Restoration

Every morning and afternoon during the school year I drive by an old house. I first noticed it because it stands out from the other homes nearby. This old, brick house sits on a beautiful tree-lined street in a classic old-money neighborhood. The reason it stands out is it's state of disrepair, especially in this community. It's a lovely old home with lots of character. I've often wondered the story behind this home. Who are the owners? Where are they? Why does no one live there now and why did they stop taking care of this house? I want to know it's story.

I've been seeing a counselor for several months and she's been helping me unfold my story. It's amazing to me, like that old home, I somehow managed to stop taking care of myself. The me that is most important, my spirit. This past week as I walked through the grieving process over David and Ruth I realized that I had shut that part of me down years ago. The part that didn't want to feel the pain. I decided it hurt too much. I felt it was too much for God to ask me to bear and so I closed the door to the pain, and like an old house that doesn't get used my pain began to rot away parts of who I am.

It was a choice. A choice that has had dire consequences for my spirit and soul. Depression for one. A loss of my full identity for another. These are no small things. When I wrongly believed I couldn't stand the hurt and grief I unknowingly disassociated myself from a vital part of who I am and what God was doing in me. Like rooms in an abandoned home part of who I am has been unused and locked away, growing dusty.

Recently I had a dream that I was swinging. I was swinging side to side instead of front to back. It was wonderful. I felt so free. As I was swinging a friend came up and began to pray over me. She prayed for healing over past wounds. When I woke up I heard in my spirit, " I want to restore your sanguine personality." Restoration. Just what I need.

At the time of the dream I wasn't sure all that it meant but in the last few days I've come to understand. I lost part of me when the twins died. A big part. I understand now what I didn't then. That when we say no to pain and grief we are saying no to our very selves. No, you can't walk the road marked out for you. No, you can't feel this. No you can't be a whole person, you can't be who you are meant to be. No, you can't heal.

I need and want a total restoration of who God made me to be, not who I've been saying I am through a filter of depression.

Part of me is angry at myself for falling for the lies of the enemy. Part of me is mad at God for... well for all of it! But the bigger part of me is thankful. Thankful that I have a God who takes the old and worn out soul and makes it new again. A God who restores. I'm working through my anger knowing that it's part of the process, part of the restoring.

Maybe it's taken me twenty years to get to this place on my journey but it's okay, it's better than never getting here. It's better than sitting vacant and empty. I'm choosing differently now. I'm choosing to allow the pain. The pain of a redo. I'm going to lean in as best I can and let the restoration begin.