You don’t know me and I don’t know you. I think you told me your name, but I can’t remember. I can feel the touch of your hand on my arm, but I can’t see your face. It’s blurry from the tears I couldn’t keep inside for another minute. I didn’t even want to be in that room at that moment. I was trying to find the bathroom. But I was coming unglued. Quickly. I was turned around and the hallways weren’t going as they were supposed to and the prayer room was there with the soft lighting beckoning me to be at peace. The announcement went through my memory, prompting me to enter that safe place if I needed to…and I did…but I was afraid to admit that I did.
I walked in that room, past the people who where sharing and praying, and I found a chair and I cried. I cried tears that I had refused to acknowledge were in my heart. They had been pulling at me for weeks and I had been pushing them away. Ignoring them. I didn’t have time for them. But at that moment, they refused to stay hidden. You saw them and asked if I was okay. I wasn’t. I couldn’t even form the words to tell you why. I think I might have said something, but I doubt it was intelligible. You asked me my name. You asked if you could pray for me and I nodded my assent. I don’t know everything that you said. In fact, I only remember nine little words.
Jesus, please help Donya know that she is enough.
I remember those words because they were the exact opposite of what my heart cry to God was at that very moment.
I’m not enough. I’m not enough. I can’t do this. I don’t have what it takes. I’m not enough.
You had no idea. I couldn’t talk. But when you said that simple sentence I knew God had sent you to me. In that moment, your words gave me a gift that I have been holding on to ever since God prompted you to speak them. I needed to be reminded that by His grace I AM enough. Not because of me, but because of Him. Because He is in me.
I am broken. I am prone to self-doubt, self-condemnation, excessive self-examination. I am sinful. Prideful. Hurt. Afraid. I am all the things that He is not. These are all things He knows I am…and He loves me anyway. He wants to use me anyway. He has a plan for me anyway. I am all of those things and more…but I am also enough.
He has never once asked me to have my act all together. He knows that would be an impossible request. All He asks of me is to let Him love me and use me as He sees fit. I so easily forget that.
He has given me talents that are battered from the fall, and in His mercy and grace He has asked me to use them to the best of my ability through His power and for His glory. He delights in this. He delights in me. He is pleased when I offer my heart to Him, even when it’s broken. He knows that I would rather lock it up and protect it. He understands my fragility, and yet gently pries back my fingers so that He can mend the torn parts of my heart and start it beating again. He does this, not rejoicing in the pain that it causes to face my brokenness, but in love, knowing that I can only find healing if I give the wounds to Him.
I don’t know if you are a blonde or brunette, a ministry leader or a stay-at-home mom. But I do know that you are an angel. You were God’s messenger to me at a time when I desperately needed to hear from Him. You brought to me words that gave me the peace I was seeking when I couldn’t find a space to be alone. I’m so glad that you didn’t leave me with my tears when I thought that’s what I wanted. You were heaven sent.
Photo Credit: Kim DeLoach Photography