When “I’ll Pray for You” Is An Insult

Sometimes words said with good intention can be insulting. We live in a world where it’s easier than ever to comment on a friend or family member’s trials, triumphs, and everything in-between. But do we stop to think before we insert our like, love, or laughing face?

I will be the first to say I love emojis and use them often in texts and on social media, but I often wonder what all this instant, no-thought-required communication is really doing to our ability to communicate. Take, for example, the statement, “I’ll pray for you.” Or the comment I see more often, “Thoughts and prayers!”

Now, by no means am I saying we shouldn’t pray for others. Sometimes, as I stated in my previous post, it’s all we can do. And let them know you’re praying. It can encourage a person’s heart to know there are people rallying behind them in prayer.

But what if there is something else we can do? What about the times when someone desperately needs help, and we could be the ones God uses to provide it?

There are times when I see people on Facebook crying out for help. Sometimes, it’s a home that’s flooded and they need a place to stay. Or they’re sick and could really use a hot meal. The possibilities are endless.

If we have the resources and ability to help the person in need, are we really displaying the love of Christ by saying “I’ll pray for you,” and then carrying on with our lives? While I’m certain God is all-powerful and able to swoop down, make the person some soup and deliver it to their front door, do you think maybe that’s what he’s called us to do instead?

When Jesus walked the earth during his earthly ministry, he prayed. A lot. He and the Father were in constant communion and he often removed himself from others completely so he could be alone in prayer.

But I don’t recall a single time when someone walked up to him, begging for help, food or shelter, and he said, “I’ll pray for you.” He knew there was a time to pray and a time to act, and he wasn’t going to mislead others by confusing the two.

John, who was with Jesus during most of his ministry, says it like this:

Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.

1 John 3:18 NIV

Friends, prayer was never intended to be used as an excuse for inaction. And I am convicted. I am guilty of turning the other way when I know God was asking me lend a helping hand, but he is showing me that if we are to be his hands and feet, we must act. We must move. We must do something other than say, “I’ll pray for you.”

I know there are seasons when we are stretched thin between little ones, jobs and other responsibilities. Prayer may truly be the best we have to offer. I know there are also times when we aren’t the best person to help.

But if we are constantly turning the other way, we need to reevaluate. We need to take a long hard look at ourselves and ask the question every person who attended VBS as a kid knows: What would Jesus do?

I can guarantee you, he would do more than sit. Let’s follow his example and do the same.

 

Linking up with these communities: #RaRaLinkup, #IntentionalTuesday

3 Questions to Ask Yourself When You’re Tempted to Climb That Soapbox {Plus a Fun Giveaway}

I come from a long line of opinionated people. When you get my family together, there’s bound to be a clash of views, but most of the time we’re able to walk away with smiles and laughter.

Usually, the subject is as miniscule as college football, but every now and then it’s more serious. I remember one adventure when we were visiting a National Park in Moab, Utah and a family member who shall remain nameless insisted on taking an off-road route to see the arches. They were in a mini-van, but the route’s sign “highly recommended” a four-wheel-drive vehicle.

Needless to say, after a few miles a park ranger coming in the opposite direction suggested we turn around. We were able to get back on the paved road and see all the main attractions without getting stuck, but there where a few times when the little van was scraping rock.

We’re able to look back on the incident now and chuckle, but disputes with loved ones don’t always end this way, do they? When we feel attacked, it’s difficult to put aside our emotions.

All too often, I see an issue as black and white when in fact, there are many shades of gray. I want to have the last word and race down an ugly path of pride and narrow-mindedness instead of trying to see the other person’s point of view.

Even when I’m speaking truth, I sometimes forget about love. Instead of trusting the Spirit to speak to someone’s heart, I try to chisel away at it with words that are callous and hurtful.

Friends, there is only one person who can open a person’s heart and mind to God’s truth. He is the Spirit, and he doesn’t speak through resounding gongs and cymbals. We are his vessels, but when we approach others with a voice of pride we accomplish nothing.

There is a reason why scripture warns about controlling the tongue so many times. Because it truly does have the power of life and death.

Whether the issue is big or small, we will never agree with everyone on everything. And you know what? That is good. We were never intended to. But we can learn to approach disagreements in a Christ-like way.

I am a work in progress and on this side of eternity, I always will be. Through the arguments and the heartache, here are three questions his Spirit prompts me to ask when my blood pressure rises.

1. Do I love this person? This is a question my pastor asked a few years ago and it stuck with me. If the answer is “no” then walk away. Even if you are speaking truth, any words that are not spoken with love will accomplish nothing.

2. Is this my pride talking, or am I speaking the truth out of love? If I can’t find scripture, wise counsel or experience to back what I’m saying, then I may be speaking out of a pure need to be right. And what’s right for me may not be right for every other person on the planet.

3. Am I giving this person grace or exercising judgment? While it is healthy to create boundaries, there is only one person who sits in the judgment seat, friends. It isn’t you or me, but Christ alone. Let us hand over the gavel to the One who can handle its weight.

I know there will be days when I’m tempted to climb on my soapbox. But you know what? The words I preach from there seldom do any good, unless you count the boost to my ego.

Arguments will happen and tempers will flare, but we can control the way we handle ourselves. Let’s reflect the mindset of the Creator, even when we’re tempted to let callous words fly.

 

GIVEAWAY!

As a thank you to my lovely readers I’m giving away two fun gifts: a power bank, which can be used to wirelessly charge your smart phone, iPod, camera, etc. and a Hope & Joy mirror keychain! Just comment below and share this post for extra entries. (if you shared the post on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, etc. please let me know in your comment) I’ll announce the winner next Thursday! Giveaway is for U.S. residents only.

 

 

 

Linking up with these communities: #ThoughtProvokingThursday

The Wordsmiths’ Cafe: Edition 3

Welcome to edition 3 of the Wordsmiths’ Cafe! Each quarter on the 15th of the month, I will be offering writing tips, resources and links I hope will help you in your writing journey. This newsletter is part of the Ladder to Rooftop Blogging academy started by my dear friend, Jami Amerine. You can find more info about the academy here.

3 Questions to Help You Self-Edit Before You Hit “Publish”

Have you ever wished you had a personal editor? I can’t count the number of times I have. As many times as I review, delete and reword the articles and blog posts that are published each week, I still find things to change. But since freelance writing doesn’t pay the bills and I haven’t written a bestseller, I’ve come up with several questions to ask myself each time my finger hovers over the “publish” button.

This list is not all-inclusive, but it helps me know whether my writing needs tightening or perhaps needs to be saved for a later season in life. If you’re looking for ways to help you self-edit, I hope you find this list a good place to start.

1. Is the message of my post clear? Many times, I start one place and end in another. And that is okay as long as there is a clear message to the post, but often the reason I end up some place else is because I went down a rabbit trail. And then another and another. If your reader can’t pick out one or two main points to take away with them after they leave your site, they are probably not going to remember your post. “Sticky Statements” are a great way to highlight these points, but you can also communicate the main point with repetition, questions and bullet points. The possibilities are endless; just make sure your takeaway is clear.

2. Is this something that belongs in my journal instead of a blog post? Often, I read a post and it is though the person vomited all over the page. Whether the emotion is anger, pain or bitterness, it is obvious that the conflict is still raw and they haven’t had a chance to digest it or learn from the experience. Posts like this often come across as whiny or ranting and leave the reader feeling like they’ve just been slapped in the face rather than given encouragement or hope. While every post may not be encouraging, our goal as writers should be to propel our readers to do something other than bury their heads in the sand.

3. Can this piece be tightened? The more I review things I’ve written, the more I see I have a habit of repeating myself. And while some repetition is good to get your point across, there is no need to say the same thing twenty different ways. When a reader hops over to your site to read a blog post, they typically want to be done within a few minutes. We live in a world where attention spans are getting shorter and shorter and if you are rambling on and on, your reader will get bored. Ask yourself if there are any unnecessary words, repetitive phrases or sentences that have nothing to do with your main focus. If so, you are probably safe to remove them. Also check to see of there are areas where you use the past perfect tense.

• For example, this sentence is written in the past perfect tense. “I had wondered if it was possible to keep going.” If I change it to active voice, my writing stays moving and keeps the reader more engaged: “I wondered if it was possible to keep going.”

While everyone has their own style and ways to communicate their message, I’ve found most successful writers incorporate these steps in one way or another. Never compromise your voice or try to sound like someone else. God gave you a unique voice, and the more you use it, the more it will begin to fit you like a glove.

Write on, and remember to support others along the way by sharing what you learn.

 

*You can find edition 2 of the Wordsmiths’ Cafe here.

Drawing a Line with People Who Suck the Oxygen Out of Your Tank

“Almost buddy! Try again. There you go!”

I watched other parents coach my eight-year-old through his first time in a batting cage and a smile crept across my face. They saw the areas where he was struggling, and they each worked together to help him improve.

“Put your right arm up a little bit. Spread your legs out more. There, nice hit!”

With each shout of encouragement, my son got better. His confidence grew, and within a few minutes he was hitting the ball with more often.

On the way home later that evening, he gave a coy little smile and asked Daddy, “So, did you like watching me hit the ball in that batting cage?”

He already knew the answer. But he loved hearing it.

Watching him reminded me how those little pushes from the people who surround us can change the trajectory of our whole lives. Although I know my son will discover his gifts lie in certain areas as he gets older, I never want to discourage him from trying new things.

I never want him to look back on his life and say, “If only I had tried this…”

Recently I shared with some friends how it was their encouragement, accountability and reinforcement that helped me reach new goals in my writing. They rallied behind me as I strove for things I never would have dreamed possible five or six years ago and never once said, “Don’t get your hopes up,” or “Do you think you’re being unrealistic?”

People who speak life make us seize life with both hands. They make us attempt to do what we never thought we would, not because we’re able, but because God is.

But there’s a flip-side to those life-giving words and people, isn’t there? There’s that person we hesitate to share the good news with or discuss dreams with because we know as soon as we do, our hopes will deflate.

Like a balloon getting stuffed into a freezer, the enthusiasm that filled us instantly shrinks. Instead of reaching for the moon, we suddenly feel the need to defend ourselves.

Now, I don’t know who, as my eight-year-old likes to say, has “sucked the oxygen out of your tank” today (thank you, Lego Movie). But I do know a few truths that have helped me face those situations. We will always have some naysayers in our lives, but can I speak a little truth to you? The next time you’re feeling deflated, remember:

1. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. If God gave you a dream to pursue, he is able to see it through. There isn’t a person on this planet who can stand in his way.

2. You can limit the negative in your life. If there is a certain person who speaks discouragement every time you share good news, it may be time to find someone else to share your victories with.

3. You can choose the people you do life with. Like I stated before, I don’t think I would be where I can without the positive influence of friends who have pushed me beyond the limits I placed on myself. When we hear people saying, “I believe in you,” it makes us believe in ourselves.

Always remember to extend grace. You never know what someone who speaks discouragement may be going through. But choose your tribe wisely.

Surround yourself with others who believe the same God who spoke the stars into existence can sustain you as you reach for them. Shine on, and give our Creator all the glory.

 

Linking up with these communities: #RaRaLinkup, #TellHisStory

How God Uses Our Story {Rays in the Storm Series}

As we close week two of our Rays in the Storm series, I am honored to introduce you to a dear friend, Lisa Appelo. I was introduced to Lisa through mutual blogging friends, and am always encouraged by her message of hope in a God who is unchanging. If there’s anything I’ve learned from Lisa’s words, it’s that God is always faithful, even in the midst of tragedy. I hope you’ll give her a warm welcome as she shares her thoughts on how loss can bring us together.

When Loss Creates a Kindred Connection

I didn’t know her but I could not forget her story. We had several mutual friends in our not-so-big town and her story spread quickly in conversations, prayer chains and between moms at play group.

Friends said her family had been especially close-knit and I knew they were active in their church and the community. But over the holiday weekend there had been a terrible car accident, and her husband and two of her four children had been killed.

As her story replayed in my thoughts over the next few months, I prayed for her and her two remaining children. I could not fathom the pain, the layers of grief, the sheer weight of her loss.

How does someone recover from such a loss, I wondered? I could only wonder — that kind of pain was completely foreign to me.

Two years passed and our family moved away to another town when my husband was offered his dream job. And as happens with these kinds of things and the passage of time, her story became a tender memory.

Until our paths crossed in the wake of my own unexpected loss.

My husband, the man who’d been my first and only date and my high school sweetheart, had died in his sleep. We had been a close-knit family, active in our church and in our community. He had been an incredible father.

Overnight, I was suddenly a widow and single mom to seven kids. I was neck deep in pain and paperwork and the perplexity of helping my children navigate this tragedy.

I had a hundred worries in those first weeks. Would we be okay? How would my kids handle this? How was I going to single parent my boys just coming of age or help my teenage daughter through the loss of her dad? What about my 4- and 6-year-olds? What did my future hold?

Her bereavement card was one of the first I received. She had handwritten a short note and included a Publix gift card.

My story had spread quickly in conversations, prayer chains and between mutual friends and out of the enormity of her grief, she had reached out to me.

Her simple kindness met my questions in ways that other cards and hugs could not. It was a small gesture that offered me huge hope.

She got it. She was a young widow. She had suffered unexpected loss and she was navigating children through tragedy and grief. Though her story was different than mine – in many ways harder and more complex — our losses created a kindred connection.

Her card and gift were a welcome gift. Welcome to the club of those who have suffered loss and are still breathing.

Her card and gift whispered that there was hope and there would be life again.

Her card and gift offered the encouragement and answers to my hundred questions that few others could.

God can use our story to strengthen another in her story. If she out of the unfathomable loss of her story could extend comfort to me in ours, we would be okay.

“God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.” (2 Corinthians 1:3b-4)

---

 

Lisa Appelo is a single mom to 7 and unexpected widow, crazy in love with Christ. She writes about God’s faithfulness and gives hope and encouragement for the hard, the good and the places in between. She’s written 100 Days with Christ and you can get your free copy at www.TrueandFaithful.net. You can also find her on Facebook and Instagram.

 

The Most Important Thing We Are Missing in Ministry

It was just a few words in a text, but it took my breath away. My friend wanted to thank me for praying.

I hadn’t told her I was praying for her. But she knew. A few weeks ago, she’d shared some vulnerable pieces of her life after a MOPS meeting. We’d fumbled through the awkwardness and hugged with tear-brimmed eyes.

Sometimes the awkward conversations are the most important ones we can have.

When we move past the “I’m fine” and the feigned smiles and get down to the insecurities keeping us up at night, real conversations begin. Real relationships begin. Instead of merely talking about the church and assembling in a building once or twice a week, we become the church.

But that’s also when the real work begins, and it often sends us running.

Weeks passed, and whenever she would come to mind, I’d say a prayer. Even when I wasn’t sure how to pray, I would stumble through the darkness to bring my friend before the One who is Light.

Our words are never as important as the One who hears them.

I received her text thanking me on a day when I was feeling discouraged. The kids were acting up, the laundry was piled high, and morale was low. And to top it off, I was mulling over the words of my latest rejection letter.

Her confidence that I would pray without being asked lit something inside of me and lifted a weight I’d been carrying all week. I thought, “This is what the body of Christ is about.”

We bare our scars and our weaknesses, but instead of turning away, we lift each other up. We take off the armor of feigned busyness and cell phones, we slow down, and we and listen.

We remember one person is as important as an entire congregation. We remember the angels rejoice in the heavens over one person who comes to Christ. One person equals a party complete with song.

When did I forget that? I can dream about books reaching thousands and words spanning oceans, but until I start with one person, all is lost.

If I forget the infinite worth of one soul, everything else is useless.

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. 

Matthew 10:29 NIV

The person sitting next to you at church with the tattoos and the scars? You may be the friend she’s been waiting to say, “hello.” The reader who likes your post or comments on your blog? She may need prayer or a message of encouragement.

Let’s never forget this: Christ didn’t die for a congregation. He died for individuals with names, faces, and scars.

He bore the scars and sins of many so we could go and love many.

But we must always start with one.

 

Linking up with these communities: #LiveFreeThursday, Grace & Truth

Be a Light By Showing Up (Link-up)

A season of lit trees and celebration was closing and I heard excited talk about picking your “one word” for the New Year. Piqued by curiosity, I reasearched and loved the idea of such specific focus instead of forgotten resolutions, unrealistic expectations and lists.

It seemed doable. Everyone was jumping in. So I followed suit and picked a word God had laid on my heart for months: see.

I thought about the ways I would explore the opposition between the seen and unseen in scripture and committed to searching for God’s light in the everyday. Driven by a desire to reawaken the wonder and the awe of his creation, I took time to notice things I’d often overlooked.

The crisp skyline of winter against the white, barren landscape. A solitary tulip peeking out from the frozen ground during the first glimpses of spring.

It was beautiful. I saw God’s grace in new, unexpected ways. But then another winter swept in and God seemed to hide himself behind a veil.

Clamoring for the peace of his presence, I prayed he would reveal himself.

Where are you, God? Show me your glory. Let me know you are here.

I perused the internet and found stories of terror and finger pointing. Then other news much closer to home hit. A friend was going through a personal tragedy and needed the support of our community.

In shock and grief I continued searching for the light and became frustrated. Both kids were sick, adding to my tiredness and defeat and I wondered why his presence eluded me. During a brief moment of peace and quiet, it hit me.

Sometimes we have to stop searching for the light to be the light.

Often, I think it’s easier to minister to those who are hundreds and thousands of miles away than those in my own backyard. Social media and the internet have made it increasingly easy to do so. And it’s amazing. It’s a tremendous gift. But it also can remove us from being a light to those who are right there on our doorstep.

It is much easier for me to click “send” than to sit in awkward silence or search for words to comfort a grieving mother. It is easier for me to sit behind a computer screen than to feel real emotion as someone weeps on my shoulder.

If I’m honest with myself, I know God calls me to the awkward. He beckons me to those who are lost and hurting.

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another.

Romans 12:15-16 NIV

Friends, God doesn’t call us to be perfect. He simply calls us to show up. And when we do, he meets us there.

Sometimes, we have to step out in faith even when we don’t think we have the right tools. Those are the moments when the Spirit steps in, takes our hand, and reaches through us. He reveals the Light in us, which was there all along.

We don’t see him, but we hope in the unseen.

 

#RARALINKUP TIME!

Click the blue frog button below to be redirected to the linkup page.

When a Community Gives a Glimpse of Heaven (and an Opportunity to Help)

Every now and then, a community is given a chance to band together and support one of their own. They’re given a unique opportunity to be the hands and feet of Christ extended here on earth, to show glimpses of his love in a tangible way.

Over the past two weeks, my little town here in Western Maryland has done just that. I’ve been overwhelmed watching people work as one to carry the burden of a mama whose load became too much to bear alone. You see, a friend and member of our community received news every parent hopes they will never hear, and when it became public, there was a single common response: “How can we help?”

I sat in front of a computer screen and watched people who didn’t know this family give with no expectation of anything in return. I saw forces rise up in the midst of a darkness we can’t comprehend and put the needs of another person above their own.

It’s moments like these that I’m proud to be a part of such a beautiful place nestled in the mountains of Maryland. I consider it an honor to walk alongside those who turn something tragic into an opportunity to show compassion.

When we give with no strings attached, we shine little glimpses of heaven here on earth.

And this, my friends, is a display of God’s love in its purest, most beautiful form, because it is the way he loves us.

By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.

John 13:35 NIV

You may not know Emma, but she is a little girl who loves to play and laugh just like millions of other girls who are home this Christmas season. This three-year-old isn’t just strong, she is Emma strong, and a few weeks ago she was diagnosed with DIPG (Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma), an inoperable brain tumor.

She is fighting. Her family is fighting with her and for her. But they can’t do it on their own.

If you feel led to give, this family could use every bit of support you have to offer. They are taking time off this holiday season to get their daughter the best care available, and to focus on what is most important: loving Emma.

May God bless you, keep you, and give you immeasurable peace and joy this Christmas as we celebrate the One who gave up everything so we could have the best gift of all: Him.

 

Click here to support Emma and her family:

 

Uncovering the Lies of Postpartum {Part 3}

Friends, we’ve reached our third and final part of this series on the lies we tell ourselves and hear from others as new moms. My prayer is that you’ve been encouraged or given a helpful word to share with another mom who is struggling. This journey is filled with so many highs and lows, but it is so much sweeter when we have a community to help us along the way and speak life into our dark places.

Today we will talk about the lie # 3: You have to mother like those who’ve gone before you.

I did not purchase a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting when I found out I was pregnant with my first child. It wasn’t on my gift registry, and it never found a place on the bookshelves lining our family room.

Although I did buy a book outlining the various stages of pregnancy and postpartum, I soon realized there were no written words which could prepare me for this calling in life. During the first few weeks and even months, I floundered around searching for those maternal instincts I was supposed to have and they were nowhere to be found. It was as though the mothering gene had skipped my spot on the family tree.

My baby cried incessantly and everyone wanted to offer advice as to why. He was hungry. He was wet. He was teething, gassy or colicky. I didn’t know whose voice to listen to and the magnitude of all of them echoing in my ear sent me into a panic.

I was convinced a monkey could do a better job taking care of my child, and the recommendations of experts from books like Baby Wise left me feeling more dismal than equipped. As I dealt with the effects of PPD and tried to take care of my son, God sent a friend who kept reaching out and pursuing me even when I was a recluse who barely left the house.

She told me things would get easier. She gave me encouragement when I wondered if I was doing anything right. But most of all she was there. She was a steady calm in the chaos of this new season and didn’t retreat when I had nothing to offer her but my presence.

Eventually, my role as a mom began to feel less like a set of ill-fitting clothes and more like me. I still had good days and bad ones, but I was seasoned enough to realize the bad days didn’t define me. The more I forged ahead and continued waking up each morning, putting one foot in front of the other and loving my child, the more I realized something.

No one else can create your formula for motherhood. It is as unique as your DNA.

Sure, we can take sprinkles of this direction and that one, using the advice of others in a process of trial and error to figure out what works and what doesn’t. But in the end, if we trust the abilities God gave us and believe that ultimately, we know our child better than anyone else, we will find a rhythm that is completely our own.

And as we keep dancing and learning new steps as we go, the result will be nothing short of the beautiful.

Uncovering the Lies of Postpartum {Part 1}

I don’t know when it was exactly, but several years into this journey called motherhood I realized there are lies we moms often believe after we have children. Some of them are lies we tell ourselves. Others we’ve heard from social media, family members who may mean well, and our peers.

No matter what the source, these fabrications can steal the joy of what can be one of the most meaningful journeys of our lives. Over the next week I will uncover a few of these with you and offer you truths to combat them. After battling postpartum depression and anxiety for over a year following the birth of my first child, God  gave me a heart for struggling moms.

I pray by sharing some of my experience, you will know that no matter what your struggle is, you are not alone.

Which brings us to lie #1: You have to do it alone.

There is something paralyzing about knowing another human being’s life depends on you.

My five minutes of bonding time with my firstborn was followed by the announcement that my grandmother had died, days of crying (both from me and my baby) and an insatiable newborn appetite my petite frame couldn’t satisfy. Since my birth plan had followed the same path as all other mothering plans I’d made and ended in an emergency c-section, I grasped onto the one sacrament of motherhood I had left: breastfeeding.

But the more I looked at my son, the more the weight of responsibility crept into my body. One morning after returning home from the hospital, I sat in the rocker nursing and felt a tightness in my chest. I struggled to breathe.

The doctor’s office thought it was a pulmonary embolism, which, by the way, can kill you. No pressure to get to the ER. Just feed your baby and get there as soon as you can.

Thirty minutes later I laid in the Radiology Department and waited to be injected with dye which rendered my milk unsafe. “Failure,” played on repeat in my head. I couldn’t even give my child what he needed to survive.

Instead of feeling relief when my mother-in-law called to say my son had taken a bottle, the tightness in my chest turned to a deep ache. I was dismissed from the hospital with no diagnosis, an order to pump for 48 hours, and a pamphlet about obesity.

My insides had been cut open less than a week prior.

Over the next few months when the family was gone and my husband returned to work, a veil distorted my perception of reality. Although I was aware of it, I didn’t know how to get rid of it.

Rather than invite, the sunlight threatened. One day I remember looking out the window at the mountain peaks east of our home, convinced my spouse and child would be better off without me.

I counted the minutes until my other half walked through the door with pointed precision. Morning filled me with dread. Morning meant I’d be alone again.

Somewhere in the midst of my dark my husband saw me and knew I was still there. He encouraged me to seek help. But the darkness whispered lies, and for months I believed them.

“Seeking help is an admittance of inadequacy,” it said.

“Seeking help will make you one of “those people.”

But who were they? And more importantly, who was I?

There is no place darker than the soul who thinks she needs no one.

One night I laid in bed and cried the only prayer to God I could muster: “Help.”

There was no lightning bolt moment or sudden rescue from the pit I was in but I remember walking out of the OBGYN office a year after my surgery and a prescription for a second antidepressant.

I dreaded taking it. I dreaded the insomnia, the loss of appetite and zombie-like state I recalled from a previous medication.

As the western sun shined that evening and turned the Wasatch Front to an amber glow, I knew I had to make a phone call. I found a trusted counselor’s phone number on our church’s website.

Sometimes admitting you need help is the mightiest thing you can do.

And when I spoke the words out loud and voiced my need, I took a step toward something that had waited for me in the light. I moved toward hope.

 

Linking up with these beautiful communities: #LiveFreeThursday and Grace & Truth