Let the Wringing Begin

Last year God met me in a hotel in North Carolina, not to teach me of ministry or speaking, but to heal my heart. He used the work of others and some of His gentle daughters to touch my heart and to begin lifting me out of the well of Postpartum Depression.

When I returned home after last year's conference the dark clouds that had hung over my head and heart for a year (almost) were gone. I greeted my husband and children as a smiling, happy woman; something I hadn't been able to be or find since before the birth of my son.

Returning to She Speaks this year I had no idea, I mean NO idea, what I was there for. Weird to answer a call to do something and have no inclination as to why. I told Lysa on Friday night at the little bloggy get together that I came as a sponge and God would do the wringing out later.

I had no idea the wringing had already begun or just how painful it would become.

Friday afternoon I visited the prayer room. What an awesome (in the true sense of the word) place that is. God meets you in there. It is as though Luann and her team had created a place for Him to dwell and beckon you in. And there, waiting for you on the tables, is a God-sized message on a tiny slip of paper.

Each woman from the conference has a slip of paper with her name on it. The P31 team prays, and prays, over the names. Then with prayer again they ask God where to set the names down. On three tables in the room there are large sheets of paper, each one with a name for God on it. Being God's hands they lay the names around the papers....right where God wants them.

When I found my name I thought my knees were going to fall out from under me. Here is what I found:

Jehovah - Rapha

The Lord Who Heals

God has provided the final cure for spiritual,

physical and emotional sickness in Jesus Christ, God can heal us

My God who met me in that very building last year reached down from Heaven and kissed my cheek.

I was so excited I called my husband, I sought out some P31 team members, and even told perfect strangers. I had no idea God wasn't done whispering to my heart yet.

As the weekend went on and I moved from one session about writing to the next the direction God was pushing me in was becoming more clear. And the more God showed me that He wants me to write about being a birthmother the more I resisted him. I'll be honest, I don't want to. I know that writing about my unexpected pregnancies, handing my child to another woman to raise, and the days since then I will face rejection, judgment and vulnerability that I know I cannot handle.

And slowly God started whispering to my heart, again.

I am the Lord who heals. Let me have those dark places. Let me heal your heart and use it to heal others. Wendy, don't let her walk alone.

I don't want her to walk alone. That woman who thinks the grief will kill her after saying goodbye to her baby. That sweet young girl who is sitting in an abortion clinic thinking this is the "easy" way out of her troubles. The young woman who just figured out a little plastic stick can change your life in an instant.

Father, You promise to heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds. And how I cling to that promise today as the tears roll down my cheeks. I am scared and hurting, but I know others hurt worse and have so much more to fear. I thank you turning my ashes into beauty and my pain into light. Help me Father...I can't do this. Only you can.