Sometimes I wanted to run away – but I’ve run away enough times to know that you can’t run away from yourself.
I didn’t always find it easy to believe that things would get better, but believe I did, sometimes. I had no other choice, so it became most of the time. I couldn’t see how or when, but what other option did I have except to believe that eventually it would all come right? What else could I do except position myself so that I was doing the right thing at the right time? When I was sure I was going to be jobless and destitute, I didn’t stop tithing, I didn’t stop sending out my CV and checking the jobsites. When I spoke to others I wasn’t always positive, but I tried. Some days were better than others.
And then things changed. And how they changed! I remember taking sleeping pills almost every night for what felt like ages, and complaining to my doctor that the anti-anxiety meds he prescribed didn’t seem to be working for the palpitations and breathlessness I experienced every time I thought about my future. I remember crying out to God, asking how could things be so wrong when it had all felt so right – and I remember desperately praying ‘I will praise you anyway’ when I just could not see a way out. God has been so good to me. Sooo good to me. Indeed, grace abounds.