Guest Post – Lauren Sykes

Tuesdays and Thursdays throughout April & May (and beyond) I have dedicated to guest writers. Today I’m pleased to introduce you to a fellow Chick-fil-a lover; Lauren is the individual to blame for my current addiction. The beauty and vulnerability she displays in her writing is something I greatly admire. I can’t wait to meet her in person this summer! Also...tomorrow is her birthday!! So, leave her some birthday season love, because we all know how much I love a good birthday celebration!

Interest in submitting your own guest post? Email me for more information!

a recovering dreamer. . .

i am a dreamer.

and what is a dreamer to do when they awake surrounded by the shattered glass of their dreams? watching hopes crumble simultaneously in an instant.  leaving razor sharp edges poised to pierce the already fatal wound.

i was paralyzed. crippled.  left with tattered shreds of my heart created by the initial blow. as time wore on, i knew i had to move.  as the gypsy dreamer in me fought to stand again.  but knowing i was surrounded by glass.  and with skin exposed i knew that could only mean one thing. . .

more piercing and wounding ahead.

i had two options. . .

{1} do my best to cling tightly to the shards that remained or

{2} step forward.

i could live in my past or limp into my future. both were going to hurt.  one would inflict much greater pain at the onset while the other tiny cuts piercing for a lifetime.

initially, i clung tightly to the shards that remained.  helplessly grasping at the broken pieces of my dreams shredding my hands over and over. attempting with everything i had to super-glue it all back together again.  believing i could never be happy anywhere but the place i resided just hours before.  happily engaged to my beloved.  our greatest disagreement revolving around rehearsal dinners and seating charts.

i couldn’t. . .wouldn’t move. willing the glass surrounding to seamlessly repair itself.

the pain of continually trying to put those pieces back together was excruciating.  i suddenly realized i couldn’t fix it. couldn’t repair it.  nor was i meant to.

i had to move. knowing if i lived in the past i would be right where the enemy wanted me. . .stagnant and ineffective. and from day one i resolved that the Lord was going to get every ounce of the glory in my pain. . .even if it killed me.  only then would it be worth it.

so i took a step forward.

glass embedding in the soles of my feet as i walked.  stopping long enough for my Daddy to pour stinging disinfectant in new wounds before gently removing glass.  rubbing His healing salve from the inside out.  knowing it was the only way to heal all the while balking at the pain.

one step turned into two. . .

then three. . .

and four. . .

the walking has been anything but beautiful. more often than not, it is a glorified limp accompanied by tears streaming and chest heaving. but i keep walking.  at times stopping to rest.  allowing the pain to wash over once again and overwhelm for a moment.  but only a moment.  always allowing a wave of His love to wash over the pain that remains.

my story is far from over and healing still incomplete.  but i know the only way the dreamer in me can be re-birthed is from a deep place of healing. my Daddy has begun that re-birth in my own heart despite the devastation that remains.  and the more i delight in Him. . .

. . .the more i believe the truth of His words.

delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.
-psalm 37:4 {esv}

and we know that for those who love God, all things to work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.
-romans 8:28 {esv}

how do you cope when your dreams shatter?


lauren is a twenty-something living under the shadow of His wings as she copes with an unexpected broken engagement. her bones have been shattered and heart broken, but she is trusting the Lord to heal her broken places. . .and doing her best to rejoice in the meantime. she blogs about raw and ugly realities of her journey at beautifully broken.

 

 

 

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Just One of Those Days

Courtesy of photobucket.com

My vision blurs. At first I think it’s my contacts being funky, but then I recognize the tell-tale fuzz of an impending migraine.

Makes sense considering I only got 3 hours sleep the night before.

The bummer about my migraines is that they announce their arrival before the pain comes. So I just sit there, in anticipation of the throbbing ache that will soon fill my head.

The kids are supposed to be cleaning their rooms, but they’re not. Instead Eli’s bouncing a ball against the bedroom wall (once again I’m so thankful that there’s no one on the other side) and Cora’s tap dancing on the trunk in her room. Both activities not enjoyable during a migraine, but I don’t have the energy to do anything about it.

Silas has had a cold for over a week now and I’m trying not to “new-mommy freak out.” I’m not a new mommy, this is old hat by now. But I still hate it when they get sick when they’re so little. His little cry sounds so pitiful and he has such a hard time eating. He’s been crying for two days straight, and the pitifulness is wearing off. My head seems to throb along to the intensity of his cry, like those dancing flowers that used to gyrate to the music.

The blinds are closed tight against the bright Southern California sun. The light hurts my brain and so it’s dark as night in our home. I sit in my oversized recliner, cuddling a sleeping baby who will only allow his body to relax if he’s being held.

Dishes with crumbs from last night’s dinner and this morning’s cereal sit waiting for me at the sink. I can look down the hall from my chair and see Mt. Laundry threatening to erupt out of my room. They will both have to wait.

I’m cutting myself some slack. There’s only so much I can do. Today is just one of those days when I’m only a mom. Not a housekeeper. Not a personal chef. Not an event coordinator.

I’m the only one that can provide the comfort he needs. My body only has energy to rock him gently if he whimpers. Everything else gets pushed aside.

And that’s just how it has to be sometimes…

Too Deep for Words

Friday my Grandma made the choice that she was done fighting.

My family have all spent the last few days in her hospital room; crying, laughing, sharing, comforting. I have spent the last few days mourning someone who’s still here…but lost to me. I was able to talk to her Saturday night on the phone, to tell her I love her and I’m glad she’s no longer in pain.

Now I sit and wait for a call to tell me the waiting is over. The doctors had said it would be a couple of days…those have come and gone. She’s always defied their predictions. She’s planning on going home today or tomorrow with hospice. But all plans are ultimately in His hands.

I have so much I’ve wanted to write, so much I’m thinking and feeling, but right now it’s still too deep.

Thank you for your prayers and support during this time. They are greatly appreciated and needed.

A picture from last May when my Grandma met Ezra for the first time.

“In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words;” ~Romans 8:26