Christmas and Aleppo

My heart is breaking these days. Breaking for Mamas and kiddos and grandparents and fathers and others that I don't even know. People. Humans.

Their pictures are all over the internet and on our TVs. Lovers of people. Believers in good. Holders of dreams. Makers of homes and houses and communities and a life that deserves so much more.

These precious people of Aleppo.

I. Can't. Even.

I am sitting here typing on my computer, watching TV, being warmed by my fireplace, the glow of the Christmas tree in the corner, my children playing outside and in, with each other, with things. We have so much. I am torn gut-raw this Christmas.

I. Can't. Even.

There are six wrapped gifts under our tree, one for each of us. Honestly, there are more upstairs in their hiding places, away from the eyes and tries of my kids. But I'm having a hard time moving them from their secret place to under our Christmas tree. This Mama is having a hard time wrapping gifts to put under a tree when Mamas across the world are having a hard time wrapping their precious little ones just to save their lives. This Mama is dodging people and traffic, while other Mamas are dodging bullets and missiles. Little has rocked my world like the current events in Aleppo.

I love gift giving. I actually even (usually) love shopping for Christmas presents. One of my favourite things to do each Christmas is go shopping and get it all done at once, enjoying the festive atmosphere of the mall. Weird for many of you, I realize, but seriously, I have always loved doing that. This year was different. I got my day to go shopping. Had my list. Had my plan in my head. I was looking forward to buying some special things, drinking over priced coffee from a red cup, and eating whatever I wanted to at the food court. And I did all those things, but there was something missing. There was a sadness, a regret, a deep sorrow that I couldn't shake.

Aleppo. Mamas and Papas in Aleppo are going to wake up on December 25th to atrocities and horror, and we are going to wake up to lovingly and lovely wrapped gifts, or maybe a breakfast with family, or maybe a dinner with loved ones with laughter and singing and sharing and...peace.

That's it. The whole juxtaposition of our world and their world. Peace vs. violence.  Calm vs. chaos. Our greatest concern seems to be whether or not we will have a white Christmas (which I'm pretty sure we are safe in assuming yes to!). I know that our world, our community, is not immune to the pain of sorrow and sadness, of loss and regret and striving to make ends meet. I know that there are people that I rub shoulders with each week that are facing a much different Christmas. My heart break for those across the world does not lessen the reality of those suffering within my community. It is all real. It is all sad. It is all needing to be made right.

So, do I take all the gifts back? Do I not do Christmas this year because Mamas across the world are suffering? I don't think that is the answer. I don't have an answer. But I do have an idea.

God sent Jesus to be our Messiah, our Saviour, to be our Prince of Peace. Our world welcomed peace when Baby Jesus arrived, and now that is the peace we have to offer. So that is my prayer this season.

I am praying that God's peace would be on display. That His peace would win over the violence and chaos. That His peace would settle in and on the hearts of humans everywhere. Including my own.

My idea...As I wrap gifts this year, I will pray for Mamas in Aleppo and other places in our great big world, where Mamas are wrapping precious little ones, where Mamas are protecting and persevering and praying for peace.

Each gift that gets wrapped under my tree represents a prayer for a Mama in Aleppo.
Each gift that gets opened from under my tree represents a prayer for a child in Aleppo.

Another idea...Give. There are many great organizations on the ground already in Aleppo and the surrounding area.

www.preemptivelove.nationbuilder.com
www.doctorswithoutborders.org

Or check out this list here:
http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/how-to-help-aleppo-charities-and-organisations-to-donate-to-including-msf-the-red-cross-and-the-white-helmets_uk_584ff7a8e4b040989fa80770

Sign a petition here:
https://secure.avaaz.org/campaign/en/aleppo_stop_the_massacre_en_glb_loc/?copy

This Christmas our theme at church is Simply Christmas. We have been challenged to Spend Less, Give More, and Love All. This truth has really hit home this year.

Simply Christmas. Simply Love. Simply Give. Simply Pray.

My heart hurts as I watch the atrocities around the world. Sure I am thankful for all I do have, for all the blessings that come with being born and raised in our part of the world. But my heart is open to simply love and share the peace that came as a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. That is the gift that I simply give to the Mamas and kiddos of Aleppo. It's all I have, but it has to be enough, I am praying that it is enough, because I am believing that He is enough.

For to us a child is born,

    to us a son is given,

    and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called

    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

~Isaiah 9:6

Loss and Life and Redeeming Love

Yes, time heals. As memories and moments fill the chasm of time that passes minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, month by month, year by year we realize we are changed. We are no longer the same person that we were. And that is the gift of time. That is the gift from the Giver and Holder of time.

I have heard from many of you who have loved and lost little babies and big babies, who have loved and lost, the loss felt deep because it matched the depth of love given. Thank you for opening your treasured memories, for being willing to love, and for allowing time to heal you too.

But here is the great thing...the greater thing:

Time, if we let it, can also be redeeming. 

Your story may be different from mine, but the Giver and Holder and Healer of time remains the same. From the very beginning of time, He set out to redeem the broken, heal the hurting, and restore the wounded. Pain and hurt and separation and death were not what He intended, but they are what He has come to redeem, to make whole, to make new again.

God's redeeming love came to me in the form of another baby. Today we celebrate Mitchell's 10th birthday. If you are tracking with me, that is exactly one year and one day after the deep loss of yesterday. Did I know this would happen? No. Did I plan for this to happen? No. But He did.

www.weethreesparrowsphotography.com

In His perfect time, He gave us another baby. And when that tickle of truth became a reality, and due dates were declared, I was sure God was going to redeem the despair of yesterday for me, that November 16 would no longer be a day of death, but of life. Wouldn't that just be great?! But no, that was not His plan. He made it very clear to me that both of these babies were to have their special days; they were not to share the day. So one year and one day later we welcomed Mitch into our family and hearts and lives, and we have never been the same.


Not everyone's story ends up like this, I know. This is how God chose to redeem my story. Because God also had another purpose and plan for Mitch. One that we never could have guessed or assumed or even imagined. God used Mitchell for my life too. How was I to know that three months after Mitch was born I would be fighting for my life in a hospital bed? After my body was attacked by Invasive Group A Strep, and Jesus carried me right through the Valley of the Shadow of Death where I had to choose to give in to God, believing that everything He had planned and purposed for my life and my family were perfect in His plan, or choose to give up on God, taking everything back, holding it tight, declaring my strength was greater than His...I came face to face with Jesus. I knew that giving in to God at that point would go one of two ways: Heaven or Earth. I had to let go completely, trust Him completely, and choose life in Him completely.

So, Earth it was. And I spent the rest of the next number of months getting better. It was a fight. It was hard. It was frustrating. It was a battle with PTSD and life and weakness and kids and renovations (yeah, that happened) and a husband whose health was declining. Through this battle, Mitch became my reason to get out of bed every morning. He became my motivation, my "raison d'être". Not that my other three kids weren't important or loved, but my little baby became my purpose to live. I knew enough to know that he needed me, and that alone was what pushed me through each day. God knew that I was going to need Mitchell, that he would save my very heart and family and life.

My heart is forever grateful for loss and life and love.

He gives and takes away,

He gives and takes away.

My heart will choose to say

Blessed be Your Name.

My heart is forever grateful for loss and life and redeeming love.

Time heals, yes it does. It allows us to celebrate both loss and pain, and joy and life. We grieve and we love. We cry and we laugh. We give and we get. We change and we grow. We are...our life is...redeemed.

Redeeming love. That is the gift given to us by the Giver and Holder of time.

For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:8

www.weethreesparrowsphotography.com

So today we celebrate Mitch! We are so very thankful for the gift he is to our family, and to our community. Mitch is full of life and chatter and fun and chatter and compassion and chatter and love...and did I say chatter? (He is his father's son...😁).

Happy Birthday Mitch! You are loved!

Loss and Life

Eleven years ago today, and it still feels like yesterday.

Eleven years and the memories of the pain and reality and loss and death and sorrow and Presence are close enough to touch.

Time passes and they say time heals. And it does. Honestly, it does.

But time also holds. It holds memories and treasures and challenges and growth and people and places and events - all significant to the passing of time and the marking of wonders and wisdom. You experience loss, and time continues to pass. Oddly enough, life goes on - around you, in you, through you, in spite of you really. And the Giver and Holder of time, life and love moves with you, walks with you, works through you, in spite of you...really.

Eleven years ago today, I held our baby. After having delivered him at home, alone, in my bathroom, I cupped him tenderly in my hands and watched his little heart stop beating. There was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do, but sit and cry and watch and wonder. I watched as our dreams for his life and our life as a family vanquished. This was not the way we planned it. This was not what our mutual marital heart hoped for. And yet this was our reality. A life that was created and desired and longed for in love, was being carried to the Giver and Holder of time and life and love, and I couldn't take him back. No matter how hard I tried or wanted to, my baby was gone. A life lived, loved and gone. I held him, told him is Mommy loves him, and watched him go from this life in my small Mississauga bathroom to be with his Maker and Creator.

This was not my first baby loss, but it was the only one I physically held in my hands. Miscarriages happen to too many people too often, and part of the searing pain is the loneliness in it all. As much as you seek to make it a private, personal time, there is also that cavernous grief that echoes of loneliness and hurt and sadness and disappointment. The early loss of a baby is different because too much of society tells us that it isn't really a loss, you didn't really have time to love that baby, you didn't even know your baby. Those of us who have walked this road know different. Love and grief go hand in hand. It is more than OK to love, and it is more than OK to grieve.

Time passes and all the memories and moments begin to flow together. They are treasures and challenges that hold us and shape us, they change us and make us better people if we let them. When faced with challenges and heartache and questions, I always pray that God uses it to change me because I don't ever want to go through such pain and not come out different on the other side.

If I don't allow God to use this pain in my life, then it is pointless. 

If I don't let God take the time to use this to change me, make me different, reshape my heart and life and hope, then it is worthless. 

All it is then, is pain. Empty, hopeless pain. 

God wants so much more for you, for me. Pain in our world is a result of sin, of the infiltration of things that God did not intend for His creation. Yet it exists. But His promise is that He will make all things new, that what was intended for evil, He will make right and good and whole again. That is His promise to us. That is His gift of time and life and love to us.

Time. Yes, time heals. But it is the Giver and Holder of time that really heals. Time is a gift He gives us to treasure and challenge and change. Time is the space that holds all things precious and painful. Time is filled with memories and moments and stories that long to be told and used.

Eleven years and the memories of the pain and reality and loss and death and sorrow and Presence are close enough to touch. 

His Presence is still close enough to touch. Through loss and through life, His Presence is close enough to touch.

*****************************************

If you know our story, you know that Andrew and I have been through many challenges that have brought us face to face with Jesus. This is just one of them. God is the Giver and Holder and Healer of time and life and memories and moments that make us more like Jesus. And really, it is His Presence that allows time to heal us. Healing, physical and emotional, is a journey that takes time. Give it time. Give God the time to work wonders in your life. Time is a gift. Accept it and let it heal you,

Watching - Part 4: Faithful

Watch and learn...

To watch, I had to stop. I mean to really watch I had to really stop. In fact I had to stop in order to realize that I could even watch. I was so wrapped up in my own discontentment that I nearly missed the great things God was doing around me. In the busyness of my life, watching wasn't even an option. Until I stopped - until God stopped me. Until I was quiet. Until my trampled soul remained down in the quiet long enough to take a deep breath and invite peace and life back in. Then God said, "Look. Look and watch what I have been doing".

I watched what I had done in the past. God reminded me that like these women watching at the cross, I have been deep in the trenches of church ministry. I had spent years walking and talking and working with him, yes, even eating with him. God allowed me to watch and re-watch some of the great moments and events he had allowed me to be a part of as we have journeyed the past 40+ years together. He reminded me that those past moments were what rooted me deeply to him. My relationship with him is not about what I do, it's about who I am each and every day. It's not always about the doing, but it is also in the watching that we learn and grow. It is also about where we have been together, and that was important for me to remember.

I watched what was going on around me in the present. God showed me that my watching meant others were doing. God had me sit back and see the good that others were doing. He let me rejoice in how they were growing, in how they were being used, and in the great moments that he alone was creating for his good purposes. I watched women blossom and their lives became a sweet fragrance to God.

I watched what God had been doing. God showed me the bad and the ugly for sure, and there was tears and forgiveness and reconciliation in that as my soul was mended. But God also showed me the good. Good in how he used me in the lives on 22 little individuals - and their families. Good in how my dependence on him grew stronger and deeper every single day. Good in how my reputation stayed in tact, my determination remained firm, and my representation of him shone bright. The good I did in that classroom went way beyond the curriculum. My "kids" learned what unconditional love meant and they learned about grace and forgiveness and trust. I was his hands and feet and heart to a group of little hearts that needed his touch in their lives. I pray that they all remember this year as special, even if they can't put words to it. In reality I was doing ministry in a whole new way. Yes, I was watching, but I realized that God had me doing too.

So, I guess I was watching and doing.

I was just doing what I thought I would be watching, and watching what I thought I would be doing.

As I took a long look into the watching women of the cross, God showed me something else. These women were the first to go to the tomb. They sought him even after his death, and they sought him hard and deep (Mark 16). The reward? Mary was the first person he appeared to after his resurrection.

"But Mary stood outside facing the tomb, crying. As she was crying, she stooped to look into the tomb. She saw two angels in white standing there...'I don't know where they've put Him.' Having said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, though she did not know it was Jesus."

John 20:11 - 14

Mary was watching at the cross, Mary was watching at the tomb. She turned around and saw Jesus standing there. Can you imagine what Jesus was thinking right then as he veiled his Holy Self from her? Her confusion of grief and sorrow so deep it is only matched by His compassion and love for her. 

And in an act so common it is mind-blowing, he reveals himself to her.

"Jesus said, 'Mary'"

He says her name. He calls her by name and the veil is lifted from her eyes and she is watching Jesus - again...living and breathing and saying her name. Wow. Mary was so faithful in her doing and in her watching.  She had worked up close and watched from afar. And now she was being trusted to see and to spread the word! "Go and tell My brothers to leave for Galilee, and they will see Me there." (Matt 28:10).

"Go and tell...and they will see Me there."

Being faithful in the doing and the watching means God will continue to use me in the future. God will continue to call me into many different places with many different people. He calls me to "go and tell" through my doing and my watching, so that many others "will see [Him]". How awesome is that? 

One last thought. I have learned throughout this that the more of myself I give to Jesus, the more of Him I get. Even when I wasn't giving or getting on purpose, it was still happening. The Holy Spirit was still at work causing me to constantly surrender of myself SO THAT I would receive more of Him. What a blessed and holy exchange!  

I am so thankful to be a watching women. It is my prayer this coming year that I can be a watching woman who watches women because there is nothing greater on earth than watching women who learn and grow by doing life and ministry together. And really, the Bible tells us in each gospel that there were "many other women" gathered by Mary, watching too. This is a whole other facet to the story, but the truth here is that we are not alone in our watching. I wasn't, and still am not, alone in my watching. God has placed many godly women around me who journey a similar path, who also have their times of watching and doing. I am deeply thankful for each of them.

Looking forward to watching and doing together this year!

Watching - Part 3: Revealed

"Some women were watching from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome. In Galilee these women had followed him and cared for his needs. Many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem were also there."

Mark 15:40-41

In the quiet place of my soul, I saw it. I saw me. That was me...a watching woman. Not at the crucifixion, but at the display of life going on all around me. Life that everyone else was living. Life that I wanted to live.

See, I was so tied up with life and responsibilities and discontentment that I was upset (jealous? envious?) that I could not be the one doing the ministry. I felt like I could only sit on the sidelines and really, I was feeling left out and "less than". I fought God hard on my purpose and my gifting and my desires, things I felt he had put in me yet I was powerless to act on. I felt like everyone else was doing what I wanted to do - ministry that I wanted to do, teaching what I wanted to teach, leading where I wanted to lead, learning what I wanted to learn, and I was frustrated. I was also embarrassed because I felt I was letting people down, that I wasn't holding up my end of the bargain, or living up to expectations (even if they were only my expectations!). I was feeling on the outside of something great.

That was just it. Something great was going on.

When I read Mark 15:40,  I realized that I wasn't left out, nor was I less than. I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do and where I was supposed to do it.

I was a watching woman and I was watching something great.

Who were these women at the cross that were watching from a distance, watching what was the greatest act of love ever given? "Mary Magdalene, Mary the Mother of James the younger and Joses, and Salome. In Galilee these women had followed [Jesus] and cared for his needs". They were women who had walked with Jesus and who served alongside him. They knew him. They laughed with him, ate with him, cried with him, talked with him. They were with him. They had been with him for the last few years, and now they had to stand at a distance and watch. How hard and painful must that have been for these caring women, these women who loved him, to sit outside of this massive event and just watch? It is hard to stand back and watch, especially to watch from a distance and know you are helpless to intervene.

That's how I felt. I was watching all these people and things going on around me that I wished I could be part of. Yet God had me doing something else. It was important for me to be a watching woman and to realize I was watching something great. I watched my friends love on people. I watched them learn wonderful truths about God and about themselves. I watched them dream, birth and launch new ministries. I watched them grow in and use their gifting. I watched them support and walk with friends through some really tough situations. I watched them draw in the lonely, providing food and love and truth. I had the privilege of watching God at work through his people. People who were broken and hurting and imperfect and striving and learning and loving because this is what God called them to do.

When I accepted my role as a watching woman, I gave up my discontentment and I rejoiced in the goodness of God that I was seeing. I was able to "throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles..to run with perseverance the race marked out for [me]" (Heb 12:1).

Because God told me it is good to be a watching woman. I don't always have to be a doing woman. It was so humbling to realize (remember?!) that I can watch and that is good. There is learning in the watching. By always being the doing woman with the ideas or the actions to get things done, I am robbing others of using their gifts. God had me out of the ministry I loved, on to the sidelines, and I watched other people bless and be blessed.

It pained me, truly it did, to feel disengaged from my church family, from my partners in ministry, from my fellow ministry wives. I wanted nothing more than to connect deeply with each of you and couldn't understand why that wasn't easier, why that wasn't happening. I couldn't understand why God had me doing what I never thought I'd be doing. I was having a hard time reconciling where God had me with where I thought I should be. The beauty that my soul now rests in is this:

God had me watching for a purpose, I have to believe that he had you doing

 (or maybe watching too?) for a purpose. 

It isn't about me and you. It's about God IN me and about God IN you. I am so thankful to have watched each of you serve and work and grow, through laughter and tears. I am thankful to have been part of some of that.

I am content to continue to be a watching woman for as long as God has me here. These watching women at the cross intrigue me. If I am "one of them", what does that mean?

Watching - Part 2: Quiet

And in the quiet of my soul, I am reminded of all I am and all I can do through Him who gives me strength.

How do I start to speak of the quietness of the soul? Of that deep place where no one sees or hears or knows me like my Saviour does? That place where really, only He is ever allowed to go because it is so raw, so deep, so shredded, so...scary? That place that holds the ugly truth of all the lies and bitterness and failures I have held on to, believed in, succumbed to. Sometimes they are deep, from the past - from the pit - and that is scary.

The quiet place of the soul is somewhere I never want to go alone. I can only go that deep when walking hand in hand with Jesus. He and I have been there. He and I have walked the real and true Valley of the Shadow of Death. He and I have walked over the scars of yesteryear (over and over) that bubble too close to the surface every once in a while. He and I have walked over the cavernous pain of searing loss. He and I have walked the rickety swinging bridge of trusting and letting go and trusting and letting go.

And each and every time He has remained faithful.

So why am I struggling with discontentment? Why am I so unhappy with the height and breadth of the life he has placed before me? How can I dare say, "It is not enough!" when in reality the core of my being is shaking in my boots, scared to death because I am also believing the lie that I am not enough. It a paradox of truth and lies. No, maybe it's just a paradox of lies.

For me to say, "This life is not enough, this type of responsibility is not enough, I want more", is really and truthfully a lie. Actually, it's not that it is not enough, it is that I want it to be different somehow. I am unhappy - discontent - with what God has given me. If I am gut wrenching honest, I want what "she" has. And "she" could be anybody. The "she" at work , the "she" doing ministry, the "she" cooking great meals, the "she" welcoming everyone into her home, the "she" serving at the food bank, the "she" sitting and reading a book, the "she" going to the gym, the "she" writing a book, the "she" being an awesome mom, the "she" being a much better pastor's wife than me.

The bottom line of my discontentment? Sin.
I know it is sin that keeps me from being content and free.  Things like pride, envy, jealousy, comparison. Ugly, yucky sin that makes me second guess God's best for me.

It is in that quiet place of the soul where I can be ugly honest with God, and in that deep place he reminds me once again that I don't need to be "she", I need to be "me". In fact, he doesn't want me to be "she", he wants - and needs - me to be "me".

I am enough because he is more than enough. And that is the truth.

So as I remain in the quiet place of the soul for a bit, I am finding peace. I am able to see and hear the real truth. I allow God to soothe the deep places that need strength and healing and wholeness. I confess in a puddle of tears the sin that I let creep in between God and me, and for the lies of failure, fear, and discontentment that I believed about myself. And for the hurt that believing those lies has caused myself and others. I ask for, and accept, the gracious forgiveness of God. Not because I deserve it, but because I know I can't carry on harbouring this sort of sin and brokenness.

So I am forgiven! And I realize that I am at last watching all that is going on around me, not with contempt or distain or mistrust or jealousy, but with awestruck wonder. Because what I am watching is God at work, his plan unfolding in the most obscure way, yet so...right.

Here, in this quiet place, peace was reached and God revealed a deep truth through his Word.
I am so excited to share this next piece with you.

Watching - Part 1: Trampled

June 30th could not come fast enough. And yet when it arrived, I was indifferent. I felt emotionally and mentally drained - practically dead. My friend later told me that I regularly looked like I had been  hit by a Mac truck. That was pretty much how I felt...hit, smucked, left for dead. I was developing stress related health issues...heart palpitations, light headedness, sleepless nights, my hair was falling out.

But I think I prefer to use the word "trampled" because it wasn't a one-time hit, it was a repeated knocked down, get back up, knocked down, stand back up, knocked down, climb back up. By the end I was exhausted and drained. Part of me just wanted to stay down, give in, give up.

Yet I knew I couldn't do that. I knew that I couldn't let this win. I knew that I had to have victory in this because Christ already had the victory for me. And let me tell you, I claimed that victory every single morning. I could not step into those 4 walls without claiming that victory, praying loudly for strong warring angels to battle for me, protect me, provide me with wisdom and grace and courage. Each morning I claimed the promise that "I have not been given a spirit of fear but of power, love and a sound mind". Yes!!! (2 Tim 1:7).

I have said in previous posts that I was exactly where God wanted me to be, and I do firmly believe that. In fact, I'm not sure how someone without the power of the almighty God on their side could have survived, and that leads me to repeatedly and consistently point to that power as the only reason I actually walked out on June 30th on my own two feet, with both my mind and my reputation in tact. 

I might have felt emotionless, flat, indifferent, but I was also able to feel the flicker of life still within me, the faint flame that God himself put there and would not - will not - let the enemy extinguish. For that, I am very thankful.

It has taken me all summer to recover. I am now staring September right in the face and am mustering all the courage and strength that I can to face that reality again. Because I heard and listened to the lies that I was no good at my job, that I can't handle this, that I will never be creative enough, strong enough, firm enough, compassionate enough, organized enough. 

Excuse me Amy, but your insecurities are showing.

Yeah, I know. That's what happens when you feel trampled. You feel no good.  

You feel pain more than pleasure, 

you feel discouraged more than determined, 

you feel confused more than confident. 

All the things I was not doing seemed to smack me in the face and yell at me that I was a failure. I felt like a failure in ministry and in relationships, two areas which are very important to me. Even though I knew down deep that this (my) job was now to be my ministry, I was still really, really torn by my lack of ability to connect at my church. I felt disconnected, alone, friendless, unable to help or influence those who even tried, and it hurt...a lot. I was invited to be part of a Bible study and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was asked because I was hearing that I was no good, that I had nothing to add to this group, that I was too tired and worn out and worthless.

I felt trampled. It was hard, and it hurt to get back up.

Failure breeds discontentment, and that was exactly what was happening to my heart. Failure blurred my vision to seeing all that God was using me for and doing through me. Failure made me think that I was not enough, that I was letting other people down, that I would never measure up. Failure made me believe that where I was wasn't good enough, that doing this hard thing that God had called me to was not really a good thing at all, it was just hard and frustrating and made me feel small and insignificant. I was discontent with where God had placed me because of what I thought I wasn't doing. 

BUT God is gracious. He slowly and consistently breathed life back into my being. He lifted my head to see His face. He held out his strong hand and tenderly and gently pulled my trampled body and soul close to his. His body which was also trampled and beaten and flogged and scarred - for me - rescued me once again. He touched my aching and broken pieces and is in the process of putting me back together. 

One step at a time. 

And in the quiet of my soul, I am reminded of all I am and all I can do through Him who gives me strength.