There comes a point, when all the tears of your heart have been cried. All the pain is felt. All of the ‘why’s’ and the ‘what if’s’, and the constant replaying of every single argument and circumstance has been replayed a million times over in your head. When you go over and over all of the hurt you feel and the guilt you feel for your own things you’ve said or done in anger, everything you each have done to each other that brought you to this moment.
Then, you reach a moment of silence. All the noise stops. A moment where you breathe deeply for the first time in a long time. No more tears, no more thoughts, no hate or bitterness or anger, no more needing to understand why, no more raw pain, but now just an ache and a sort of emptiness. A peace. A place where you find closure. Acceptance. A place where you can separate what you feel with what is and what was. Loving but letting go.
This is where I am.
I am clinging to a scripture God gave me many years ago that has become my life verse. I wear it on one of my necklaces. I have it on a bracelet. Because with an anxious heart, it reminds to hear His voice.
“Be still and know that I am God” – Psalm 46:10.
To me, be still means to sit, to wait, to listen, and to surrender.
As He stills my heart once again, I offer up a painful but willing surrender of my heart and all that I am. Surrendering that He is God. Sovereign, loving, faithful, mighty, trustworthy, praiseworthy, patient, kind, merciful, full of grace, and a God who offers hope. A hope that even in my deepest pain, He whispers into my heart that He is not finished with me yet. This is but a moment, preparing me, refining me, purifying me for His kingdom.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I don’t know what my future will look like. But today, in this moment, I’m wrapped in the Lords loving embrace, safe, comforted, holding on to hope. Trusting and knowing that His ways are better than mine.
Today, I am still.
Then, you reach a moment of silence. All the noise stops. A moment where you breathe deeply for the first time in a long time. No more tears, no more thoughts, no hate or bitterness or anger, no more needing to understand why, no more raw pain, but now just an ache and a sort of emptiness. A peace. A place where you find closure. Acceptance. A place where you can separate what you feel with what is and what was. Loving but letting go.
This is where I am.
I am clinging to a scripture God gave me many years ago that has become my life verse. I wear it on one of my necklaces. I have it on a bracelet. Because with an anxious heart, it reminds to hear His voice.
“Be still and know that I am God” – Psalm 46:10.
To me, be still means to sit, to wait, to listen, and to surrender.
As He stills my heart once again, I offer up a painful but willing surrender of my heart and all that I am. Surrendering that He is God. Sovereign, loving, faithful, mighty, trustworthy, praiseworthy, patient, kind, merciful, full of grace, and a God who offers hope. A hope that even in my deepest pain, He whispers into my heart that He is not finished with me yet. This is but a moment, preparing me, refining me, purifying me for His kingdom.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I don’t know what my future will look like. But today, in this moment, I’m wrapped in the Lords loving embrace, safe, comforted, holding on to hope. Trusting and knowing that His ways are better than mine.
Today, I am still.