The Valley

I’ve spent the last three or so years in the valley. The valley that seems to have more rainy days than anything. The thick dirt and rock that I’m supposed to use to climb the mountain to pull myself out is covered in mud. I slip and fall at almost any attempt upwards. The valley is bare except for one tree and I treasure the shade that it provides.

Every time I called out to God all I heard in response was my own echo.

There’s no thriving in the valley. Optimism and positivity are scarce and short lived. With every attempt to change my mindset, in rushes the mudslide.

Some incredible things have happened in this valley. I’ve learned what the true meaning of loneliness is. I’ve learned about what little value materialistic things carry. I’ve learned that no matter what you do and how big your heart is, you can easily be replaced in any atmosphere. I’ve gotten my heart shattered in the valley. Ive lost my self worth here. I’ve experienced the death of a dream and accepted that my life is nowhere near what I imagined it would be. Ive had to bury so many hopes for the future in the dirt of this valley. I’ve learned that as much as I hate being alone it can be a powerful growing experience.

More than anything, I’ve become comfortable in the valley. I’ve allowed myself to feel “at home” here. Like I deserve a mediocre and stressful life.  I’ve built armor that covers every inch of me to protect me from anything or anyone else that may hinder me from making my way up and out.

I spend so much time missing the “me” before the valley. The good friend. Someone who always listens and reaches out just to say Hi. The creative Mom. The great wife and teammate. A woman that fully believes in God’s promises for her. A person that I look back at and admire. I miss her.

I miss feeling contentment outside of my children. I miss the times before I guilt tripped myself about nothing being good enough for them. The negative recording that plays in my head every day is exhausting.

I promise this won’t all be gloom and doom.

It’s so important to me that I speak the truth about being in the pits. Social media is filled with highlights and beautifully cropped and edited photos with amazing scenery.

As pretty as that is, I’m here for the ones that feel like they’re drowning. The ones who have been camping out for too long in the valley. The ones who give every ounce of their energy to just be able go through the motions. The single parents that spend every day budgeting just to make it. The spouses left behind broken from divorce. The ones that would give anything to be a parent. The ones who have lost a loved one and live in a constant state of grief. The ones who feel like God may have forgotten them in the back of the fridge like those vegetables that are growing the fuzzy stuff on em’.

He didn’t forget us. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Right?

I’m finally at the point where I’m sick and tired of being here. I’ve done my time. Payed my penance. The armor is heavy. I no longer need to carry the weight of all of the ways that other people have hurt me. That hurt has only led to a life full of resentments and a crippling victim mentality that I spend majority of my energy trying to fight off.

This armor that I built to protect me has ripped me from my true self. It’s kept me from being able to share the gifts that God himself gave to me to fulfill my purpose for His glory.

Last night I had a dream that I was making a ladder, a giant one. I couldn’t figure out what it meant for the longest time until it clicked.

There was never an echo when I called out to Him. He never left me stranded in the valley. I was so tangled up in the failures that I wasn’t able to see His clear answer for me. He provided me with one tree in this valley.  I’ve been so grateful for its shade and so distracted by my shortcomings that I didn’t even realize that the tree was my way out. I had the power, through Him, to build the ladder that would get me out.

I never fully surrendered my pain to Him. I never fully gave my sorrows to Him. I chose to continue carrying it all alone as if I had some big thing to prove. When the entire time His grace and mercy were right in front of me. He always provided me with the strength and ability to pull myself out. Instead of seeing His answer for what it was, I was stuck in my own ways and had no idea that I was sitting in the shade of my own perfectly provided solution.

The bottom line is this:

It’s hard being in the pits. It’s exhausting trying to function at full capacity with an aching heart. It’s hard being let down time and time again by people and unfortunate circumstances. But had I kept my eyes and focus on Him, I wouldn’t have sat in this valley feeling left behind. All I had to do was trust and believe that He will always provide for me. He always has and He always will.