Something insidious happens after trauma. It’s called grief. It’s called shock. It’s called the long road of healing.
Folks might want you to minister in the aftershock, but you can’t. You can’t even see your way down the dark tunnel.
This was France for me. And its aftermath has lasted five painful (but growing) years. I couldn’t even think about doing ministry full time in the same manner. I couldn’t entertain the idea of returning to France even for a visit. I couldn’t contemplate another upheaval.
During this time, God has cradled me. He’s taken the broken parts, re-set them, then helped me wait patiently until they strengthen better than before the injury. The cliche is correct, right? What doesn’t break us makes us stronger?
And still, the process hasn’t been easy or even intuitive. I’ve wondered aloud and silently why we had to walk through what we did. I’ve wondered what that was all for. To refine us? To prepare us for future ministry? To destroy our pride? Maybe all of those things and none of those things.
But here I am today, on the cusp. I’ve walked through healing. I can talk about France without crying (most times). I can even write about it. And I’m starting to feel complacent. My soul stirs inside, no longer content with sitting around and healing. There has to be more.
I don’t know what the “more” is.
But I feel my feathers fluff. The nest is getting itchy. And I so want to fly, to risk, to do things that scare me for the sake of His kingdom. God kept me nested five years, but now He’s pushing me out.
What about you? Are you in a season of trauma? Healing? Nest-leaving? Share your story.