I Don't Belong Here

  Life can get crazy hard sometimes, and it's usually when you least expect it. We've all heard the idiom, "When it rains, it pours," typically used when things are going wrong. While saying it might not improve the situation, poking fun at our circumstances may temporarily ease the pain. We all face challenges, even downpours. Society can make admitting we're in a downpour feel pessimistic, but if these downpours increase stress and make life feel overwhelming, then sharing our challenges with healthy, supportive friends and family should be a requirement for sustaining a well-rounded life. There is a fine line between incessant complaining and sharing for supportive help. And as great as human support is, like friends, family, and counselors, our greatest help comes from the Lord (Psalm 121:1-2). Over the last few weeks, my daughter and I have faced challenge after challenge. Initially, I kept most of it to myself, thinking they were isolated incidents that ...

Content Warning: Physical Abuse Nestled under a blanket and comfortably seated on my couch, I was absorbed in a movie when I suddenly heard shouting. It wasn't the first time I'd heard the young woman scream angrily, but this time it felt different. She was enraged and sounded more aggressive towards her victim. Then, I heard a thud. I sat up quickly, discarding my blanket and listening closely. More screaming followed by another thud. The sounds weren't loud enough to be furniture moving or someone stomping their feet. It sounded like the weight and size of a person falling to the floor. Without thinking, I rushed to my front door and shouted, "Anyone need help?" I knew someone needed help, but I had no idea what would happen next. My heart raced as fear washed over me. I had forgotten the feeling, the terror, and panic as the bull saw red and spewed violence. Time seemed to stand still, and all other sounds went mute. An angry voice shouted back, "No. We...

                                                       Image courtesy iStock                                "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." That popular children's rhyme from the 70s and 80s, though known to be untrue, was chanted anyway. Deep down, we all desire the strength to be unaffected by words. Proverbs 18:21, God tells us that life and death are in the power of the tongue. Words carry weight in both the spiritual and physical realms. In Genesis 1:3, God spoke, and out of nothing came light, the world, and mankind. We are made in His image, and with that comes the power of our words. While we cannot create thin...

  Content Warning: Mentions Suicide One of the biggest lies I used to believe was that all my thoughts were my own. In my teens, I realized some of those thoughts were the Holy Spirit speaking to me. I might have a thought, like, "I'm about to have a flat tire," and dismiss it as my imagination, only to have a flat tire moments later. Or, I'd be with someone and something just wouldn't feel right; something in my head would tell me to leave, and I would, later realizing it was the Holy Spirit warning me of danger. It took me much longer to understand that the enemy could do the same thing. I'd hear myself think, "You're not good enough for anyone." Many good, Christian guys asked me out, but I pushed them all away, believing the thought that they deserved better than me. I was never good enough—not for my friends, my family, or even my jobs. Image courtesy Tenor II Corinthians 10:5 says to take every thought captive. I've heard this scripture...

Content Warning: This post discusses depression and suicidal ideation. I started writing because when I was at rock bottom, I had so many questions. I wanted so badly to have someone to talk to who had been through the same thing or something similar. I knew I couldn’t be the only suicidal Christian out there. I wondered how they dealt with the spiralling thoughts, self-harm, and/or panic attacks? Did listening to worship music really help? Did they feel alone, and if so, how did they overcome that isolating feeling? Did God really care, even though it appeared obvious He did not? But more importantly, was there really hope that I'd ever get past this, because it didn't feel possible? I desperately needed another fellow Christian to be open and honest about their thoughts, feelings, and personal battle with this darkness. And I know one individual's experience is not like another's, but I would have felt less al...

I heard someone say, “If you work through it, it can’t hurt you anymore.” I’ve spent most of my life shoving hurt down into the deepest crevices of my soul. I didn’t even notice I was doing that at first. I thought I was just blessed to be strong and brave; to rise above the trauma and heartache. But as all those places within me started to fill, eventually there was no more room left. It bulged out further and further like a balloon filling with air. I felt the discomfort of it, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I was still living in this delusion that I was stronger than what I actually was, somewhat untouchable by grief and pain. Then one day, a very small thing happened. It pierced my now over-swollen spirit, like the point of a needle hitting my heart. It was a misunderstanding that led to a negative comment towards me, and just like that, the bulge burst, seeping out everywhere. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. My mind spun uncontrollably around in circles. All I could do was h...

My Father’s Hands My father passed away a year ago from a brain bleed after a massive stroke. I was with him in the ER the first evening he arrived. There was a lot of activity in his room. Several nurses rushed in and out. He looked at me with a broad smile, rambled some gibberish, and then laughed as if he had just said something hysterical. I smiled back with a forced laugh. Shortly after that, he closed his eyes, and it was the last time I saw them. I am so grateful I was able to be with him in those last moments of consciousness, even though his ability to really communicate had been severely compromised. Blood was quickly pooling around his brain, cutting off oxygen. I had no idea it was the last time to hear his voice or see him smile. Now, a cherished, but painful memory for me. Our family was never a touchy-feely kind of family, but in the moment, holding my father's hand felt like the right thing to do. I imagined somewhere in his mind he might be scared, so I rea...