So obviously God has got a calling on my life. Last week Friday I said I would not write for the foreseeable future because I am going through the mist of despair or going through dry and parched land where there seems to be no water. But for some bizarre reason I feel like God wants me to document my emotions and share it with people even though I am not in the best frame of mind. Whenever I am really down, I just simply don’t feel like writing. Because what am I to say? To offer hope when I have no hope? How does that work? If I have no hope – how can I help someone else see that things will improve and that all is well? At least I know that His return is close. Oh I do look forward to the day that I can be reunited with God and my children in heaven!
The past week I have been battling all sorts of negative emotions. It’s a bit like a hurricane of emotions going through my life wreaking unnecessary havoc. I had to withdraw from the world to a certain degree so that I could gain back some equilibrium and I thank God I was able to find some much needed balance in my life with peace to a certain degree. I was able to function as a normal human being. I was able to laugh a bit on Friday afternoon. I was able to smile without feeling like my insides were breaking apart. I am learning to keep on going even when I feel like the tide of life is working against me. I was able to relax and be in God’s presence. I love writing about him. I love being in his presence. I love praying to him. My favourite part of the day is the early morning when the world is still asleep and when it is just me and God and all my worries fly away. God is my anchor, He is my hope. The funny thing is when I write, I feel like it is not me that is writing but it’s the Holy Spirit that is talking through me. And it helps me, it put things into perspective. It helps me to put my issues neatly into boxes and let me work through the issues one by one. Perhaps I repeat certain things often in my writing – but in my opinion that is the Holy Spirit talking through me, and re-accentuating points that I need to hear more than once.
Of course after I started feeling peace come in me, the devil had to try remind me of his intimidating and dangerous presence. He was trying to get me to walk away from God again. But because my roots are deep in God, and my hope is in God, he will have to try harder to rip me away from my God of hope. I had a really nasty migraine attack on Sunday. As my friend put it, she could see the colour slowly draining from my face, from rosy pink cheeks to ghostly white. It knocked me out for the majority of Sunday before I meandered my way to hospital for an injection because none of the painkillers were working, and I needed to rest. The migraine was still there when I woke up Monday morning so I went back to my doctor to get one more injection, and finally the pain was slowly disappearing, and I could feel my senses awaken again. Except, then I have to battle with the hostile emotions of negativity and confront depression so that it does not rule my life. It usually takes me three to four days to recover from a migraine attack. I usually hope for less because really this is an unnecessary commodity of life.
It is like a knife lodged in my brain. Pain, intense pain, hostile pain. Drowsy. Drifting in and out of consciousness. Stumbling in and out of sleep. Struggling to keep your eyes open. In those moments, I welcome death’s soft voice. I have vowed to challenge myself the next time I have a migraine. The next time I have a migraine I will combat it, I will fight it with all my strength, and I will not let the migraine stop me from doing my day to day activities. I will do everything in God’s strength to fight against it, so that I do not succumb to its evil grip. It is an attack from the enemy and it has no place in my life. How many times has a migraine messed up the plans I have made for my life? I was supposed to hang out with my sister in Christ on Sunday afternoon only for it to be cancelled because migraine snuck up on me and knocked me unconscious for the remainder of the day. I will pray scripture over me and pray the healing blood of Jesus over me so that I do not have to go through another migraine attack like I have been through.
Usually when I have a migraine attack, the days preceding it, I just feel so very low. So very depressed, and I miss my son, my daughters, and I miss my best friend. I struggle then with a sphere of emotion ranging from rejection, to feelings of self-worthlessness and extreme self-hatred towards myself, to feeling unsure of myself, to feeling vulnerable and fragile, and to needing that extra reassurance because it is like the pathways in my brain have been disjointed and I have to reconnect them one by one so that slowly things will start to make sense in my life again before the next attack happens again. I feel sorry for all the other migraine sufferers. I know your pain. I know the agony that you go through and I can only pray that you will be healed in the name of Jesus.
So, today as I sit at work I am trying to be hopeful for my future in what seems to be an endless life of uncertainty. With so many important dates coming up. Next week Monday marks 3 years since my nephew was born silently. Three weeks from now marks the time that I moved country and was eagerly anticipating the birth of my son. Two months from the 26th of July marks the day that my world changed forever, and that my precious son died, followed by a 4 day marathon of pushing through the contractions and intense grief before he was born with a silent dignity in that white sterile wilting hospital room of a communist past. So much has happened in the last two years. Two years ago, I imagined myself being a mommy to a living child, teaching him all about God’s ways and building up a good home for him. Only for that dream to come crashing down, and taking small baby steps back into the world after grief struck my world. I lived in isolation for the majority of 2015 and still to a certain degree I live in seclusion. I welcome my quiet time eagerly, I welcome my space. I know a year ago I wasn’t able to spend more than an hour with people before it got too much and I would wrap myself into my world of deep grief. Healing. Praying. Listening to God’s word. Clinging onto him for hope, where there seemed to be no hope. Slowly I was able to come out of that darkness and enter into the light and feel God’s love on me once more, and I was able to remember God’s calling on my life.
Numerous of times I have heard God say ‘Hannah, you will be a beacon of light to the broken-hearted. Hannah you will be helping many women if not thousands of women come to know me through your story of restoration, hope and your spirit of resilience and strength that you got from me.’ I remember a year before Sebby died – I had a dream. It was around the 25th of September 2013 when I sat on top of a mountain in my sleep and God had his arms wrapped around me holding me, loving me, as I was weeping, telling me that all is well, and that whatever happens he loves me and has forgiven me for all my sins and transgressions. That I suppose was God preparing me for what was to come. The wilderness of grief, and severe heartache. The missing. The loss. The ache. Birth met death and death took over. Lost hope buried in the hollowness of trees, where hope would eventually seep out and sift through the cavities in my broken heart. Then one person showed that they believed in me, and saw a ministry growing in me, and here I am in my new phase of life. Learning to hear Christ’s call on my life, and hopefully one day I will be able to touch many people, and help them on their journey of healing, and lead them towards the cross in a small way and that there is hope amidst grief. That is my hope today and my prayer.