Resilience

I'm not sure why the inspiration to write often comes when I should be asleep, but when it hits, I usually give in to it and write.  These moments of clarity aren't dependable, so I try to take advantage of them. Unfortunately, my spark of inspiration has been flickering low recently, almost extinguished in a deluge of confusion, painful realizations and sudden losses. But as this post's title suggests, I am still here and incidentally, stronger than ever.
The tree grows strongest on the side the wind blows the hardest. So thank you, life. Thank you, wind. You tried to uproot me, but instead my roots grew deeper into the ground of Truth and sucked up the nourishing love of God.

I may start another blog to tell the story. It almost seems necessary, since the girl I was when I wrote most of these posts on this blog has morphed into an entirely new creature. The butterfly finally emerged, once God removed everything that would have eased its necessary fight to break free.

Now I am the proud owner of a healthy, normal weight body. I no longer struggle to swallow food. I no longer live in constant self criticism, guilt and shame. Its been a long, slow process, but I'm living in color again and I can't give enough praise to the Jesus who walked me through.

I am administrating/teaching a one-room, 1st-8th grade school. The kids I have are special needs students. This is my first full year of teaching. (I won't count the six months of torture I went through previously as a long-term substitute, as that is much better forgotten). Suffice it to say, it's been a learning experience for me. A challenging, learning experience. But I always love me a good challenge.

God is here. Because just when I thought I had definitely mistaken His voice, just when I had almost given up asking to make sense of my recent life events, He told me, "You were chosen for this."

Why? Because I'm exceptionally strong? Ha, definitely not. Some days I feel like I'm just barely hanging on to my trust in His love. Is it because He wants to punish me? I used to think so. But as I realized His care, I knew that couldn't be true.

So why, then? I had gotten to a state where I daily sang along to Lauren Daigle's "Trust in You" and Hillary Scott's "Thy Will", with tears streaming down each time. I couldn't understand what was going on, and the pain seemed like it would never let up. How can you treat a wound you can't see? What was God doing? Why had He led me here only to take away my best friend, the one I wanted to be forever with, the whole reason I came here in the first place?
Was this some kind of really sick, cruel joke on me for finally trusting someone again?

Nope. It wasn't about that. God told me through my boss, a man that I respect, that I was chosen for the teaching job because of my resilience. Not because I had the qualifications, or the skills or the experience. "And not so that you could be with the love of your life." God whispers. 

Resilience

And I'm still floored at God's grace.  It was through the flames of a horrible job, laced with back stabbing, mind games and destruction that I forged resilience.  It was in the flood of darkness that nearly drowned me that I found resilience. It was when I felt locked in a cage and covered with a thick blanket of rejection, betrayal and disappointment that I learned to sing the melody of resilience. And God did that for me. So that I could sing it to you.

You see, it's true, when you are in the dark and alone. When the light goes out and you feel suffocated with regret, confusion and doubt. It's true; you're not alone in there. The darkness will end and you will come out of the cage singing a song of triumph. This notes may come out quietly at first, but as you realize you're free, you'll find the strength to sing a little louder. Someone will SEE you and recognize the battle you've just fought, the wounds you've sustained, the healing you've courageously chosen. Someone will see you and they will choose you too because of your resilience, even if you don't see it yourself.

Just keep hanging on. Live with the pain. Live through the darkness. Live. I dare you.
It's worth it. I promise. 

Yes, ok, this post became a little pep-talky. Maybe I'll tell more of the story later, when I have a little more courage. But for now, you know what God is doing in my life, and how He's given me a big confirmation of His work. For that, I'm thankful. He's given me the strength to keep on walking in the dark. I hope you're still walking too, even if it's slowly. That's ok. I'll reach out and hold your hand and we can walk together.