Hey y’all

I know I haven’t been blogging a lot lately—or at least it feels that way to me. I’ve just been moving through this season, trying to enjoy the moment and the season that I’m in—the good, the ugly, the bad, the indifferent…all of it.

But I have to say, today is a breakthrough day for me.

And the reason it’s a breakthrough day is because I’ve been praying to the Father and asking Him to reveal certain areas of my heart to me.

Over these past couple of weeks, we’ve been talking about the fruit of the Spirit, specifically peace. And one thing I’ve come to understand is that peace is partnered with trust.

I knew I had experienced trust issues. I knew there were certain situations where trusting people felt difficult for me.

But I didn’t fully understand why.

Until now.

The Father took me back.

He gave me a vivid remembrance—a memory from when I was five years old.

I was five, y’all.

And I will never forget the day my biological father put my mother out of the car.

I remember the location. I drive past it often. And sometimes when I pass that place, I’ll get a quick glimpse of the memory.

But over these past couple of weeks, the Lord brought that particular day back to my remembrance twice, and this time it was vivid.

I can remember holding my mother’s hand.

I can remember walking up to the store after my biological father put her out of the car.

I remember my brother telling me no—that he wasn’t going. He was going to stay with his dad.

And I remember my mother.

I remember how strong she was.

She didn’t panic.

She didn’t let me see how hurt she was.

She didn’t let me see the rejection she must have been feeling in that moment.

She grabbed my little hand, and we walked into that store.

And like a mother, she did what mothers do.

She kept going.

She bought me an ice cream cone.

And on top of that ice cream cone was cotton candy.

Y’all, I will never forget that.

Now that I’m a mother myself, I understand just how difficult that moment must have been for her.

She had to make a choice in that moment.

She had to represent well for her daughter, even while she was hurting.

And I think about my mother now, and I think about how forgiving and loving she is. I believe she forgave my father, even in the midst of that pain.

But what I understand now is that this was the first place where trust was broken for me.

I was five years old.

I didn’t have the words for it then.

I didn’t understand what I was witnessing.

But something in me learned something that day.

Something in me learned that someone who is supposed to stay can leave.

Someone who is supposed to protect can hurt.

Someone you trust can reject you.

And I carried that somewhere deep inside of me.

But here’s the other side of that story.

My stepfather—who was my daddy, y’all—loved me as if I were his own.

I promise you, that man loved me.

And more importantly, he loved my mother.

He walked with her through her pain. He walked with her through her healing.

And because he stuck it out, I received healing too.

There is something about a God-fearing man loving a woman so well that the overflow reaches the children.

I consider myself blessed.

And I still do.

Then, years later, trust was broken again.

Except this time, I was an adult.

And this one hurt real bad.

Because this time, I felt betrayed.

I felt rejected.

And I stopped trusting.

This was someone I had said my vows to.

The person who was supposed to help protect the household did not.

During my marriage, I discovered that my husband had fathered two additional children—one just a few months older than our son and another between our son and our daughter.

And the way I found out was painful too.

I received information in the mail about child support.

I had no idea.

Talk about betrayal.

Talk about rejection.

Talk about a wound.

But here’s what I know now:

God had already walked through that thing with me.

He had already shown me that there was healing on the other side.

It took time.

It took tears.

It took surrender.

It took me learning myself.

But I got there.

And now, here I am again.

Standing in another place of discovery.

Another place of unlearning.

Another place of healing.

Another place of learning me.

Because now I know the root.

And when you know the root, you can begin to identify the fruit.

Now I can recognize certain things within myself.

I can recognize when that familiar feeling of distrust starts rising.

I can recognize when my mind wants to protect me before I even know whether I need protection.

I can recognize the difference between a present warning and an old wound speaking.

And that is a breakthrough for me.

Because now I can set boundaries.

Now I can establish standards.

Now I can enter relationships differently.

Not because I will never be apprehensive again.

Not because I will never have questions.

Not because I will automatically trust everyone.

But because now I know where the feeling comes from.

And when that feeling comes, I can go back to the root.

I can go back to the Father.

I can lay it all before Him.

I can say, “Father, this is what I’m feeling. This is what this situation is bringing up in me. Show me what belongs to today and what belongs to yesterday.”

And then I can surrender it.

Because when I surrender it to God, I don’t have to know the outcome.

He already does.

I can have boundaries without building walls.

I can have standards without living in fear.

I can use wisdom without allowing an old wound to make every decision for me.

And maybe that’s what healing looks like sometimes.

Not pretending the wound never happened.

Not forgetting what people did.

But understanding the root well enough that it no longer gets to control the fruit.

So today, I’m grateful.

Grateful for the memory.

Grateful for the revelation.

Grateful for my mother.

Grateful for the daddy God gave me through my stepfather.

Grateful for every lesson.

Grateful even for the painful places that God has used to teach me.

And most of all, I’m grateful that the Father is still showing me me.

Because there are things I can’t unlearn until I first understand what I learned.

There are things I can’t release until I recognize what I’ve been carrying.

And there are wounds I can’t invite God to heal until I’m willing to let Him show me where they began.

So, growing woman…

Get to the root.

Because when you get to the root, you can begin to heal.

And when the root begins to heal, the fruit can change.

That’s where I am.

Growing.

Becoming.

Healing.

And bearing fruit.