Anxiety is crawling its way through the pit of my stomach up into my chest as I sit down to write. It is a palpable feeling that exists somewhere between excitement and terror. You see, from a very young age I possessed an immense joy for writing. Everything about it amazed me. The first time I could write a capital A, instead of an H still stands out in my mind as one of my most proud literary moments. Learning to write in cursive, the way the letters flowed, connecting, without ever picking up the pencil, felt so beautiful! I wrote my first poem in early elementary school and I can still remember it, word for word. Writing was, and continues to be, a joy. That's the problem.
Without bringing you along on the twenty-year journey that let me to this moment, let me just tell you that I have been led to a place in my life when I feel somewhat certain that I am supposed to write--to be a writer. There I said it! No taking it back now. I think I am supposed to be a writer and I hold within me now an immeasurable fear that you who are reading this, if anyone is reading this, are going to think, "This chic thinks she is a writer? Is she crazy??? She is a terrible writer!!" (Even as I write this, I don't know if it should be "chick" or "chic." What kind of a writer doesn't know how to spell that?) To put it plain and simple, my sweet, amazingly beautiful friends (maybe compliments will soften your blow), I am absolutely terrified of criticism if it is directed at a source of pride. My children, my family, and yes, even my writing. But, even more than my fear of criticism is my fear of failure. Criticism and failure lead me to a place of unadulterated self-doubt. I doubt myself, my talents, my very being. Oh me, of little faith.
How appropriate that the three verses I am blessed with the opportunity to study are James 1: 5-7. The NIV version says "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord: he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does."
My middle child, a beautiful girl named Aubryn Grace, will be eight years old in three short months. It is hard to believe that little sprite joined our lives eight years ago, as the years have just flown by and my memory of her birth is as clear as the events of yesterday. I was ecstatic the moment I felt the pressure release and saw my wonderful doctor hold her up to reveal her gender. A girl! I had a girl!
I had been blessed 19 months prior with a wonderful baby boy and now God was blessing us again with a girl. I felt like the luckiest woman on the planet. How many couples received the blessings of both a healthy boy AND a healthy girl? The joy presented itself with salty tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn't contain the bewilderment that I really was a mother to a daughter. Yes, that memory of her birth is crystal clear, unlike the year that followed.
Shortly after Aubryn was born it became very clear that I was suffering from postpartum depression. I hadn't slept in eight days and had not eaten since the day she was born. I had lost all of the weight I had gained in my pregnancy, plus an additional ten pounds. I was emaciated and scared beyond reason. When everything the doctors had suggested for me to try at home had failed to work, I was re-hospitalized and began a journey that involved intensive therapy, several medications, and a flock of support. My sweet mother stayed with us for a month and afterwards, my husband single-handedly raised our daughter, and our older son through that foggy time. I remember very little from that time. The medication had done wonders to my short-term memory. But, despite the lack of memories of Aubryn's baby milestones, I have vivid memories of mine as pertaining to my recovery. One in particular changed the course of my existence and gave me a hope I had never known.
I struggled a lot with God during that time. I felt I had lost contact with Him. Until that point I had usually been able to sense his presence, his voice speaking to my heart. Under the blanket of what turned out to be postpartum anxiety and OCD, in addition to the depression, His voice had become impossible to hear above the other, much louder, racing voice chanting in my head. One day I couldn't take the speedy voice any more and, feeling imprisoned by its constant unwelcome companionship, I panicked for a way to get out, a way to hide from it. Short of ripping out my hair, I could think of nothing else to do, except, literally, run away. I laced up my tennis shoes and took off out the front door. I was literally trying to outrun the voice in my head and, to my surprise, once I reached the end of the street, it was working! I was outrunning that little bugger!
Finally experiencing a sense of peace in my head, I knew I couldn't stop. The voice would come back soon enough, but I wasn't ready. I had just lost it. I had to keep going. Half a mile later I began praying out loud. My prayer was audible and forceful: "Help me God! Help me! Give me a sign!" For the first time in over a month, I sensed His response, His voice penetrating the deepest places of my soul, "Indeed I will."
It was the first time since my sweet Aubryn Grace was born that I felt peace. Real, raw, life-affirming peace. I finished my run without a doubt that indeed He would show Himself to me. And guess what? He did just that as soon as I walked in the door. What happened next I have replayed in my mind a million times.
But, I am not going to share that with you yet, because the point of my story is that it was in that brief time period that I finally understood what was meant by prayer and faith. Praying is only half the story. Praying is wonderful, freeing, a direct link to our Creator, but it is nothing without faith. It is nothing without the belief that God CAN and WILL hear our prayer and answer in His time. The answer may not be what we, in our selfish, earthly ways think it should be, but it will be an answer directed toward His will, formulated out of His unending love for us. When I finally prayed and believed, God indeed did show me a sign. I can't wait to tell you about that, but, God willing, it will have to wait for another post. And He didn't stop at just one sign. He showed His presence several times, over and over again, because I believed He could and He would! He slowly began to heal me by rewarding me for my faithfulness through His presence made known.
When I began writing this I prayed that God would ease my fear, calm the flutters in my heart and clear my mind so that my fingers may be used for His greater purpose. Every stroke of the keyboard felt deliberate and slow during the formulation of the first paragraph of this post. But then something amazing happened, something that shouldn't have surprised me, but did nonetheless. I reminded myself of all of the times before when, following my belief that He could and would, God revealed Himself and proved faithful in answering my prayers. The reminder caused me to believe, once again, that He would protect my heart and rest my unease; He did just that! You see, God freed my constricting heart, he freed my mind of anything accept his peace and clarity and He set my fingers in motion.
I wanted to insert a great simile here, "prayer without faith is like . . .", but God directed me right back to the words spoken in James and I realized I need not look any further for a more perfect example: ". . .he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind." James 1: 6b. Nearly eight years ago, though I prayed and prayed, I felt exactly like that. I was being tossed around, trapped in the prison of my mind. There was no stability. "That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does." James 1:7. Unstable. Now that is a word I have used to describe myself time and time again.
Yes, without faith, I am, undeniably unstable. To this day the postpartum effects linger and I may always be in a state of "treatment" or "recovery." It took some time, but I completely accept that as part of my life, a cross to bare. But no matter how unstable I may feel, I need to look no further than God Himself to find my stability. Through prayer, thanksgiving and faith, He Himself will set me on solid ground, making me stable once again. Praise His name.
Heavenly Father, thank You for your unending presence and for the peace that can come from only You. Thank You for being faithful in your answer when we are faithful in our asking. Thank you Lord, for using my fingers to write what Your presence has laid on my heart. Lord, I doubt and I fear. Free me from this, Lord. Free me from all earthly doubts and fears, Lord. I believe, with all my heart that You can and will! All honor and glory are yours, almighty God, now and forever!
