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  • Writer's pictureJennifer Kelly

Her Inner Loathing & Surrender

Updated: May 7, 2019

It's been a long day at work and she's late getting home again. She takes a quick glance at her phone and notices the same three voicemails from bill collectors. There's also a text message from her babysitter, probably wondering where she is. Finally, after finding a parking spot at her apartment complex, she grabs her belongings and rushes home to 14B. As soon as the door opens, the kids scream, "MOM!" with utter delight.

They wrap all around her in a matter of seconds. They are impossibly tiny. Completely innocent. Dangerously hopeful. 

Apologizing to the babysitter for being late yet again, she goes to uncork another bottle of wine. She listens haphazardly to the details of the day's activities from the kids. There's too much on her mind. It's so hard to concentrate.

She is thirty-four and divorced. Two beautiful, innocent and curious eyes look up to her every day. Her precious babies are in need of love, support, food and provision. And every time she looks back into their eyes, she despises herself.

For not being enough. Not having enough.

Not giving enough. It's never enough.

Every night, she goes and tucks her kiddos into bed. Kisses, stories and whispers of love in tender, little ears seems to comfort and soothe them as they go off to sleep. But as soon as she closes the door behind her regret fills her mind. She is frazzled, hurried, impatient and wishing she could have another go at it.

She breathes out from pure exhaustion and then back in again. Even breathing is work. She is so, very tired. Tired of not giving her children what they deserve. Tired of feeling hallowed out. Tired of being tired.

There must be something I can do?

Someone I can go to?

She heads into her room, only to be reminded of how utterly alone she is. Scared, un-sure, and exhausted barely start to scratch the surface of her inner turmoil. Darkness runs deep and she has built Fort Knox walls of defense mechanisms around her heart. She is in lockdown mode. She immediately closes her eyes and tears stream down her cheeks.

How did this happen?

How did I get here? This isn't working.

Kneeling at her bed, she closes her eyes and attempts to pray. Doubt, fear and shame immediately bombards her head. She is broken and knows it all too well. This time though, she squeezes her eyes a little tighter and burrows her head a little deeper. Never has she desperately wanted to hear from God before. Instantly, hope swells up inside her like a juggernaut. All the air inside her seems tighten around her chest. How do you start to talk to God after so much time? Finally she sighs, hesitates, and says the only thing she can.

"Help. Please, I mean if you're there ... could you? Can you help me?"

Immediately, the flood gates open. More tears come rushing in. She can't stop them. It's like something inside of her exploded. All of her fears, failures, mistakes and regrets play in pictures through her mind. But something familiar calls her. A voice she knows and recognizes.

It's here, in the still, small quiet of her restless soul that she can hear God. Almost in an echo.

"Come to me".

Slowly, she comes up for air and wipes away her tears. This time, she really hears His voice.

So familiar. So full of love. Deep down, she knows she is not alone.

It's in this moment, she is finally willing to surrender. And her soul breathes. 

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