I Will Hear Freedom From Fear

Lately, Emelia has become quite attached to me. When I drop her off in the nursery at church, she cries for me. She panics and I see fear on her sweet, delicate face. The first time it happened, I was in a bit of a shock. She had been doing so well. She’d even wave goodbye when I left to go into the church service. But she’s entered a phase of wanting mommy all the time – wanting me close by at all times. And the first time it happened, a deep sadness took over my momma heart. I ran back toward her and picked her up and I didn’t even care who saw me do it. I didn’t care if the other moms in the room judged me for not being strong enough to just walk out or for being a pushover. I looked into her eyes and felt a familiar ache.


I am deep in motherhood and deeply in love. And now that I’m her mom, I know what it’s like to have my daughter here. Every single day, I remember that this time together might not have happened. For this reason, the hurt runs deeper somehow. Now that I have her here in my arms every day, to care for each day, knowing that I almost missed out on our time together makes me hurt more at times. This part of my story – the part that makes me love deep and stretches me and exhausts me and molds me into the best, happiest me that I’ve ever been – might have been skipped over. Like a pivotal chapter torn out of a book.

But I cling to the fact that this is it – this IS my story. I hold onto the words and pages, the difficulties and triumphs so hard, that my knuckles turn white. I’m forever longing for the now, and that is the thing. If I’m longing for the now and the now is where I am, then what’s my problem?

I think I’m waiting for healing. I’m waiting for the courage to look at the wound and be okay with it rather than afraid and frustrated and angry. I’m waiting for hope. To be able to write the story and not be afraid. To truly place it all at the feet of Jesus who gladly holds us and strengthens us and gives us hope.

And I’m okay with this. I’m okay with the fact that I’m still in the process of healing.

Recently I made a new friend. When I told her my story, she began to cry. I held my breath as she told me to give myself some grace  – that what I’ve experienced is actually a loss. I guess I’ve never really looked at it that way.

My hope is that one day, when I listen to my own story, what I will hear is freedom from fear. That I will hear about the mercy of Jesus that led me to healing. That I’ll know He gave me the strength I needed. Because here, in the now, I feel a little stuck in the fear and sadness.

But I am confident that one day I will tell my story and you will hear courage.


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