Writing and Rebuilding
I began to rifle through the files in my brain, through the scriptures that had filled my prayers in recent days. “God, remind me what you said, remind me of your promises, I believe they are real." I sat there, breathing in and out for what seemed like an eternity. Gradually I began to remember. I remembered the scriptures God had led me to in my prayer time, when I cried out to Him to rescue my son. He reminded me that this battle was not about this life. It was not about a boy who would grow into a man and have a career and live a life on this Earth. No, it was about a soul. One single soul, and the fight for where it would one day reside. My fight was for his soul. So, in the car that afternoon, I lay my son down on the altar again. " Here he is, God. Save his soul by whatever means necessary." Yes, the hardest prayer I've ever prayed. If it took time in prison to rescue his soul, then so be it. I surrendered my own will in order to follow God's. Only He knows our future.
With trembling hands, I opened the Bible that sat on the seat of the car. I turned the pages that were worn and written on and came to Ezekiel 36:26. I prayed from this portion of scripture the prayer I had prayed so many times lately. “God, give my son a new heart and put a new spirit in him. Remove his heart of stone and give him a heart of flesh. Put Your Spirit in him that he would be careful to keep Your laws.” (from Hope Against Hope, by Libbie Hall)
At times those prayers seemed pointless. For several years after praying those prayers, there was no fruit at all. But what I eventually realized was that I could not control my son’s choices. I could only control mine. I decided that although I felt like the dry bones in the desert, I did not have to stay that way. My life was going to go on with or without my son. I didn’t want the pain and struggle to be for nothing. So, I began to write my story - and in writing my story I began to rebuild my life - and in rebuilding my life I began to reach into the lives of other women. To my amazement, I watched God take the most painful part of my life and use it to set other women free. Now I can see myself as I read Ezekiel 37:11-12:
Then he said to me: “Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off.’ Therefore prophesy and say to them: ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel.”
I was spiritually dry, my soul felt dead, my hope was cut off. The life I had once known no longer existed, and I felt I had nothing left. But the truth was that I had so much to live for. God brought me up out of my grave and began a rebuilding in me. My life now is far richer than the one I lived back then. The book I wrote ended with my son still not speaking to me. But God is a God of restoration – maybe not in the timing we hope for – maybe not in the way we think – but He restores, nonetheless.
When my Mom passed away in May of 2020 my son returned to our family. Today, he is a business owner and father, and we spend every Sunday afternoon together. My story now brings hope to mothers who find themselves cut off from all hope. And while the words written in Ezekiel were not ABOUT me or my son, they brought hope that God had still written them FOR me. He wrote them for you too. I pray you find your hope in them today.
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