World on a String?

With a gas can in one hand and a lit match in the other, I left my hometown eight years ago and never looked back. For thirty-three years, I lived in the same county and there was a bad memory on every corner. I left in the wee hours of the morning and cried for the first 100 miles--then I cranked up my radio and drove until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I traveled alone on the road to a new start in North Carolina, just a shell of a person hanging on by a thread.

To the world, I was a confident woman who had the world on a string. I landed a great job and had both of my children in private school. I loved my new job and the freedom from my past. But on the inside, I was a fragile girl screaming for help. With no family and friends in our new town, I started attending a local church hoping to find somewhere to call “home." I quickly learned just how judgmental Christians can be hiding behind their Bibles and fake smiles. That experience confirmed all of my insecurities and drove me deeper into depression. I would play the role of perfect mother and confident career girl during the day and then cry myself to sleep at night. It was 2008, and when the economy took a hit, so did my job. I quickly picked up the pieces, muddled my way through another interview and landed a new job. I held the façade together for two more years, morphing into whoever I thought my current audience wanted me to be. The day I was laid off, I skipped out of the parking lot with a song in my heart--for some reason, I saw this as another chance.

I spent the next year digging deep and trying to find out who I truly was. I had lived my entire lifetime being the person the world wanted me to be, and I had more baggage than a Southwest flight. I couldn’t tell you my favorite food, what I dreamed of, or what my beliefs were. I joined a gym and started reading a lot. One day at a local bookstore I found the “Spiritual” book section. The mile-wide smiles of the Christian writers made me want to vomit. And don’t get me started on the titles like “Finding the Real You." Christianity and I were like oil and water: I wanted nothing to do with the perfect people of that realm, and the feelings were mutual. I moved on to the next section and found a great book on dieting. Each time I visited the bookstore I would inevitably encounter a “spiritual” book. It was frustrating to always have that junk staring me in the face. I blasted God and said, “I’ll buy the stupid book if you’ll leave me alone!” So, I bought a Max Lucado book titled “In the Grip of Grace” and promptly threw it onto the floorboard of my car.

One day, in a weak moment, I found myself out of reading material and grabbed the Max Lucado book and started skimming the pages. I was trying to find the sections that would condemn my life, and with any luck, it would include Bible verses to back up the judgment. I grew up knowing there was a God and that I didn’t fit into the Christian mold. When I did find a glimmer of hope, one visit to a church would squash it like a bug hitting a windshield. As I read through the first chapter of the book, I found that I really liked Max’s style of writing, so I kept reading. As expected, I did find condemnation, but this time was different. It was followed up with a "but." There was a way out of this dark world I lived in--it was called grace. Where was that word on Sunday mornings?! I read the entire book in one day, each chapter peeling off another label. When I finished the book, I took a shower and wept. I wept tears of sorrow and tears of joy, as I realized all that I had been missing.

I spent the next few weeks visiting churches and found a place that felt like home. Over time, my relationship with God and my appreciation for myself grew stronger, and I began to feel comfortable in my own skin. I no longer cared if I fit in, or tried to hide behind a mask. God placed an amazing man in my life who loves me even at my worst. I eventually began working full-time in children’s ministry, and God continued to work in my heart and in my life. Can you believe God would use a broken mess like me to do His work? There have been many challenges along the way, and I’m sure there are more to come, but I look forward to them. I can look back over the years and see how God was with me every step of the way and how each obstacle peeled back another layer, revealing who God intends me to be.

Three months ago, I left my second home in North Carolina for a new adventure, but this time it was very different. As we loaded up the last few boxes and made our way down the tree-lined streets, I felt a rollercoaster of emotions. We passed the playground where we spent countless evenings fighting pirates, my favorite coffee shop, and the hospital where I spent a long night pacing the floor worrying about my two year old. Somehow, each of those memories made me smile and left me wondering what changed in the eight years I had been there. The simple answer is me.

I am humbled by the number of people who went out of their way to let us know how much we meant to them through phone calls and emails. Some even drove across town for one last embrace. The thought of leaving the comfort of our family and friends was daunting, but we know it is what we were supposed to do.

~ Melissa