Memorial Stones

I sat down to write this week’s post and stared blankly at my computer. I can honestly say that I have yet to struggle to find something to write about. Even in these last few weeks of writing a new post every week to get myself in the habit before the Race, the Lord has continuously provided me with endless topics and stories. I grew frustrated for a moment, until I realized there is something He has given me to write about. But once again (see pretty much any of my other posts), it’s not something I’m too excited to invite the entire Internet into. Still, I’ve found the stories that are the hardest to tell are usually the most impactful. I’m praying that’s the case with this. 

At the end of my internship in Jamaica last summer, I was given a rock taken from the beach. I was told to imagine all of my fears and worries about returning home and my next phase of life were represented in this rock. I was supposed to then throw it into the ocean, signifying letting go of these fears and leaving them behind in Jamaica. I watched as each of the other interns took their rocks and left to throw them into the ocean. But I immediately knew it wasn’t quite as simple for me.

A few months ago, I wrote about a big part of my story I often gloss over or leave out completely. You can read more about it here. I have struggled with depression and anxiety since I was about twelve years old. I’ve known Jesus through it. I have had the Holy Spirit in me, an intimate connection with Him through this time. Yet, I have still struggled. I have still lived one too many days with a black cloud hanging directly over me, or never far behind. Depression has made me feel like less of a person, much less of a Christian, weak, useless, and fake. Even as I began to seek help and finally began voicing everything I had spent years trying to bury, my shame still dictated my life. My shame still consumed me and robbed me of every freedom and light I’m supposed to walk in with Christ as Lord of my life. 

So, my stone made it’s way into my luggage and back to the States with me. I’m looking at it, literally holding it in my hand as I’m writing this. I could’ve easily just thrown it into the ocean last summer for the sake of it. But even though I didn’t realize it was God speaking to me at the time, something in me said to take it home, and get rid of it when I’m finally ready to let go of what I let define me for far too long. 

I’ve carried my rock in my purse for over a year now. I’ve carried this literal weight with me everywhere I went hoping it would make me ready sooner. I would often forget about it, then one day search for a pen or hair tie and find it. It was always a reminder that I needed to get rid of it, but I never felt ready until now.

Freedom looks like healing. Freedom looks like forcing the harsh, blinding spotlight, the light of Jesus, onto the darkest, ugliest part of you. Freedom looks like airing all of your dirty laundry, sin, shame, and screaming an invitation for the world to come see because you are a new creation, perfect, whole, and complete in His eyes. But freedom doesn’t look like fear. I’ve been walking in healing for a while now. But I tiptoed around it. I didn’t want to tell anyone, to even celebrate my freedom for fear it wasn’t real. Depression and anxiety gave my life a real, raw, dark, and ugly heaviness, but healing from them made my story worth telling.

There’s a park with a pond by my house where I usually run. I lost count of how many mornings I would run past this pond and imagine myself throwing my stone into it. Then I would low-key cry a little bit because 1) I’m RUNNING, the devil’s exercise, and 2) probably because I was listening to “Let It Go” by Kesha:

When I finish writing this post I’m going to go FINALLY throw my stone into the pond. I’ve been healed for some time now, but I haven’t been free. But this freedom I feel in my bones at this moment is what I want everyone in the world to experience. If you haven’t found it yet, this, my BEAUTIFUL friend, is your cordial invitation to experience the greatest happy dance of your life, the warmest hug you’ve ever felt, the biggest, stupid smile you’ve ever worn. You know that feeling when you listen to The Greatest Showman soundtrack? That’s what the freedom of Jesus feels like. IT’S. THE. BEST. //

Check out that bar at the top of the page: I am over halfway fully funded!!! I still need your support to raise another $2,500 to meet my next goal of $13,000 before Launch! Please consider donating if you feel led or helping me spread the word and sharing my stories! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Peace and blessings to you today!