I am a little overwhelmed at the response to my last post.
Thanks for reading. And sharing. And praying.
I am still a mess, but I know one thing with one hundred percent certainty.
I am not alone.
My sister often says that the most powerful words in the Christian life are “me too.”
And these past few days, I have heard these words again and again.
The truth is, I am a pretty private person.
I don’t trust easily. I don’t share easily.
Writing about thoughts is easy for me.
Writing about feelings is hard. Vulnerable.
I second-guessed myself a thousand times as I wrote about my sadness, my loss.
And another thousand times before I dared push “publish.”
And then the tears poured as you reached out to say, “me too.”
I know this sadness. This loss.
These words could be mine.
Yes. Me too.
Foster mamas who have walked this road.
And all kinds of other folks who know what it means to feel the ache of the fall and the draw of redemption. Friends who know what it is to be hurting and hopeful, broken and held.
Our enemy wants us to think that we are alone.
That no one could possibly understand.
That we are the only ones to ever walk this road. Have these doubts. Wrestle with these questions.
And so we shut our mouths, shut our doors and imagine that everyone else is just fine.
Our enemy is wrong.
We are not alone.
You are not alone.
You want to punch someone in the throat when they shrug their shoulders and tell you to “just” trust God’s sovereignty? Me too.
You are tired of picking up the pieces, of loving with no guarantee, of pouring your heart and soul into a story whose end you may never know? Me too.
You wake up panicked in the middle of the night, scared that you have been wrong all along? Me too.
Find a safe space.
Speak the thing that feels too dark. Too heavy. Not “Christian” enough.
Tell your story.
Because today, friends, I know one thing with one hundred percent certainty.
I am not alone.
And neither are you.