One cold evening, after the physical effects of my last miscarriage had subsided, I found myself listening to the sound of my husband sleeping and wondering how I was going to sleep while my mind was spinning 3 million miles an hour.
I finally gave in and sat myself down at the computer thinking there MUST be someone that I could contact that might be able to help me. And, in the back of my mind, I remember thinking, “If I can’t get through this night, I don’t know how I’ll continue to follow the God I’m so desperately trying to rebuild trust in.”
My fingers navigated me to my email and, before I knew it, I was halfway through a long and vulnerable telling of my desperation. There were only 4 names that came to my mind. Jody, Shara, Shae, and Janis….my girls…the friends that have stood by me through the hardest times of my life. If I couldn’t reach out wholeheartedly to the Healer of my soul, maybe they could do it for me? I could only hope that they would sense my absolute need and somehow directed me to SOMETHING that might turn a light back on in my darkening heart. So, hoping for a miracle, I hit the send button and proceeded to cry until my face hurt. I eventually made my way back to my pillow and cried myself to sleep.
The morning brought a numbness and still no reply from the girls…but somehow, I knew it was gonna be a better day. Somehow I knew that I had crossed a line toward the help and healing I needed to get through even one more day.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. It wasn’t a break through, but it was a step and a bigger step than I had been able to take before that day. And somehow I knew, I really knew that everything was going to be ok.