Saving Grace

There was a deer.

There were pills.

There was alcohol.

There’s a dog, who puts his head under my chin while I sleep, as if standing watch to make sure I keep breathing.

There is not remembering how to breathe, because the sorrow is too big.

There is: “I promise I’ll fast! I will spend days on my knees before You! I will do whatever I have to do to make You be here now.”

And there is: “I will wait. All I can do is wait.”

There is: “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too big for me, this pain. And all the loss. So much loss.”

And there is: “You’re still working this out.”

There is: “I NEED A MIRACLE!”

And there is this moment. I’m still alive. And that’s a miracle in itself.

My continually beating heart is a miracle. It’s a constant, persistent, screaming at heaven that I KNOW there’s a God who saves and loves me.

There’s me, hanging on to the edge of a cliff. And I’m tired, and I’m screaming for help. And I don’t know that there’s anyone around for miles and miles. I don’t know that any help is coming. I don’t know whether this hanging on is futile.

But I know God is with me. And He works miracles. And so I continue to hold on, and I continue to scream.


The deer. I didn’t hit it. Nor did the car behind me hit me when I slammed on my brakes. Nor did I hit the car coming towards me when I swerved into oncoming traffic. And Arlow, although he flew forward and hit the dashboard, he wasn’t injured.

And there was God who, in that moment, said to me: “I AM WITH YOU. Always. You are MINE. And you are LOVED. And I AM GOD. You do not get to jump ship.”

“But, tomorrow is coming, Lord. Another day is coming,” I weep.

“I know.”

“And it’s too big for me! I don’t know how to do tomorrow. I don’t know how to contain all this pain within me. I don’t know how to make it be okay.” More tears. Hysterical sobbing. Cannot breathe. Panicked. Trapped. No way out. Nothing that feels like life. No one to reach out to who will make it better. Nothing on my to-do list that I can check off to make my pain smaller. I can’t do anything to fix it. It just is. And it’s so big that I feel like I could scream-cry into a pillow forever.

But He reminds me, gentle as a butterfly perching on my shoulder: “Child, you don’t have to know how to make it be okay. That isn’t your job, it’s Mine.”


There’s the dog who sees me stop writing this to put my face into my hands and weep. And he begins to whine. And he jumps up onto the couch with me and licks my tears.

And there is God in that.

And there’s me, looking at him, my sweet pup, and crying harder because he deserves a better mommy than me. He deserves better than a mom who cannot get off the couch or walk or feed him because of the night before. He deserves better than me, a mommy who’s only half here, committed to this life. And half begging for heaven.


I was not put together wrong.

“The INFJ personality type is very rare, making up less than one percent of the population,

Because INFJs are such complex people, they may be reluctant to engage with others who might not understand or appreciate them, and can thus be hard to get to know. When they sense that their values are not being respected, or when their intuition tells them that someone’s intentions are not pure, they are likely to withdraw.

They think deeply and often need time to process and evaluate before they are ready to share their ideas. They seek validation and will take the time to appreciate others and their ideas. 

INFJs want to maintain harmony in their relationships and are highly motivated to resolve conflicts. 

INFJs want a high degree of intimacy and emotional engagement, and are happiest when they feel they are sharing their innermost thoughts and feelings. One of the things INFJs find most important is establishing genuine, deep connections with the people they care about. If there’s anything they have a poor tolerance for in relationships, it is inauthenticity.

They tend to believe that nothing would help the world so much as using love and compassion to soften hearts.

INFJs take great care of other’s feelings, and they expect the favor to be returned.

When INFJs find themselves up against conflict and criticism – their sensitivity forces them to do everything they can to evade these seemingly personal attacks, but when the circumstances are unavoidable, they can fight back in highly irrational, unhelpful ways. When someone challenges or criticizes INFJs’ principles or values, they are likely to receive an alarmingly strong response. People with the INFJ personality type are highly vulnerable to criticism and conflict, and questioning their motives is the quickest way to their bad side.

People with this personality type are likely to exhaust themselves in short order if they don’t find a way to balance their ideals with the realities of day-to-day living.”

I am not a mistake. God made me this way. HE MADE ME. And He is sustaining me even now, guarding and protecting my life in spite of myself. He has a plan. He doesn’t make mistakes. I am not a mistake. I don’t have to be understood or treasured or loved or wanted to be not a mistake. Nothing can rob me of the fact that the God of the universe knit me together and gave me this life and body and personality for such a time as this. I am not a mistake. I am not a mistake.


I don’t want anyone or anything fake. I don’t want anything I have to try to hold together. I don’t want to beg for love or help. I don’t want anything but You, Jesus. It’s only with You that I am safe. I just want You. Please, God, PLEASE. Somehow… please answer that prayer. Be here. Be what I need.

Don’t forget, Jesus, that I am Yours. And don’t let me forget that I’m beloved. Help me, Jesus. Help me.


There is a Jesus who forgives me over and over again. Who weeps for me. Who whispers, against all that I see and feel, that it’s going to be okay. And there’s me, hanging on the cliff edge, who speaks over myself, over all I feel or see or can fathom: “I trust YOU.”

I trust Him, so I hang on as well as I can in spite of the pain and seeming hopelessness of the situation.

And I trust Him, so I cry out for help. Because I cannot save myself.


“This is where I belong, held by the arms of love. Love, don’t let me go.”


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