Coming Home

On April 15, 1987 I left my home town. The truth is I ran away at seventeen. I was angry, hurting and hated God; I was on a war path toward self destruction, to prove all the lies right, to prove that God did not love me or give a damn about me. I didn’t care about what happened to me. I had nothing and no one there other than myself that I trusted.  In all my seventeen years of wisdom I had concocted the perfect plan.  I was never going to come back to this place that I called “Hell.” Turns out that the joke is on me.

Yesterday I spent a beautifully blessed day in “Hell.” I woke in the arms of my husband, a man that has blessed me more than he knows, just by understanding me and taking the time to be in my presence. He listens, and he hears what I say, even the words that I do not speak out loud.

We gathered the cameras and went for a drive looking for that perfect photo for the day. Granted this is not the first time that we have done this, won’t be the last. What made this day more extraordinary than the others? It had nothing to do with that it was my birthday; we go out shooting almost on a daily basses. What made this drive so different from the others?  I found a peace that I had never had in my life.

With windows rolled down, my olfactory senses assaulted by the sweet, near intoxicating scent of the wild honey suckle, the warm spring breeze on my face the comforting feel of Dalyn’s hand in mine, I was overcome with a deep knowledge that I was finally home. I belonged in the moment, Time and space had wrapped around me, and I was at peace. There were no voices in my head telling me to run. I did not question it. I lived in it. I had forgotten how to live. I had forgotten how to breathe. I had been holding my breath for years. Wow, here I am at 41 years old and took my first breath.

I spent a day full of happiness and joy with Dalyn, friends and family. I am thankful for the day I had with them. That was yesterday. This is today. Somehow during the night as I slept in restlessness something came along and stole that peace away from me.

How could this happen? I just had a day full of peace and happiness.  Why? Because for all the love that I have in my relationships with others, I do not have one with God. I paid lip service. I thanked Him in fear of retribution.  I did not let Him in. I left Him out of my day. As I type this, I feel sick and afraid, torn apart by the lies that I know of God, fighting to let go of those ideas and seek the truth in a loving God.  I am home. I know this, yet I am still a long way from falling into God's arms and letting Him hold me.