undone.

i tiptoe into this day with reverence.

i am profoundly aware that something tremendously dark + destructive lurks just outside of my natural vision. a battle of absolute undoing in the most sacred spaces— for hearts and minds and souls. for futures.

i force myself to breathe + believe, for as surely as i know anything, i know that

the road to Mercy begins when we become undone.

. . .

i’ve always centered much of my spirituality on Grace— that which is undeserved. like being Adored by the Creator of All That is Seen + Unseen. unmerited favor + Blessing.

but my eyes have been more turned towards Mercy in these recent days— that which is deserved, yet withheld. like being saved when we deserve destruction. like being forgiven when we deserve judgment.

. . .

one year ago today was a pretty normal day. or at least i believed so then. but all of that would change within the following 24 hours, with a life-altering blow, the likes of which i had not yet known.

a violent episode from someone i Love with every fiber of my Being— my very own Son. the manchild i had raised to be a protector + defender— turned against me in a desperate explosion of rage.

i was confronting him about some concerning (yet entirely “normal”) teenaged guy behavior. asking questions that he didn’t want to answer. sticking my hot fire-poker in his secrets.

but i had noticed a dramatic change in my once bright-eyed and charismatic Son— his light had gone dark. he was detached + despondent, spending all of his time holed up in his room. his eyes had lost all twinkle + shine. something evil had sunk its claws deep into his soul,

+ i was not going to let him go.

but as i began that conversation that day, i had no idea the magnitude of the beast that lay within— what i would end up calling out, by name, + being forced to draw spiritual sWord to slay.

. . .

i can’t go too far into details, although the story is a provocative invitation for introspection to anyone who has the privilege to listen. but for the sake of my own heart, my Momma heart, my Son’s heart, my Daughter’s heart— i simply cannot write the story quite yet. nor may never.

but what i can tell you, today, is this— i almost lost my Son that day. i almost lost my Daughter. + i almost lost everything i had ever fought for in my own Life, too.

death knocked three times.

the weight of these words is like cement in my core, pulling me under the surface against my will, yet taking me deep to the place of surrender where i can be set free.

the power of generational + cyclical abuse is very real. the curse of the Father’s sins born into the Son. born into the Daughter.

curses must be broken, or they will continue down the line.

i guess i just always thought that if i kept them away from our abusers, the violence would never grow fangs within.

but i was a fool to think such things.

. . .

364 1/4 days have now passed. i look to tomorrow with tremendous sobriety of heart and mind. my Son is alive. as is my Daughter. as am i. our physical scars have healed as much as they ever will. the unseen wounds are still quite tender, yet healing up as Beautifully as one could ever ask.

but healing takes time.

. . .

and even in the healing, i still have times when i want to run away. to pretend as though i don’t even exist. beaten + bruised, too many times over. i crave physical security, yet find none.

my only Hope is in this magnetic belief that there are better days ahead. that everything happens for a reason. that sacrifice leads to Blessing. that catalysts spark change. that transformation births Abundance.

and that Mercy can only be found in the arms of Unconditional Love.

He who withholds that which i deserve.

. . .

graciously opening Your Loving Arms and whispering into me: “come, My child. let Me hold you. everything will be alright. I promise.”

+ me looking up into the cosmos of Your Love + saying through desperate fear-tears, “but aren’t you mad at me, Papa? for this mess i’ve made? for all of the times i didn’t listen? for all of the times i intentionally chose the wrong way?”

+ You weep over me, Your Mercy-filled tears nourishing my thirsty soul— “all I’ve ever wanted was the Best for you. not to control you. not to force you. but to Bless you. to give you the Life you dream of. how could I be mad at you?”

. . .

+ so— as i have been forgiven and shown more Mercy than could ever be considered rational—

i forgive + show Mercy, too.

. . .

dearest Papa,

thankyou for Your Mercy in my Life. help me show others this gift by example.

thankYou for saving Jakob + Lola + me from death last march thirteenth. thankYou for bringing us full circle— all the way around the sun, to a brand new opportunity to do the day well.

thankYou for all of the hard stuff You allow on my path that forces me into Your Loving embrace. thankYou for never giving up on me, even when i deserve it.

i just wanna do this Life right, Papa. i wanna Live Love + serve others generously from the overflow of Your Mercy in my Life.

help me grow in Mercy, Living Spirit, that i may Love like You Love— unconditionally.

in the Holy Name of Yeshua Ha’Mashiach, i surrender my will to You— i remain undone.

Thy will be done.

i Trust you with it all.

. . .