Three Million, Six Hundred Seventy Nine Thousand, Two Hundred Minutes

Today, seven years ago, our little family stepped out into an adventure that would change our lives.

If you’re new to the #TeamThomas show you can read all about it here.

Believe it or not, that’s not what I want to talk about today.

Shocking…I know.

The thing about life changing events….especially ones that start off with trauma….is you don’t know they’re life changing until you’re on the other side of them.

When we first came home I felt like I was looking through a fog.  I felt disjointed, like my body didn’t belong in this space anymore.  Relationships seemed choppy and took extra work.  Church was hard.  Like, really hard.  I was desperate to hear from God, but the static in my head was so loud I didn’t know if I could anymore.  Everything felt like an out of body experience.  It was all JUST. SO. DIFFICULT.

Fast forward seven years (and unlimited tears and prayers) and I can look back on the experience without bitterness, hurt, or resentment.  I can take what was good and store it away to smile about another day, and the bad….well, like the fog that I felt strangled by in the beginning…it dissipated.

So….I say all that to say…

I see you.

Yes, you.

Right now it’s all so hard, and you’re feeling alone, and broken beyond repair, and empty.  I know.  I remember that hollowness that seemed to swallow my entire being.

I can confidentially say….this is not the end for you.  This thing, whatever it is, will not end you.  I promise there is freedom. (Pinkie promise)

Cry if you need to.  Scream into the pillow.  Purchase a punching bag.  Eat an entire cake. (Ok, that’s actually not super helpful, but you get the point)

Just do me one favor.

Don’t unpack there.

Don’t intend to stay.  Don’t even bring a carry-on.

Do something every day to work toward forgiveness (for yourself, not them). 

Take every thought captive. (Yes, EVERY.SINGLE.ONE) 

I know.  I know what I’m asking you to do.  I know how hard it is to not wallow, even when all you want to do is curl up on your pile of pity and take a nice long nap. 

Ask for help.  Yes, having a friend to vent to is great, but chances are they won’t understand every aspect of your pain. 

Ask the one who created you.  The one who sees it all.  Every piece of your beautiful mess. 

Y'all, not only does he see the mess now, but he sees the mosaic that he’s created for you.  He sees the tears you’re crying now as fuel for the joy to come. 

One of my favorite passages of scripture is in Mark 9.  A father brought his son to Jesus and asks Jesus “If you can help him.”  Jesus responds with a question…”IF I can?”  The father immediately says “I believe, but help me overcome my unbelief.”

Y’all…is there anything better? 

“God, I don’t know what you’re doing….but I know who you are.”

Put that on repeat.  Say it every time you have to take one of those thoughts captive.  Cry it into your pillow at night.  Let those words heal you.  Let God start to re-position the pieces of your mosaic.