I thought ‘who I am’ was wrapped up in titles and what I do, but I am very wrong. My identity is lovingly written on the palm of God’s hand. (Isaiah 49: 15-16).
In all the mothering I did, speaking encouragement into the broken lives of my children, and lifting up unceasing prayer, I found peace in the truth of letting go. It does not only apply to addicted kids, it applies to all kids.
I know the doubt, fear, and frustration in managing the symptoms of bipolar. If I prayed long and hard enough, I thought I would be healed, cured, and labeled a miracle. So far, that has not happened. I am still balancing bipolar, but with a new understanding of my mind.
Each year the World Health Association states that 800,000 people die by suicide. That is one person every 40 minutes- one person who felt alone, hopeless, unable, incapable, and done. My heart breaks for those who reach a space of emptiness.
Hindsight leads to insight, and if I knew then, what I know now, it would be a different ballgame. It may not change the outcome because the one lesson I know better than any is I can never change another human's mind. I do not own that power.
Planting the Word of God in our hearts forecasts what will be and ultimately changes our lives, for what is in our heart will be in our mind. Reading, knowing, and applying the truth of God to every part of our being is a recipe for greatness and godliness in a fallen world.
For the Women of Hope community, fighting to stay sober and recover
Letting go was forfeiting my need to be some part of their savior.
The abuse left a stain on her tender heart, and her mind twisted from the games of an evil man. Worse, she felt dirty and unnecessary, like a garage rag that came in handy but was left lying around like trash.
We woke to crashing and movement of furniture. I quickly ran upstairs and listened at my daughters door. She was screaming, "Let me out of here!" With caution, I approached her door and began to turn the handle. It wasn't locked, I'm not even sure it has a lock. There was my daughter, on her knees, fighting the lockless handle, to escape her room.