I am in awe of His goodness, his love, his patience. I am so undeserving and SO thankful. In reading Paul’s writings in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.), I realized the importance of sharing my weaknesses instead of feeling the pressure to put on a smile and appear to have it all together.
I feel that doing this would not only be a disservice to myself but also to others who might could be encouraged by my journey. One thing that saddens me about Christians is that we so often put on our “church face” instead of honestly sharing our triumphs and heartaches. (“He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. 2 Corinthians 1:4.)
For nearly ten years I struggled with an eating disorder that nearly took my life. Some days I prayed that it would because I was so sick and tired of being so sick and tired. I was angry, hopeless and terrified. Counseling, inpatient treatment facilities, doctors, and nutritionists were unable to help me. I had reached a point of despair that I do my best to forget. I decided to try once more before completely giving up hope of ever being “normal”. This was it; if this didn’t work I was through fighting.
I prayed each day for strength, for healing, for a miracle. Although I had prayed thousands of times for healing, I had given up on the belief that I would be healed. God heard my prayers anyway. He believed in me when I didn’t believe in Him. I entered an outpatient treatment program and began a long, excruciatingly difficult journey to wellness. I remember the first day I wasn’t consumed with eating disordered thoughts, the first day my body didn’t hurt, the first day I felt there was a light at the end of my tunnel.
That I am still alive is a miracle. That I escaped my eating disorder with only minor physical consequences is a miracle. That I have my precious baby is a miracle.
More than anything I wanted to me a mother. I feared it wouldn’t be possible; surely I had done too much damage. I would deserve that. When I envisioned having a child I saw a little boy- an adorable, blue eyed, blond-haired, chunky, joyous little boy. Some days I still look at him and weep.
My sister called me yesterday and asked if I knew what the name Jackson meant. With a smirk I told her that I did. It’s English and means “son of Jack”. (Daniel and I just loved the name.) “No,” she said. “Do you know what it means in Hebrew?” I had no idea. “God’s Grace”, she informed me. A wave of emotion came over me. To me Jackson is a constant reminder of God’s grace.
It’s funny to me that I began this post with the intent to tell of my discovery of Jackson’s name and instead I shared my personal saga. It makes me a little uncomfortable as I look at the “publish post” button, I wonder what you’ll think as you read it. I’m opening myself up to judgment and potential gossip. I realize that’s between you and God. What a tragedy it would be to not share the victory God has allowed me to experience. You may not be able to relate to my struggles, but we all have our own crosses to carry. Yours may be addiction, depression, a troubled relationship, anxiety, financial hardship…you name it. I am here to tell you today that regardless of your “cross”, God is able. His grace is sufficient.
I won’t let a day go by without thanking him for delivering me. I am only now beginning to grasp how wide and long and high and deep the love of Christ is.
Thank you Jesus for your grace and for my precious reminder!
Jackson is a great little helper between playing with his kitchen set, vacuuming with his vacuum and helping me sweep- I am trying to train him right. ;o) I have two words for his future wife: "you're welcome".
