She wrestles

The light of daybreak begins to peek through the window blinds and door cracks. Laying still, she smiles. It's Friday. Lord, thank you for this day.

Today the usual routine is interrupted by a need. She's up on her feet, dressed and waiting on a ride. With no coffee mug in her grip to hide the nervous electricity she feels in the tips of her fingers, she shoves her hands in her pockets. The car pulls up, and the visual reminder of the hurt she cautiously coddles within her is now standing before her in the form of a man. Her mind is flooded with an onslaught of memories equally as good, equally as bad. Time to smile. Every word sounds as if someone else is speaking them while she tries to grasp hold of every thought and confront them with truths. The internal raging war continues as she moves their items over to have a seat and suddenly all is silent. She is face to face with reality, this man is no longer her husband. Lord, catch me.

The last few years have been tumultuous and trying. Never has admitting to an insecurity or failure been an easy feat. "Never enough," sums it all up. How had she allowed herself to believe such lies? She might not be good at doing a certain task or talent, but she is, well her. When did deception begin to convince her that she wasn't enough? Good enough, pretty enough, attractive, smart, clean and even daring enough? When did it begin to matter?! Deception has a way of making you feel that because something didn't go as planned the conclusion must be that something is wrong with you.

Finally arriving at her destination after the short silent drive, she finds relief. Her momentary den of distraction welcomes her with smiling faces both warm and familiar. Composed, collected and clinging ever so tightly to her Rock. Lord, Let's do this.

Throughout the day she dodges the uprising of complicated emotions trying to poison a day filled with beautiful people and ways to love them. The day is sprinkled with His subtle love notes. She realizes that all the negative emotions that have become all too familiar are somewhat organizing in a neat procession. She knows she's healing, she's growing and in doing so she must outgrow some of her most treasured rags. For He is fitting her for a new robe and His Love is the thread that holds her together. 

Tonight she wrestles, confronting each lie. With every jab a part of her retreats. Against the ropes, she cries. Lord, fight for me.