A Story of Mercy

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Mercy: (especially of a journey or mission) performed out of a desire to relieve suffering; motivated by compassion

Walking through a tough season of pain, disappointment, and loss, I am feeling jaded and worn. My hallelujah is tired. I am tempted to draw a line in the sand of my faith and say, “I can’t go any further. I might even take a step back. This is TOO MUCH.”

But God is waiting in my doorway, standing on my doorstep, just waiting for me to open the door. He hasn’t left, and he hasn’t yelled to be let in. He’s just…waiting. I look out my windows at Him and contemplate the person that disappointed me. Who didn’t answer me when I called. I am angry at Him, and I am unsure of our relationship. How do I act if I let Him in? Can I hear what He has to say?

But then He sends people to me that I do trust. He softens the blow and heals my heart even though I’ve kept him standing on my doorstep. They tell me that He is waiting for me to show Him my brokenness. That if I would let him offer me mercy, He wants to relieve me of my suffering and fill me with the only things that can fill this hole in my heart. Faith, joy in suffering, and hope.

I unlock the deadbolt.

Unable to stop thinking about the storm swelling under the surface, I tell Him, “I’m not ready to let you in yet. But I’m here. I am still here.” I pull a chair up to the window and talk to Him through the door.

I ask a lot of questions, laced with distrust and anger. He listens.

I stop asking. And open the door a crack.

He reaches around the frame and holds my hand.

All he offers me is comfort. Reminders of his love for me. He tells me that His heart breaks too. That I am brave. And that the mercy of redemption is always on the table, and He is always sitting at it.

He stills sits on my doorstep, but my door is cracked a little. We are talking now. Maybe we’ll laugh some too.

But I’m not hiding anymore. My shades are not fully drawn. I’m letting the sun in, even when my skin cringes at the exposure.

{God, thank you for never withdrawing your mercy. Thank you that you never take mercy off the table for me. Help me to take it today and offer myself to follow you.}

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My Wedding

ImageMy Wedding was beautiful and it was sweet and simple and lovely. But a part of me wasn’t THERE for my wedding. I have, what can best be described as, a kink in my emotional connections. Even after only being married for less than a year, I already look back at my wedding and think it would have been different if I had been different. If I had been more present emotionally, perhaps I would of had a different experience.

None of this has anything to do with the man I married. Or, perhaps it has everything to do with him. He is the most wonderful, loving and loyal husband that I could ever ask for. He is a GIFT to me and I have no idea how or why he chose the broken mess that is me, but he did, and I am so BLESSED because of it! But part of my story, part of what I am walking through is this irrational fear of abandonment and my (seemingly) innate ability to literally “disconnect” emotionally when I fear it’s possibility.  At the time of our wedding, I wasn’t even aware that I did this, and that what I was feeling (or lack thereof) wasn’t normal. I wondered why I didn’t have that boisterous enthusiasm that I’ve seen in so many other brides. I thought perhaps it was nerves or just me. Yeah, I think I thought it was just me. I WAS UNABLE TO BE EMOTIONAL and I felt so abnormal because of it.

I made a lot of decisions mostly because I didn’t know what to do and the thought of making decisions entirely on what I wanted was overwhelming. I mean, how was I supposed to know what I WANTED? I didn’t even know who I was. I knew how I wanted people to see me, so that is what I did. I chose themes and images and decorations and songs based on how I wanted people to see me. Sure, I liked most of it, but it definitely wasn’t UNIQUE to me. I didn’t feel like it had that quirky part of me in it. It was safe, and presentable.

The funny thing is, it took getting married and it took this wonderful man who confronts my crazy to realize the deep rootedness (rootedness?) of these things. To realize that I struggle A LOT with being vulnerable and sitting in that vulnerability. Vulnerability makes me want to hide or run. Preferably both. and I was making this choice to open up my whole life, forever, to someone that is promising to never leave me. That takes a lot of trust and believe you me, A LOT of vulnerability and it was terrifying. At the time, the only way I could handle it was by disconnecting. My heart mourns for the wedding that could have been had I BEEN there.

But, I have to have peace. I can look at those pictures of us and see a huge mark in our story. The day that I began to find myself. The day that I chose to drop my fear, or at least hold it with my hands open and say “I can’t let go just yet, but I know that I don’t want this.” It marks the beauty that is marriage and the holiness that is the fruit of marriage. I remember being told that marriage isn’t intended to make you happy, it’s intended to make you Holy. Sounds scary, but me being more Holy is me being more like Jesus, and there is nothing more satisfying than that.

So, although my wedding day wasn’t exactly how I expected it would be, I know that I WASN”T how I expected to be. But because of that day and the vows that were made, I am different. It was like diving into the deep end and being strengthened by the struggle. I regret nothing except that I would have found freedom earlier. But that is a very slow and very tedious process for me; one that I’m happy to have Geoff on the journey with me for. I am thankful for that wedding day, and I am thankful for the journey it began.