There are times in life when things just take longer. You see one step at a time and hope that you know when to make the next one. The road is not marked and the path looks dark. You honestly hope that you aren’t about to stumble on another root on your way up the hill.

And there are other times when everything happens so fast that you can hardly keep up.

If February was hard and dark, then March was quick and light. One Saturday, we decided to visit our old college town. It was fairly spontaneous, and we hoped that it would be lots of fun. The girls had never been, either.

As we walked around the college campus, my mom called. I begrudgingly answered the phone, thinking that it would be something trivial and hoping to get off quickly.

No. It just wasn’t that at all.

My mom was calling to reach out to me, to share that God had changed her outlook on life, that she was actually in her Bible and reading it and applying it…that she had stopped going down a path of destruction and had turned back to the paths that would bring healing.

After years of questioning her, of feeling like she was belittling me, this was a lot to take in at once. It hurt in a different way because I didn’t want to be let down again. While I rejoiced with her, a part of my soul was quick to warn caution.

Ruined relationships take time to heal. They don’t happen overnight. And that’s okay.

My mom came up the next weekend and apologized to me and my sisters for her behavior. For the hurt she had brought to us. She humbled herself and asked for forgiveness.

While I forgave, I couldn’t erase the past hurts or their scars. Not immediately. And that has come with time.

A couple of weekends later, we went down to visit my family for my sister’s birthday. Things were getting better. And there was a good bit of celebrating to do, too, since we had just found out that we were expecting our third girl! On top of that, my anxiety was calming down.

After the dark of February, a sunny March encouraged me. It fed my soul in ways that were needed. The Spirit was whispering “shalom” to my hardened heart, and I was starting to believe that restoration could, in fact, happen.

This post is part of a 31 Days series on Raising My Ebenezer, part of my story and my own testimony of God’s goodness and faithfulness. As the song Come Thou Fount says, “Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by Thine help I’m come.” For the month of October, I’ll be writing our story, outlining the Ebenezers in recognition of His mighty hand on our lives. His doings and His workings because of and sometimes in spite of our best efforts. My hope is that you’ll see a lot of Him and little to none of me. Because in the end, it is by His help that we have come this far.


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