somehow, He keeps making a way.

It’s been a week now since the PTSD first appeared at work, and nearly a week since I reacted in any significant way. The ten hour shift on Sunday came and went, and I felt… dare I say it, relatively unscathed.

I’m walking to my car, having a conversation with my co worker. The co worker who has expressed to me that he’s against religion because of all the hypocrisy in the church, the co worker with whom I’ve had some tension, but the co worker who just now wanted me to wait for him so that he would have company walking to his car at 1am.

I’m just about there… and then I hear it.
LOUD.
… a train.
The horn.
It’s really, really loud.

The walk to my car is maybe halfway over when I first hear it. As soon as it sounds, I’m not immediately triggered – I’m just pissed. Really, really pissed.

Why did it have to come? Why did I have to hear it now, as I’ve almost made it through the night unscathed?

I hear it again.
The anger in me rises.
I can’t handle it.
I just can’t.

I continue the conversation like nothing is wrong. I don’t say anything about it to him. In all honesty, it’s probably a good thing I was with someone when I heard it.

The long, cold walk is over, and I get into my car. I sit for a bit… reflecting. Stewing.

As I said, I’m angry.
This whole thing has left me incredibly angry.
Why does my safe place, my workplace, the place that brings me such JOY… why does it have to go and get spoiled simply because the train nearby is making noise?

The phrase repeats itself in my head, the phrase that’s been swirling around since this all began last week…

“That is who You are.”

Okay God, but this is just so… so stupi-

“That is who You are.”

It’s just so frustrating, nearly everything that formerly was a suicide trigger now triggers a very real trauma response. Textbook PTSD.

“My God… that is who You are.”

Fast forward nearly another week. Preparing for my work week, I’m grateful to be feeling… normal again. I haven’t felt this much like myself, this depression free in weeks.

But as my last night before I work again draws to a close… the anxiety sets in again. Perhaps because I’m thinking about it, reaching out and asking people to pray. Is this all in my head? Am I making it worse than it needs to be?

“That is who You are.”

I can’t get over that phrase. I don’t know why, but it just will not leave my brain.

So I ask myself… who is God?

  • Way maker – when there is no way, He does it anyway. He makes the impossible… possible. 2019 was my impossible, and yet it happened.
  • Miracle worker – after what God did a year ago, I firmly and fervently believe that He is still very much in the business of miracles, they just might look different than when He walked this earth.
  • Promise keeper – what He says, He will do. It’s as simple as that. I could look at just a small portion of my life and I would be able to tell you so many ways in which He has kept His promises.
  • Light in the darkness – even in the darkest of rooms, the darkest of nights… the flashlight or candle that, during the day, seemed incredibly dim? Suddenly that light is brighter than anything I’ve ever seen. He is the light that wants to shine in on our darknesses.

As I write, thinking to myself about how all of those names and titles for God apply in my own life… am I still anxious for work? 

Yes.
I don’t want to hear that train.
I really, really don’t want to hear that train.
I don’t want to get triggered.
I want to just… get over this.
I want to enjoy my job, I want to continue finding great joy in it.

That joy… the joy that, a year ago, I feared would never come.

So my heart still beats a little faster when I think about work tomorrow, yes.

“That is who You are…”

It slows again.
So does my breathing.

“You are here…
Touching every heart.
Healing every heart.
Turning lives around.
Mending every heart.”

God doesn’t promise that I won’t hear the train tomorrow.
He doesn’t promise that I won’t react, that the trauma response won’t come.

I will carry Immanuel with me to work tomorrow.
And I will be okay.

Because my God?
That’s who He is.

when the wordsmith loses her words…

speechless
adjective
1. unable to speak
2. not speaking
3. not capable of being expressed in words

This past weekend I traveled for the first time since moving to Virginia, and in preparation for the time on the flights I found some new (old!) playlists on Spotify. In the process I re-stumbled upon a song off of an album that I listened to when I was young… and as so often can happen, the song hit me in a whole new way.

“And I am Speechless
I’m astonished and amazed
I am silenced by your wondrous grace.
You have saved me
You have raised me from the grave.
And I am Speechless
In your presence now.
I’m astounded as I consider how
You have shown us the love that leaves us speechless.”

The song is “Speechless” by Steven Curtis Chapman, off of his album of the same name that was released in 1999. I’ve always loved the song and the album (youth group jams to “Dive” anyone??!), but given my recent life experiences… well, to put it plainly, I now know what it’s like to be genuinely and completely speechless in light of God’s miraculous rescue and grace.

I think it’s rather ironic that as I’ve moved through a season of becoming truly speechless in my response to God’s forgiveness and love, I have also been leaning into the piece of Mary that is a writer and a wordsmith. One such clue is how, as I’ve come more and more to realize that my primary love language is words, any time I make that comment to someone that knows me even a little bit… I’m met with one big, “no DUH!” and a laugh.

But really. What can we make of the moment when the wordsmith and the writer is left utterly speechless? For one, I feel in some ways like a fish out of water. I almost don’t know what to do. I mean, my number one skill and trade with which God has gifted me to tell my story, HIS story?

Words.

So learning how to lean into that posture of, well… speechlessness… it’s a bit of a paradox.

But then I think about where I was a year ago. Because the Mary of early 2019? She was genuinely unsure of how much longer she would be alive. There were never any concrete plans made on my part to… well, you know, put an end to my pain. But really, the headspace I was in? It was even scarier than if I had had a plan, because I was just so bitter and resigned and angry.

So… to be here. In Virginia. A year later. Not only not wanting to die, but wanting to live. To really, really live. And then on top of all of that? being excited for this crazy, beautiful life God has for me.

I mean, if that doesn’t leave a person speechless and breathless in gratitude and awe, I’m really not sure what else would.

The second verse of the song ends this way…
“To know you rejoice over us
The God of this whole universe.
It’s a story too great for words…”

And I think this can be a beautiful reminder. Because while I can lean into and utilize the gift that God has given me – words – to continue telling this incredible story… there’s something to be said for what those speechless moments can do. Whether they are just between us and the Lord, whether they are as we minister and love someone else, whether they are when someone is showing us the love and presence we need… the concept of “the ministry of presence”? It’s good stuff. There’s a reason that it’s demonstrated to us all throughout scripture.

Sometimes, even for the wordsmith and writer, the speechless moments can be the most beautiful. So as I move into this next season of my life and this next season in Richmond, I will try to remind myself that it’s okay to not know how to respond. I know and trust and believe that we really do have a God that, more than any good work or eloquent prayer… He just wants us. A relationship. He went all the way to death on a cross for that relationship, and He would have done it for just one of us.

In less than a month here I will be hitting all of the “one year ago…” milestones.

One year since that conversation when I finally said out loud what I had been wondering for so long.
One year since I finally started to have clarity on the demons and bondage that really needed to be addressed.
One year since I last took a sharp object to my skin.
One year since I broke up with those sharp objects once and for all.
And, ultimately, one year since I woke up with a spirit that was characterized by intense darkness and heaviness…
One year since I woke up and genuinely wanted to die.

In conversation with my therapist later I mentioned how I’m thinking it will be good to set in place safeguards and support in the coming months as I anticipate a possible increase of some kind in the trauma symptoms (trauma of nearly losing my battle with mental illness so many times). He challenged my “maybe they will happen” with a “they WILL happen”, and then reminded me that it’s all about how we prepare and then respond. So… I guess I can start with the reminder that sometimes it’s really okay to be left completely speechless. In the good times and the bad times, it really is okay to just sit with the presence of the Lord. To let Him have it – the anger. The overwhelm. The questions. The fear. The gratitude.

All of it.

Because… He’s heard it all. Really.
All of it.

And despite the fact that He’s heard it all and knows everything about every single one of us?

Despite all of that, He loves us.
We are His.
And NOTHING could ever change that.

Full lyrics to “Speechless” by Steven Curtis Chapman

My words fall like drops of rain.
My lips are like clouds.
I’ve said so many things, trying to figure you out.
As mercy opens my eyes, my words are stolen away.
With this breathtaking view of your grace…

And I am Speechless
I’m astonished and amazed
I am silenced by your wondrous grace.
You have saved me
You have raised me from the grave.
And I am Speechless
In your presence now.
I’m astounded as I consider how
You have shown us the love that leaves us speechless.

So what kind of love can this be
That will trade heaven’s throne for a cross
To think that you still celebrate
For finding just one who was lost.
To know you rejoice over us
The God of this whole universe.
It’s a story too great for words…

Oh how great is the love
The Father has lavished upon us,
That we should be called the sons and daughters of God

We are speechless
(We stand in awe of your grace)
so amazed
(We stand in awe of your mercy)
You have saved us
(We stand in awe of your love)
from the grave
(We are speechless)