Desperation

The “Unwanted” Baby Is Wanted By All?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I’m wiping the tears from my eyes again.

It was movie and popcorn night. We watched UnPlanned, the astonishing, true story of Planned Parenthood Director Abby Johnson’s journey across the line from Choice to Life.

We were all undone.

As my tiny and insignificant contribution to this whirlwind topic of our day, like a feather battling a windstorm, I include below a poem I wrote.

May our prayers reach the ear of God, that the prevailing cultural winds would change direction and blow the feather toward God again and again and again . . . we pray.

Lord, have mercy on us, all of us, for we are a sinful people.

And may we pause to consider the following:

Simon Peter [who] . . . fell to his knees before Jesus. “Master, leave. I’m a sinner and can’t handle this holiness. Leave me to myself.”

The Message

and

If . . . my people, my God-defined people, respond by humbling themselves, praying, seeking my presence, and turning their backs on their wicked lives, I’ll be there ready for you: I’ll listen from heaven, forgive their sins, and restore their land to health.

The Message

They Say She’s Not Wanted

They say she’s not wanted in this world.

Yet I’ve seen her mom, belly swelled in mystical expectation, nervously meeting prospective adoptive parents for the first time. Tears flowed on all sides at the first introduction, bonded somehow at the initial meeting. I’ve chatted with her mom many times while she lay curled up in the womb.

My heart broke for her mom because she could not raise her now.

I met her birth grandma and cried with her over the expectation of the first grandchild in the family.

The fulfillment of a grandmother’s dreams was not that the child would be whisked from her arms before they would know each other well. “You take good care of her,” the grandmother whispered to the adoptive mother through tears.

I’ve met her birth father.

A boy-man, wearing the tough guy mask in front of his friends and family. I sat with him while he, head in hand, sobbed a mountain of anguished tears, knowing that her birth mom could not stay with him forever and be the family unit that he dreamed of.

I’ve cried with him too.

I’ve also met them – the crowds of families, with polished faces and pages full of dreams in shiny dossiers, cartwheeling over each other in efforts to impress. They plead, “Please pick us. We want her. We want to be her family. Oh, won’t you please pick us?”

I know them because I was also a member of one of those families. And our family was chosen. And oh, how the aching in our hearts was finally filled with love and gratitude for this cherished life.

Thank you, birth mothers, birth fathers, and birth grandparents, for standing firm in love and truth, regardless of the shifting sand of popular opinions.

We honor you, and we love you.

Thank you for placing your child in the arms of a family who will love and care for her.

Thank you for allowing this child to thrive in the healing love of all of us in her extended birth families and her extended adoptive family.

And we share a secret, don’t we?

Even if they don’t know it, we know these children are wanted by MORE people than can be counted.

If We Laugh More, We Can Dominate Others More!

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

I was frustrated, kicking the ground as I walked. Homeschooling is impossible enough without this additional hurdle lying prostrate before me. I didn’t have enough speed to make it through the regular hurdles of life. . .

. . . nevermind this race I’m running strewn with toppled school desks, kid’s toys, and homeschooling supplies.

We did a personality test for a fun homeschooling project.

The results scared me to my core.

My daughter, the one who has been slowly asserting dominance over me every time my back has been turned since she was, oh, about two months old, has a personality that is – get this – most similar to a lion.

And my personality?

Not a lion tamer. Nope.

Not a blue whale, larger than life.

Not a great white shark, terrifying those within a several kilometre radius.

My personality, most unfortunately, given that I have a lion-like child trying to bite me whenever I’m not looking, is best compared to . . .

. . . a sweet and gentle creature whose favorite past time is to play.

My personality is most similar to that of an otter.

“And HOW is an otter supposed to lead a lion?” I yelled at God that day, kicking the path as I walked.

“All that kid wants to do is eat me!”

Try being David when your child is Goliath. Sure, it’s one thing to vanquish Goliath in a one-off contest using an unexpected weapon. But LEAD Goliath, David? Day after day? Good luck!

And that’s my job.

Also the strategy of “hide a bit and hope to survive until, oh, 8:30 am when the school bus comes each day” won’t work for me.

Nope.

This kid is with me 24/7.

We homeschool.

What was I thinking taking on this mammoth task?

“God!” I called out, my anger turned to desperation. “How is an otter supposed to parent a lion?”

And the picture He gave me in my mind that day as I walked changed everything.

The picture was of an otter, front legs straight out and entirely touching the ground, tail wagging.

Now pause here because this picture has meaning to dog owners. This is the position dogs assume to indicate it’s playtime.

And the rest of the picture?

The lion assumed the same pose, following the cues of the otter. Behind the roaring facade, she wanted to have fun.

She just didn’t know how.

Play with her, God whispered.

And I was given a tool that unlocked my daughter’s heart and opened a new parenting door for us, leading to a beautiful place.

I understood what He was whispering.

The lion will WILLINGLY submit to the otter so she can play.

The next day, when that little lion led me to an emotional place I never wanted to visit again, I stopped myself from following her lead.

I wasn’t in the mood to play.

But “Let’s play,” I announced.

I thought, “Let’s play a game where I try not to wring your little neck.”

But when I took the reigns, went with my natural strengths, and played with her, even though I didn’t feel like it, the little lion unwound herself and laughed a bit. And she hugged me.

And she was so dang cute that we played a little longer, and soon, I was having a great time, too.

I was leading again.

She naturally followed.

But this is the weird thing.

She came under my leadership for the rest of the day.

Fifteen minutes of play transformed her into a little lion-otter, expectantly waiting for me to help fun tickle her side at any moment.

And I made it through that homeschooling day.

Reflecting that night with a glass of wine, I asked my husband to promise to help me remember to proactively PLAY with my little lion so I could dominate her.

Er. . . LEAD her, I meant to write.

Whatever.

The point is that God has a solution to our EVERY problem.

And who knows? Maybe this strategy would work in other situations?

Try it with your boss. Tell him he’s a loser, and then laugh. See if you get that promotion after all!

You’re welcome!

Good luck!

God, thank you that our mammoth problems are tiny piles of sand to You, that can be blown away with one breath of Your Spirit. Speak to us and remind us to hide beneath Your wings, the place where You hand out both love for us, and wisdom for our myriad challenges, we pray.

He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.

Ancient Text

The Best Christmas Was The Most Painful Christmas

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

I held my head in my hands, the non-physical pain consuming me, twisting my body to reflect my inner state.

The mother placed the baby in my arms and spoke of WHEN I took her home, enveloped her in our family. This baby was the gift that came no less miraculously than a child that emerges, astonishingly from one’s own womb. Except she traversed from God, through another’s womb, through the arms of another mother, into my arms.

And like a child ripped from her mother’s arms, she was taken from my arms and placed in another home.

We were pleased that the child would be taken care of, her needs met, thrive in a loving home.

And yet the pain in our hearts was only partially placated.

Every human soul carries its own pain within.

A loved one passes, an illness, a broken relationship, broken dreams, general ennui, desperation, hopelessness, despair. . . The waves of trouble that break over the human soul break us too, as our souls hit the rocks, making us bleed from the trials that have arrived on our doorstep, unbidden.

We open the door to today and the tidal wave of disappointment has arrived. We are left sitting on the floor alone in our world, unable to stand.

As we look around for a hand to help us up, something to hold onto, it seems hope is a long way away sometimes.

Can you see it?

I couldn’t either.

And then Christmas knocks on our door with the request to give to the needy, to distract ourselves with shallow merrymaking, to make ourselves sick with food that is sweet in the mouth and cancerous to the bones.

“Is this all there is?” we ask, our Santa hats adorning our heads in an effort to embrace the spirit of the season, our TV remote flipping from channel to channel, waxed chocolate at the fingertips.

Numb, again.

Another Christmas season has arrived, and we are numb.

No!

The old life is gone; a new life emerges!

The Message

That Christmas, the one when I could hardly breathe, I took off the old.

I crossed off the list of people that we were “supposed” to buy presents for. No more presents for friends, friend’s kids, extended family, parents, grandparents, my spouse. “And no presents for me,” I announced. We bought a few small gifts for a few children. And joy returned.

I crossed off the list the duty to make the Christmas treats I made every year, unthinkingly. I tried a few simple treats with a healthier spin. And joy returned.

I left the box of Christmas decorations in the basement unopened. When I finally gazed inside, I pulled out a few items that were handmade by friends or had sparked a particular delight, or a cherished memory. And joy returned.

I said no to every party, to the ones we were expected to attend that were too loud, had too much drinking, and too much shallow joy. We had a couple of quiet celebrations with a handful of friends or family, and good food. And joy returned.

No more expectations. The old has gone.

And the new life emerging?

And like the caterpillar that makes time for the quiet of the chrysalis, we too made time for the quiet.

– Time in the quiet morning hours, seeking my King

– Time for Christmas church services, as we sought to awaken our senses to the awe of the season through the life of the babe in a manger

– Time for a hug or a smile or an understanding look, more, more often from those around me

I spent time every evening that season with our little toddler at the outdoor skating rink. The one that is free.

When we fell, we would laugh and then sit quietly together for a moment noticing how the lights rimmed the rink, peering through the darkness. I could almost discern the light of the season through those lights.

And like the lights shining in the darkness, at the skating rink that is free, His free gift of love burst through my heart a little more often in the quiet mornings, in the moments of quiet at the worship services, in the quiet smiles of those whose lives I stumbled across.

And each smile was like gazing into another’s soul because I took the extra moment to see them, to know that they too, being human, have heart wounds. Can my smile, my love, be a drop of healing ointment to them, as theirs is to me?

And it was the best Christmas of my life.

As the song plays, consider asking God: How can any anticipated pain of this Christmas season be transformed into joy?

How To Find What You’re Looking For This Christmas

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I was looking around for something. It was dark. I grasped the floor trying to find some unseen object. I couldn’t remember what I was looking for, but I knew it was on the floor, not far away. If I could only pick it up! I was crying. “Where are you?” I wondered.

Then I brushed up against something, the finger of God. I tried to grasp it but went in the wrong direction by mistake and lost my sense of where it was again. But now my heart was beating with hope. The tears stopped flowing, just a riverbed of dry tears streaming down my face, now.

“Where are you, God?” I called out. Hope filled my heart. He was just here. I spent the rest of the morning on my hands and knees, groping at the floor, seeking the hand of Jesus. I know He’s close!

It is God’s privilege to conceal things and the king’s privilege to discover them.

Ancient Text

Sunrise came and I hadn’t touched the hand of God again, yet hope buoyed my heart.

I had enough strength for the day, enough love to pour out on my children, enough forgiveness for the ones whose lives bumped against mine, their prickles and mine poking each other. Joy, tantalizingly close, but not grasped and put into my heart, lifted my spirits.

The hints of the divine are left for us, like the odd jewel on a stone path, covered in dust and scratched up, half hiding in the path, from the boots of so many who have trampled it. Will we notice it, wonder at the gleam of . . . is that a tinge of purple? Will we pick it up, polish it off, put it in our pocket to wonder at later?

If we do, the weight and purity of this jewel will begin to eat away at our pockets, at every impure thing it touches. It demands to be held up and admired. If we fail to do this, it burns away at the fabric of our pockets and drops back to the ground, awaiting the next traveller.

Do we give the divine the attention and the focus it demands? Or have we lost yet another opportunity, the hint of holiness falling back to earth – gone from our hearts?

“I think I found a jewel once,” we tell each other, but that seems so long ago, another lifetime ago. We inspect our pockets and they are singed where the jewel was, where we think we put it. Could it be?

“No. It must be a coincidence,” we think.

We will wait for another clue.

So we travel the dusty path of life, stepping on jewel after dusty jewel. Our hearts have grown harder and so our eyes have lost the spark of wonder that makes them truly able to see that which is not there, yet. The potential of a hidden jewel, on the ground, trampled, is not what we are looking for anymore. We have become blind.

And it is Christmas that awakens our hearts a little if we let it.

Christmas is the alarm clock in our hearts that rings and . . . will we answer the call, or press snooze, again?

Will we get out of bed, warm feet on cold floor, groggily seeking a coffee, and God?

Will we hope once more, that in the dark, early mornings of this advent season, as we cry out to God, the one we have forgotten, tears streaming our faces, we can find a glimmer of hope that we WILL see the shadow across His face, the brush of His finger, emanating so much love from His pinky finger that our entire hearts are strengthened for a week?

Will we find a glimmer of light, like a light switched on and then off again so that we wonder if there was even a light? Will this light give an unction to our souls to seek again, to get up early again, to look closely at the jewels in life that we almost trampled again?

Will we find the path that leads us to the heart of God, this season?

May your heart be soft friend, so that the seed of God will find a healthy place to grow. And may the tree that grows from within your heart produce fruit that nourishes your deepest longings, the ones you forgot you even had, so often had you pushed them back down to the depths of the soul, under distraction.

May we put away the phones, the shopping, the joyful merrymaking and wake up early, to spend the quietness of dawn with the One we are seeking.

And may the life within the little town of Bethlehem be born in your heart this season, friend.

The Best Way To Live – Don’t Try So Hard

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Sometimes we try too hard as we journey through life. Ironically when we don’t try as hard, our lives often improve.

For example, we all realize by now, I’m sure, that a good life consists of:

1) Beautiful hair,

2) Productive work, and

3) Healthy desires.

(Yes, this is a list curated from my own, personal experience. Why do you ask?)

To expound:

1) Like most things in life, it all boils down to having nice hair, really.

When I was camping, my hair looked better than it usually did. I didn’t fuss with it. I jumped in the lake a lot and this made my hair more curly.

And who doesn’t want curly hair? Yes, I know the women who have curly hair don’t want curly hair, and the women who have straight hair don’t want straight hair.

So as you can tell, I usually have straight hair.

We are all messed up, really.

Just pretend you’re well-adjusted to get the point of this blogpost.

A good life is sometimes upside down. Less frantic mouse on a wheel constant “doing”, less meeting our own expectations, is sometimes more soaring.

2) This brings me to my next point – a good life consists of productive work.

You’d think that the longer we work, the more productive we’d be. And yet study after study indicates the opposite. In fact, working long hours makes us less productive overall. For example – this research.

This study just proves the first point I made about hair. Don’t try so hard, and often we’ll do better at life!

3) This brings me to my third point, the most complex of them all – a good life is fuelled by healthy desires.

I often drive myself, with a whip and self-help books, to chase my desires.

I would be the queen of self-help, and self-help would be my religion if Jesus wasn’t on the throne of my life (Thankfully).

I have bowed down to the queen of my own expectations (i.e. Therefore to me) enough to know that I am a brutal master.

My own expectations remain tantalizingly out of reach, no matter how much I serve to please my expectations, spoken forth by Queen “me”.

Get me off the throne of my life!

Why? Because my desires are often wrong. I often start the game chasing after the wrong goal.

Tragically, we continue to chase after our desires ad infinitum. The result? A chronic state of restlessness or, worse, angst, anger, anxiety, disillusionment, depression—all of which lead to a life of hurry, a life of busyness, overload, shopping, materialism, careerism, a life of more…which in turn makes us even more restless. And the cycle spirals out of control.

John Mark Comer, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry: How to Stay Emotionally Healthy and Spiritually Alive in the Chaos of the Modern World

And so, in summary, as we can clearly see by (1) the state of your hair, (2) the fact you missed the promotion at work again, and (3) your chaotic, hectic schedule that you clearly have no idea how to drive the car we call life.

Are you ready to hand the steering wheel of your unhealthy desires to Jesus, yet?

Then Jesus [said] . . . “Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am.”

The Message

I am more joyful with Jesus in His rightful place, on the throne of my life, striving to please Him. He is often so very pleased with my pitiful excuses for efforts. See this post about fasting for an example.

As my desires become more aligned with His desires, joy follows. Yes, I can even learn to sometimes DESIRE fasting over Oreos, or fasting over that delicious turkey dinner (Albeit this desire is coming slowly, I do see progress, however dimly).

Are you ready to kick the master of yourself off the throne of your life and to offer the place to Jesus, yet?

And may you too soar more often, friend.

May pleasing the audience of One be enough.

Ultimately, nothing in this life, apart from God, can satisfy our desires.

John Mark Comer, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry: How to Stay Emotionally Healthy and Spiritually Alive in the Chaos of the Modern World

As this song plays, consider asking Holy Spirit: How am I the master of my life, demanding things of me that I could never meet? How am I trying too hard? May you find the path that leads to your best life, friend.

It is far more biblical to learn quiet attentiveness before God than to exhaust ourselves in a flurry of activity.

Eugene Peterson

What I Am Learning About Suffering Well After Twenty-Nine Days Of Bed Rest

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

The first week on bed rest wasn’t too bad.

I was pretty sure my body would figure itself out, my back would crack in the right direction, and I would be up and running in no time.

I opened an office on my bed, barking orders at my homeschooled kid, and attending meetings online.

I forgot to tell one male teacher why I was in bed during the online call which was a bit embarrassing after the fact. But I’ve done more embarrassing things in good health.

My husband brought me coffee each morning. My daughters brought me tea. All in all, it wasn’t the end of the world.

But I’m on day twenty-nine today of near constant bed rest. The allure has lost its charm.

I was struggling to hang onto my mood today, meaning I was trying to kick a foul mood and find some fruits of the spirit somewhere, but I was coming up empty-handed again.

A friend texted me “How are you?”

I shut off the phone and rolled over. Where do I begin? I’m trying to hold onto a positive attitude.

Don’t shut her out, I felt God whisper.

I answered her text.

Be honest, I felt him whisper again.

She phoned later that night. And again, despite my foul mood, I felt God prompting me to pick up the phone, to say something.

I answered the phone and chatted imbecilely about happy things in our life – toilet training our new rabbit, our daughter home from university this week.

And when we got to the subject of my back I tried to keep up a brave front for a while. No one likes a bother. We all have stuff we walk through, after all.

But I was surprised when I felt emotional as I babbled my feelings to her. I’ve seen her tears before so it was safe for her to see mine. So I let them flow a little. And I learned a bit more about myself, about the lessons I’m learning on this journey of suffering. Here are a few:

1. It’s fear again that’s robbing my joy. I couldn’t figure out why the first week of bed rest was not too bad but today with a regression of symptoms was so upsetting. Yes. It’s because fear has shown itself again, reared its ugly head again, gnawing away at the courage in my heart. What if I get worse? Fear. And fear fed by my unfiltered thoughts grew bigger, overpowering my peace.

2. I was also afraid I wasn’t doing enough. Apparently, this is the a very common fear most humans feel, I recently learned*. What if I should be taking one healthcare provider’s advice and not the other’s, or vice versa? What if I try to get up and move around too much or too little? Fear. Fear that I am not walking the tight-rope of expectations for a temperamental back that randomly punishes me no matter what I do.

3. The remedy to fear? Repentance. I actually feel powerful when I repent of fear, ironically. Try saying this: God I’m sorry for being fearful of something way far out in my future when you promised me only enough grace for today. Jesus, I’m sorry for thinking that I’m going to pull myself up by the bootstraps and fix this back problem when I can’t even see my own back, never mind have any idea what knots my back nerves and muscles inside have gotten themselves into. Forgive me for thinking, again, that I will save me. Instead, guide me and whisper to me, and help me to learn from you how much rest and movement my body needs to heal.

And so the phone call ended.

My situation hasn’t changed but my heart of a lion was feeling stronger. I could sense it beating within me again. Whatever I go through You will strengthen me. Whatever difficulty I face You are there with me. When I go through the valley, You comfort me.

As you listen to this song, try repenting of your fear, repenting of your self-sufficiency, and thanking God for the glimmers of hope in your life. Then ask Holy Spirit how to have enough strength to face today. What do you hear Him whisper?

Blogpost Footnotes

* Joyce Meyer – Do It Afraid! Obeying God In The Face Of Fear

Hey! Let’s Stop Choosing Nutritional Death And Spiritual Death! (Healthy Habits Post 4)

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Why do you spend your money on junk food,
your hard-earned cash on cotton candy?
Listen to me, listen well: Eat only the best,
fill yourself with only the finest.
Pay attention, come close now,
listen carefully to my life-giving, life-nourishing words.

The Message

Just because we make stupid choices sometimes doesn’t mean we have to stay stupid.

In order for us to soar into the purposes and plans God has for us, we have to DESIRE the right things.

Why does the cocaine addict again choose to pick up and use the half-full needle he just found? (Do you use needles for cocaine? Dang! My inner Ned Flanders just can’t be suppressed! At least I didn’t say “Don’t drink drugs” like one of my kids does!)

Why do we, the societally privileged people that we are, look down on the cocaine addict mentioned above, and then again and again, we choose slow death over a victorious, energetic life?

Clearly stated: Why do we CHOOSE junk food?

Exactly like the cocaine addict mentioned above, we DESIRE the wrong things.

Truly soaring can only happen when we DESIRE the right things.

When DESIRE outside of God’s BEST plan for our lives defines us, and we follow the fulfilment of this desire, we are zombies following death wherever it leads.

So WAKE UP!

And eat your vegetables.

And just as we desire the wrongful foods that don’t let us soar, we desire placebos over spiritual fulfillment as well.

So what is the solution to not desiring nutritional health or spiritual health?

God help me to desire the best kind of physical food that will help me to soar in life.

And this prayer:

God help me to desire the best kind of spiritual food that will help me to soar in life.

So let’s ask God to help us DESIRE healthier food more often. For example, we’ll talk about how to ENJOYING eating our vegetables next time.

And let’s listen to uplifting music instead of listening to that gross crap that gets pumped into our ears in every department store we visit.

As we listen to something like this:

Let’s ask God questions like these:

Jesus, how am I chasing my deadly DESIRE when I should be chasing You? How am I blind, like the cocaine addict mentioned above, and think I know what is best for me, by following my desires, when really, I need You to help me completely change my desires?

Can you help me WANT to desire the right things?

There are many, many stories of people who experience a taste of God and then never touch their addictive substance of choice again. That’s cool too.

So let’s keep making time for Jesus by reading God’s word and listening to Holy Spirit in our times of prayer, and by connecting with God-seeking community.

Freedom from desire that leads to death and that masks our desperate need for God is on its way, if we will but stretch out our hands and receive.

Is Anyone Else Suffocating, Unnoticed?

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

I am in the struggle of my life. The enemy’s hands are closed around my neck. I gasp for breath, lashing out with my hands, struggling to break free. I accidentally strike the enemy as I violently thrash about.

At church, people stand near me, sipping tea and laughing together. Quips about the weather. To all outward appearances, I am sipping tea with them, laughing too. But the reality that is more real than the reality that can be seen is that I am at war. I can’t breathe.

The enemy has taken me to my knees now, where the life-or-death fight resumes. I feel death about to engulf me.

And then, like a person on a lifeboat, come to the rescue, to reach out a hand to a drowning man, she arrives. She hauls me into her boat. I am exhausted, soaking wet, and cold. “Thank you,” I gasp. My enemy is nowhere to be found.

“Who are you?” I ask. She is a random stranger. She shows me her clothes under her rain cloak. She is a fellow pilgrim, like me. Her clothes are dirty from months on the road. “God sent me to breathe life into you,” she explains.

She administers CPR and I feel stronger for a while. She offers me tea, biscuits, and a listening ear. She offers a blanket that calms my racing heart.

And that is how I met Aja, a random internet connection who opened my eyes a little wider regarding God’s path for me to follow.

I was afraid to journey further on, so God sent me a companion, for a while. And the journey has been easier with her around. She shoots the enemy with arrows from afar.

And she has been helping me to gather strength and to regain balance, to be ready to take the next baby step, leaning on her.

Because we are at war. For our future destinies with God.

What is He whispering about the next thing for you? Is it too big for you to succeed in?

That’s one of the ways you know your assignment is from God.

Are you strong enough to stand today, dear one, and to take the next step? Lean on my arm. Let’s listen to what God may be saying to you and let’s take the next step, together.

Peace to you. Just as the Father sent me, I send you. The Message

Lord, help us to have the humility to receive the ones that You send to us. I am reminded of the man stuck in flooded water, who refused help from the boat, the helicopter, and the swimmer with the extra life vest. “God will save me,” he explained.

God didn’t save him.

Once in heaven, he exclaimed, “God why didn’t You save me?” God replied that he wouldn’t receive the help that He had sent via the boat, the helicopter, the swimmer.

May we not be that stubborn Lord! Help us to ask questions, to humbly listen, to apply what we are learning from the guides that you send. And may we also, next week, help someone else get unstuck from the mud, even as our boots have just recently been cleaned from the same experience. Help us, Lord, to help each other, we pray.

Consider asking God, “Who should I be opening the depths of my heart to, sharing the thoughts that keep me awake at night? Who has wisdom to hear? Is there anyone that I can help to take one step out of their muck?”