I bet I’ve stared at this exact blank page over 1000 times since March. I keep opening it up thinking I have something to say, and then find myself clicking the little ‘x’ in the top corner without having written a word. And yet, here I sit again. And I’m not really sure I have anything to say now, either. As I looked back at the post previous to this one, I am taken aback because life is so different these days, and I am not the same girl that wrote that post. I do, however, remember her very well.
I remember faking my way through conversations, smiling and being joyous on the outside while my heart ached on the inside. Tears filled my days – and I remember feeling so…foolish. Foolish because I didn’t understand it, foolish because I couldn’t explain it, and foolish because I knew I was in the grip of my Savior’s hand – and yet I couldn’t grasp that. I couldn’t get that promise to go from my heart to my head; couldn’t get that to soak in (Seems so easy now, looking back on it). My life was so full – yet from my perspective, it was empty. I can remember thinking several times how much easier it would be to just turn the wheel of my car, and let it drift off the road. Anything would’ve been better than what I was experiencing, right? People didn’t understand. I didn’t understand. And I was tired. And escaping this world sounded so appealing.
And then one day I just gave up. In fact, it was right after I read the post I copied on my last entry. I had been reading this girl’s posts for a while – not every day but randomly when I’d decide to log in and check up on people I was “following” on my blog - and I just so happened to read hers on a day when, from the looks of her post, we were walking in the same shoes. Jenny from Addison Road told a story of how she was going through a valley. She related it to a time she got thrown off a raft while white water rafting and almost drowned. She made this comment:
“The instructor catches my eye. He is on the shoreline now. Someone is coming for you, he says. Look at me. Stop panicking. You have to breathe. Do what I tell you to do. Go under water when I count to three. When you come up, blow out and take a huge breath. 1. 2. 3. Go. Do it again. Someone’s coming. Go under... now….
I'm not even sure if the event was as perilous as I remember it or not. But I felt that it was. I felt that I was losing control. I felt myself fighting to breathe. To keep my head above water. To hold my breath. To listen to the voice of the guy on the side who kept telling me someone was coming for me. I knew I was fighting. To someone else, say a professional rafter or swimmer or professionally brave person, this may not have been a fight at all. But it wasn't them, it was me. And for me, it was a battle….The past year or two I have been fighting. And I know it. Maybe not anything too huge: I'm not fighting cancer or divorce or poverty or the complete destruction of my homeland. I'm just fighting the constant flow of water beating down on me. Little tiny blows that when taken one after another begin to threaten my endurance, wear down on my body, and try to steal my joy. ” [http://www.jennysimmons.com/]
I remember breaking out in tears, thinking “that’s me! that’s how I feel too!” For the first time I felt understood. To the outside world, my life was pretty close to perfect but for me, on the inside, it was a battle and I was drowning. Falling on my face before the Lord, I was honest for the first time in months. I told Him how I felt, what I thought, and I even mentioned the whole “it’d be easier if I could just drive off the road” part. He listened, like He always does, as I poured my heart at His feet.
I don’t really remember the transition from the bottom of the valley to the climb up the mountaintop, but I remember that I was suddenly able to breathe. I felt like this huge weight had been lifted, and while things didn’t immediately go from horrible to perfect in one moment, they did start to get better.
That walk through the valley hasn’t really crossed my mind much since then. I’ve been so focused on the incredible blessings in my life, that I haven’t forced time to think about what life was like back then. It was, after all, a horribly dark time in my life, a time that I can’t really explain or put into words. But the Lord reminded me of something yesterday, and my mind drifted back and I suddenly realized something I couldn’t bring myself to believe back then.
The Lord directs the steps of the godly.
He delights in every detail of their lives.
Though they stumble, they will never fall,
for the Lord holds them by the hand. [Psalm 37:23-24]
Oh, how sweet those words are. And so very true! God does delight in EVERY detail of our lives, and He directs our steps. Little did I realize that when I was crawling on my stomach through the valley so full of darkness and muck of this world, that my Savior was right beside me, with His hand in perfect grip with mine. And there was no way He was letting me go.
On the days I chose not to pray – He was holding my hand.
On the days I broke down, screaming and yelling at Him – He was holding my hand.
On the days I considered driving off the road– He was holding my hand.
On the day I laid my heart at His feet in sweet surrender – He was holding my hand.
He was there. He IS here.
Even in the valley. Even when we’re drowning.
And He’s always got us in the firm grip of His hand.
And He never [ever] lets go.
