Bringing Me HomeApr 13, 2021
For months I’ve felt myself cracking.
My body. My mind. My emotions.
I thought I knew who I was—what I wanted to be. But it all became so fuzzy, so hopeless.
Each morning, I’d get up, tie the pieces together, and keep blindly charging into the fog. Praying for a light at the end of the tunnel, yet doing nothing to change.
This week I shattered.
Laying in my bed, fever hot, body sweating, I realized He was breaking me until I would listen.
I hung on every word.
He spoke through a book, a sermon, an email, a late night conversation. He spoke through my children, our home, my body, His Word.
He called me out of Winter—striving, never-ending desolate. Worldly-centered, news-consuming, success-driven, self-seeking. And bathed my soul with fresh perspective.
He whispered, “you’re a Wife, a Mother. I created you to do it well,” and breathed peaceful contentment where it had been crowded out by ambition.
He turned my heart back toward my family, and in exchange, I gave him the burdens and pride I’ve clung to with a vice-like grip.
I am found.
Five days ago I would have never thought I could give up my “goals,” my plans, or my towers of effort.
But he gave rest when I thought there was none to have. He placed simple steps before me, and drove away the fog.
He’s rebuilding me into who He wants me to be, and this time, I don’t fight it. Spring has begun to blossom in my soul.
He has brought me home.
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