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Spiritual Endurance: A piece of my story
Life is a gift and also a struggle. In the past three years God wanted to do a deep work within my soul and began to prepare me with the spiritual endurance I would need. I remember distinctly when this moment began….
I was on my knees ripping up carpeting in our living room. My husband was away that day, so I was alone in my struggle to remove huge nails that took quite a bit of work to pry loose.
 I felt God speaking to me then. I did not hear an audible voice, but the sureness of what I heard made me pause. This is what He said:
“I will remove those nails that have pierced deep within. It will be a struggle as they are pried loose from places where they have been hidden. Holes will be left and you will need to fill these with the things of God. Then, I will replace the old and tattered carpet with something new.”
I’ve learned since that day that we all have stories created by life experiences. They help us make sense of the world, help us survive, and shape our values and beliefs. They also can distort. My story is one of survival; a story of a wounded child.
God began to shine His light into wounds caused by the pains of an abusive childhood. It was time now for all distortion, lies, and hurts to be exposed. Part of the healing process was feeling the intensity as my emotions were uncovered, enabling me to see truth. There were some things God taught me that helped me to accept the grief of a shattered childhood. Incorporating the following, I found spiritual strength to endure this tumultuous journey:
 1. I needed to:
a) Acknowledge my emotions instead of suppressing them.
b) Accept the pain of the emotions, what I am feeling, and be honest about it.
c) Allow others to see me as I really am by sharing pieces of my story when appropriate.
2. I needed to invite the Holy Spirit to search my heart, to show me:
a) How this experience affects me.
b) Where Satan takes advantage.
c) What steps are needed in order to bring healing.
It was difficult allowing others to see my wounded heart. There was a need to hide, to cover myself up from prying eyes, but this was part of the distortion and lies. In reality, I was surrounded with love, compassion and prayers.
For months I found myself physically tired and mentally exhausted. I deliberately carved time out of each day to sit with my headphones on, listening to praise music. This quieted the confusion within my mind.
As I began to confront situations with my family of origin, I began to see how much effort and emotion had been expended trying to keep up a lie of normalcy in the face of extreme dysfunction.
In order to be healthy I had to let my family of origin go. This step was the hardest. Yet God was stirring within me that my family is my husband, son, and I. This family is where my first commitment belongs. I prayed, asking God to show me how to let go. He gave me a dream….
 I dreamed of Jonah. Jonah would not get out of the boat by himself, so the mariners had to put him out. The mariners tried everything to lighten the load, to keep an even keel, to not have to put Jonah into the sea. Yet no matter how hard they tried to row the boat to shore and safety, nothing worked. Finally it came down to the final step-Jonah had to be put out of the boat.
I awoke with the assurance that I had tried everything to keep my family of origin on an even keel but it was time now to release them. Just like God had gone ahead to prepare a fish for Jonah, the care and safety of my family of origin was not my concern any longer.
I am a very visual person and during this dream of Jonah there was also another part to how I could gently let them go into the water. When there is a death at sea, they often have a ceremony and then a releasing of the deceased into the waters. I needed something more than just a mental assent.
I was to find a ring with three small diamonds, a symbol that represented the commitment I was going to make towards my husband, my son, and myself. My husband, not fully understanding but always trusting, came with me as we found the perfect ring. But it stayed in its box for a few more weeks as I struggled with the final pieces of this journey.
Then came a night when we were alone and I knew this was the time. I brought out the box and, holding me in his arms, my husband prayed, asking God to give me the strength to let go. Amidst my tears, I was able to pray along with him as I gave him the ring to put on my finger as a tangible reminder of a sacred commitment that I made that night. There were still struggles, but when I looked at this ring it gave me the strength to endure.
The three years have been a roller coaster, but the journey has finally slowed down, bringing me into a place of truth and healing. I realize now that it is not the resolution of the past, but the use of the past that draws me ever closer to Him. I now see my past as a gift because it is that which draws me to Him, over and over. He has replaced the old and tattered carpet with a floor that is fitly framed together and it gleams with new life.
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