Ok - so this is a big deal for me. Let me know what you think. I am writing a book. No I do not have a publisher nor have I made official contact with any publisher. I'm writing anyway. The chunks and meat of the book will remain a secret - and most of it is written. Now I am working to weave my personal story throughout the text to personalize it and offer transparency, life, humanity. Below is the essay the first of those essays.
THE ESSAYS
From The Wet Carpet
Even as I close my eyes today, I can float above myself as I lie on the floor then, in an almost out of body experience.
She was broken. Depleted. Horrified. And she was lying in a puddle of her heaviest tears. Her face was wet. Tears pooled up in the creases of her neck and the corners of her mouth. They say you can drown in no more than an inch of water. I say you can drown in your own tears. And she would say that she tried.
I try not to linger here above myself for long because it burns like a fresh wound. I see her wishing she were dead, and how thankful, overwhelmed and amazed am I that she is not. Praise Jesus. Only Jesus.
That pool of tears nearly drowning out the existence of her breath led her here to me, where I am now, basking in the light of the one who came to save.
As dreary and as hopeless as those moments were, they are the pin-point on my lifeline where I cried out to the Lord in one true gesture, a roaring desperate wail. I had been skeptically speaking to him for years. But this time he recognized the depth of my despair. He knew my lowest point was there on my lonely living room tear stained floor. He knew this time I would follow without doubt. He knew my white knuckled grip would not loose, though the white would slowly fade. He knew this was it. Melissa would finally lean into him, stretch outside of her comfort zone, pivot her focus onto his design and grow into maturity until His work in her would be complete. His… to the finish.
Divorce took me to the floor that time. Married after 8 ½ years of being a single mom to a then 9 year old, the spouse decided his commitment to his hobby was tied with a tighter rope. His decision to leave after a mere year was quick and simple. For me it was a death, a failure and an emptiness I pray never visits me again. But it cannot and it will not because every empty hole in my being was filled when Christ rescued me that day in the floor. The only emptiness left is the longing for my true home in the heavenly realm where no carpets are saturated with gut wrenching tears. Till then, there are praises to sing, prayers to raise, journeys to walk, lives to touch, messages to carry, and hope to spread.
He said, “come, follow me”. Let us.
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