I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth. ~ Psalm 121:1-2
While I am blessed and praise the Name of Jesus, I remain overwhelmed by grief at times. The unending sorrow plays a solemn sound of the silence of my heart. Between two worlds, I steady myself on the truth and foundation of the Lord. I play along to the trembling pain of unending grief and the brighter days of life. In these places, I feel lost.
There is a lovely park down the road that I visit numerous times a week. It is called Shalom Park (Peace). The gardens are lush and quiet. Walking the labyrinth, I pray and talk to God like He was walking with me. And indeed, He is. In His presence, I find a peace that surpasses all understanding.
I cried out to God, “Where am I? I feel lost and riddled with failure.”
I heard a gentle nudge to sit on a bench under a particular tree. Refusing to sit, I kept walking. My hard head struggles with surrender like the next person. However, my emotions boiled over. As I circled back around, I walked to the bench.
“OK, Lord, here I am. Now, where am I?” The conversation felt silly and pointless, a reflection of my inner turmoil and confusion.
But with a shudder, I heard in my spirit, “You are here.” Over and over, I heard the message loud and clear. I was where God wanted me to be. Here, in his presence, by his command. Strategically, God placed every piece of the relocation puzzle, including a swift sale of our home well over our asking price, finding a new home, and closing within a few short weeks.
Following our dreams, we moved out of state. I knew it was coming. Yet, how does a mother leave the state with a loved one missing? I clung to silly what-ifs as though I could see the future. What if she finally called? What if she was in treatment? What if, what if, what if. We plant ourselves in this state of misaligned hope. We lose sight of reality in the desperate vision of recovery.
I searched all winter and spring. My son helped make phone calls and got more information than I did. We learned some brutal truths in the months leading up to summer. There were horrible hotel stories, people dying, and tragic assaults. A mother’s worst fears laid out before her.
This past summer, we followed our plan to move out of state. My heart now lives in two places. A piece remains locked behind the bars of addiction. The other piece is free but clings to what-ifs. The struggle of letting go was palpable, a constant battle between hope and reality. This battle was not just a part of my journey, but a shared experience of many. God blessed us beyond our greatest expectations. I am grateful. Yet, I didn’t know where I was in the space of letting go and holding on.
There are parents everywhere lost in this battle with addiction. They wonder where they are. Often, we feel like we no longer exist. We are battered by circumstance or silenced by the unknown. The in-between is truly soul-breaking. We want to help our loved ones put themselves back together. However, by association, we break. Our jagged pieces lay there to be reassembled and connected. I am learning not to wait for another to heal before I begin healing myself.
God knows our deepest fears. He whispered You are here to my inner being, not as a point of direction but as a place of comfort. My heavenly Father wanted me to embrace his plan for my life. He needed me to trust Him. Above all, God wanted me to know it was OK to live my life. He didn’t put all the pieces together for me to live in regret.
I see the light again. With the help of my Creator, the maker of heaven and earth, I look up to the hills. Peace has overwhelmed my soul. I am living in the Lord and not the world once again. And it feels good.
This is an updated edition of a post originally published on Authentic Truths
Featured Image by Bluehouse Skis from Pixabay
