Growing up, I struggled with the notion of a heavenly father who was caring and had my best interest at heart so I wasn't able to truly appreciate Christianity or men in general for that matter. I thought, "how great could he be?"
Then as I grew older I realised that my idea of a heavenly father and men in general was based on the way my father showed up in my life; the way he treated my mother; the way he treated us. So for a long time I couldn't get myself to trust God. I didn't even want to get married. That is until 2021.
It was a strange year for me. I was having anxiety attacks by day and panic attacks by night. Some so severe, I couldn't sleep because everytime I tried, I felt that I would be sucked into darkness and never return. They would start with a tightness in my chest that would spread all over my body until I was shaking and hyper ventilating.
It got so bad that I had to turn to God. I got into the habit of calling a devoted Christian friend every night just so we could read scriptures and pray and that was the only way I could fall asleep. And then one afternoon after I almost drowned (I'm being a tad dramatic here, I really just lost my balance and swallowed some pool water but it felt nearly catastrophic to me in the moment.)
I came home thinking about fear and being absolutely convinced that it was the opposite of love. While I cooked, I felt a familiar tightness in my chest and I thought "oh goodness, not again".
But then something was different about this attack. It didn't feel like my chest was caving in, it felt like my heart was filling up and would explode at any minute.
I thought about my father and suddenly started thinking of him as a man, just a man with fears and insecurities who really just did the best with what he knew. And most of his actions were probably governed by fear. And I knew fear and I felt love for him like I hadn't felt since I was a little girl still looking at him through rose coloured glasses. And I forgave him.
Then I thought about my mother and how she let her disappointment at the failings of my father dictate the way she treated us sometimes. About how she felt she couldn't trust us because she thought we were on our father's side and of how lonely she must have felt all those years and how afraid she must have been. And it occurred to me that she also was doing the best she could with what she thought she knew and I felt her fear and I felt love for her.
This went on all afternoon, me thinking about everyone I thought had wronged me and walking in their shoes and realising how selfish I myself had been and how I was also acting on fear and my heart finally did explode and I loved them all. And forgave them all.
It was after that day that I started reading the bible daily and praying fervently for a change of heart for myself and for the people I love. For months after that day I felt lighter on my feet, stopped having panic and anxiety attacks and just worked on becoming a better woman.
Then my father took ill in February 2022. When it looked like he wouldn't make it, I thought at the time that perhaps that's why I found God the previous October. Perhaps to pray for him and help him live long enough to get some peace of mind. But he didn't make it.
In the next few months following his death I think I may have come to terms with it. He always said it is given man but 70 years to live so when he hit 76, he used to say he was playing extra time. And he died at 83. I figured it wasn't so bad. He'd certainly had a full life.
So I made a list of promises to myself, that I would hunker down and make the best of what I had (business family and all) and part of that list was that I'd meet the man I was going to marry at the end of 2022.
And then shortly after that, my mother took ill. There was a particular episode with her at the hospital when she had a pulmonary embolism and couldn't breathe and I prayed with all my might and she got through it and I thought, "she must be the reason that I found God in October" because despite her failings she was really a good person and God must want to keep her alive.
But then she also died and I was at a loss. I was angry, sad, disappointed. I was lost. I didn't get it. I didn't understand why God would pluck me from not knowing him and drop me into longing for him only to plague me with adversity.
A little while ago, as I sat in an uber on my way home thinking about my life, about the year I had and how calm and unafraid I felt about the whole thing, I realised something.
My encounter in October didn't happen because God wanted me to save my parents from death. It happened because the great Yehowa, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the creator of all things wanted to save me!
Me! Little old me with my insecurities and doubt and selfishness. Yehowah wanted to replace my fear with love. He wanted me to know him on a personal level. He came for me.
That thought brought tears to my eyes and wrapped itself around me like a warm blanket on a cold night.
He loves me.
And because He loves me, I am not afraid.
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