2. The 4:45am snuggle session in the quiet darkness of Jack's room that I had with my boy as he struggled to find sleep while fighting with the pain in his aching gums.
3. Silliness and laughter. Anytime. Anywhere. The joy is returning.
Today, I'm thankful for the life to enjoy these gifts. Lord, that I might not take them for granted anymore.
Words are powerful.
Drag you down. Lift you up. Wrap you in truth. Smother you with lies.
For the last, at least, six months, words have tormented me. Lies have seeped into my innermost being and threatened to swallow me whole. I have tortured myself with these lies, with these daggers. I have been brought, brought myself really, so low that a new day didn't seem like a gift. More like a curse.
I have felt like a failure as a wife, as a mother, as a daughter. As a Christian. I had truly begun to believe the lies that satan was spewing into my thought-life. I was bitter, angry, mean-spirited, harsh, cruel, and any other word you can think of to describe someone living far from truth. Far from Christ.
All because I let myself believe that our current situation was the end of our journey. That we were stuck. For good. I have felt desperate to get out of this hole. Get away. Move on. And, I couldn't see a way to do that. To be honest, I still can't sometimes.
I have WANTED to be kind and compassionate. Slow to anger and quick to listen. I have wanted to be those things that I pray over Jack each night. The things I pray for our sweet baby on the way. But, I have yet to be them. Because I haven't asked. Well, I asked a few times, but mostly, I've just stewed. Stewed in my depression and lack of joy. I hid it from the outside world lest I should feel like even more of a failure. I led others to believe that everything is magical and rosy and one giant fairy tale come true. A lie of omission.
Words of untruth.
And, then.
Thank God there's usually an "And, then" moment.
I started reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. Several people a few years ago had recommended this book. The name made me curious but never enough to actually buy the thing. The library didn't have a copy, so I gave up.
And, then.
Mrs. Voskamp writes a blog, and my friends Linda and Kathy often share those blog posts on Facebook. One caught my eye. I read it, felt convicted, but not nearly enough so. But, in my haste to leave the page, I did see that there was a picture of her book cover. I remembered my friends sharing with me what a beautiful book it was. I remembered I was interested in reading it at one time. So, I browsed online for it, and there happened to be an excerpt of the first chapter here. I clicked on the picture, the excerpt popped up, and I couldn't stop reading. I splurged and bought the kindle version and picked up right where I had left off. If I'm not taking care of Jack or doing chores or spending a few moments with The Husband when he's home (or writing on this blog), I'm reading it. I can't begin to tell you how her words have affected me. They just have.
They lit a spark.
Then, today, I read this story of a family who was in the midst of those severe tornadoes that hit the South recently. Y'all, I bawled. I'm going to be completely upfront with you right now and say that if you don't have five minutes to let the tears pour down, a box of tissues handy, and possibly a friend to hug afterward, then maybe you shouldn't read it. I didn't have a friend to hug at the moment, so I did the next best thing. I sent the link to The Bestie and to my sister, and then I cried some more. And, then I thought and prayed. At one time, not so very long ago, I, too, felt that assurance, that deep trust in the face of losing so much, and much hope followed.
Words. The words of that blogger, the words of her grieving friend, the almost-prophetic words of her son.
Those words lit another spark.
I want to be lit fully. I want to be on fire again. On fire for Jesus. On fire for life. On fire for my family.
My apologies. I know that was a very long, very word-y introduction to today's "Thankful Thursday" post.
Here goes.
Today, I'm thankful for:
1. The gift of eye- and heart-opening words. Spoken or written truth.
2. The 4:45am snuggle session in the quiet darkness of Jack's room that I had with my boy as he struggled to find sleep while fighting with the pain in his aching gums.
3. Silliness and laughter. Anytime. Anywhere. The joy is returning.
Today, I'm thankful for the life to enjoy these gifts. Lord, that I might not take them for granted anymore.
Oh, sweetheart, I'm so glad you found this book. We never have to look very far before we see others in situations so much worse than we are experiencing! I pray you will continue to have this peace, knowing God is leading you and your family to something so much better. Love you bunches!!!
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