Bringing Me Home

Apr 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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