If you told me I would have a baby at 20 years old, I would have laughed. Instead, I cried. I cried a lot. Enough to fill a canyon.
God makes us ready for blessings whether we feel we’re ready for them or not. He knows our story best.
When he begins writing a script which we haven’t yet come to terms with, it’s painful and it is mercifully beautiful.
After I had my teenager 16 years ago, I fell into a deep postpartum depression. I could no longer come out of my skin no matter how many times I betrayed it. The summer she turned 3, I packed my bags and headed to the desert. My cousin and his partner eagerly awaited in Gallup, New Mexico.
This would be a time to renew my mindset, my soul, and the very broken spirit I pieced together from the shards just to make this flight.
It was my first time on an airplane. Later, it would be my first time on a Greyhound bus down the longest stretch of road I had ever been on with not one single street lamp. We had only the guidance of the moonlight.
I didn’t know God then, but he knew me.
As the airplane ascended into the clouds, I ran my pinkie nail across the window of the plane. I clawed away at the fluff. I can’t tell you the time and I probably have the date wrong, but I can tell you exactly how I felt that day as I flew over the Colorado Rockies.
God lavished me at that moment without ever uttering a single word.
The plane made its way over this stretch of mountains and as I looked out into the wrinkles of the earth, my eyes flooded with tears. I was overtaken by a softness in my entire body and my hand automatically placed itself on my belly. You may call it a reflex. I call it destiny.
The mountain range mirrored my stretch-mark riddled body.
The Colorado Rockies were a reflection of me. The labor of the earth and my labor marked forever upon our bodies. Proof that we were mothers of life far greater than ourselves. I didn’t know God then, but he knew me.
I didn’t talk to God then, but he spoke to me.
I wish I could tell you I ran into a church and prayed redemption. I wish I could tell you I cried out to Jesus. But friend, I let that image wash over me. I spent time in the desert and I returned home to the exact mess I’d left. I tried to get my life in order and I made a million mistakes. One after the other.
I wish I could tell you this revelation helped me find God, but it didn’t. I don’t think that was the point.
God spoke to me even though I didn’t know him.
On that day, he showed me who I was in all of creation. It is something I will always remember and something I will always carry when I look at my body.
It took 13 years to give my life to the Most High. In those 13 years, God was the most patient and loving presence in my entire life. He always has been. It just took me 13 years to realize it.
God speaks to each of us. Every last one of us. When I look at a hurting world, I know God speaks, but we don’t realize it until much later. He sets each one of us apart from one another to show us how loved and special we were created. Some of us will never know our rightful place in all of creation, but we must trust that God already knows.
#OpenMicMonday faithfuls, I am suspending the linkup for the rest of 2016. I hope you understand. I follow your blogs so I will visit often. With love, Carolina
I’ll still be here each Monday. Don’t be a stranger.
This post is linked up at #GiveMeGrace
Linked to Intentional Tuesday.
Linked to Holley Gerth’s, Coffee For Your Heart.