When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. – Psalm 56:3
Shrouded in uncertainty, the past years were a mix of disorder and calm. I learned to separate what I could and couldn’t control. I never sought power. I had no authority. I embraced my role, understanding I wasn’t destined to be a savior. I am a praying mother.
In December 2023, I slowly grew a mental block and fell back into old ways.
Up to this point, there was some sort of contact. In our situation, even sporadic text messages were small gifts. As those began to fade away, so did peace. In the past, I would say a simple prayer to God: “Please allow me to hear from my daughter.” Within a day or two, I’d get her message.
So, when Christmas came and went, then New Year’s, concern rippled through my mind. On January 6, 2024, my prayers were answered with a single-line text from an unknown number. “Hey mom, checking in with you. I’m alive. Love you..” I replied with a small note ending with, “I love you very much,” and two praying hand emojis.
I’ve been waiting to get something since then but my daughter stopped all contact. I’ve been lost since.
As the days turned into months, my prayers went unanswered. My mind began to enter the darkest place I’d ever gone. Initially, God nudged her, and she’d reach out. I know God still nudges. I believe she’s so numb she doesn’t feel it anymore. The empty space of silence churns with questions, anger, fear, and hopelessness.
I wanted to stay vigilant and trust God to do the impossible. But combating the growing internal tension created distance. Unaware of the darkening expanse within, I walked silently away when I should have run into His arms.
I believe Satan exists. He calculates perfect timing. The moments when weakness supersedes faith are one of them. The Word tells us in our weakness, He is strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9) But for this unique dynamic to exist, we must stay faithful and trust God. Once we remove ourselves from His mighty hand, our weakness becomes our own.
It didn’t take long before I tiptoed slowly through the tunnel of doubt and despair. The coming days and months proved to overwhelm me. I cried tears that I thought dried up long ago.
Everyone says to release the pain. “It’s okay to cry, Lisa.” I heard it again and again. Yet, I felt no relief. I only fell deeper into an emotional abyss that became untouchable. When I release, everyone around me seems to scatter. Phone calls stop. No one asks how I am. The support I need disappears.
I am sometimes in my depression longer than anyone likes. I am lovingly dismissed to wade into the waters of sadness alone. God bless my momma. Never leaving me, I heard frustration in her voice. She disliked every moment of being in pain with me. Her hope would be to take it away, but she can’t. Since she can’t, she plants herself next to me and listens.
I thought I was hiding it well from my other kids. Looking back, they knew because they know me. My boys loved me through the ugly so well. Their hearts beat larger than the body God gave them. As I look back today, I stand amazed at their resilience in continuing to hold me up.
For everyone else, I learned to pretend. People disappear when times get tough. They stop talking when their encouraging words are lost to the walls of fear. Unreachable, they let me go. There were a few who stayed in there with me. Even new friends who did nothing more than listen showed up.
The tiny thread I was holding was strong enough. I felt a million miles away from God, but there He was. In my lowest place, my precious Father stayed with me. Even while I sat with my back towards Him, eyes closed to the light, He remained.
I no longer trusted him to be trusted. Yet, in my doubt, He was available. I appreciate that God would offer me a helping hand through my tightly crossed arms. He could have stopped nudging me. But that’s not how He does things. I minimized the greatness of God because I felt powerless in my state of mind. It is the mistake we make when we focus on the world instead of Jesus.
I pray today to see Him before my pain. I know the consequence of believing the lie. The one that says God can’t be trusted and he won’t hear you through the silence of your broken heart. God is faithful. He will see us through and already knows our most significant needs before we ask. We are loved.
This is an updated edition of a post originally published on Authentic Truths
