I wrote this on June 7, 2016 and I left it in the drafts folder.
I have left a lot of things in the drafts folder, the last two years of my life.
I wrote because writing is like soul-breathing for me. I had to write.
But I wrote afraid. Afraid of the vulnerability of sharing my soul. Afraid of the rejection that always comes from sharing raw.
But I told you I was starting over. I told you I was facing my fears.
So here it is…my words from June 7, 2016 – unedited.
And I share them with a prayer – that you would see His goodness in your today, because friend –
The truth of our Savior coming for us, this advent of Christ being born to save – this is not a truth contingent on your circumstances. The things that you face in your today are merely a conduit for His redemption in your life.
Jesus has come and He is with us. Right in our today.
I pray for eyes to see His goodness.
——-June 7, 2016.
I stared out the car window, as we drove down the highway.
He withholds no good thing from us.
She was singing from the stereo, and I was staring out the window asking myself if I believed it to be true, that God would withhold no good thing from me.
I gave my daughter back one month ago. Thirty-one days ago, I stood in my living room holding her so tight, while tears ran unchecked down my face and I felt like my heart was being torn from my body.
He withholds no good thing from me?
At twenty-two years old, I found out accidentally that I could not have my own kids. A dream died. I miscarried our miracle baby less-than-a-year after our diagnosis. We moved to the city to be more present for a ministry we had to walk away from four years later. The family I thought, was not the family that is, and that story is still too painful to tell.
He withholds no good thing?
The truth is? What I know to be true in the depths of my heart, doesn’t always align with what I feel, but that doesn’t make the truth any less real.
I look into the eyes of my son, the one God literally gave to us, and I see the goodness of God.
I remember her smile and the twinkle in the eyes of our foster daughter, the one who trembled through newborn drug withdrawal for forty days, and I see the goodness of God.
My husband makes me fluffy eggs for breakfast, pours me coffee and gives me a hug, and I see the goodness of God.
I call her up and say I’m sorry to my friend, who forgives me freely, and I see the goodness of God.
I look out my dining room window and see how the morning light shines through the trees, and I see the goodness of God.
I hear the skies open – the rain falling on the roof, and I see the goodness of God.
Shutting down is sometimes a very real temptation, and that would be the true death of me. So I pray that my heart would stay open to see His goodness and all the ways He writes His love all over me.
I don’t want to miss the beauty of today.