You know that feeling when you don’t really know what you need until you NEED it and you have no idea what to tell people when they ask how they can help? Yeah, that’s exactly where I was at month 9 debrief. I really didn’t know. One thing I did know was that I needed space. Space to breathe. Space to be away from the squad. Space to gather my thoughts. Space to sit with the Lord and cry. I needed rest.
Not very often do you get the chance to be completely alone on the Race. Most of the time, you create a semi-alone space aka you pop your headphones in, close your eyes, and forget about the fact that 4 other people are in the same room as you. That’s about as close as it gets. So, when there’s an opportunity to spend a few hours in an empty Airbnb used to host your mentor for debrief, you steal the keys and bolt.
I got to the entrance of the apartment complex, went up a super sketchy elevator, put the key in the door, swung it open, and closed it behind me. I looked around and not a soul was in sight. Tears immediately began filling my eyes. I was completely alone. Excuse me…what?!
I took a deep breath and tried to gather my thoughts. Where do I even begin? After finding a super comfy spot by a window letting in beautiful rays of sun, I sat still; only hearing the beat of my own heart, my own breath, and the occasional car driving by outside.
I sat there for a while, letting the tears fall, speaking to my Father about where I’d been lately as if he didn’t already know. The Lord opened my eyes to see the reality I was in. I was entangled in sin, believing so many lies, idolizing my role as a logistics leader, hurting people close to me, and feeling completely apathetic. I felt crushed, heavy, and defeated. How can I look at my Father’s face? How can I approach His throne? I was overwhelmed with sadness and my heart ached for healing. I’d lost the ‘why’ behind the reason I’m on the Race. I hated admitting to myself where I’ve fallen short. I hated hearing the lies replay in my head, convincing me that what I was doing was okay. I hated the person I had become. I hated the place I was in.
As I laid on my back, sobbing, waiting in eager anticipation of my Dad’s love and response, I opened my Spotify and hit shuffle. (If you know me, you know I LOVE music and I’ve found that this is one of the many ways the Lord speaks to me). The song that played became my anthem for the next 3 hours in that apartment room. I cried out to my Father and so desperately asked Him to speak; to respond to my tears; to say something. He did. He spoke to me in the gentlest way possible. As the song played on repeat, I heard him say,
“Come to me daughter. I’ve been waiting. I hear you and am right here. I’m not asking you to carry all of this. I’m here. Quit trying to prove to me how strong you are. I know because I made you and I’m in you. I make your heart beat and lungs fill with air. I know where you’re at and I don’t expect perfection from you. I just want you to love me and trust that I love you. My dear Amanda, I’ve got you. There’s no need to put pressure on yourself and carry weights that aren’t yours to carry. Let me help you. Come sit at my feet and never leave.”
Wow…I get emotional just reading that again.
As tears continued to fall, the Lord gave me a vision. He was knelt down on one knee with both arms wide open. I was a child, maybe 6 or 7 years old standing a little distance away. I ran into his arms and he gave me the biggest hug. He let me go, stood up, held my little hand, and we started walking.
That’s all I want; to walk hand-in-hand with my Heavenly Father. He is so much bigger than whatever this life throws at me and loves me far beyond what my human brain can comprehend.
With arms lifted high, heart fully surrendered in reverence of the One who made me, I felt weightless. An overwhelming amount of peace fell over me and a smile quickly came to my face. I knew I needed to sit with my Dad, but I had absolutely no idea how much I needed it.
Thank you, empty apartment, for providing a much needed space for me to breathe and be still before my Father. I will never forget this sweet intimate moment. God, you are so good!
~A
