Flashback Friday: When Your Soul Becomes a Desert

Today, I'm bringing back a post that I wrote for the women's blog back in late April. When I wrote the post, I was still pretty broken unaware of the healing that truly was ahead. Earlier that week, my physician called me with the confirmation that everything in my blood work looked good, and the diagnosis was without a doubt, depression. I wasn't surprised, but I also wasn't relieved. The weeks ahead looked like adjustment, understanding, and clinging to the only medicine I knew would work - His Word. 

I used to write just as much as I breathed—or at least that’s what it felt like. I would go to bed with my next blog post in mind. I would often find myself scribbling notes across a beat up notebook when something came to mind. Blogging was my small corner of the world that helped me write out loud what my heart was singing. Sometimes I wrote about lifestyle, mostly about God and His love. Then, just as quickly as it started, I felt like it ended. Days became longer and words became harder, or should I say harsher?

I often have this small thought that I wish rather than waking up to a weather forecast on the daily news, I could wake up to a show that forecasts how I would feel for that day. I feel like no one whispered into my ear that the last few months of my life would feel empty as full as my life is. No one told me that I would fight back tears whenever someone casually tossed a “how are you” my way. And I never received a first class letter that the distance between my Creator and I would become so, so far. Yet, I don’t think I was meant to receive any notice of it, because sometimes we have to hit our knees hard and fast to see that we cannot bear our own loads.

I remember one of the first moments I felt like I truly fell head over heels in love with my Savior. I was in a small group my freshman year of college that met once a week to lightly chat about scripture and life. I couldn’t tell you what the purpose was of our study at that time, but I remember the scripture we read that night so vividly:

…and the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by God, in which she is to be nourished for 1,260 days.

—Revelation 12: 6 (ESV)

I can tell you that the wilderness to which she fled was more so a desert than a wooded place. It was dry and barren, but the Lord was there awaiting for her, water in tow. While the scripture held so much more context than this alone, I remember thinking at that moment how thirsty I felt. I was dry and desperate and needy for a God, my God, that would quench my thirst.

Over time, we cannot be filled with one glass of water; we need a waterfall. But it takes work on our end and if we aren’t careful, our feet will slip off the ground on which we stand and the enemy will consume our minds.

I’ve been running into the desert for a long time. I’ve done my part of opening up a devotional, reading the first two lines, and closing it shut. I’ve been looking at my faith as nothing more than a checklist. And I’ve let the lies of the enemy consume my soul. I’m over not shouting my prayers to God like I used to. And I am so done not giving God my all in worship. 

Sometimes we are led into the desert, with no warning, so that we can experience once again the unimaginable, unconditional love that our Heavenly Father gives. It’s time we repent from the lies we’ve been telling ourselves—His promises are awaiting us.

Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

—Isaiah 43:19 (ESV)

We can run into the desert until visions of home are nothing but a mere line painted across the sky, but God will chase after you with everything He’s got. The sand may be between my toes and the sun beats down on me hard, but hallelujah for the moment that my knees hit the sand because I couldn’t run anymore. Hallelujah for the moments of suffering I have seen so that I could be reminded of how desperate I am for God.

Pour His word into your empty cup:

Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. —Psalm 42:7

I cared for you in the wilderness, In the land of drought. —Hosea 13:5 

Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. —Isaiah 55:1

Restore to me the joy of Your salvation And sustain me with a willing spirit. —Psalm 51:12

Jesus,

I’m so sorry for seeing a getaway plan as a better option than clinging to You. I repent of the empty worship and prayers I’ve been sending Your way for too long. I long to be wrecked in a sea of Your unfathomable love. I have been so thirsty for too long and my knees sink into the sand I’ve found myself in. I have hurt, but You are my helper. Rid my anxious soul of the emotions that plague my mind and renew it each morning. Thank You for chasing after me when I thought I could outrun You. Even more so, thank You for catching me when I fell. Would You quench my soul with the waters of Your waterfall. Let Your waves sweep over me so that I find myself beautifully in over my head. You are such a good God, Father. Thank You. Thank You. 

Amen.

You Shrunk My Shirt

Lumarie Photo & Design 

It was a black dress made of the softest cotton you could find. The lace details at the top made it lay against my skin perfectly and when I spun around I felt like I was floating on air. It was the dress I wore on our 'fancy' date on our honeymoon.

Perfect and lovely until it became a shirt. 

He walked in the door after a long day of work to find me screaming my head off. How dare he not check each piece of clothing before tossing it in the mix of things to be dried on high heat. My favorite dress had become my favorite shirt.

That wasn't the last time I would find my clothes wrinkly and shrunken down to the size of a mouse either. It also wasn't the last day that he forgot to turn the dishwasher on after loading it and even putting the soap in it. And it certainly wasn't the last day that he rolled out of bed 30 minutes before he had to go out the door, leaving me alone and silent with my coffee downstairs.

I lose my temper over his eggs getting cold that I just made them. He looks at me says thank you.

And let's not even get into what happens when I'm hangry...yet he says, "What can I get you to eat?"

Lumarie Photo & Design 

I am a certified complainer - I have the shortest temper know to woman and the patience I have for the 'little' things might as well be as small as the things themselves. Yet, my guy shows me grace I could never fathom and me? Nada.

The convicting reality of it all, is that I do this stuff to God all the time, and He says you're forgiven.

If this marriage stuff is truly intended to be a living, breathing depiction of Christ and the church, I am receiving a D for effort. Grace is not a gift to only be given to a friend in a tough situation or to the dog for eating your shoe, it's a constant never ending form of love that should be shown to your beloved.

Ladies (and dudes), if you're reading this and putting praise hands emojis next to my statements and commenting with "gosh, me too" then it's time for us to step back and readjust our focus on Christ. Turn our heads away from the excuses of why we don't have the patience or time to show grace and  live out 1 Corinthians 13 in our marriages instead.

Here's to the man who shrinks my shirts - for without moments like those, I would have no idea what grace looks like when I lose my cool.

Lumarie Photo & Design

Thank you for telling me I'm beautiful when the look on myself says, "feed me now or else"

Thank you for showing me what it looks like to unconditionally love like Christ in everything you do. 

                        

In no way do I deserve your love, yet you still shout it from the rooftops. 

Thank you, Mr. 

__________________________________________

Lord, I am absolutely certain that I do not deserve love and forgiveness like I am shown, but you still say I am worthy. Help me to lay down my selfishness for a love that is selfless - that is never self seeking and always after ways that I can serve and respect the man that I love. When I try to be the toughest person in the room and stand my ground, bring me to my knees. Your grace may be abounding, but there is no excuse for a harsh word that stirs up anger. May my words and reactions be thought out first and always intended to build my Mr. up. Remind my that our hearts and minds work differently and that my first priority might not be his, and that is ok because marriage is not just about me - it's about us. To your name be praised - shrunken shirts and all. 

Amen.

Back to the Good Stuff

It has been far too long since my fingers have found themselves comfortably nestled on my old Macbook from college. So many mornings and nights were filled with 100 words per minute discussing everything from my latest headache to my latest breakfast. Marriage happened and suddenly I forgot what it meant to share my feelings as opposed to just feeling them.

I let days, weeks, and (dare I say) a year go by before I finally agreed to blog for the Women's Ministry at my home church. So much had happened in my heart and my head since the day I logged off of my personal blog that I forgot how freeing it felt to see characters flood the screening. I tried blogging for my business, but something just didn't seem like a fit. I love what I do, but the words I write don't necessarily fit the brand of my business but the brand of my everyday.

In the past six months I've had a whole lotta mountains and valleys (or Peaches N' Pits, if that's more your flavor). I tackled insecurities about who I was called to be both in my passion for service and for creativity, I saw the bitterness of depression but the sweetness of healing, we uprooted from one street and bought our first home on a corner. We got our first dog or should I say baby? It's hard to tell the difference. And I realized what a drought I was in when it came to me and the Lord. I had long left Him in the dust and let things and life and feelings become top priority over me laying my everything at His feet.

In January, I remember all of my friends saying that their 'word for the year was.....'. Y'all I didn't have a word. I prayed for a word. I searched books for a word. I even found myself in the endless scroll of Instagram just looking for some kind of sign. I needed a word, but I got a whole lot of nothing. Early one morning while braving the workroom at Warren, I said hello to our 'printer guy', Benjamin. Benjamin has a heavy African accent and having a conversation with him sometimes just ends up with me smiling and shaking my head because I'm too busy or too confused to listen. Before I could say how are you, he looked at me and said, "Your word for the year is victory, right?"...I stopped. Hold up, no I stopped talking, couldn't feel my feet, and shook my head up and down acknowledging the very words the Lord spoke over me in that moment.

Victory.  

Little did I know, this year would be the year that would constantly feel like a battle, and God wanted me to know that victory wasn't something I needed to fight for because as His child I already get to fight from a place victory. And the vine?

I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.

                                                                        John 15:5

 Need I say more? The year isn't over yet, but one thing is clear. I can't do anything apart from Him. 

 This blog isn't another place for pretty pictures (although there will be some floating around), it's a place for celebration, for memories, for dreams, for encouragement. There might be days when all I want to tell you about is how good my cinnamon cereal was but there will also be days when I want to challenge me and YOU to think bigger, trust more, and always, always be brave.