atldreaming - Tumblr blog

[atldreaming]

And the question is, do I write this letter and tell you all of it that's been weighing on my soul for many many months, if not years, and risk it blowing up in my face?

Or do I let it be?

Because when you both gaslight me like that over and over again, it makes me want to scream.

"You're just his sister." Or "You just don't understand."

I won't take it anymore.

I'm trying to help but you're threatened by it.

I say things because I care.

Yet you don't take me seriously.

You don't respect me.

Well, since you don't respect me, will you respect my husband that y'all adore so much?

He's on my side and agrees with me in all of it.

And he's wanted to say something for so long but didn't know how you both would receive it.

If he stepped in and called you out, how would you receive it?

I want to know, but I'm afraid of breaking what we have now.

But then I think, can we really go on like this anyways?

[atldreaming]

And I'm livid now. Absolutely livid.

And I shouldn't be. I know I should just walk away from this ongoing discussion. I know I shouldn't care. I really should wash my hands of this and just be free.

But I do care.

And it's crazy how now even 10 years later how you still gaslight me when I dare to point out something you're doing wrong.

And I don't do it often. I'm pretty non-confrontational when it comes down to it.

It takes me a while to speak out about things like this, and when I finally do you just silence me.

I've done so much to try to earn your respect but it still somehow seems like I don't have it.

And you talk me up to your friends. You brag about how I ran races or switched my career or x, y, and z, but yet you still belittle me like I'm nothing more than a silly child.

And I wonder sometimes how much you even told your friends about what happened 10 years ago. Did you paint the picture of me as your rogue child or did you frame it that I was the prodigal daughter who returned to your good graces in time? Are you taking any of the blame at all for any of it, or did you place all of the blame on me?

And when you act like this to me, publicly reprimanding me, gaslighting me like what I said was my problem and not yours, but in the same conversation ask me about when you'll finally get grandchildren, I want to fucking scream.

Because I know when the time comes for us to start a family, I'm not going to raise them the way you raised me. We're going to parent them differently and you're going to have to respect our choices, our boundaries, and all in all, respect me, respect us.

And I will have no issues, again, telling you off or calling you out if you don't respect that.

I may be non-confrontational, but I will not be a fucking doormat.

And that's what fucking sucks about this. I'm glad we've reconciled but I still sense the fragility of everything we have, our issues lurking underneath it all. Those dark years there, the screaming matches, the gaslighting, that night that you told me to leave, the years since that you acted out, we've never even discussed.

And part of me wonders if we should open up that topic again, 10 years later, and let it all out in the name of moving forward.

But I'm too afraid.

And if it ever comes down to it, I won't apologize for anything 17-18 year old me did. I won't. I still think every single act of so called "defiance" was well warranted. And if you'd take a look at your son and take a second to compare then maybe you'd see it too.

But you won't. Because addressing it would be acknowledging that maybe you made a mistake with me in the first place.

[atldreaming]

I think one of the hardest things I learned in growing up was sometimes you just can't win.

And when it comes to relationships ending or friendships breaking sometimes you lose people as collateral and there's nothing you can do, no matter how close you once were to them.

Sometimes people don't care about your side of the story. Sometimes they don't even want to know how you've been wronged. Sometimes their allegiance just doesn't lie with you and there's nothing you can do about it. Sometimes they've already chosen a side and there's nothing left to be said.

All you can do is make peace with it. What's done is done. It's laid to rest.

And even though I learned it many years ago, I'm reminded of it from time to time and I just have to tell myself that it's okay.

It's life.

It's in the past.

Move forward.

[atldreaming]

Sometimes I wonder if the ache I still feel in my chest for the family that nearly became my own will ever go away.

[atldreaming]

And it's extremely bizarre now to feel like a child that you're proud of. Not that you aren't proud of him. I think you are in a different way. Parents are always proud of their children, I think. But the things you criticize in him are behaviors he learned from you in the first place. Behaviors you are too blind to notice in yourselves.

Still, even after all these years.

Still, despite me calling you out on it.

And it's weird for me to finally be applauded for the things I learned when I left. It's weird for you to compliment me on things I didn't learn from you. Things I learned from the family that adopted me as their own, the friends that welcomed me with open arms, and the rolling punches of life that used to feel so lethal.

You admire my perseverance? Cool, I learned it when you kicked me out and I realized that working for a college degree was my only hope for self sufficiency.

You admire my grit? Great, I had no choice. My life for so many years was heads down and keep pushing forward despite how much I needed a break.

You tell me I'm a great friend to my friends, but I'm only trying to be the kind of friend that I've been blessed to have. The friends in my life who pulled me back on my feet again and encouraged me every step of the way is what I want and what I strive so hard to be.

You tell me I'm kind and selfless, and I don't feel like I am most days, despite trying to be. If I am those things, I learned it from the people in my life whose kindness changed it forever. Not from you. And I sincerely pray that one day I can pay it forward like they did and do it for someone else, God willing.

I am the way I am because I left. Because I said no. Because I refused to listen, I refused to obey. Because you told me to leave. Because you talked about cutting me off, disowning your child completely.

You can't have it both ways. You can't tell me you're proud of all these qualities you think I possess yet simultaneously still cast the blame on me.

What are you blaming me for? Your problems with your son are not my fault.

And is it so wrong to still want an apology? Sometimes I just want to hear you say it, I want to hear you say you were wrong and I was right. I want you to say you treated me unfairly. I want you to draw parallels and finally admit that you treated your daughter drastically differently than your son and that now 10 years later that treatment might not have had the result you wanted.

But I know you're sorry. I can tell you are. You've seemed sorry for a while now. But sometimes I just want to hear the words. I know how much you've tried to make up for those years, all the times you've helped me or made strides to be a part of my life after things mellowed out. I see it. I really do see it.

I will always love you, as a daughter should, but my love will always be the cautious kind, I don't think I'll ever fully let my guard down. My love will be the kind that remembers how things once were and won't forget. Sometimes, still, I get too close and it makes me jump back. I still remember the things you've said about people I loved and dear, dear friends and quite simply I still don't trust you. Sometimes sweet L will ask me why I don't let you guys into a corner of my life, and I'll explain to him how freeing it was to finally get those corners of my life to myself back then, to finally be free. How big of a relief it was to be free. Thank God he understands. Thank God I'm married to a man who understands what it's like to be the black sheep of the family, though his situation is arguably more intense than mine.

But sometimes I still just want an apology though. Is that so bad?

Does that mean I haven't truly forgiven? I thought I had, I felt like I had.

But with everything going on now with your son, things are coming to light that make it impossible to forget how things were then. The more I talk about it with L, the more I realize how bitter I am underneath it all.

Maybe it's good not to forget. Maybe it's good to remember so maybe I can help here, if you'll listen to me.

But I feel like you won't listen to me regardless.

[atldreaming]

And I don't think I'll ever understand why bad things happen to God-fearing people. People who love God with their whole being. People who are kind to the least of these. People who share God's love with others, boldly. People who are quick to selflessly sacrifice so much of their lives for others because they love an all-knowing and all-loving Savior.

I don't get it.

I just don't understand it.

Why?

But God, I know You care.

I know You have a plan.

I know You hear our prayers.

And I know that You can take a broken situation and turn it into something good, and I'm praying for You to do that again.

God, I pray for healing and I pray for comfort that only You can bring. Please be close to them and surround them with Your love. Please be near to them and surround them with Your peace.

[atldreaming]

I could not be more thankful for you.

There are so many things that make me know without a doubt that you always were it for me, and that you are everything I knew I needed and even the things I didn't know I needed in a husband.

When I met you, I knew that you would be my husband and that you'd taken years to pray and seek God to prepare you. It was evident in how you acted and how you treated me.

And I'm blown away by it still.

The fact that you are so firm in what you believe. How you think about the bigger picture. You think about being an example and showing Christ's love to others in how you live and how you act...

It just makes me love you more.

And to have you by my side and just know how well you hold your own, it's a breath of fresh air.

How you support me when I make hard decisions, even when my whole family is opposed.

How you focus on how God would have us act rather than what feels better in the moment or what's easier or the path of the least resistance.

How you think about what kind of witness you are and what example to others you're setting as a Christian.

How you support me and compliment me so well.

I love walking through life with you by my side.

Because with you by my side, I feel strong.

With you, I appreciate the beauty of marriage and I'm realizing how and why God designed it like this.

[atldreaming]

It’s crazy how sometimes you can only get clarity about a situation when you’re years removed from it. 

And writing this now, somehow gives me a sense of peace, a sense of release, letting the truth out, some things I have barely spoken.

Words I was afraid to speak.

But somehow it feels like healing to let it all out and put it all into words.

After so many years of keeping it inside. Every emotion, trapped within.

When I left home, I didn’t cry. Not in front of my parents or my brother. My facade was steel. I went into my next season of life like I wasn’t afraid, even though I was. 

I was terrified.

My iron-clad facade broke at the first four way stop after we hit the road and suddenly the tears were falling. I was helpless to stop them.

At that point I didn’t know what my relationship with my family was going to be. I didn’t know if they were going to be a part of my life anymore. I didn’t know if they wanted to, if I wanted to. There was so much hurt, so much pain. 

And there are so many things, so many little cracks that broke that foundation, but it started with one thing. There had always been tension there, but there was one thing that started it all that August night.

The night everything changed. It's hard to speak about sometimes because it still hurts to think about.

And from that night every time they tried to control me more, I fought them back harder. Every time my dad got angry, I removed myself from the situation whether it was picking up late shifts at work or staying at a friend's house for days at a time which infuriated my parents even more. It was self defense. I was trying to protect myself.

I knew how he could get when he got angry.

And how he got when he was angry was what started it all.

They weren’t used to a fight. My brother never fought back, even when they were unfair to him. And more. He should have fought back. He’d be better for it now if he did.

I wish he had.

Regardless, I did.

I fought.

My parents were unreasonable and I called them out on it. They were controlling and I said that they were. Dad had anger problems and I would tell him so much.

Even though they denied it all.

I fought anyway. I started fighting the moment I recovered from the events of that August night.

And they fought back. 

Being at home was like being in a prison that year. I remember fights where my parents wouldn't let me leave. I remember being barred from using my phone or computer to talk to my friends.

I was trapped.

Arguments. Screaming. Yelling. My stuff getting broken. Ridiculous curfews. Expecting to find my stuff on the street.

It was a hell that I never imagined for myself or that it would happen in my family. And it went on for the entire year.

I was 17. A senior.

And almost all I remember from that year was our fights.

It was a chemical reaction in a feedback loop. It just kept escalating.

They kept telling me how reckless of a teenager I was and how badly I was behaving because I fought back. So when they forced me to go to therapy, I was so at the end of my rope, I told the therapist everything.

I told her everything.

I told her about that night that changed things forever.

And she validated my fears. She told me she wanted to meet with my parents to counsel them. She told me if I wasn't about to be 18, that things were serious and I could be placed somewhere else to live. She took my side.

And it's funny, I almost didn't want to tell her everything because I was irrationally afraid that I'd be removed from my home. Because I knew how it would sound, and I knew how it was but I was in denial.

I never told a soul, and when I did, it was hard to. To this day, I only told 3 people what happened that night. My two highschool friends and my current husband. I didn't even tell my boyfriend that I started dating months after, or his family. I just couldn't. I don't know if they could tell or if they figured it out somehow. Maybe they did.

My high school best friends figured it out. Whenever I told them how my dad could get 'angry,' they said they could tell by the way I said it and the look in my eyes. They could tell things were different immediately after that August night, the weekend after I turned 17. I remember when M told me that she told her boyfriend at the time and he had even passed on that I could stay with his family for a few days to hide out if things got bad again. M's parents also offered. They knew. I remember feeling touched by their kindness, simultaneously ashamed that it had come to that, and also fully and completely reeling at the realization that things were actually that bad.

Maybe I was more of an open book than I thought.

I knew how I got then, after an argument or screaming match. I'd retreat into myself. It would be like my whole body couldn't relax, couldn't feel joy.

I remember when my ex's sweet mom hugged me when I went over there after one of those fights. I wondered if she could tell then how rigid I was, how cold inside I felt.

I was afraid.

And I didn't know who to tell. Was it as bad as I thought?

My friends told me it wasn't okay.

My brother put up with it. I asked him once if he thought it was normal and he just shrugged. He'd gotten the same treatment once or twice and I distinctly remember watching in horror, cowering away. And he just shrugged.

My family was a good family and I was from a good home and no one would believe me and if they did...what would happen?

Was it even that bad? M said her uncle was like my dad, and her cousins ended up fine, despite having a strained relationship. They were fine.

What did fine mean anyways?

Was what I was facing normal? Was it normal to be filled with dread at the thought of going home, thinking about what kind of madness would await me? Was it normal to be as scared as I was of my own home?

I was irrationally afraid that maybe everything that happened was somehow worse in my mind. I had been gaslit to believe that I was the crazy one for so long, and what if I actually was? What if I was too sensitive and parents actually did treat their kids this way?

What if I was the problem?

And feeling validated by the therapist made me feel relieved but also terrified. She was calling it like it was, abuse. And told me I wasn't crazy. But it was also jarring because it was as bad as I feared it might be. Abuse. What does that word even mean? And what was the weight of it? And a licensed professional was telling me that it was abuse and it was concerning like I always thought. How did we even get to that point?

My parents had always been good people, I came from a good family. How and why was this happening?

But I was almost 18. I was almost a legal adult. And chances were that what happened would be the last. These things were only happening every handful of years or so. It didn't happen often, I tried to justify. Though that August had been by far the worst. The events of that night make my heart sink and my blood boil to this day, nearly a decade later. The events of that August night led me to leave home for three straight days, bouncing between 3 different friend's houses, avoiding my parents completely, which was quite the feat considering I didn't have a driver's license then. I wanted desperately to run away. I wanted to become someone else.

I became a shell of myself during those days. A shell of myself, avoiding my parents, wishing, hoping, praying for some kind of escape.

And avoiding them made things worse, made them even more terrible to me.

They got controlling, controlling my every move. I remember when my dad broke my phone and the screaming match that ensued. I remember when I cried so hard after an argument that my mom wouldn't let me leave to be with friends because she said I was too distraught to drive. I remember the nights where I could barely sleep because I felt so alone. Alone. I couldn't reach out to anyone, call or text a friend for comfort. My phone was disabled past ten, and my laptop too, but I was filled with this overwhelming dread, like any false step could set things off again.

One false step and things could happen.

And I'd be alone. I'd be alone and unable to tell anyone.

The fear was crippling.

I'd write. I'd write and write and write because it was the only thing that kept me sane. The only thing that helped me cope with the numbing loneliness, the overwhelming sense of dread.

I was almost legally able to leave.

I was just about 18.

But I had nowhere to go.

But still, it happened.

The choice was made for me.

The weekend after my 18th birthday.

Exactly one year after the night that shot everything to hell.

I had been with my ex's family. They were celebrating the August birthdays, even mine, and I felt so loved.

So so loved.

Happiness. Happiness was being with them and feeling loved and cherished.

And then the fear came back to taunt me that night on my drive home, and even moreso when I found my parents waiting for me.

I remember how firm they were, telling me I needed to get out. I remember hearing them talk after, thinking I'd beg to stay and start to behave. My brother agreed with them. He had no idea, yet he agreed with them. He'd never even heard my side of things, yet they all said that maybe once I felt financial pressure that I'd behave.

Behave.

What did that even mean to them?

Behave. Let myself be put down? Make myself silent? Give up my freedoms and my voice? Conform?

Behave.

I hate telling people I was kicked out at 18. I hate it. They assume the worst. They assume that I was some aimless teen in a spurt of rebellion. They assume I was doing a drugs, partying, or having casual sex. They assume I was a bad kid.

I wasn’t.

I was a good kid.

I worked hard through college. I made good grades. I held a job or two at all times. I saved sex for marriage. I never did drugs. I didn't get drunk.

And I was the wild child?

The moment my parents told me I had to leave, I gave myself 10 minutes to cry and then I went to the drawing board to plan. 

I may have cried at the drawing board, but nonetheless plans were made. It's been nearly 10 years and even now I still have that tear-stained notebook where I jotted down estimated expenses in a red pen.

And I can't bear to throw it out. It reminds me of bad memories, yes, but also of that monumental moment that changed my life forever.

But truly, that moment was monumental. It was a turning point.

Because I could have begged.

I could have begged for them to let me stay. I could have begged for them to take me back and let me live with them during college. They would have tracked my every move, probably would have cut me off from some friends, made me break up with my boyfriend at the time, not have texting or phone calls without their permissions, etc.

My brother accepted that for his life.

It would have been easier, in a sense.

But no. I wasn't going to beg.

I wasn't going to give up.

It was the difficult option. But it was the right option.

I chose freedom. Because even though it was a struggle when I left, I was free.

And when I left, I worked. I worked to make my way. And it was hard. It was so hard. 

But kindness is what truly let me be free. Kindness from sweet people who I am forever indebted to to this day. People who showed me the love of Christ in their actions. People who became role models for me. People who I will never forget even though they aren't in my life anymore.

I don't know where I'd be without this help. I don't know where I'd be without the people who gathered around me to lift me up.

I was truly blessed.

I am truly blessed.

And looking back now, I don’t regret my defiance. I truly don’t.

Even now.

Even after all these years, all these hardships.

I don’t regret standing up for myself. I don’t regret disobeying my parents. I don’t regret challenging them. 

I don't regret it.

I can't bring myself to regret it.

Even now, when our relationship is mended. 

And it is mended. There is definitely still some residual things we don’t speak about. I’m still horrified by some of the things my parents have said in the past about me or others. I’m still embarrassed at how they treated some people that were close to me. 

But. They’re in my life. They apologized and I forgave. They want to be a part of my life. 

The friends of mine who know the ugly truth and every gnarly detail of it all, are still shocked when I tell them that our relationship is currently mended. They wonder how I could forgive after everything.

But I forgave. I didn't forget, but I forgave.

I forgave him. I forgave my dad.

It wasn't easy.

I still don't understand why he treated me that way. I still don't understand how someone could treat their own daughter like that.

But it's forgiven.

Not forgotten. But forgiven.

They became my family again. They became a family to my husband, who desperately needed one. 

There’s a saying about time healing wounds, and time truly did heal wounds here. I don’t know how because so many years I didn’t know if we would ever heal. 

It wasn't always upward. There were seasons that we'd fight and I'd leave in my car and not speak to them for weeks. But then there was the time they apologized. The time they helped. The time my dad wired me 100$ cause my last semester of college wiped my bank accounts clean. Or the time he came to jump my car when I was stuck in the middle of a left turn lane, crying my eyes out as other cars honked at me in anger.

Then there was the cancer that scared all of us shitless.

God, if I had lost mom.

I don't know if there is a way to even cope with that.

She always tried to fix everything, she always tried to be the peacemaker to my dad's outbursts towards me. She wasn't perfect, but damn did she try.

She was the one who made me go to therapy. She was the only one who said goodbye to me when I left home and hugged me. She was the one who snuck that note into my stuff the day that I moved out, the one that made me cry when my tears finally did break.

Her getting sick pulled us together and I hate that that's what it took.

I'd never been so scared in my life. No amount of stress over money or stress about not graduating or grades or jobs can top the fear of potentially losing your mother.

Because where would we be, where would we truly be without her?

And that fear, somehow brought us together.

I won't pretend I understand how the Lord works.

He works in mysterious ways. The Lord heals things that I have even doubted He could heal.

The Lord has done things that I didn't have faith He could do.

I'm so thankful to God for working in my life, despite my doubt. 

[atldreaming]

It's different every single time in the loveliest of ways.

I'll never not love that discovery with you. The smallest of touches, the briefest of caresses, and I feel it all over. It's electricity coursing through me, everywhere, all at once.

And every single possessive touch, pulling me closer seems to ignite the flame even more. You know just where to touch me and I'm undone.

I'm completely undone.

I'm yours. And you are mine.

Nothing else matters.

It's us, raw, and real and stripped down, honest with one another, vulnerable to one another. Gasping for a breath, sated in each others arms.

Everything else fades away.

I love it when you kiss me in the aftermath, even if it's just a light touch of your lips to my shoulder or my forehead.

And oh, when you hold me after and tell me I'm beautiful.

My heart.

I love you.

I love you so much.

I will never regret waiting for this. I will never regret waiting for you.

[atldreaming]

He works in such mysterious ways.

For all the times I question Him or think I know better, He proves me wrong.

Why do I doubt?

He has never left me alone or led me astray.

His plans are greater than anything I could come up with on my own.

[atldreaming]

I will trust You in the famine

I will bless You in the feast

[atldreaming]

The new job is going well. It’s totally different from the kind of work I’m used to but I feel challenged in a whole new way.

But this. I’m excited for this. I’m excited to learn. I’m excited for these new challenges. Why didn’t I look into this before? Why did I waste so much time?

I shouldn’t dwell. Every single moment, even the painful ones have led me here.

They reached out on Saturday. It was an accidental text and just a brief greeting basically plus a thank you for the note and the books.

It made me sad, in a way. It made me remember how things used to be. It made me miss them. It made me miss old times.

I would have loved to stay friends but I know that's ridiculous. I know it wasn't possible, no matter how much I wanted it.

Maybe I should have said more before I left. I didn't want to complain about all the things that led me to break off my relationship. I didn't want to involve them in our issues.

Maybe I should have told them when I started dating someone else but I didn't know how. That's when things got weird and that's when I started feeling like they were upset with me.

I truly don't know what they thought. I don't know what they were thinking about me.

Anyways.

I’m glad they got my note. I’m glad they got my message of thanks to them for all that they’ve done in my life.

I miss them sometimes. I remember us flying that drone in the abandoned parking lot, parks and rec, various game nights, staying up til 3am to finish the Office. The advice they passed on. They were good people with good hearts.

Even now, I still feel like I don't have closure with them. I still feel guilty about how much they gave up for me, and I ended up never becoming their sister in law. I still feel like my thank yous will never be enough and will never fully impart to them how much they saved me.

I hope they know. I want them to know.

[atldreaming]

Letting go, and opening new doors, entering into new seasons.

I wrote them a letter to say thank you. They had been on my mind. I had had some books of theirs for 3 years. I didn’t realize I had them until a year ago but I didn’t know how to return them. I figured things were strained. I didn’t know what to say to them. I was thankful to them for all they had done for me. They cheered me on and put me back on my feet for all those years, but those last few months were difficult and I knew they were upset with me. It was probably because I hurt him by ending it with him and moved on so quickly. And I won’t apologize for that. There are so many things they probably didn’t know. Things behind the scenes that he probably didn’t tell them.

He wasn’t the one for me. And I wasn’t the one for him.

But all in all, I am thankful. They showed me the love of the Christ in such an active way. They truly changed my life and I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for them.

I wasn’t sure how to tell them that, and I was scared. But God worked on my heart and brought me to my knees, and made me aware of my pride & fear.

I mailed the books and I wrote them. I told them how much they changed me. How thankful I am.

I wasn’t expecting a response and I for sure didn’t get one, but I am at peace. And I hope they know my words were genuine and from the heart and I meant every word of it.

My last shift as an RN was yesterday. It was sad to leave some of the friends I’d made but I am so so optimistic for the future and excited for my new role.

I’m excited to be challenged again. I’m excited for new goals and new things to achieve. I’m excited for new milestones.

I’m excited to work on a team that seems so friendly. I loved their welcome card to me and their memes. I’m praying that I can learn a lot here and grow and learn to love my job again and truly work, giving it my all.

Mom is doing well. Treatments are fine, so far. It’s not chemo, it’s not poison being injected into her body. The doctor said there’s a good chance this will take care of it and I’m praying it will. I know that God is sovereign and He has a plan.

I’m trying to push aside all the memories of patients I’ve seen die horrible deaths by cancer. I’m trying to forget all the pain I’ve seen.

God, keep me in tune with you during this season. Speak to me, show me Your will.

[atldreaming]

And I remember the way I felt when she said the word cancer just 3 years ago. And I feel that numbness once again.

I don’t understand. Why God?

Why her?

I remember how my world shattered. I thought she would never see me marry and see me have kids. Or that we would never reconcile from the hurt we inflicted on one another those years ago.

But God. He healed her. Our relationship restored. And what a joy it is to be with her. For her to drag me on 7 mile hikes and listen to my rambles. Candle making in her kitchen. Flower picking for my wedding. When she whispered to her friend this Thanksgiving pointing at my sweet husband and saying “We like him, We’re keeping him.” Her big hugs. The way she must always have precisely 4 ice cubes in her iced coffee.

I’ve got a gem of a mother.

And God, I know you have a plan. And my heart hurts because I’m scared. And I’m sorry I doubt You. My flesh, my sinful nature needs and craves control. My mind doesn’t want to trust in You, doesn’t want to rely on Your provision.

But when have you failed me, God? Never once.

Never once have You left me all alone. Never once did You leave me in the midst of trouble.

You are faithful. Always.

You always deliver me.

God, please be near to us. Please cover us with your perfect peace.

[atldreaming]

Who knew that standing up for your beliefs could be so costly?

The world has changed so much. It’s been a week since I heard the news and braced for the impact that’s to come.

Crazy how things seem to be okay and then they come crashing down.

But these beliefs I’m firm in. The thought of giving in or giving up makes me sick.

Thank God for a husband who agrees and sees this as something greater.

I went to see J in jail last week. It had been a hard day. Came from work. Cried before work and cried after, selfishly wallowing and not yet turning to God for the comfort He can bring. I wondered what on earth I could say to her to encourage her. I was so empty. There was nothing I could bring.

And when she came to the stall and picked up the phone it was so apparent.

J’s face was full of brightness. She kept reclaiming everything God had shown her over and over. He is for us. Not against us. He knows the very number of hairs on our head or stars in the sky. He is always for us. He could never be against us.

The words she spoke meant more to me than she will ever know.

And then on the weekend my sweet husband and I watched the sun set on our last minute road trip to the mountains and away from it all. And the sun set and sky got dark and then all the sudden all the stars came out. How beautiful that we could see the stars and the beautiful span of the Milky Way.

God knows the number of stars in the sky, yet He calls us by name. He knit us together in the womb. He has a plan for us.

Why do I doubt?

He will never fail me.

[atldreaming]

And I feel like I’m doing more for the kingdom in this than I ever did in my line of work.

My name was on some training list from last year. I hardly even remember putting it there. She needed volunteers for jail ministry. Someone to come talk to these women. Listen to them. Pray with them. Encourage them.

Immediately I was filled with doubt in myself. I can’t. I won’t be good enough. How could I be?

But He told me to be still. He reveals himself through weakness.

To be honest, I’d been feeling dejected. I got into my line of work because I wanted to help those who were broken. I wanted to use my gifts to restore. But years of working in it made me realize the limitations. The boundaries of the system. The brokenness. Was I actually making a difference in anyone’s life? Did people want to change? My heart was hardened. I stayed still.

But then I took a chance and asked God to come through for me and he did. I was scared. I didn’t know what I could say to these women. I prayed with and talked with J for the last several weeks as she awaited trial and God has done so much in her life and I hope in some way that I helped and encouraged her in her journey. And it lights up my spirit to see her smiling once more, talking of everything God has revealed to her and the peace that He brings.

And I think, why was I ever passive? Why did I never move? Why did it take so much to bring me out of my comfort zone to do God’s will?

He commands us all to do this. To love others. Be a father to the fatherless, take in orphans, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, love the unloved, bring hope to the hopeless, bring good news to the poor.

Why have I spent so much of my life waiting for God to move me, without being moved by the very thing he did for me on the cross?

Why have I listened to fears and doubts? And I have, knowing the good news, stayed passive, stayed stagnant, stayed lukewarm.

I’m done.

God, take this life, take all I have, take all I am. Use me.

[atldreaming]

I took a risk.

I took a leap.

I thought and thought and thought. I didn’t want to be that person who settles and stays and grows old wondering what if?

It’s not that I don’t value my degree, and the years of discipline that went into it. I just know that I can’t stay where I’m at forever. I know I’m not being challenged in the way I need. I don’t love my job. I hate the administration. I hate how they mistreat us. I can’t stay in this forever.

And I’m excited. My sweet husband is so supportive. He believes in me. I’m switching up my hours so I can take night classes. It's going to be hard, but I know I can do it.

Nursing school was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I made it through. If I can do that, I can totally do this.

I’m ready. I’m excited.

Praying that I can learn quickly. Praying for good teachers, solid experiences, and the motivation and discipline to do it all.