How has faith shaped your healing?
Healing. That million dollar word.
It’s funny, because the December after mum died, I got baptised. When I look back now, I think it was the first in a long list of things I’ve done to fill the void, because I don’t actually think I was ready.
I told you, I prayed every morning and every night to the man upstairs to heal my mum, but he didn’t. What I didn’t tell you though is how mad I became, and didn’t even realise until I got to uni. Second year to be specific. That bottling up emotions thing has seriously been a problem!
I wasn’t really connected to God whilst at uni. I was in the gospel choir, but familiarity and the fact that a lot of my friends were in it, probably encouraged that decision. Plus it was music, like that part goes without saying. Socially I had so much fun, I mean I was there for everything the choir did, even the Bible Studies. It would be at one of the members houses, round the corner from mine. Perfect. I can’t even remember what we talked about at this specific one, but whatever it was started pricking me. By time we were finished I was on the verge of tears. I remember literally being in the corner tryna hide it, until it got too much and I just went home. Of course I put on gospel music because what greater comfort? But guess what the first song was? ‘Didn’t You Know’ by Donnie McClurkin.
‘Didn’t I know your fears?
Didn’t I share your pain?
Didn’t I wipe away your tears?
Wasn’t I shelter from your rain?
Wasn’t I there for you?
Wasn’t I always true?
Didn’t you know that I’d be with you all the way?’
Coincidence? Maybe. And don’t get me wrong, I didn’t start moving like a model citizen after that. It was NOT sunshine and rainbows. However, it’s one of the few moments where I truly believe that even in my defiance, God was tryna remind me that I’m not alone. Yes mum was gone, but he was still moving right beside me.
For example, let’s bring it back to secondary school real quick. In Year 10, my class got a Canadian teacher for religious studies. This lady was one of my favourite teachers, as she probably was for many people in my year, let alone my school. We’d be having a double period, the bell would go, normal people would leave, but most of us would stay instead. We’d even get some extras from other classes. I don’t know what it was about Miss but we just loved her company, and me in particular? She was the first person I actually opened up to because she was so easy to talk to. I can’t even tell you now how it happened, because I honestly don’t remember. I just know that one day I started talking and I couldn’t stop. Those conversations prompted me to dig out that silver box under my bed with some of mums pictures. It prompted me to remember her on her birthday, even if it was just a thought. It prompted me to start acknowledging that part of my life and stop blindly ignoring it. I actually ended up taking a picture of mum to uni because of this, and sticking it on my wall, which of course caused conversations. I mean, look at me. But would you believe that whilst she had started my healing journey and was helping me to heal, I was preparing her for hers? Crazy! And years later I still can’t get over that.
Every summer Miss would go back to Canada and spend it with her family, so summer after Year 10 was no different. We came back in Year 11, had our first lesson ready to get back into the routine of chilling in class. This time though, Miss told everyone to leave, something she never did. She told everyone to leave and told me to stay before closing the door. Me? I thought I was in trouble. First day as well? What on earth had I done to deserve this? Miss then preceded to tell me that during summer, what was supposed to be an enjoyable time with family turned in to preparations for a funeral, and then the funeral itself. That summer Miss ended up burying her own mother, but what she said next I will never forget. She told me that what helped her get through it were the conversations we had been having. As in the same conversations that started healing me, got her through what she didn’t even know she was about to go through. If that ain’t God, I really don’t know what is, because how can I be helping someone when I can’t even help myself??
Now I know you’re probably wondering, if I can speak so fondly of such experiences and God’s involvement in said experiences, why have I struggled so much in my faith? You probably didn’t even know I was struggling because like I said, I sing. I lead praise and worship. Half my life is literally me singing in church. Every minute I say I’m gonna quit because inside I keep wondering how someone who is struggling so much, can be in such a position. I remember actually choosing to not sing at church in my final year at uni, because I just didn’t think it was right for me to be up there. I have felt this so many times, even up to last year. But maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should be better at saying no. But how do you say no to something you love and find the most comfort in? My manger was literally telling me to listen to a song that brings me comfort just the other day. She sent me ‘What A Friend We Have In Jesus’ and I chose ‘Redeemed’. It’s even the only song I can still play on the piano.
‘Redeemed how I love to proclaim it
Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb
Redeemed through His infinite mercy
His child and forever I am.’
If there’s ever a hymn I love, it’s this one. That aside, it’s been a constant battle to truly believe the words I sing. Why? Trust.
How can I trust someone who hurt me the most?
The basis of our faith is literally trusting and believing in God. Without it, what are we actually doing? But I did trust. I believed, and mum still died. How can I trust someone who chose not to answer THAT prayer? That’s all I needed, for mum to be ok and still be here. But then on the other hand, how do I explain my teacher? There has to be a God in that. Because only a God who can see beyond more than I can see, could put me in a position to help someone who didn’t even know they needed it.
Only that God can continue to keep me, even when I don’t deserve it. I have struggled, strug gled to let go and let God in several areas of my life. The thought of letting someone who I can’t even see control my life terrifies me, but even then I know deep down that I can’t do it on my own. This life is way too hard to be doing it on our own, and when I have, it usually always seems to flop. And trust me, I’ve tried! I’ve been so hard headed, it’s actually ridiculous at this point. When that aunty said ‘who don’t hear must feel’, she most definitely had me in mind; One big everlasting 4K picture. Because it’s not like I don’t have people around to help and guide me, I’ve just chosen to mainly do it on my own.
I don’t know man. I can’t really answer this one, or maybe I have. Faith is still shaping my healing. I’m still tryna make it make sense for me. I’m still tryna see God as a God of love, and not who he turned into when I was little. Don’t get me wrong now, I don’t still hate him, but I still need to learn how to trust him more. I know that God has kept me, I will never deny that fact. But until I let go of the reigns, I know I will never truly be free. I just need to actually get myself to do that, and that right there is the biggest struggle of all.
The fight against myself.
I eat cake 