I didn’t realize how toxic my situation was.
I didn’t realize how much turmoil and despair were literally bathing me daily. No matter how much I tried to recover, I would find myself caked again in disappointment, agony, toxicity, constant turmoil and the like.
I couldn’t catch a break for months, no matter what I did.
I cried every single day—for weeks, for months, sometimes for hours at a time. It was nonstop. Gut-wrenching attacks.
And then I packed diligently and drove off.
Even as I was driving, I could feel the peace overtaking me. I knew I was bringing myself into a healthy place.
There are two kinds of “green pastures.”
There is the one you find while you’re still in the valley—where, despite the situation surrounding you, you are somehow able to withstand.
And then there is the one we long to experience with longevity: a place of PEACE AND REST.
Now I want to cry because of the gratitude.
I can’t believe I am here, in a place where I can find wholeness again.
Where I can find hope.
There are smiles everywhere. Laughter bouncing off the walls. Conversations I can take part in with people of all ages—and even the biggest, fluffiest dog. LOL.
It’s peaceful.
I have been slammed day and night with pain, conflict, troubles, chaos, and confusion. The moment I thought I was out of the miry clay, I found myself right back in it—and somehow even deeper.
But I know God’s got my back. He tells me in His Word:
“I can never escape from Your Spirit!
I can never get away from Your presence!
If I go up to heaven, You are there;
if I go down to the grave, You are there.
If I ride the wings of the morning,
If I dwell by the farthest oceans,
even there Your hand will guide me,
and Your strength will support me.”
Psalm 139:7–10 NLT
“Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away.
Each time He said, ‘My grace is ALL YOU NEED.
My power works best in weakness.’
So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses,
so that the power of Christ can work through me.”
2 Corinthians 12:8–9 NLT
I kept asking, and I didn’t get a reprieve.
Hours passed.
Days passed.
Weeks passed.
Months passed.
It would appear to be approaching the year mark, considering the trend. I cannot even fathom that.
The quiet was hard to obtain.
The smile was hard to keep.
The love I wanted so desperately to feel was fleeting.
And then I walked into reminders that I was someone who mattered.
Someone whose presence could make others feel grateful.
It’s not to say I was completely devoid of that before. What I am saying is that there was a huge gap—a breach between what I was experiencing and the plenitude of love, connection, peace, and belonging that we require.
Even my music has changed.
I’ve been listening to my “spunk” playlist more—the peppier Christian beats that make me want to move, smile, and feel alive again.
I can breathe again.
I needed to breathe again.
Whole boatloads of air after feeling like I had been suffocating and drowning for so long.
The Lord knew.
Otherwise, He wouldn’t have paved the way like this for me to be in this place—right now, right here. And so quickly. A place of healing and much needed rest.
Maybe this green pasture isn’t about forgetting the valley. Maybe it’s about finally being still long enough to realize just how exhausted I had become walking through it in everywhere I turned.
And perhaps this is my hallmark—not that I escaped every painful thing, but that somewhere along the way, God reminded me that pain does not get to have the final word.
There is still peace.
There is still laughter.
There is still love.
There is still hope.
And there is still me underneath everything I have endured.
Breathing again.
Smiling again.
Finding wholeness again.
I am grateful.
So very grateful.
