There are a few words I hate.
Surrender, Submit, and Vulnerability would be at the top of the list. Love would be a few down, but it’s also on the list.
Ten years ago, when my family hit a traumatic crisis, I was left with no option but to pick up a sword to defend everything I knew and loved at the time. I “circled the wagons” and killed everyone who came close. The issue was that years went by, but I still held tight to that sword. What had once defended me was alienating me. It isolated me because few bystanders stood when everything was said and done.
Family and friends lay scattered in my wrath. I was justified. Think of the movie 300, an epic battle scene with everything coming from all angles; it’s hard to identify a friend or foe. And I slayed them all. Ten years later. People were afraid to get close. When my sword didn’t kill them, my words definitely would because I had no problem telling people where to go and how far to stick it.
The problem is that I gave my heart and life to Jesus as a young woman. Over the years, I kept circling back to the truth I knew. I was in pain, and I was angry. During the crisis, I remember living in this small town in the mountains of NC, sitting in my truck looking out over the city, seeing all the steeples of the town’s largest churches, and yelling at God. Everyone I knew and loved was impacted by the tragedy, and none of them could handle the wrath that stirred within me. As much as I could, I tried to keep that from them. I didn’t do a good job. I took it to God, thinking it would relieve me. It didn’t.
God didn’t take long to show me all this when I moved into my apartment. Although my daughter and best friend had told me years ago that I was living life emotionally disconnected, I didn’t do anything to fix it. My daughter’s boyfriend once told me I didn’t listen to music with emotion. People saw it; I didn’t know what to do about it until God.
Shortly after I moved into my apartment, I was in a small group Bible study, and one of the women talked about submitting to marriage. I don’t know where the words came from, but I told her how hard it was. God showed me at that moment that I was holding this massive sword over my head. I have called it the warrior pose for a long time, but it’s the only way I know how to describe it. If I was a badass and everyone was intimidated by me, no one could hurt me.
God continued talking to me about that sword over the next few days. Think of a dog mom asking for a favorite toy clutched in the teeth of her pup—teeth showing, growling—like that. For someone who values safety – submission, surrender, and vulnerability were excruciating. They still are. He told me I needed to come out of the warrior pose and into the child’s pose. He was going to teach me to trust Him again.
The days, weeks, and months that followed those early days have continued to be hard and painful. I have found some comfort, but for the most part, it has been an ongoing battle—just with myself instead of the people in my life. I isolated myself from just about everyone and everything. It’s a complicated story to share. It doesn’t make much sense. I don’t know if I will survive most days. I saw this Reel on Instagram about just one more day, and I live that out loud. I can do one more day. I said I could do anything for a year when I got this apartment. Those one days have strung together to almost total a year. I am still here. I am still learning, but the lessons have and will continue to change me.
