I lived a good portion of the beginning of my life bitter, angry, spiteful, and I was like a big ball of hell on wheels. It was me against the world, and I know a lot of that was my brain working in fight or flight mode. Trauma can bring out the worst in a person. I did try, to no avail, to get better. But I didn’t know I wasn’t healing properly and needed guidance and help along the way.
It was a silly and foolish way to be, and I said many hurtful things to others I can never take back. Rest assured, I still remember what I said and believe me when I say it still haunts me to this day. I’ve sought some out to apologize, and others I’m too afraid to go to.
It was hurt or be hurt, leave or be left, drown or survive.
Until I woke up one day and knew it was time to stop. I wasn’t going to compete and fight anymore. That day, came shortly after Brett came into my life and I knew I wanted something more.
I wanted a family of my own. Real true friends that wouldn’t high tail it the minute they realized I still have some demons and baggage in my closet.
I still have friends that I tell in a joking matter that it’s only a time before they hit the road. Deep down, I’m not joking. I’m insanely terrified that they’ve seen too much, know too much, and they don’t need a scarred person in their life.
I’ve gotten better, but I also have a friend that, when things are getting tough, makes it a point to tell me “I’m not leaving, so don’t even say it,” and the things that does to my heart. It brings me to tears.
For a girl who never felt worthy of love, a life with children and a husband to adore, a girl who never thought she’d amount to much more than owning a shoe box to live in, I’m entirely, thoroughly, over the moon blessed.
Sometimes I fear it’s all going to be taken away. That I could wake up tomorrow and it’ll be gone, but I have to remind myself that God brought me this far. He’s teaching me to love and be loved.
I’m getting there. Slowly but surely, things continue to fall into place. Even more so when I plant my mustard seed of faith and hand it over to God, everything starts to bloom and grow.
The garden of my life is abundant in color, aromas, sweetness, beauty, wonder, and growth. Of course there will always be room for more seeds to be planted, more flowers to grow, more love and wholeness. Some flowers will end up being picked, and ultimately wilting and withering, because that’s how life goes. Not all flowers are meant to continue growing and flourishing, some are only meant for a season, and that’s okay.
Spend time in your garden. Water it, pull weeds, breathe in with gratitude and exhale with humbleness. Not all gardens look the same. Some are struggling. Some have many wilting flowers and it’s not looking very promising, but their rain is coming, and we can help them water the old fashion way in the meantime.
There’s an old church hymn that I love, mostly because Brett’s grandma favored it, but it’s also such a sweet, beautiful song.
I come to the garden alone While the dew is still on roses And the voice I hear falling on my ear The son of God discloses And he walks with me and he talks with me And he tells me I am his own And the joy we share as we tarry there None other has ever known
Have you taken a walk with God this morning? Have you watered your flowers?