I am sorry.

I'm not really here.

Well, I am sort of here, but not totally here.

Rather part of me is here. The encourager, teacher, saved-by-grace, Daughter of the King is here. Yes, that is really me. But the wounded woman, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and while learning to lay it over and over again at the foot of the cross, has been gone for some time and may not be back for a while.

I'm sorry about that. It isn't the way I like to live. But it is my reality and the lesson God has for me in this season of life.

The transparent heart I've always worn on my sleeve has been covered up. I hate it. Absolutely hate it.

I spent a childhood keeping secrets, never allowed to tell about the abuse I suffered for fear of what might happen. Even as an adult, I've been ordered to secrecy -- and have insomuch declared I will not follow such demands. As a teen, I rebelled by telling all my friends about everything I was going through...every ugly secret in my soul, every wicked moment in my home. And as an adult, a follower of Christ, I share my heart for the sake of encouraging others to trust in the Lord and His transforming power, hoping they will yield their heart to Him as well.

My parents constantly chided me, to "not wear my heart on my sleeve." I never understood why. Regardless, I refused to listen. Telling others about my pain and fear and worries always made me feel better. I became addicted to the affirmation. It was the only respite in the midst of my pain. A soothing balm to the oozing wounds.

Becoming a Christian and receiving Jesus' healing touch on my heart didn't change my pattern of seeking comfort from others. When the emotions welled up in my chest, talking continued to been the only relief. Like a helium balloon filled with too much air, I've always felt like I'll burst unless I get it out.

Over the years, I've learned discernment, realizing that everyone who asks, "How are you?" isn't really interested in the details of my messy life. I've also learned that there is a time and place to share our pain, as God uses us as wounded healers.

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.

While I've learned the when and where of divulging my secrets and pain, along with turning to the God of comfort to heal my soul, I am still as much as ever addicted to the process. God, however, only wants me addicted to Him. One trial after another has been deeply rooted in secrets and lies, with the mantra of "You're not allowed to tell anyone..." engraved all over it. Keeping those secrets nearly caused the death of my spirit over the past two years. The enemy does his handiwork in darkness. Secrets are His way of snuffing out the light, putting us to shame, isolating us from others, and destroying our soul. In the light, is where we will find freedom and the truth, for that is where our Savior lives and sets the captives free.

All last year, I thought I would crumble under the weight of carrying a secret that was not my story to tell nor my life to fix. I tried intervention. My husband and I pursued the Biblical instruction for such a situation. And we prayed, often. It didn't turn out how we hoped for, and we still grieve the outcome. I was so relieved when the secret finally became public. I could breath again.

Ultimately, God was bringing me to the place of seeing the parallels of this particular secret and story to my own childhood. He used this painful, lonely journey to open an infected wound and begin the uncomfortable process of healing. Naively, I thought that meant that the secrets of my life were finally over, until...

Another secret was shared. All too recently.

And now, I must carry that story, which is not mine to tell but deeply affects my world now and forever. It is painful, grief-filled, as I see what was hidden in the darkness, again, and the daunting ramifications. Once more, I am at a place of hiding my heart, not because I'm told I must this time, but because I'm not sure it is wise to do otherwise. It is not just about me and my pain, but about so many others.

Never before have I had to cling to God as tightly as I am now. Never before have I needed to use such discernment on what to say (and what not to say) and to whom. On the one hand, it has been exhilarating to live by the Spirit, trusting the Lord completely for when to speak and when to remain quiet. It is a practice that I'm translating into my parenting, friendships, mentoring, and obviously here. Yet on the other hand, I have all these thoughts and feelings that I can only share with the Lord, and the response is...well...sometimes not there. It requires waiting, patience, and humility that I don't have in very large quantities, especially when I am in pain and passionate about seeing healing.

With one little step of faith at a time, I am being forced by my loving Heavenly Father to believe Him, trust Him, and live by His spirit, rather than my feelings. With each burst of anger and frustration, my mind screams to tell the world, knowing full well that I could collapse into their arms so easily for comfort. Instead, I'm attempting to trust God to clean up the oozing broken heart so obviously displayed on my sleeve. Even though I desperately want my husband, or a friend, or even a stranger to do the dirty work and fix it immediately, I am certain that is not God's plan. I also know that He is ready to prove Himself faithful and sufficient for all my needs, even in this traumatic mess.

So, I am sorry that I can't walk through this with you. Trust me. I'd love to share my heart on my sleeve and find comfort in your arms. But it is obvious to me that God is calling me to believe He is who He says He is and that He can do what He says He can do. I hope that in the meantime, you will know I am as much here as able and that I have never been more sincere about wanting you to know the extravagant grace of God, now and forever.

Apart from the Lord, we have no hope. Cling to Him in your times of trouble! God is the only one faithful to stand the test of time.

By His Grace & Mighty Power,