"The Lord will guide you always. He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail." Jeremiah 58:11
During a crises, I find myself able to be calm, in control...strong in the midst of other's inabilities to handle what's happening. There's a quiet stillness that enters my mind and soul enabling me to quickly assess what needs to be done.
Falling apart comes later.
This happened last summer when my step Dad began his final journey to heaven. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, the Lord was with me in those chaotic, life changing days. Just as He has been with me in the aftermath of facing the dark truth about the one who raised me.
I just sent her a letter because she questioned why I was so angry. It took time to write. Time to perfect the words, honing them until it was only a sequence of events. No emotion. No accusatory statements.
Then I placed Jesus' staff beside her heart with a simple question, "Why?"
She's in God's hands now.
I digress. The strength in crises is a strength carried every day. It caused a great deal of punishment over the years from those who saw it as a threat to their own power. Not that I was rebellious. I was compliant to the nth degree out of the need to survive.
I didn't understand why I was treated the way I was, what made me a target and scapegoat. I didn't know what I was carrying. Today, a "why" of my own has been answered.
Strength is being reclaimed today.
It's not a strength that seeks power or control. It's not a strength used to inflict vengeance or suffering on others. It's not the kind of strength that needs propping up to sustain it, at least, not in the ways of the world.
It will need protecting and nurturing like anything newly born. It will take time and practice to step away from the survival strategy of compliancy. In You, dear Lord, this is not only possible, it is inevitable.
Lord, thank You for answering a, "Why?" that has been cried out in the dark nights of despair for as long as I can remember. A few tears are rolling down my cheeks as I type blurry letters. They are complicated tears of both joy and sadness. That's okay. They are healing tears, too.