I’ve come through wilderness before.
Addiction. Depression. Anxiety. Postpartum psychosis. Despair so deep I was convinced I’d never see the other side of it.
And yet, here I am.
What surprises me is that I find myself in another wilderness.
Not the same one, but a quieter, stranger one.
The leftovers of trauma.
Chronic symptoms. A nervous system that still doesn’t always understand that the danger has passed. A body that sometimes remembers what my mind has already released.
I keep asking God to remove it.
Sometimes He doesn’t.
Instead, He reminds me of something I’ve forgotten before. His promises were never contingent on easy circumstances.
Scripture is full of wilderness stories. God rarely paved a road around suffering. He walked beside His people through it.
Perhaps that is the lesson.
Not that I will never struggle again.
Not that healing always arrives according to my timetable.
But that I have never once crossed a wilderness alone.
And I won’t start now.
B🤍
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