Flowers From Heaven: Woman In The Word Late-Night Edition

Well, this is a first. It's after 1 AM. I've retreated to the secret place. Journal in hand, I intended to do what I always do when there's too much on my mind to sleep--write a letter to God. Pray. Cry. Find the strength to keep hoping. And I will. But, first, I decided to write a letter to you.

Normally, when I sit down to write for this blog, it's in the morning. The sun beams through the windows of my sunroom, and I write with joy and peace. When I go quiet, it's because I don't feel I have the words to uplift you. But sometimes, we don't need to be uplifted. Sometimes we just need to be met right where we are. We need to be met in the struggle, in the heartache, in the uncertainty, in the questions and not judged but related to. Tonight, I meet you there because I am there.

Despite so much joy in my life, I am struggling. And the part that hurts the most is it's something I don't know if I'll ever outgrow. I don't know if I'll ever be immune to longing and questioning in the face of uncertainty. I don't know if it'll ever stop hurting. No matter how busy I keep myself. No matter how much I serve or praise. No matter how much God proves Himself to me, that He hears me, He's with me, and He loves me--I'm still hurting.

Right now, I feel silenced, unseen, unappreciated, and attacked. And I feel disconnected from the greatest earthly love I ever knew. I feel like I lost a part of myself I was just getting to know. And I'm scared of the parts I thought I'd left behind resurfacing.

Tragedy, loss, grief...it makes me long for my husband even more. I crave companionship, gentleness, and support. And I have those things. God has delivered those things in the form of friends, family members, and even strangers--hence the title of this post.

White roses have become a symbol for me. I don't need to explain why, but those who know know. I've made a point to keep my vase full over the last few weeks. But one day, the flowers died and I hadn't replaced them yet. On a random Monday, a girl who didn't even know my name, brought me flowers at my gym. She's a florist at the Whole Foods where I like to buy flowers and she's seen me there before.

She said these were leftovers and she didn't want them to go to waste. She'd also noticed my consistency in the gym and thought they might be a nice reward for me. This kind gesture from a complete stranger sits on my kitchen counter right now. Those flowers are a reminder that God is with me, that God loves me, and that I am seen--recognized for my character--even if not by everyone. And yet...here I am, only two days later, questioning God.

I've written an entire book on the wilderness season and how God seeks to bring us into abundance even when it doesn't look like it or feel like it. I'm familiar with the struggle of waiting on the Lord. I know this moment will pass. I know, eventually, I'll feel okay again. But, moments like this make me realize...I haven't reached abundance, not when my heart is hurting and there's a piece of me missing. Not just a piece--a whole family is missing.

I feel like Hannah, who prayed for a child so desperately she was insulted. I feel like Leah, the overlooked, unwanted wife. I feel like Martha, the one focused on doing rather than receiving. When all I want to be is Ruth. I am Ruth, but there is no Boaz. At least, not yet.

In saying all of this, I'm not an imposter. I'm just human. And I wonder how many can relate to that? How many of us can relate to trusting God, loving God, feeling so fulfilled by Him in so many ways, and yet still struggling in the waiting for that one thing that you question will ever come.

Life isn't fair. As if I didn't already know, recent events have reminded me. There is tragedy and heartache in each of our stories, possibly even in each of our weeks. There is also God's goodness, His provision, and love. But if I'm being honest...I'm tired of having to remind myself of His goodness. I'm tired of waiting on the Lord, even though I refuse to do anything else.

So, that's the late-night edition.

All I can do is pray I don't have to live in this pain forever. And yes, I have prayed the prayers of surrender. I've asked God to kill my desire to be loved. I've asked Him to kill my longing, my attraction, my physical desires. I've even stopped writing romance just to try to remain present with Him in purity and not escape into fantasy. But...the longing withstands. The desires continue. And now, when the prayer remains unanswered, the desire to escape has resurfaced.

Coping mechanisms are resurfacing, and I need prayers for the strength to steward this season well.

Pray for your sister, cause she needs it. And I'll pray for you, that whoever reads this gets something good from it. Even if I can't always be the voice that uplifts or edifies, I can be a voice that reminds you you aren't alone.

God is with you. He hears you, even when it feels like your prayers land on deaf ears. That knowledge may only take away half the pain, but half is something.

Goodnight.