In 2011, my word for that year was “change”. I can still remember driving to work that January morning, talking to Father about what word He would give me to represent the coming year and hearing that word spoken to my heart. I was NOT happy! Firstly, I felt that I had already gone through a great deal of hard, life-altering changes the previous couple of years, and I dreaded there being more. I avoided, as much as possible at that point in my life, the pain of living in reality. I was still in so much denial, and I truly wanted to escape the reality of my situation, frequently at any cost. The desire to avoid reality drove me back to the past hang-ups and habits of control, food, and pornography in an attempt to shove the pain back into a box where I didn’t have to deal with it. Later that year, something happened that changed our family drastically. I couldn’t escape it. The burnt husk of what remained was a constant reminder that my life had altered. I was also trying to help an eight year old figure out how to navigate this new reality. This was the catalyst that drove me to take my very first steps toward recovery. I sought help. I began to see the high, impenetrable wall I had built around my heart to keep people out and to keep me safe from harm. I also began to realize that the wall I had erected for my protection also locked in all my pain and darkness, and that I wasn’t allowing the Healer to access any of it so I was stuck with it. Opening the gate allowed Jesus and His light in, but it also let all that pain I had barricaded within begin to pour out. I was overwhelmed. It was hard for me to cling to the Scripture Father had given me that year to go with the dreaded word “change”:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.“ Isaiah 43:2 NIV

It felt exactly like a flood, and I was certain I would drown. At that time, I was trying to work through it on my own. My counselor had moved, and in my codependency I didn’t want to burden anyone else with my problems. The darkness was so great during this time that I often contemplated suicide, just so the pain would end. I couldn’t seem to stuff it back down. It demanded to finally be acknowledged. I made the choice to go on anti-depressants because I didn’t want to leave my still young child. The pills took the edge off, enough that I could somewhat function, but I was still in a lot of emotional agony, so my acting out increased in an attempt to shove it all back down. That continued for the next few years until Father finally led me to Celebrate Recovery where I learned that I didn’t need to go through it alone, but that the only way I could truly be free of it was to to walk through it.

I could not have imagined back in 2011 all the changes that lay before me. However, change became a little less scary over time. As I learned to accept the things I couldn’t change and sought courage to change what I could (me), and as I learned to stay in the moment, one day at a time, “change” became easier to bear. I’m no longer dealing with it on my own. Besides my sponsor, mentors, and a supportive accountability team, recovery brought another change in my life. I became even closer to my Father. He began to show me what a good and perfect Dad looked like, and I learned I could trust where He led. Psalm 27:10 (LB) says, “Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close.” I came to experience just how true that is. 

That being said, my initial reaction to change on the horizon is still fear. Change isn’t bad, not if I am following my heavenly Dad, but it still means some discomfort. Change fundamentally means that things will be different, whether it be in circumstances, people, or even me. But growth means change, and I want to continue to grow in recovery, in my relationships with God, myself, and others, and in my awareness of my calling. I’ve heard many times that if you pray for patience, God will put you in situations where you get to practice it. I’m finding that to be true about a lot of things. If I want to grow, He is going to allow my faith and my recovery to be stretched so that I can begin to practice, growing organically into this new area. I think back on my son learning to do new things: walking, math, reading (which as a dyslexic was especially difficult for him). Each of those things presented him with a new and often uncomfortable challenge. As his parent, it was my job to support and encourage him to keep practicing, knowing that as he practiced, he would get better until he could do it well. I didn’t berate him every time he failed. I realized he was still learning. When he mastered one thing, the next challenge would come: from walking to running to riding a bike, from addition to multiplication to algebra, from phonics (which he struggled with) to trying multiple new things until we finally figured out he needed to read and hear it at the same time, and the even harder things of life such as learning to heal and trust again after being hurt and abandoned. Father used this picture to show me how He wanted to love and support and encourage me through the scary transitions I’m still making toward growth in this life. He’s my Good Dad, encouraging me to get back up and try again. The question was asked in my Bible study this morning, “What changes, if any, are you sensing the Lord leading you toward?” (Lysa TerKeurst, Good Boundaries and Goodbyes). In pondering that question and feeling a little overwhelmed by the answer, this post is what came out as I was journaling. And this is why I record spiritual markers, “stones of remembrance”, to help me to recall Father’s faithfulness in the past to give me courage and strengthen my faith in the present to take the next step moving into my future … whatever changes it may hold.