The middle of the storm

I did not become a mother by calculating risks and probabilities. I became a mother by being as vulnerable as I had always been in my life.

I sought refuge in the arms of the wrong kind of man while battling with a marriage that needed help and direction, and when you are being circled around by the devil and you open windows instead of locking the front door, anything and anybody can get in and vandalize your home. And so my home - my inner peace, my spirit, my existence - was brutally vandalized by a man in sheep’s clothing, and nothing I could say or do could shift blame elsewhere, because it was my own brokenness that opened those windows. He just invited himself in through those wide open windows. My life will never be the same.

One of the things I have learned in the last few years is that God will always find a way to bless you in the middle of a storm. Perhaps He does that so that we do not give up - and not just so that we realize that He is all powerful and we need Him for everything. He sprinkles some sparkles here and there even in the darkest of rooms, so that we can keep on hanging on - and maybe that is His way of reminding us that He is always there. If you look back at every single catastrophe in your life, you will be able to identify at least one tiny sparkle shining through - relentless, fearless, almost annoying. Even if it is just the fact that you are still here, reading this, breathing in and breathing out. Alive. What a miraculous sparkle that is.

In this same way, God executed His master plan in my life and allowed for a child to be conceived out of wedlock - so that now I could not get sick and I could not die. Because when you are being abused - on your body, on your mind, on your feelings, on your soul - sometimes it can feel as if nothing is ever going to get better. It can make you question the reason for you to keep on living. And this is when miracles happen. And quite often, I am sure, this is when God rolls up His sleeves and gets down to it, and crafts a game plan, and gets other people involved, and orchestrated events commence to occur - subtle little things, tiny moments you barely retain in your memory, until sometimes years later. A sparkle, accustomed to get its way - for there is no other way that ever mattered. A divine intervention, freakishly unstoppable and good.

The Creator of all - with His everlasting qualities, hovering over what once was, walking through what it is, and knowledgeable of what is to come - knows exactly how my life and your life are going to be like. I picture His mind to be a masterpiece of organizational architecture. And in this way, He sometimes manages to allow that which seems unspeakably incoherent to any sane mind to take place, so that His perfect plan is never altered. God doesn’t rejoice with our sins, do not misunderstand me. He however will often put those willful mistakes to good use, bringing lessons forward, utilizing that which the devil envisioned to destroy you to redeem and strengthen you in Him instead. Jesus did not die on that cross for the sake of perfect individuals in need of nothing to make them right with God. He gave up His spirit for those who needed someone to fight for them, and to love them past their many flaws, and to forgive them deeply and truthfully. He died for me, and for my daughter’s father, and for you. The acceptance of His love is however up to us.

I do not see my daughter as a mistake. She is a reason to believe in God even more strongly. She was first in His mind. He saw her before I ever knew she was coming. He knew her before I ever held her in my arms. And He knew that when her father carelessly thought to be giving me the choice to do “whatever you want” with the pregnancy, I was going to go through with it. My daughter had God on her side long before she was even formed in my womb. She is important to God, and she is important to me.

Excerpt from "All the wrong places" ©