“Sometimes you can’t get warm until you admit that you’re cold in the first place.” Sarah Jakes
They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. They never disclose the fact that you will take that first step many times in your life. I’m only 31 and square one is, well, a familiar pace. Now, this is not going to be one of those posts recounting years of pain. This is actually more about unexpected triumphs. You see, after 31 years in the game, I “admitted that I was cold.” These days, I’m pretty warm inside.
I recently spoke with a friend of mine from college. There was a point in my life when she was my person. I told her every secret and I laid all of my brokenness out for her to see. It was terrifying. I was broken in so many places and pieces that I had no clue where to begin to heal. At some point, I started at square one. My childhood. Beautiful and painful. I’m sure in a previous blog I’ve exposed all of that, so I won’t do it here. Just know, in my journey, I had to let go of 6 year old Shawntika. 12 year old Shawntika. And 15 year old Shawntika.
When we reconnected the other day, I realized it’s been 3 years since we’ve spoken, and I am NOT who I used to be. At my core, yes. All the good stuff. And some of the bad. But…in so many ways, I’ve healed. I needed to thank her for all she and her husband did for me. Like letting me stay with them when it was unsafe for me to be alone. Or talking me off the ledge when I was sick in Atlanta and begging to come home. I would have missed out on so much healing had I walked away. I just want both her and her husband to know, they were/are a necessary gift from God.
“A seed has to crack and break to grow.”
Years ago, I heard my pastor say, that my story would be necessary for someone else’s healing. And I didn’t understand that until recently. I meet so many people who are exactly where I used to be. At a crossroads. Trying to get warm, but afraid to admit they’re cold. Far from one step one, but nowhere near step 12. Right in the middle. No longer and caterpillar but nowhere near a butterfly. Right in the middle. Too far ahead to go back but too tired to keep pressing forward. I have NO clue when I got out of the middle. I can’t tell you what exactly occurred when I moved towards my healing. But I know it was God. I know he put people along my path to refresh me. I know, just like David, he gave me some cave friends who saw how dark it got and beckoned me into the light. My advice for them; "Keep going, even when you can't." So, this one is for Jim and Christy. Thank you for shining a light into the darkness. Thank you for giving me shelter from the rain and being my sanctuary. Thank you for being my friends.
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