I hear myself breath…inhale…exhale. The new clock I hung a few short weeks ago tics and seconds of my life fade away. The window is open and a slight breeze flows gently to brush against my cheeks as the birds sing from the treetops. I sit at my desk in a blank stare captured by stress and unable to move as my Bible lay open in front of me. I am here again. I’ve been here before. At this place of contemplation, where all I want is joy to fill my heart, but sorrow has overrun me…I ache with pain and wonder. Could it ever be what I imagined…hoped for as a little girl with long brown hair and hazel eyes.
No one will ever know those scars like I know them…feel them the way I do…remember the fear that overtook me at the onset of the infliction of the wound…but me. No one person could ever truly understand the constant daily struggle to overcome and not let defeat reign in my mind. After all, they were not there when my heart was shattered and played as a pawn of manipulation for someone else to win. Win what?! I don’t even know…all I have known is the loss of being pushed aside waiting for the next game to begin.
Yes, the anger rises like a freight train running out of control. My hands form tight fists, the tears come, and roll one at a time down my now almost fifty year old cheek. I will probably do what I always do… revert within myself…away from everyone. My hand raises to meet the sting of defeat and wipe away the millionth tear…but who’s counting. And then it happens…that soft whisper says to me….
“It is one million and one tears. I know. I have seen and counted them all.”
I am then reminded I have never been alone. He knows my scars. He feels them the same as I do. He too also remembers my fear when the wound was inflicted. And yes, He does understand my constant daily struggle. He knows it’s real. And when I ask Him why Lord? He reminds me how much I am loved and the struggles He went through for me. He lifts my chin and brings back to mind the wonderful gifts He has blessed me with to use for His glory. And then I know…it’s time to write and use that gift.
We all have that something in our life that haunts us. Everyone has a story. But He knows every story. He sees every tear. You are never alone. Pray, pray, and pray some more. Stand strong knowing you are a child of the King. Remain silent and meditate on Him and His precious promises for you. In your greatest moment of pain and anguish, cry out to Jesus!
“Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.”