Weary hands
The further sharpening of my spiritual gift of discernment: I'm starkly aware of the Satan's battle for my heart. He is taking desperate measures to ensnare us. He continues to speak through people. I see him in the daily battle with our sons. Their anxiety is growing. My anxiety is growing. Every little thing I choose to read, every place I go, he's there waiting and the traps have been set. His battle for me is becoming physical. My heart rate is up. My right eye has had a twitch for weeks. My hand tremors are back. The struggle to keep a meal down is grueling. This battle cannot be left to the mentally impaired or the innocent. Yet, every decision I make directly affects my husband and our sons.
My reserves were gone two months ago. When the daily battle reaches new depths, I retreat. I isolate. I repeat this habit all the time. It's what I've always known in the past. I'm not to the extreme yet, but I'm well on my way. Moments I venture to invite help are by God's presence only. I'm not capable of choosing anything other than flesh outside of the Lord. He's right here and I'm grateful. At my weakest, He's my crutch to get to the finish line. I can't wait until I reach a point in life where I can finish the day in an upright position, where each moment isn't on the brink of disaster and massive loss. Yet, that's all God is giving me; enough to get through minutes at a time. That's how quickly things go from sane to insane, from crawling to face-flat. My ability to hold composure in public situations is disappearing. This is a new level of surrendered that the Lord desires me to step into. It's the next journey of healing the distrust in my heart. I feel naked when I share my tears.
I just recently visited with a dear friend I've known since middle school. Last year around the same time we visited and we asked how we could pray for each other. I asked her to pray for three friends that I could share in fellowship with. She was amazed this year when I told her of all the friends and support that the Lord has put into my life since then. Wow...another prayer that's been answered. Those friends have come at a time and place where I need them most. When I isolate, I unconsciously reject God's gift of fellowship. I was desperately lonely at this time last year. I'm still lonely in the sense that I miss my husband, but God is filling in all those voids. Composure isn't all it's hyped up to be, and everything in my life is leading me down a path where composure doesn't follow. God is asking me to leave this habit of mine behind to move forward. I was recently reminded of a parallel passage. This story is in Exodus when Israel defeats Amalek.
I'm going to be honest. Ryan recently revealed to me a plan to hurt himself dependent on a specific circumstance. His doctors are aware. I now dose out his medications while keeping them under lock and key. Ryan continues in dishonesty induced by the massive hole in his head from two brain surgeries. His inability to remain in truth proves his mental impairment. He lies about things that aren't even worth lying about. Because of that impairment, my ability to "trust" him will never look the same again. Trust is reminding myself and living in awareness that Ryan, in his right mind, would never do the things he does. Ryan continues to make financial commitments without my consent, risking me and the boys' well being. He's too exhausted to participate in our family life. Nothing new under the sun.
There is no rest in my forecast. A bad day for me is risking our whole world falling apart. I have everything to lose. Each time a massive monsoon storm hits our house, I fear we will lose everything God has built. I fear losing my safe haven, my peaceful place. Every time the boys unlock the front door and let the dog loose, I fear losing something in my life that's easy and simple to love. Each time the boys escape the house into the street, I fear the loss of the future I planned around raising them. Every night Ryan kicks me from his seizures, I fear I will wake up one day to find that he will only be a picture on the wall, leaving a cold spot on the other side of the bed. Even though I've lost much of Ryan as he was, his body still walks around the corner. His voice still resounds throughout the house. Physical loss is a whole new level of grief.
This all is too much weight to carry on my own. God has given the people to hold my hands up. Please pray the Lord works to new depths, even through something as difficult as my lack of composure. Pray that, like Esther, I would find favor in the risk of transparency.
My reserves were gone two months ago. When the daily battle reaches new depths, I retreat. I isolate. I repeat this habit all the time. It's what I've always known in the past. I'm not to the extreme yet, but I'm well on my way. Moments I venture to invite help are by God's presence only. I'm not capable of choosing anything other than flesh outside of the Lord. He's right here and I'm grateful. At my weakest, He's my crutch to get to the finish line. I can't wait until I reach a point in life where I can finish the day in an upright position, where each moment isn't on the brink of disaster and massive loss. Yet, that's all God is giving me; enough to get through minutes at a time. That's how quickly things go from sane to insane, from crawling to face-flat. My ability to hold composure in public situations is disappearing. This is a new level of surrendered that the Lord desires me to step into. It's the next journey of healing the distrust in my heart. I feel naked when I share my tears.
I just recently visited with a dear friend I've known since middle school. Last year around the same time we visited and we asked how we could pray for each other. I asked her to pray for three friends that I could share in fellowship with. She was amazed this year when I told her of all the friends and support that the Lord has put into my life since then. Wow...another prayer that's been answered. Those friends have come at a time and place where I need them most. When I isolate, I unconsciously reject God's gift of fellowship. I was desperately lonely at this time last year. I'm still lonely in the sense that I miss my husband, but God is filling in all those voids. Composure isn't all it's hyped up to be, and everything in my life is leading me down a path where composure doesn't follow. God is asking me to leave this habit of mine behind to move forward. I was recently reminded of a parallel passage. This story is in Exodus when Israel defeats Amalek.
"So Joshua did as Moses told him, and fought with Amalek, while Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed, and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses' hands grew weary, so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side. So his hands were steady until the going down of the sun." -Exodus 17:10-12
I'm going to be honest. Ryan recently revealed to me a plan to hurt himself dependent on a specific circumstance. His doctors are aware. I now dose out his medications while keeping them under lock and key. Ryan continues in dishonesty induced by the massive hole in his head from two brain surgeries. His inability to remain in truth proves his mental impairment. He lies about things that aren't even worth lying about. Because of that impairment, my ability to "trust" him will never look the same again. Trust is reminding myself and living in awareness that Ryan, in his right mind, would never do the things he does. Ryan continues to make financial commitments without my consent, risking me and the boys' well being. He's too exhausted to participate in our family life. Nothing new under the sun.
There is no rest in my forecast. A bad day for me is risking our whole world falling apart. I have everything to lose. Each time a massive monsoon storm hits our house, I fear we will lose everything God has built. I fear losing my safe haven, my peaceful place. Every time the boys unlock the front door and let the dog loose, I fear losing something in my life that's easy and simple to love. Each time the boys escape the house into the street, I fear the loss of the future I planned around raising them. Every night Ryan kicks me from his seizures, I fear I will wake up one day to find that he will only be a picture on the wall, leaving a cold spot on the other side of the bed. Even though I've lost much of Ryan as he was, his body still walks around the corner. His voice still resounds throughout the house. Physical loss is a whole new level of grief.
This all is too much weight to carry on my own. God has given the people to hold my hands up. Please pray the Lord works to new depths, even through something as difficult as my lack of composure. Pray that, like Esther, I would find favor in the risk of transparency.
My little boy walking in a big world.
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