I've never written to you before. All the things I've wanted to say.
Maybe it's because, if I did, I'd be saying you were real. And I guess, in a way you are a part of my reality. But in so many more ways you're a lie. A lie I sometimes can't help but tell myself.
So many times have I prayed, cried, begged, pleaded for you to simply taken away from me. But I've grown and I now see where I went wrong. You weren't supposed to be neatly removed from how I'm wired.
As a woman, as a Christian woman, I've become wiser through His word and I know now, you were meant to be part of this journey. As ugly as you are. Because it's in those dark places, those messy, inconvenient places where our lessons, stories and purpose is birthed. And although I'm learning the role you play in my life, tonight, I just have a few things to say.
Even though I've learned that you are not me, you are simply part of my journey, I get angry. I'm angry when you steal precious moments. I'm angry when there is laughter in spaces where immovable walls feel like they're closing in on me. I'm angry when there's meant to be laughter in moments where I feel I can't catch my breath.
And it's you, this lie, this tool of the enemy that is stealing those moments. Moments I can't get back. What my journey as a Christian has taught me, the most beautiful thing of all, is that I have a powerful God. A God who heals. Who grants peace beyond our understanding. Who will stand firm when we speak the name of Jesus. And I've seen healing. I can say that now. It took me many years to turn to Him, instead of turning inward. Instead of retreating under the covers. To the backseat. To a glass of wine. To a dark quiet corner. Now I look upward. As hard as it is sometimes to unclench. To open my arms. To dry my eyes. I look upward, I give my heart, my mind, my breath to the One who can grant me strength. Perseverance. Healing. Love. The most beautiful things. For these most beautiful things can erase the darkest things.
This may take you by surprise, because He truly does move mountains we can't fathom budging. It happened to me anyways. Some moments where I expect to feel scared, I now feel strong. Moments where I expect to feel pressure, I feel happiness. A lightness, a joy in moments that are meant to be celebrated, not tolerated.
So I say to you today, anxiety, I know you want to make me weary. Tired. You want me to second guess every single event. Every single step forward. I know you've won many times before. You had a power over me that made me miss out on so much. And I will not stand here today and say that I am strong enough to move past it. To be cured by my own will or any earthly remedy. Because I'm not. None of us are. But He is. He is our rescuer. Our savior. Our great, protective Father. Who loves us, who truly, deeply, unconditionally cares for us. And that, that love, that strength, that salvation...
Anxiety has no chance against that beautiful truth.
May we all remember this truth, in every situation. When our knees wobble or when our palms sweat. When our heart races or when our breath catches. May we remember that we aren't strong enough to conquer all, but we can rest in the loving arms of our Father who is.
For all you brothers and sisters who struggle with anxiety. I understand and I'm praying love and blessings over your situation.