Monday I filed my first police report. It involved a stolen item, a midnight police chase, and an early-morning break-in with a search warrant.
All over a stolen iPhone.
(What can I say? We don’t get much excitement here in Small Town America.)
As the chase continued, my adrenaline-pumping body had my mind almost believing… this is a real crisis, huh?!
My mind knew the truth.
I’ve been there, in a crisis. The kind that tears your front door off… the door you’ve never let anyone past… the kind where suddenly everyone’s looking at everything you’ve ever been able to hide behind.
Sitting by my dad’s hospital bed, watching him gasp for breath, his chest literally cut in half after open-heart surgery.
Hearing that I might one day lead a “normal” life with my autoimmune conditions… or I might struggle every day to pop those first few pills to help me function.
Listening to the words “one in 35” that in-vitro would work and I would one day hold a baby in my arms again.
I realize I’ve lived a pretty sheltered life, and that compared to many of you my moments of crisis may seem small. You truly “get” the tough stuff… and for me to think I can speak to your level of agony would be unaware at best.
But today I just want to leave you with this, simply because it has been walking me through my own private valley in recent days…
“Blessed [is] Yahweh, because he has worked marvelously his loyal love to me in a besieged city.” Psalm 31:21 (LEB)
I don’t know what blew the front door off for you, but please know that it’s more than just your adrenaline pumping. This is real. And it’s hard. And it’s so, so scary.
It’s okay to breathe. It’s okay to feel. It’s okay to let it all sink in.
And it’s okay, when the time comes… to let his loyal love embrace you in this besieged place.
Meanwhile, can I walk with you?