It’s absolutely reasonable to feel like you are dying. It’s true – you are dying. The old you is dying.
You keep trying to hang on. When that old you needed to die. The one who didn’t show up for themself. Because they didn’t know how. We want to stop doing that over and over.
We want to be happy. We want to enjoy life. We want to wake up looking forward to the day.
Not just barely surviving it. Not just showing up as a side character in everyone else’s life.
But living my own damn life. Being the main character of my own life.
What if it is that simple? Just choosing yourself. For once.
No, choosing yourself over and over.
You don’t really believe that you show up best for others when you are full of yourself.
People say that like it’s a bad thing. When you stop giving yourself away to people who only tolerate you until there’s nothing more of you to take.
They always made me feel bad for having higher standards. For actually not wanting to settle for anything less than real Love. They told me I was picky. They called it being a control freak.
God forbid I learn how to have boundaries so there’s something left of me. To have the audacity to maybe show up for myself more than once in awhile.
They told me I’d be more accepting of their behavior towards me if I just had someone fucking me. As if they are some epitome of happiness. When the ugly drama in their lives certainly seems the opposite.
I don’t want to care what anyone else is doing in their lives anymore. I’m not trying to save the world anymore.
Maybe it’s not so bad to have more than the bare minimum of money. Maybe it’s not so bad to wake up where you actually feel peace and happiness.
I love you, but I need to love me first.
I’m not dying for you anymore. I don’t have that to give away for free anymore these days.
Blame it on all the people who walked away after completely draining me. Who so flippantly discarded me. Their words clearly meaning nothing.
No, the old me that put up with that needs to be replaced. Level up.
Unfortunately I am the only one who can put my old me to rest. Give the old me a break. Tell the old me that they are fired from taking the reigns.
Not only do I have to put my old self to death, but I have to work really hard to make a new me. To put in those reps.
To get used to the uncomfortable feeling of not constantly looking for something outside of myself to “fix”.
To wade through figuring out who I really am beneath all the crap put on me. All they gave me to carry.
It’s not easy at all. There’s so much anger (a good thing). So much sadness. So much grief.
And then that echoing loneliness as you learn, maybe reluctantly, to be your own best friend. Your own partner. Your own family.
To treat yourself so well that you see those with nefarious energy coming miles away. Exit in the future before they ever get close enough to creep in and start fucking shit up again.
Ironically I wouldn’t have known I had the strength I needed to get acquainted with if it wasn’t for you dropping me. If it wasn’t for you abandoning me. If it wasn’t for you stabbing me in the back.
You’re going to miss me. Gonna regret doing me so dirty. One day.
I’m so small to you now. Not worth anything to you now. Just a loser to you now.
One day you’ll regret taking my kindness for weakness. One day you’ll regret shiting all over me like I didn’t deserve any better.
But I hope I’ll be so busy enjoying my new life then that I won’t even care. That I won’t even have any mental space to think of you.
It feels like dying now. Putting in ALL this work. Hopefully it will start to pay off more soon.
Right now at least I have peace. Right now at least I don’t have drama.
You left me with nothing but a clear foundation to build on.
I prayed for this. I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.
But the pain reminds me never to go back to this place ever again. Never let them do me like that again.
Finally show up for myself. Find my value. Count myself at least as worthy as those I used to lay down my life for. Treat myself, show up for myself, work as hard for myself as I used to do for everyone else.
Once you finally realize that no one else holds the power to your happiness… that not only is your happiness reasonably possible, but also very probable… once you stop waiting on everyone else to show up… to deliver you, to save you…
then you find your superpowers. Then you become unstoppable. Or at least a force more than most.
Not that it is a competition. But suddenly the whole world unlocks when you realize the universe shows up FOR you. At least adult you.
You don’t have to be stuck anymore. Stop focusing on what is happening to you. Start focusing on what you want.
A happy life comes from a life that is enjoyable. Not from a life chasing after trying to make other people happy.
If I’m not happy then that means I don’t have a life that I enjoy. Seems obvious now, but for most of my life I was taught that I’d enjoy life when everyone around me was happy. That’s what I was constantly chasing after. Until I completely burned myself out. Until I finally realized people benefited from holding me hostage by always setting the bar higher and higher and never giving their approval.
Now I have to take care of me first. Now I have to save myself first. Now I am wholly responsible for my own happiness. Now, that I am a capable adult, I am responsible for not abandoning myself. For anyone else.
This is a very hard pill to swallow if you wholeheartedly previously bought into the codependency you were taught and groomed for. When people tell you that you’re part of a team or part of a family. It sounds good. But then you wake up one day and realize sometimes those are just words to them. Sometimes you are giving way more than they are to the cause. Sometimes those words mean way more to you than they mean to them. At least in actions.
Sometimes you realize you are giving way more than they are. Sometimes they are taking way more than they are giving. They are asking way more than they are doing.
Which is fine if you have that excess to give. And you want to give it.
Where it turns ugly is when it’s even many times overtly communicated that there is at least mutual respect, if not reciprocation. Said specifically, in my case, to manipulate you. Even to my face.
But no one would be that cruel, right? No one would be that careless, right?
Announcement for planet Earth: many people espouse going to church yet leave those doors Sunday after Sunday without the fear of God. Although true Love has nothing to really fear in terms of punishment, maybe I’d allow a little more religion back just for the sake of some sanity up in this bitch. In this crazy fucked up world right now. Where it seems we have no value for Life. For each other. Even for ourselves.
Could we use a little false fear to at least get us back on track in terms of doing what seems like better things? The ends justifying the means?
I have enough business worrying about me. Worrying about my life. Before I try going off saving the whole world again.
Just hard to value myself when it’s hard to feel hopeful that anything will ever get better otherwise. When it feels like you’re living in the middle of a landslide headed 100+ miles per hour straight towards hell.
And let’s go there. What if that is exactly what’s going on?
The good news is hell isn’t for punishment or destruction. It’s for refinement. For purification. The same things we pray for. Just the hard way. Not people waking up by choice. No, them demanding the painful way. Maybe even the most painful ways. Stubbornly clinging to fear. To the darkest sides.
Maybe because they don’t know any alternative. They’ve never seen another way. I can certainly consider giving them that. In just the first few examples that come to mind.
I guess if you want so badly to give away something, to still try saving humanity… if you need more motivation than just saving yourself… think about how saving yourself is giving everyone an example to follow. Or at least consider. That they won’t die and the world won’t fall apart if they actually value themselves.
If the alternative to the common narrative actually looks and feels better then maybe all these words, fun as they may be to volley, will be completely unnecessary. People are attracted to energy. That is capable of breaking through all their internal intellectual bullshit. We are humans attracted to Life and Love. Despite our best efforts to argue otherwise in order to ultimately fail in hedging against inevitable tragedies.
Look, we either embrace what’s left of this human experience. Say “fuck it” to all the fear-based formalities clung to by the vocal majority. And go get what we want. Or at least value dying trying to do so.
Or we can sit around like so many others. Year after year. Waiting for someone else to show up and do for us what we can do for ourselves.
The sad, sad fact is maybe you did deserve more. But there’s probably not anyone available to give you now what others should have given you earlier. It just doesn’t work like that. Look around. Everyone, almost everyone, is struggling. To keep it together. To have any for themselves. Much less excess for you. To stop their whole lives to do for you. To pamper, and I do mean even Pamper, you.
That’s sad. You can definitely mourn that. The reality that sometimes other people are dealt what looks like much better cards than you. There’s certainly an argument for how did we each end up where we are.
You’re entitled to sit as long as you’d like feeling sad and angry about that. While other people decide to accept that it is what it is. And figure out how they’re going to still get what they want. If in fact nobody is ever coming to pay off the debt they’re owed.
You know what my real fear is? That we don’t get to pass Go, we don’t get to move on – cosmically – until we learn each and every lesson. I am terrified that if I sit back on my laurels, choosing a life of pouting about even justifiable deep deep wounds, that I will have to live this damn life all over again on the other side until I learn the lessons I was given the opportunity to learn this time. That terrifies me. I don’t want to live the past over again.
I want to get to the good part.
So even if it wasn’t my fault – what am I here to learn? If our spirits keep getting recycled until we get it, then what am I here to learn?! And fucking learn it already.
If I live in a world where everything I need keeps showing up for me so that I will eventually get what I ultimately really want, then how can I see these situations differently?
It’s about showing up. It’s about returning to our bodies. Returning to ourselves. I think learning to truly value ourselves before we can sincerely value others. In the healthiest and meaningful ways. Beyond the superficial. Beyond empty words. Beyond all the pomp.
People have given up. To the point where they can’t even conceptualize better at this point. Beyond surviving.
Challenge that. If you really believe better is actually possible. Then shut your mouth and really go Live it. Show us out loud. For real this time.
I woke up from a terrible dream. Where at one point I was so lonely that I was doing shots to get drunk. Specifically so that my inhibitions would be lowered. So that I could tolerate being around some people for even the smallest measure of time.
I woke up as they were calling me out on being quite messy.
But I was mad that they even noticed. Didn’t they see? That was the whole point: just a few minutes, even if only in my dreams, of relief from all this fucking goddamn awareness.
Yay, so intelligent. For what, exactly? When exactly does any of this enlightened bullshit payoff?
All I seem to have done is sequester myself right out of everywhere.
Still waiting for the point besides the so very cold realization that everything I believed was, spoiler alert, a big fat lie.
Then a thought occurred to me that probably would have been more comforting before I annihilated my entire social circle through my dogged determination to compel everyone I had any semblance of connection with to join me in what now appears to be very much a party of one. Two – if you count Jesus. I guess there’s solace there. Eh, Holy Spirit? Trinity plus me makes this a proper shindig. Some might say.
Some who haven’t been through terror.
But enough of this superfluous drama; get to the fucking point already, Ms. Sarah. Miss goddamn so fucking too full of herself. Some might say.
The thought that came to me is THIS is exactly why Jesus told so many people not to talk about what He did for them.
I always used to wonder about that. He’d do these pretty outrageous miracles. Then tell people not to tell others. To even go hide themselves.
It’s because the point was actually NOT evangelism!
Took me all this time. All these years to figure that out: the point was never that God needed any of my help to save the world.
When you’re a little girl who doesn’t feel safe, born into a religion with a superiority complex, you are spoonfed this only goal in life: to save everyone from everything.
Except yourself!
Guess what Jesus came to do?
Much to my great surprise, I don’t think He came to save me so that I could better save everything and everyone else. And especially except myself.
You know why you can’t tell people what Jesus has done for you? Because they’ll fucking ruin the whole goddamn thing.
Sometimes Jesus comes to give YOU, and only you, a beautiful gift. And sometimes Jesus wants you to get the full benefit of that gift.
Sometimes, no matter how sweet and innocent you unknowingly are in your desire to share and celebrate with others, people will rush in to steal and thereby destroy every last fucking thing you have to offer.
Viciously. Without any regard.
Then a hate you never knew, the kind that makes people like that sick, can start to grab a hold of your precious heart.
So sometimes Jesus comes to only heal you. And Jesus doesn’t need a marketing or an advertising agency. Holy Spirit is not hiring.
Sometimes you finally realize you matter when you’re the only one you have left. When you finally meet yourself. When you finally slow down enough to hear your heart.
I don’t recommend this journey. If you have the choice. It hasn’t been fun at all.
But I guess necessary.
I don’t see hope anymore. Honestly.
But you don’t need to see anything when it comes to Jesus. If God is really God.
Yet I’m guaranteed no miracles.
But having this thought tonight was pretty beautiful. So I’d like to think that means there might be more to my story.
But one thing is for damn certain. I won’t ever be giving myself away like I did before.
My heart was so beautiful. For so long. Because I needed to believe in the possibility and probability of a less terrible world. Simply in order to survive.
Until I was strong enough to be able to endure fully opening my eyes.
After all I had already been through. Everything would have been too much all at once. Even more so than what already is.
The only thing I have left now outside of myself is that Jesus Loves me. This I know for sure.
And finally that I am not, and never was, just some tool to be used. At all. Ever.
I don’t have to be anything to anyone anymore.
Believe it or not, sometimes Jesus gives you a gift that is only for you. That He actually specifically intends and tells you to keep for yourself.
And that’s the only reason I will ever go back to writing. Or anything else. Ever again.
Because despite the insatiable ravenous attempts by the majority to convince me otherwise, I finally figured out that I matter.
And what I want isn’t some silly luxury. No, tapping into what I desire, as much as the thought of that even still scares me, is everything. Maybe even the point. And maybe even the only thing that will actually save whatever is left of me.
If there’s any part of me that still feels the need to return mostly by habit to that super deep path of thinking someone needs saving: hey, start with saving myself. Fully. Before I even think of returning to the vomit of losing all of myself in trying to save anything or anyone else. Ever again.
Because Jesus says so.
Or how is He God if I can’t fully trust Him with specifically everyone outside of myself that I want so badly to be free. Without the unaffordable expense of losing myself all over again. For the umpteenth time.
Because let’s get this straight and clear: I’m not bankrupt because I have no money. No, all this time I have had no money because I was bankrupt. Slight but significant shift in perspective. For more than the intellectual volley of it all.
I have been called out not as punishment. But for my protection. Until I could really get it. Until this seed could take deep enough root.
So that I would NEVER abandon myself again!
Totally opposite of what they ingrained, bashed into my head, and groomed me to do otherwise. My whole life.
Jesus knew.
I write this for myself. For the me that matters so much.
As an act of worship. For Love that is THAT great. And so unceasingly holy.
Hardly believable except for experience’s great graces and mercies. Over and over. Even if just in midnight revelations spoken so personally. That reason even feels safe enough to inch forward again. If only just a little more. Despite all the heavy, heavy loads thus far.
Even if I only get to celebrate with Trinity.
Full circle: all this time, for so many years before, I was trying to fit in at the wrong party. And I finally, thankfully woke up.
I never, ever would have guessed before that I was actually the point.
For what? For me.
And yes, also you for you. Even written in your precious Book. Not just co-signed. But authored from on High.
We’re all still just kids in grown up bodies. There’s nothing complicated about it all.
It takes so much more strength to love. Than to hate. It takes so much more strength to make peace. Than to fight.
The two are not comparable. The strength it takes to elevate someone is out of this world compared to what it takes to put someone down.
To meet them on their level – there is no glory in that descent.
This is the only thing Jesus asked us to do – Love.
Not convert people. Not change people. No, Love.
Love is by far the most difficult thing to do.
You can’t check out if you’re really going to Love someone. You can’t numb out. You can’t go on cruise control. Your heart, your eyes, your mind have to be wide open.
Love isn’t lust. Love isn’t interest. Love isn’t liking someone. You can Love someone and still very much dislike them. Love isn’t a feeling so much as it is an action.
Love is a confirmation of hope. But you can Love someone even if you are feeling hopeless.
If you’re asking what the other person is doing for you or can do for you, then you are entering or have entered a transaction. True Love is not a transaction.
True Love isn’t a ledger. True Love is who you are. True Love is what you give; not what you take.
True Love is respecting yourself in and through it all.
True Love is honesty. Is believing so much in the other person that even when it will be difficult you honor and respect them by telling the truth.
True Love is trusting in Trinity. That you are Created by, in, and through Love. That there is a bigger story. That we don’t have to destroy each other in order to thrive.
But if you couldn’t fully trust your biological father’s heart then it would understandably be difficult to believe God cares about you enough for you to not have to take from other people.
I can only show up if I believe it all works out in the end. If I believe I matter. And what we do matters. Otherwise Love is scary. And stupid.
I’m not good at Love. But deep down under all the crap piled onto me is a child who was born very good, who still remembers. Who’d like to be set free in order to fully be. Because Love is Life. Love is the point of Living. Love is the most difficult thing but without it everything else is a lot less, little.
Will we open up our beaten hearts again? Will we give it all we got? Will we, if not believe in ourselves, at least believe in Love being better than the alternative. If there is any real chance.
I’ve been so confused. About why my motivation seems to have vanished. About why I can’t get excited about anything.
I think I finally found the answer. It’s because I don’t have a narrative anymore. And I don’t know if there is a new narrative to find.
The hysterectomy was probably the tipping point. I mean I consented to it only because I couldn’t live one more minute with the pain that tumor was causing. It was either the hysterectomy or death. The pain was that bad. And no, I don’t say that lightly at all.
So I was logical in the moment. But I was thrown way off guard by how much the hysterectomy would impact me emotionally. On so many levels. Nobody prepared me for this. There was no follow-up offered for this.
It really felt like a death. Of me. Of my story. Of so many dreams and possibilities. Officially over. Off the table.
In short, I didn’t know who I was anymore.
And that’s the big problem holding me up from moving forward.
All your life from the first minute you become aware of it, people are telling you that one day you’ll be a mom. They are giving you dolls, little fake babies, to play with.
It was hard enough trying to go out and be in the workforce. To choose love over just a body next to me. Fucking me. Giving me children to take care of for the sake of.
So that’s why I was caught off guard by this grief. Because every day for decades of my life, sometimes multiple times a day, I’d have to face that pain. That “failing” as a woman. Every damn day I’d have to answer for why I was alone and childless. The constant judgement from others. Their disdain.
I thought I was used to it. I thought I had worked through that a billion times over already.
And I had in many ways. But the hysterectomy ushered in a depth of grief that I was wholly unprepared for. Completely caught off guard.
Surely intellectualizing everything would be the answer, no? Surely I could tell my heart not to be so invested. To face reality, right? Just full-on acceptance, right?
I don’t know why that doesn’t work. My spirit won’t cooperate. Everything in me. Every cell, every synapse resists. And that pain is non-stop. Keeps drumming on and on and on and on.
It’s the finality of it all.
Before, when people looked down on me, I’d always be able to buffer myself from their hurtful actions by telling myself, “One day. Just watch. One day this will all make sense.”
One day there would be someone special who would see my value and my worth. Someone they looked up to. Someone they would want. Who would choose me. And thereby I would finally have social respect.
I’d finally have a kid. I’d finally be part of the fabric of what’s going on. Versus constantly being ostracized to the fringes. Discarded over and over.
But the hysterectomy was the death of that dream. Now there is just me. Now I will never experience being a part of the main thing. Now my story is forever different. Forever alone.
“But Sarah, you can still be matched with someone. You can still adopt.”
Intellectually I know this. But it’s still not the same. No disrespect to people who are adopted. Hell, I wish I could be adopted.
I’m just expressing that there is a reality in me about not ever having that main storyline now. I didn’t truly realize how I had been waiting my whole life for that moment to materialize. How much of my hope and meaning was unconsciously wrapped up in that potential future.
And now? Nothing. Decimated. Internally destroyed. Physically and emotionally. That dream was literally ripped out of me. Thrown in the trash. Or wherever they send uteruses and ovaries once they’ve torn them out of women’s bodies.
I guess I still have a life that I should be thankful for. But it doesn’t feel that way. There is nothing right now except sadness and anger. Oh yeah, and resignation.
The hope that I’d have a family of my own. That was always my reason to live.
That would have given meaning enough to all my pain. All the years of suffering. To finally see me in a family of my own. That would have made everything make sense.
Now? Nothing.
Now nothing makes sense. Now I don’t understand the meaning of all the years of excruciating pain. Now, looking back, it seems like pointless torture. All for what?
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Not even rainbows in the sky. Because where is my hope, Lord? Do You not care?!
All these years I was rocking for You, God. Is this all the thanks that I get?
Since middle school I vowed to wait for You. And now I’m the laughing stock? Now everyone gets to feel pompous in their judgement of me? They get the last laugh? Am I truly the fool they think I am?
God?
Now I understand why my Jonathan asked God not to show him anything more. It’s too painful. It doesn’t make any sense. It feels like cruel torture.
To even have someone say, “But Sarah, you’re still a child of God.”
Yeah, but what good does that do me now, here? How many more years will I have to live with this pain and shame? If God cares so much for me, then why this? Decades more of unending pain and desire? How am I supposed to find happiness in that?
I wish I could just forget it. But everywhere, all day being around people – they won’t let me forget. They won’t let me move on. I was born into a society that centers itself around the family structure.
Hell, even animals seem to have it better than me. That’s when I’ll really get pissed off. When the goddamn animals somehow figured it out. What I wanted. What looks like now I’ll never have.
I have to give up. I can’t shoulder constantly carrying this grief for the rest of whatever time I have here. That would break me.
I don’t want to become an old woman consumed with bitterness. I can’t do that. I refuse. That isn’t who I am at the core. I can’t let everything that happened rob whatever is left of me.
But I have to give up somehow. In some way that will let me get back to something that looks and hopefully feels like a real life.
Some new story that doesn’t feel like someone else’s that I am desperately trying to borrow as my own.
No. I need at least one goddamn thing that belongs to me. That is actually me. Not just some construct of a society I have never fully been a part of.
Or am I?
This is the voice of so many. Hysterectomy or not. Who have felt the same. Wanting a tribe and community of their own. Feeling so painfully disconnected no matter how hard they try on so many sides to gain that seemingly elusive acceptance. To be invited inside by those they respect.
Flatlined. My story, my hope died with the hysterectomy. And cruelly, I am still alive.
But, God.
God doesn’t ever leave me. God hasn’t ever let me completely give up.
I’ll be on the brink. And then God will envelope me with Love. Showing me clear as day that I am not abandoned.
To be Seen by the Most High God. My Creator. The Sustainer of the entire Universe. That’s everything to me.
I do have a Father. I am a Loved child.
That’s why I can’t give up even when I don’t understand. That’s what keeps moving me forward when I have nothing left. That’s the bright Light I find in all this frigid, suffocating darkness.
At the end of the day, God loving me is my meaning through all of this.
And not just one time. Over and over. Day after day. Big and little ways. God, my heavenly Father… and Mother, keeps telling me They See me. And not just that; but continually also that I am thoroughly Loved, Enjoyed, and not at all abandoned.
That is the ONLY reason I move forward at all.
I no longer have a story. Other than God’s Love for me, I no longer have hope. My dreams appear to be as decimated as my reproductive parts. I don’t know how or why I should go on.
Other than God Sees and Loves me. That is my enough. I don’t have answers yet for all the disappointments and pain. And disappointments is a severe understatement. Nothing makes sense right now.
Except God Sees and Loves me. That’s the only thing I am sure of. That’s my only Why. That’s my only How. That’s my only way forward in the face of what feels like the loss of everything. Of even me.
And if God is for me, then… Then the story isn’t over yet. Then I’m not over yet. Then there is some meaning. Some reason I’m still alive. Some hope out there somewhere. More adventures. More Love. More possibilities. Anything is possible. There is nothing too difficult for The Lord.
Which is both painful and exciting to try to take hold of.
But thankfully it isn’t up to me. Thankfully I don’t have to hold on because Jesus is holding onto me.
I am sure of that. I’ve experienced it way beyond just the intellectual. Day after day. In the midst of the depths of my pain and misery.
So we get up. We shower. We get dressed. Ready to receive. Ready for more adventures.
Ready to be surprised at any point, Father.
Ready for You to do the heavy lifting now. Not me. I am just Your Kid.
Loved. Wiped clean of all society put on me.
Just Looking at You for the next step. For the next open door.
Not forcing myself to do what others say if it doesn’t feel right for me. Trusting You for that.
Washed completely clean of all that was put onto me by others. Waiting for a new story. Dreaming new and maybe even bigger dreams.
You ask me what I want. And I can finally hear You.
All of my fears found me. They took all they could take. There is nothing left besides You and Me. And that is enough.
I was scraped clean of the cancer in my body. And all the cancers in my heart, spirit, and mind.
I’m Your kid first. Before anyone else’s.
Before I was even my own.
And if You still see Me, if You still Love Me – then that is enough. More than enough.
I go forward with the absolute loss of my former expectations. But You are big enough to fill the great voids in me with New Life. Whatever that looks like.
I trust You are with Me as I pick up the pen to write the new story.
A continuation of my attempt to finish a book I started in December 2017. Posting chapters in an attempt to organize it all and finish. And I now know I don’t have to, but it wants to be written. Why? I’m not sure yet.
Also, this not the next chronological chapter in the book. But it’s the chapter that wants to be written today.
Everything fell apart and we stopped hanging out in May.
It was the very next semester that a last-minute degree requirement was sprung on me. But almost all the classes had already been filled up. I had to scramble to find one that would allow me to graduate on time. Although it otherwise would have been one of my last choices, the World Religions class was the best remaining option.
I took it with a professor who clearly did not care much for Christianity or Christians. His bias was annoying, but not unexpected. However what really surprised me was that through the class I started to see the same theme across all religions regardless of their differences. Over and over humans came to the conclusion that there was someone bigger than themselves. That created them. And then the humans determined that the bad things in life happened because they had made their creator mad. And so each religion set about a system to, as they saw it, try to get back into the good graces of their creator.
Why did this surprise me? All this time I thought my religion was so different. But really it was mostly more of the same.
Except Jesus. Right?
But what was so different about Jesus? About our story that we were telling?
Because I had experienced God over and over. Right? I mean God was real for me. Not just some words on a page.
The person I refer to as Sojourner had given me a copy of The Shack to read so many years back. Maybe even in my late teens or early twenties. And at some point over the years she had referred to the author, Paul Young, as a friend. This intrigued me so much, but I didn’t ask more questions at the time. I just always wondered how she came to know a guy whose book was famous around the world.
Fast-forward to a few weeks after you and I stopped hanging out. And I saw Paul Young talking to Oprah on the television. I had just randomly watched clips of Oprah’s show sporadically over the years. But she was one of the most well-known people in America. And now I was only two people removed from her. The idea of that blew my mind. And caught my attention.
Long story short, Paul mentioned cheating on his wife. With her best friend.
Not what I wanted or expected to hear at the time. Especially after the reason we stopped hanging out just a few weeks earlier seemed on the surface to be because of a younger single woman that was allowed to come between us.
So I was mad. At you, at the whole male gender, and now at Paul. How could Sojourner be friends with someone like that? A lot was at stake. So I did what I do best: I started researching. I had to find out more about Paul’s cheating.
That little seed. Wow! What has come from it!
I learned that Paul’s cheating happened about a decade before he wrote The Shack. In the interim, he owned up to his mess, went through counseling for things like abuse in his childhood, and then reconciled with his wife. And she is the one who encouraged him to write down how he sees God. For their kids. That’s how The Shack came to be.
So if there was hope for Paul, then did that mean there was hope for you and I? That we’d talk and be friends again?
Another seed. That sent me researching again. For more of Paul’s story. Which quickly led me to Baxter Kruger. Who was another person Sojourner had tried to introduce me to even three years before!
And I was always receptive to whatever she suggested. I cared about what she knew because I knew that she cared. But even then, for whatever reason, the information didn’t land when she originally showed me like it was landing now. Something had shifted. Now I could see and hear. Now I was completely getting it.
I had to tell Sojourner! Unbeknownst to me, she was leading a group that was studying one of Baxter’s books. And they were planning to go to a conference with Baxter in Mississippi in a matter of weeks.
The attendance list for the conference had filled up so quickly that there was a waiting list. But someone in her group had a ticket and couldn’t make it. I had come to Sojourner’s mind but I don’t think that made sense to her at the time so she offered the ticket to several others first.
And why would offering it to me make any sense? I hadn’t really embraced what she had shown me previously relative to Baxter. And she didn’t yet know that the information had come back around to me.
Until I let her know. And then things moved very quickly. Next thing I knew a few weeks later I was driving to Mississippi for the conference with Baxter. Listening to more of Baxter and then Bruce Wauchope on the way. My mind and heart just exploding from wonder at all that I was learning.
Maybe this was the answer? Maybe God split us up for a brief time because I needed to learn this? Without you at first?
Because we used to talk so much, so many times about the issue of whether or not a person could “lose their salvation”. Hours and hours, and many drives with you were focused on that subject. As we’d wrestle back and forth with it. Without me ever being able to settle on a resolution because there was something missing, something wasn’t adding up.
And at some point I had mentioned my thoughts about that issue to Sojourner. That’s why she sent the Brad Jersak video. And it sounded good to me when she initially sent it. But not something I had heard before so I sent it over to you for your opinion. A few months before everything fell apart between us.
And you sent me a very long, Scripture-filled response. As you would do. As I loved. In that you took me and all my five hundred billion questions seriously. You didn’t dismiss me. You didn’t brush me off. You took a lot of time with me. I was so spoiled by you in that. And so thankful. I so miss you and those conversations.
But maybe God allowed us to be torn apart because of this: you were so close – you liked almost everything Jersak had to say until the end. Where you took issue with some things he said and then rejected the whole message. And because you knew all the verses and all the arguments, I decided to not fully embrace the message also.
Maybe that’s why God allowed you to be taken away from me. Because even though you were my best friend, even though we created a Bible study together, even though you brought so much healing into my life – God wouldn’t let the rest of my healing be stolen. Even by you.
And so there I was. Now able to see and hear. Without you. Although painfully you were the one I most wanted to share all this with. And no matter how hard I tried, you were not receptive.
So I went to the Baxter Kruger conference in Mississippi with the pain of having the best news in my life and seemingly no one to share it with. Because I had also tried to present the information to the preacher at CCSA and my best female friend – Julie. Among others primarily from CCSA. And each time the conversations devolved completely.
I couldn’t understand. Why was I given the best information in the world, in my entire lifetime, and yet those that I loved most were clearly not being allowed to come along on this journey with me? I was so sad and confused about that.
But I hoped that maybe the time would come eventually. So I put on my Never Give Up shirts, headed to Mississippi, and hoped for the best. With a very heavy heart.
Was Jesus worth it if I lost everybody I loved in the process?
Thankfully Sojourner was still there. Excited. Not giving up. My lifeline. Helping me find new oxygen to make it through over and over.
But was this all just made up feel good stuff? Or was God really in it?
The name of the conference was, “Living Loved”. Which felt like a cruel joke at the time.
And I was going to be meeting many of Sojourner’s friends and a lot of other people for the first time. There wasn’t a dress code but I didn’t want to embarrass Sojourner by dressing inappropriately for the occasion.
She emailed me and told me that she had a feeling I was being reserved. She assured me she wasn’t going to judge me. She told me she was proud of me.
So I took a risk. And instead of packing my “fake-a-good-impression” fancy lady clothes, I decided to just be myself and plan on wearing my jeans and Never Give Up shirts.
Well, on the long drive to the conference I had too much time to think. My insecurities and fears were holding front and center in my brain. And I felt like being myself was not enough. Plenty of people remind me of that on a daily basis. So I thought about turning around and not even going to the conference.
But it was a sold-out conference with a waiting list and I had generously been given a ticket because someone else could not attend. Also, I was scheduled to volunteer during a part of the conference. I felt like it would be really selfish and wrong for me to cancel at the last minute.
So I kept on driving towards Mississippi. And comforted myself by deciding that I would go shopping for better, more acceptable clothes in the few hours of free time I had before the conference began. To fit in with everyone else and not stand out.
Well, due to a series of uncontrollable events, I was delayed and hardly had any time to shop. I tried, I went to the shopping center. But I kept feeling this nudge in my spirit: “Just trust Me.”
So, scared out of my mind, I decided to stop looking for “better” clothes and just wear what I brought. And when I met up with Sojourner and all of her friends, I wore my new Never Give Up shirt with the obnoxiously large font.
They couldn’t have been nicer! Everyone was so welcoming and friendly. I was overwhelmed with their kindness. I felt a nudge in my spirit: “Seeeee! I told you. Chill out. Just trust Me.”
As the conference began, I met so many women and several told me, “I like your shirt.” I lost count of how many people told me that. In my spirit I felt the nudge again: “Seeeee. I told you. Just trust Me.”
During the conference there was a practical joke that Sojourner invited me to be a part of. It was not mean-spirited. It was a funny practical joke. But it involved standing up with her and several of her friends in front of over a hundred other people. And when it came time to play the practical joke, I just couldn’t bring myself to stand up in front of everyone.
Afterward Sojourner said, “You didn’t stand up?”
I responded, “I am so shy.”
She said, “Oh you’ll get over that by the time you leave here.”
Something Baxter said during the conference really stood out to me. He said, “If we are unashamed then no one will be able to define us or have power over us.”
But as I dressed for the second day of the conference with another “Never Give Up” shirt, I had to fight the fears all over again. I told myself: “Well at least the font size on this shirt is smaller.”
I was afraid people would be thinking, “Ok lady, one day of your cutesy little t-shirt was fine, but c’mon, grow up!”
I was avoiding interacting with people because I didn’t want to call attention to myself. But nearly every moment of the day there was someone initiating conversation with me. Ladies I met only the day before were inviting me to dinner and pursuing conversations with me.
After going through so much significant rejection in the months and weeks prior to the conference, the kindness of these new friends was a giant hug from God that was frying the circuits of my brain. I was truly overwhelmed in the best way.
So the last day of the conference arrived. I was looking at my clothes to wear. The choices were yet another “Never Give Up” shirt with the obnoxiously large font or a plain t-shirt. The thoughts in my head were: “Ok, people were understanding with your little Never Give Up shirt two days in a row, but three days is overkill. C’mon, grow up. Quit being weird.”
My heart really just wants to encourage. My heart doesn’t care so much about looking like a fool as long as even one person is given hope. But my mind was worried about embarrassing Sojourner, so I decided to play it “safe” and put on the plain t-shirt.
I went on to finish packing. But as I was about to zip up my last bag, I felt the nudge in my spirit: “Sarah, you are only going to see these people for two more hours. You may never see them again. Then you will be driving for twelve hours and stopping at several stores along the way. And maybe your Never Give Up shirt will help give someone hope. Just trust Me.”
Uggggggh. Ok. Fine. I’ll be “weird”.
So I changed shirts and put on the Never Give Up shirt with the big obnoxious font. But I brought a jacket with me just in case I became overwhelmed with self-consciousness.
I was trying to hide. I was worried people would think I only had one change of clothes. And I was counting down the minutes until I could be free of my anxiety.
Well the last session of the conference began and an unplanned moment happened where a woman shared about how she was forced to sign divorce papers a few days prior. For a separation that she did not want. She talked about how it was the biggest “you are not enough” moment of her life. She barely was able to speak because she was crying and in so much pain. And so many people in the audience started crying along with her.
That hit too close for me. The separation between you and I was something I definitely did not want. And it also felt like a big huge reminder that I wasn’t enough.
Then another unplanned moment happened as another lady was invited to share her experience that involved the pain of being sexually abused. Again, so many people in the audience were crying along with her.
And again, that one also hit too close to home for me.
Finally the second-to-last planned speaker of the conference started sharing her story. Again, more pain and suffering at the hands of others. Again, her words were resonating and so many people in the audience were crying as she shared her experiences.
I was completely overwhelmed at this point! I already had so much of my own rejection prior to the conference. And it was a fight to even get to the conference. I had also ridden the rollercoaster of anxiety and being saturated with kindness over the past three days. So the added intensity of the past hour or so with the speakers just made me want to jump up out of there and get on the road by myself with some music so I could zone out. I kept checking the time on my phone and counting down the minutes until I could breathe again.
At one point the speaker said something like, “I already ran over my time.” And then Baxter responded by saying something like, “It’s ok, keep going.” And although everything being shared was good, it was so intense that my whole being was just screaming, “Noooo, get me out of here!”
I was wrestling with whether to get up and leave the room just to get a break. If I had been in the back then I probably would have excused myself. But I was on the second row up front. And didn’t want to call attention to myself.
Well there I was trying to keep from jumping out of my skin, when all of a sudden I hear the speaker shift gears and loudly announce, “Where is that lady with the “give up” shirt?”
Oh no.
I raise my hand.
She says, “Stand up!”
Oh no.
Yep, this is happening.
So I stand up and she says, “Turn around!”
I’m facing the entire audience. They are all a blur.
And through my anxiety, all I hear is her say something like, “NEVER GIVE UP, ladies!!!”
And then everyone starts clapping and I sit down.
So much for being shy.
Then the nudge from The Holy Spirit with a big smile, “Seeeee!!!!! I told you. Just trust Me.”
The speaker talked for a few more minutes and then ended her speech by saying something like, “And remember ladies, DO NOT GIVE UP!”
I attended the conference expecting to learn a bunch of head knowledge, but God had other plans as to how He wanted to teach me about Living Loved.
So that’s it? Just a cute little moment at a conference?
I learned some knowledge that impacts every aspect of my life. But that’s it? Just carry on like nothing? Just leave everyone I love behind?
The story of you and me, and all I thought God was doing through what I thought was one of the best friendships of my life, just ends like that?
A continuation of my attempt to finish a book I started in December 2017. Posting chapters in an attempt to organize it all and finish. And I now know I don’t have to, but it wants to be written. Why? I’m not sure yet.
Also, this is not the next chronological chapter in the book. But it’s the chapter that wants to be written today.
—–
We had stopped hanging out and talking after the younger single woman was allowed to come between us and our friendship. And predictably she told me I needed to move out. With only three weeks’ notice.
But I had always found cute little apartments in the past. And now I was officially in real estate. So I wasn’t worried. There was no excuse. I would do what I had always done. Just hunt for a little bit and then move… on.
I checked the online ads day in and day out. I drove through neighborhoods. But nobody was returning my calls and emails. Nothing was working out. The ads were bait and switch; hundreds of dollars more than advertised. Or the places were too dirty or dangerous. One landlord showed a space with an active gas smell. Another even had the gall to show a space with freshly deceased roaches laying around!
But I still wasn’t worried. I was thinking two weeks out is still a great amount of time to find a place and plan to move.
It passes.
Ok, one week, Lord; I can do one week.
No?
Um, ok. I guess one weekend. Surely I’ll find a place the weekend before I need to move?!
Nope. Nothing was working out.
But by this point, I was used to stuff like this happening so many times before that I just had a feeling it was God closing the doors. I mean I’m in real estate; surely if anyone is capable at finding a place, it’s me.
So it was Monday and I was supposed to move on Wednesday. I still didn’t have a place. But I scheduled the movers anyway. I was thinking, “This is insane.”
But I kept remembering about the Israelites during the Exodus. I had prayed for years that I would be like Joshua and Caleb. And it felt like God was saying, “Now is your time.” So I kept repeating to myself over and over, “I know He didn’t bring me this far just to let me die in the desert.”
Now, please don’t picture me being calm! Internally it felt like I was a palm tree in a category five hurricane! I would have anxiety hit me so hard that I literally felt like I might pass out!
But God is so good…
Whenever I taught the kids at CCSA, I always only taught them one story every time I had nursery duty. I had taught it probably over two dozen times. It was the story about Peter when he started to sink on the ocean after walking on water.
When I was a kid, I didn’t feel like there were any adults to trust so it was always on my heart to teach kids how to cry out to God when they felt scared. So I would tell them the story about Peter walking on the water. And then I’d have the kids line up and I’d go down the line and walk every kid through the following:
I’d say, “What do you do when you are scared?”
And then I taught them to each repeat, “Jesus, help me!”
Well, I intended the lesson to be for those two and three year olds. But maybe it was really for me. Because here I was facing homelessness again in less than 72 hours. And God brought my own words back to me. So many times.
I would literally fall on my knees in front of my chair at the house and just sit there praying to God over and over: “I can’t do this, Lord. I can’t do this. I want to be strong but I’m not strong. Please help me!”
And I would just hear the Lord over and over reminding me of Exodus 14. And my favorite chapter in the Bible, 2 Chronicles 20: “Be still, Sarah. Be still and see the salvation of the Lord.”
So I would literally just sit there on my knees, or bowing my head in the car, and I would just try to quiet my soul as Spirit would pour out reminders of all the other times God had provided for me in the past.
And then I would turn on worship music and picture myself as the people in 2 Chronicles 20. Praising God as they marched toward what at the time seemed like certain impending doom. Not having a clue as to what was going to happen.
But I’m still thinking, “Ok, haha Lord. I passed the test, right? It’s the day before I need to move. Surely today is the day You will show me where I am going to move. I mean, logically, right?”
People who knew me were calling for updates. Asking me what I was going to do. This is less than twenty-four hours before I am supposed to move. And I felt completely insane not having an answer. Not having a plan. This was not how I was raised. I knew better.
So I feverishly worked all day. Looking around. Calling. Emailing.
Finally one person returns my call. But I went to see the place and it was awful! It smelled old and musty. Felt dirty. And the building had so much neglected maintenance. It was a high-rise and I was scared that I wouldn’t have time to get out if it caught on fire.
“Lord?”
I felt like Spirit was telling me that if I went ahead with that place then I would be settling out of fear. Just taking it to have at best a brief and tenuous false sense of “security”.
So I decided to trust God for better. And I turned down the place with less than 24 hours before I needed to move.
I felt completely crazy! How do you communicate to others the things you feel God is speaking to your heart? Especially the things that don’t make any sense?
So, what do I do now? Well, out of routine habit, I jumped right back to working out the problem. And decided to drive over to another apartment complex off Huebner. I didn’t really want to live there, but it was all I could think of at the last minute. I mean we’re talking almost four in the afternoon. The leasing offices would be closing in an hour and I had to move in the morning.
But I was in my work vehicle, so on my way to the apartment building, I stopped by an office building where I needed to go in and research at least one of the tenants for my employer.
I kid you not, when I pulled into the office building parking lot, it was a beautiful sunny day. Blue skies. Full sun.
And all I did was park, go inside, take the elevator upstairs, quickly research the location of the tenant’s office, use the bathroom, and then come downstairs.
And by the time I made it back down to the first floor, which was literally probably only five to ten minutes at the most, somehow a torrential thunderstorm had started and was raging outside.
And when I say torrential, I mean the rain was blowing sideways. I had never seen that in real life before. And there was so much water coming in that the front desk security was trying to block water from coming in the front doors.
It was so odd. The skies were dark and menacing. And out of nowhere.
But this is Texas. We’re used to this. And I didn’t have an umbrella. So I decided to just sit in the office building lobby for a few minutes. Wait out the worst and then make a run for my car once the storm started to move on.
Except it didn’t. Five minutes turned to ten minutes. Turned to fifteen minutes. All the while I am watching the clock. Trying to get to this leasing office in time to sign the paperwork and get keys for the next day. But also not wanting to get soaked and showing up like some dog off the streets. Not a great first impression when you’re trying to ask someone to trust you with their property.
Instead of moving on, the storm actually started to get worse. And by this point it is nearing the end of the day, so many of the workers in the office building are congregating in the lobby. Probably thinking similarly to me. Not wanting to get drenched. Intending to wait out the worst for a few minutes and then jet.
But so many people are in the lobby now that they are standing closer to me. And comically, the ones standing almost over my shoulder start saying “random” things like, “It wasn’t even supposed to rain”. And, “So-and-so called me and said they had to pull over because they couldn’t see to drive”. Etc.
It felt like I was Jonah on the ship. Running away from where God wanted me. And the storm that caused the people on Jonah’s ship to throw things overboard seemed to have arrived in San Antonio. Out of nowhere. And it felt like my fault.
Finally I just surrendered. I sat there in the office lobby and I gave up.
Because by that time it was 4:45 PM and all the apartment complexes would probably close at five. And I was at the 410/I-10 interchange. So there was no way I was going to get anywhere anytime soon with rush-hour traffic jammed up by the rain.
I resigned myself and said, “Ok, Lord. I think You are telling me, ‘No’. I think You are closing another door. I think you sent this storm to keep me from going to that apartment complex and signing a lease.”
I surrendered. Sat in the office lobby and waited just a few more minutes until the rain predictably now let up.
And now it’s the end of the day before I need to move, I had movers scheduled for the morning and nowhere to go.
But I kept holding onto this sentence: “God didn’t bring me out into the desert to die.”
I laughed at the “craziness” of God’s timing. And felt like Spirit was encouraging me to not be scared about it. To instead go and enjoy my dinner meal. So I drove over to Las Palapas on Callaghan. And proceeded to schedule the moving van rental for the morning. While I waited for my order. Feeling completely insane.
But I kept feeling like God was saying, “Keep moving. Keep marching forward. As if everything is going to work out fine.”
It didn’t make any sense.
But I went back to the house and started packing the remaining items and cleaning the remaining things to clean. All my boxes and furniture was stacked up and ready to be loaded. With nowhere to go.
But I felt so heavy like God was speaking to my heart to just be faithful in doing what I needed to do while I was waiting for the answer. Versus sitting down and melting into a paralyzed panic.
So I listened to worship music and prayed. Read some Scriptures and tried to get some sleep.
All of a sudden at 11pm an idea came to my mind of where to go the next morning: my old apartment complex. Where I lived before I moved in with this younger single woman that was allowed to come between us.
So the next morning, three hours before the movers are supposed to arrive, one and a half hours before I’m supposed to pick up the moving van, I wake up and immediately shoot straight up in bed. Very dramatic. Just like in the movies. As everything in me was SCREAMING: “Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!”
FULL BLOWN PANIC!
I felt SO much anxiety that I felt like I was going to throw up!
But I immediately started to pray. And God calmed me. But I probably had to stop and pray literally almost every five minutes that morning!
And when I wasn’t praying, I was trying to sing along to worship music. Trying to keep the panic and tears away.
I kept repeating to myself, “God didn’t bring me this far to let me die in the desert.”
I was almost shaking as I went to pick up the van at 8:00 AM. It was raining so I used the weather to buy an hour of extra time when I called and asked the movers if they could come at 10:00 AM instead.
That gave me an hour to find a place. Hahaha!
Did I go to the place that came to mind the previous night? No, because that didn’t make sense. It was clear across town for one.
Instead I did the “logical” thing and started with the closest apartment complexes. Called several but I couldn’t afford their rates or they didn’t have availability until later dates.
And just when I had worked myself almost into despondency again, Spirit whispered the calm reminder about my previous apartment complex across town.
“But God, that doesn’t make any sense? The leasing office doesn’t even open until 10:00 AM. And that’s when my movers will be arriving. I have to be here to let them in.”
“Just trust Me.”
I did it mad. I drove over there expecting nothing. Trying to think up a backup plan the whole way. Telling myself that it wouldn’t work out and I’d just find a storage space after to put my things into. And then stay the night in a motel so I could figure out what to do with myself. That was the best plan I could come up with at that point.
But still drove over to the apartment complex. Here goes “crazy” Sarah once again, right? Following God out into the middle of the ocean. Looking like a fool. Right?
I arrived at my old apartment complex at 9:00 AM. Like I had just told God, the office was closed.
“See! What now, God?! After I wasted all this time!”
“Just trust Me.”
“Trust You?!?! I’ve been trying to trust You and LOOK where it’s gotten me!”
Before I could even finish the thought, the office manager starts walking up to the front doors. He’s not even supposed to be here or be open for another hour.
I jumped out of my car and ran to catch up to him before he went inside the office and locked the door behind him. He recognized me from when I lived there before so we skipped the pleasantries and I quickly asked him if he had any apartments for rent.
“Only one place for $800+”.
That was WAY outside my budget at the time.
“Lord?!?! Why did you send me all the way over here if there is nothing available for me?!”
“Just trust Me.”
So I thanked the manager but told him that $800+ was out of my price range. And I dejectedly turned to go back to my car and drive away.
Then he said, “Well, come inside and let me look at my computer.”
I’m thinking, “Why? I can’t even afford anything here.” But I follow him anyway since I have no other plan at this point.
And he sits down and starts navigating his system. Then after a minute or two of looking around, he says, “Wait! We do have one unit that is not remodeled that we could rent for $695.”
That’s in my price range! So I run to go look at the apartment to make sure it isn’t a disaster. And it wasn’t everything I wished for, but definitely good enough. So I run back to the leasing office and tell him I’ll take it!
But we still have to do all the paperwork and I have movers showing up across town in less than an hour. So he sends me to go get the money orders while he runs my application.
I lived there before. No issues. But when I came back from racing down the street to get the money orders, he told me that my rental application was denied due to a class C reckless driving misdemeanor on my record from SEVENTEEN years ago! It doesn’t make any sense! Why is this now an issue?!
“Lord?!?”
But the manager was able to call a supervisor and receive special approval for my application. So we were back on again. But then he told me that I needed to get a utility account number and rental insurance before he could give me the keys.
We had already come this far. And I had no other plan. So without knowing if I could get it done, I assured him that I’d call to get what the apartment complex needed before I came back with the movers and all my stuff. And off I went to meet the movers. As if I was going to be able to move in. With no keys in hand.
Long story short, I was able to call and get what I needed as I went to meet the movers. I even had extra time to spare as I waited for them. Calm and no stress from then out.
Plus the manager gave me $350 off the first month’s rent. In addition to not charging me the $50 application fee or the $100 admin fee.
After weeks of failing to work everything out “logically”, God’s plan was able to get everything figured out smooth as butter in less than thirty minutes! Thirty MINUTES before the movers showed up!
Talk about a Red Sea parting with Pharaoh’s army on my heels!
It was an incredible, wild, crazy adventure. Not only did God show up, but He really showed off!
My timing was NOT His timing. And I knew I would be ok either way. But whew, what a lesson in trust!
He didn’t bring us this far to leave us in the desert.
“I just can’t give up now; I come too far from where I started from. Nobody told me the road would be easy, but I don’t believe He brought me this far to leave me.”
Sarah Nyhan 