Shattered Dreams and A Broken Heart
It's been a year.
Well, a little more than a year.
It was a year of shattered dreams and a broken heart.
I feel like I've opened up my laptop a billion times, urging my heart to write, begging my hands to speak for me, but the words never came. It wasn't time. Now it's time.
A year. A year that honestly felt like 10 years. Last fall, I was diagnosed with a very severe form of chronic Lyme disease, along with many other co-infections, mutations, complications, and on and on and on. Over the last year, I've seen Lyme angrily awaken inside me and do its worst to destroy my body. And in some ways it succeeded (rest in peace, gallbladder). Each week seemed to be worse than the last. Each week, a new diagnosis, a new longterm implication, a new medication, a new side effect. Now, I look down at my arms and see the scars from weeks and weeks of IV therapy. I brush my hair and see the short hairs growing back in from the bald spots that accumulated during intense rounds of treatment. I see my body, and I see a wounded soldier--a soldier who has not yet escaped the battle.
Over the past year, I've lost friends--friends that were very near and dear to my heart. I have said goodbye to the only home I have ever known. I have laid on the floor and screamed, begging God to take my life because I felt too weak and too cowardly to take it myself. I have witnessed such extreme hours of desperation, loneliness, suffering, hopelessness, shattered dreams, and a broken heart.
Some people believe that God will not give us more than we can handle. I can assure you that is not true. God entrusts us with so much more than we can handle, so that we will learn to lean on Him--so we will learn to let Him carry us. God allows us to fall when the burdens on our shoulders become too heavy, and He allows the fall to hurt, but He's waiting to pick us back up the second we hit the ground. All we have to do is reach out our arms to be lifted up by our loving Father.
The burdens and weight of life drove me straight into the ground. And it hurt, and I laid there and I cried over my hurt, and that's okay. I mourned the loss of my old life. I mourned over my shattered dreams. I mourned my broken heart. But then I got up. Not by my own will, but by His.
When a child falls and scrapes his knee, his mother or father always comes running, scoops up their child, holds them close to their chest, and comforts them.
"It's okay. I'm right here. It's just a scrape."
In the same way, when God picks us up, He brings us close to him and whispers "it's okay, my child, I'm right here, it's just a scrape. I've got you."
Even in those dark, brutal, painful times when we feel utterly alone and completely abandoned, our sweet Father is running to us, ready to pick us up and comfort us. He is ready to take the pieces of our shattered dreams and broken hearts and use the shards and pieces to put together a better dream and a better heart that beats for Him.
Now every day, despite the physical and emotional pain I endure, I rest assured in the fact that I am being carried in the arms of my loving Savior. When I allow myself to rest in His arms, His voice in my ear calms my fears. When I allow myself to rest in His arms, I can endure my pain with joy. When I allow myself to rest in His arms, I see my scars and I remember His scars. I remember the price He paid, the pain He endured just so that He can carry me in His arms. Because of this, I know the pain that I endure has a purpose, and it's part of His will for His glory.
Now, Jesus has collected all the pieces of my shattered dreams and my broken heart, and He is beginning to show me how He is using those same pieces to reveal new dreams for me and a new heart for Him. The past year has been more difficult than I could have ever imagined, but the joy that waits ahead far surpasses any pain I have ever endured, or ever will endure.
xoxo,
Hannah
Well, a little more than a year.
It was a year of shattered dreams and a broken heart.
I feel like I've opened up my laptop a billion times, urging my heart to write, begging my hands to speak for me, but the words never came. It wasn't time. Now it's time.
A year. A year that honestly felt like 10 years. Last fall, I was diagnosed with a very severe form of chronic Lyme disease, along with many other co-infections, mutations, complications, and on and on and on. Over the last year, I've seen Lyme angrily awaken inside me and do its worst to destroy my body. And in some ways it succeeded (rest in peace, gallbladder). Each week seemed to be worse than the last. Each week, a new diagnosis, a new longterm implication, a new medication, a new side effect. Now, I look down at my arms and see the scars from weeks and weeks of IV therapy. I brush my hair and see the short hairs growing back in from the bald spots that accumulated during intense rounds of treatment. I see my body, and I see a wounded soldier--a soldier who has not yet escaped the battle.
Over the past year, I've lost friends--friends that were very near and dear to my heart. I have said goodbye to the only home I have ever known. I have laid on the floor and screamed, begging God to take my life because I felt too weak and too cowardly to take it myself. I have witnessed such extreme hours of desperation, loneliness, suffering, hopelessness, shattered dreams, and a broken heart.
Some people believe that God will not give us more than we can handle. I can assure you that is not true. God entrusts us with so much more than we can handle, so that we will learn to lean on Him--so we will learn to let Him carry us. God allows us to fall when the burdens on our shoulders become too heavy, and He allows the fall to hurt, but He's waiting to pick us back up the second we hit the ground. All we have to do is reach out our arms to be lifted up by our loving Father.
The burdens and weight of life drove me straight into the ground. And it hurt, and I laid there and I cried over my hurt, and that's okay. I mourned the loss of my old life. I mourned over my shattered dreams. I mourned my broken heart. But then I got up. Not by my own will, but by His.
When a child falls and scrapes his knee, his mother or father always comes running, scoops up their child, holds them close to their chest, and comforts them.
"It's okay. I'm right here. It's just a scrape."
In the same way, when God picks us up, He brings us close to him and whispers "it's okay, my child, I'm right here, it's just a scrape. I've got you."
Even in those dark, brutal, painful times when we feel utterly alone and completely abandoned, our sweet Father is running to us, ready to pick us up and comfort us. He is ready to take the pieces of our shattered dreams and broken hearts and use the shards and pieces to put together a better dream and a better heart that beats for Him.
Now every day, despite the physical and emotional pain I endure, I rest assured in the fact that I am being carried in the arms of my loving Savior. When I allow myself to rest in His arms, His voice in my ear calms my fears. When I allow myself to rest in His arms, I can endure my pain with joy. When I allow myself to rest in His arms, I see my scars and I remember His scars. I remember the price He paid, the pain He endured just so that He can carry me in His arms. Because of this, I know the pain that I endure has a purpose, and it's part of His will for His glory.
Now, Jesus has collected all the pieces of my shattered dreams and my broken heart, and He is beginning to show me how He is using those same pieces to reveal new dreams for me and a new heart for Him. The past year has been more difficult than I could have ever imagined, but the joy that waits ahead far surpasses any pain I have ever endured, or ever will endure.
xoxo,
Hannah
You are the strongest, bravest Christian girl I know. Pray for you often.
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