In the darkness of the night, while the rest of my family slept upstairs, I sat up with my son as he escalated into a full-blown autism rage.

Given that his verbal skills are very limited, he was not able to explain to me why he was awakened at two in the morning or why he was feeling so enraged.  In these situations, I am always left guessing and trying to stay two steps ahead so I can either avoid these storms altogether, or at the very least, keep him safe and help him deescalate as quickly as possible.

On this particular night, however, all the pieces fell into place for a truly terrible storm.

As the worst of the storm began to ease, what was left of my strength and self-control broke as if it were delicate china plate dropped onto a hard tile floor.

A million pieces, jagged and sharp, scattered everywhere.

Shattered.

My heart was broken.

It was a dark night of the soul.

“Be not far from me, for trouble is near; For there is none to help.”
Psalm 22:11

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When I went outside to pull weeds in my flower beds the next morning, it was a matter of will … not heart.  Time to invest in outdoor work is limited and procrastination only creates a bigger job that still needs done later, so I am learning to do what I can, when I can.

The memory of the previous night was deeply entrenched in my thoughts and with each pull of those tenacious weeds from my flower beds, it felt as if I was pulling every dream and every hope I have ever had and simply tossing them away.   Some of the big dreams that yet remained, but mostly it was the more simple dreams that I hold onto most deeply … friendship, companionship, community, belonging, love.

The pervading question that has been following me though out my entire life broke through once more in a weakened cry towards heaven … Why am I here?

Please Lord, is this all you have for me?

A cry whispered, not in self-pity or with a complaining spirit, but simply with a heart that has been broken time and time again.

“My eyes are continually toward the Lord, for He will pluck my feet out of the net.
Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart are enlarged; Bring me out of my distresses.
Look upon my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins.”
Psalm 25:15-18

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As I cleared out the beds of weeds and freed the budding flowers from their grasp, I was reminded once more of the beauty springtime brings to my home.  My ancient lilac bush with its fragrant blossoms filled the air, while I cleared around my astilbe and forget-me-nots.  The bleeding heart that I transplanted last fall, now grew splendid and full.  Even the lush (and overgrown) green grass captured my attention as I pushed the wheelbarrow through the yard.  I found myself stopping just to stare at the sweet little dandelions and violets that speckled it, like freckles across a little girl’s sun-kissed nose.

Everywhere I looked there was the glorious color of spring.  Each step revealed a new fragrance and a new part of nature awakening from its long winter’s nap.

The Lord used this beauty of new life to reawaken a soul disillusioned and weary.

Beauty was the word I heard over and over.

And you know, that began to trouble me.

“I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  Wait for the Lord, Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord.”
Psalm 27:13-14

 

 

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In the days since that difficult night, there have been more challenges and entire days spent outside working, meditating, and seeking God’s wisdom.

‘Beauty’ … a word not typically applied to me continued to whisper through my thoughts.

When I began to tackle the long-neglected bank in the front of my home, I soon found myself immersed in a project much larger than I anticipated.  The weeds were deep but beneath them were elaborate root systems and winding through it all were many vines of poison ivy.  The bank was ugly.  It was overrun with weeds, dead grass, trash tossed from the cars driving by on the road … and that poison.  As I worked tenaciously and ripped at those weeds, I began to see small remnants of beauty from years past.  The fern-like greens of poppy flowers sprung out in relief as I tore the weeds that were overpowering them.  Dozens of earthworms wriggled and squirmed as I loosened the earth around them.  Beautiful, massive rocks placed for landscaping began to emerge and even though I was weary from battling the vines and weeds, I was becoming entranced by the beauty that lay hidden and neglected for so many years.

It was and continues to be a process to unearth and awaken that beauty, but I can almost see what it is to become.  What it was meant to be.  What it could be.  Even though I am covered now in poison ivy and rain is falling, my thoughts are often focused on the work that yet needs to be done … the work to reawaken the beauty of that bank.  A gentle beauty that I hope will be a welcoming sight to all who pass by.

It is a slow transformation process.

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I have spent a lifetime longing for and seeking after beauty.

Nothing I tried ever worked and truthfully, I know I don’t have much to work with.

But, even girls like me long to be seen as beautiful.  We want to be loved and cherished as much as anyone.  We long for the day that someone will see beauty in us because often, we cannot see it for ourselves.

When I married, I foolishly followed my naive heart.  I thought the only reason someone would marry me was because I was loved … I was finally seen as beautiful.  I tried to do whatever it took to earn a love that I thought was meant for me.

What took me years to understand was that people don’t always marry for love.

And sometimes, no matter what you do, you will never be able to earn love.

The reality took years to sink in and the impact it had on my soul was even more devastating than the pervasive poison ivy and weeds that overtook the bank in front of my home.

I know what it is to live a life completely imprisoned in sin and brokenness.

I know what it is like to be unwanted.

Disillusioned.

Alone.

I also know what it is to be a mother watching her child suffer with a hidden disability and unable to tell me what is hurting him so deeply.

I know what it is to go without sleep for years.

Without touch.

Without communication.

Without hope.

I know and have experienced more that you may realize.

And because of all this, I am confident in what I am about to say.

I know Jesus is the answer.

Jesus comes into our lives with more love than we can possibly imagine and He takes on the difficult task of ripping out the lies of deception that are entangled throughout us.  He takes the tools of truth and loosens up the hardened soil that entraps us so He can set us free and transform our lives into beauty for His glory.

Sisters, your world might be falling apart and you might be thinking there is no way out.

Maybe you think if you leave your marriage and find a different man, it will be better.

Maybe if you have one more drink, you won’t need to feel.

Maybe if you stay just busy enough, you can hide the ugliness inside with your own works of beauty.

Maybe … maybe.

I can tell you from experience that only Jesus can bring beauty from the ashes of our lives.  Only Jesus can set us free from the life-killing weeds of sin and loosen the packed earth around us.  Only He can undo the neglect.  Only Jesus.

There are no maybes with Him.

“For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 1:6

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When I started this post, I was going to call it Moments of Beauty and simply share what I could while staying detached from the word ‘beauty’.  Kindnesses of others … flowers … budding trees … all safe topics from a woman like me.

But as the days and weeks passed, the phrase that kept coming to mind was ‘Where Beauty Dwells’ 

I can’t share with you what I know of beauty unless you understand a little of where I come from and why beauty is not my normal.

My heart knows brokenness and ugliness.

But because of Jesus, my heart also knows and recognizes beauty.

Through the redeeming work of the cross,  He is in the process of sanctifying and transforming me to become more like Him … and that is where beauty dwells.

Maybe not the kind of beauty the world wants from me … but a hidden, internal beauty that seeks only to glorify Christ.

Wherever Jesus dwells and transforms, there is beauty.

What beauty are you seeking?

 

“… And provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
    instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
    instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
    instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
    a planting of the Lord
    for the display of his splendor.”
Isaiah 61:3