Stories of women who have found hope and freedom through Christ and authentic community.
Freedom Stories are back, sweet sisters! After a summer of refreshing and refining on the focus of this space, I wanted to be intentional about sharing stories that align with our monthly themes. This month, as we’ve been learning about shame I knew we needed a testimony of someone set free from shame and self-condemnation. Immediately, Rebekah came to mind. This godly woman is a writer, podcaster, and all around encouraging person of faith. She frequently encourages me through her own story, which she shares some of here. I pray her words and God’s grace alive in her would encourage YOU today, friend!
This is Rebekah’s Freedom Story.
I grew up in the church, the granddaughter of the sound guy of the church we were attending, and even had my birth announced from the baptistry the Sunday I was born. I was saved at the age of 8 and actively involved in children’s choir, youth choir, church musicals at Christmas time, Bible drill, and mission trips.
But I didn’t truly know the gospel. Not like I do today.
When I was 14, my family and I became involved in a Christian ministry that, looking back, was extremely legalistic. I, as a bibliophile and someone who thirsted for theological knowledge, was ripe for the picking and quickly fell headlong into their very legalistic teachings on God’s supposed expectations for His daughters. I was also ripe for the picking in terms of the shame that is regularly heaped onto the shoulders of legalistic people everywhere.
In the two years leading up to this new season of my life, I had attended youth summer camp with our church’s youth group and experienced those proverbial mountain-top experiences. I returned from youth camp determined to be in my Bible every single day. But what happened both years was that I was good about that for maybe a week. Then I would miss one day of Bible reading, that one day would turn into two, and before I knew it I was right back where I started – only reading the Bible on Sundays at church.
I experienced so much shame as a result of this. Over and over, I would determine to do better, only to “slip up” yet again. I got to the point where I thought it was hopeless – I just could not stick to my commitment of having a daily quiet time, no matter what I did.
It was this shame that my legalistic season followed on the heels of. To add to that shame and self-condemnation were the lies of legalism which will tell you that unless you are dotting all your i’s and crossing all your t’s, then God will be displeased with you. I used to have this subconscious view of God as Him being up in heaven with His proverbial arms crossed, a scowl on His face, as He looked down on me in displeasure any time I fell. In all my efforts to be perfect, I was, in essence, actually drifting further and further away from God’s true heart as my wrong view of God led to my not wanting to be near Him.
The thing about legalism is that, with it, comes a terribly judgmental heart. You adhere to legalistic teachings and then begin to look down on yourself and everyone else who does not live up to them.
The result was that, in my feelings of shame and self-condemnation, I began to view others through that same lens, and put feelings of guilt and shame over onto them as well. It got so bad that I began to think that I could not even interact with, let alone befriend, people who were different than me. I didn’t have any friends who weren’t Christian, let alone friends who were of a differing political viewpoint or lifestyle than myself. What I did not understand is that God’s love is unconditional, and that that meant that my love for others could be, as well – regardless of what viewpoint they held to.
Loving someone does not at all mean you agree with or approve of every single last decision they make or thing they do. But, in all my feelings of shame, I just could not grasp that.
In my head I knew the “Romans road” gospel. I could have shared that presentation in my sleep, but I was not living and walking in light of its truths and implications. I was viewing the gospel as something that was merely good for my eternity, not so much for my here-and-now life.
But that, friends, is the reality of the gospel: it does have amazing implications for our eternal destination, but it is meant to make a difference in our everyday lives, too! It is meant to free us from shame, guilt, condemnation, and wrath. The Holy Spirit convicts us of sin, yes, but He never condemns us. We are sinners, yes, but Christ took our guilt upon Himself on the cross, and we have no business still carrying it around as a burden strapped to our backs.
I understand this now, but I didn’t then. The Lord had to take me on a journey to, bit by bit, and little by little, come to a full-orbed understanding of the implications of the gospel. And what He used to do that was Paul’s testimony in Romans 7:14-8:1.
I had been familiar with Romans 8:1 (Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus,) for some time. But I had never paid any attention before to the context of this verse, which led me to have the mistaken idea that perhaps the lack of condemnation was dependent upon me doing everything I was supposed to and nothing that I wasn’t. As soon as I backed up and first paid attention to Romans 7, however, this mistaken idea was totally shattered!
At the end of Romans 7, Paul is lamenting his ongoing struggle with sin. He is sharing with the believers in Rome that he knows what he should be doing, and he knows what he should not be doing. And yet, it is those very things he shouldn’t be doing which he is doing. And those things he should be doing? Yeah, he isn’t exactly doing those. And yet! There is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus.
Praise God, amen? This realization freed me up in more ways than I can even begin to count. I no longer walked in shame and condemnation, because I knew that any shame and condemnation I was feeling were coming from the enemy and were a slap to Christ’s face. I began to grow in my intimacy with God, because I no longer felt like cowering in a corner so that a vengeful God wouldn’t find me and scowl down at me. Instead, I was dancing in His grace, resting in His love, and relishing His mercy. I was at peace, knowing I was forevermore at peace with God.
Do I still sin? Of course I do! Does the Lord still discipline me for that? Yes, as any loving Father would! But I no longer despair when that happens. I no longer mourn in the same way, thinking I have disappointed God. Because you know what? It is absolutely impossible to disappoint Him! We sadden Him when we sin, yes, because He wants what is best for us and sin just doesn’t make the cut. But He isn’t disappointed. In order to be disappointed, He would have to have high expectations of us that we could disappoint. But He doesn’t! Psalm 103:14 says, “For he knows what we are made of, remembering that we are dust.”
The freeing truth is that God is not shocked or disappointed when we sin. He knows full well the sin nature with which we all still struggle on a daily basis. And when it happens again, and we do something we know we shouldn’t (or don’t do something we know we should!), He is still there to love us, pick us back up, and help us walk the right path again.
Friend, I don’t know what part shame may have been playing in your story. But I have a feeling it is there somewhere. And to you, I would share Paul’s beautiful words in Galatians 5:1, “For freedom, Christ set us free. Stand firm then and don’t submit again to a yoke of slavery.” Embrace your freedom, friend! Christ died so that you could have it. Lay down the shame, guilt, and condemnation, and pick up Christ’s freedom, love, and grace instead. Be free, sister, as Christ already made you to be!
Rebekah Hargraves is a wife, mama of two littles, blogger, podcaster, and author whose passion is to edify, equip, and encourage women in their journey of Biblical womanhood, particularly with an emphasis on the gospel and its implications for everyday life. Rebekah‘s first book, “Lies Moms Believe (And How the Gospel Refutes Them)” released the fall of 2017, and the “Lies Moms Believe” Companion Bible Study came out March 30, 2018. You can find Rebekah on her website, Hargraves Home and Hearth, on Instagram, or on iTunes via The Home and Hearth podcast.
P.S. Want to read more Freedom Stories? Check out 35+ stories of other inspiring women like Rebekah here.
As a recovering people pleaser myself, I certainly can relate to Kelly’s story. And when we’ve spent most of our lives shape-shifting and trying to fit in, sometimes it takes a drastic situation or event from outside of ourselves to get our attention. In Kelly’s case, God met her in a big way, far away from home. He made her aware of where she had been placing her value and identity, and to this day continues to guide her into freedom. I love Kelly’s story and the mission she’s found for her life. I pray that it encourages you to embrace who God made you to be too, sweet friend.
This is Kelly’s Freedom Story.
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Even as a little girl, all I ever wanted was to please people. If we were playing the game of “good church answers,” we’d say I needed Jesus. You’re right. I had church, but I didn’t have Jesus.
High school was a mess, but not many people would have really known because I did a pretty good job of managing how things looked. Thankfully, I met my now-husband and he took on the role of being the steady part of my life. All through my twenties, I fought to figure out who I was. I wanted to be the good Christian wife, but I hadn’t found anyone quite like me to imitate so I did my best to fit in, or at least not stand out.
Finally, at 30 years old, I started to understand who I was meant to be. Separated from all the distractions of my life, Jesus met me in a Guatemalan ghetto.
Being in Guatemala without the pressure to perform and responsibilities of home, I was free to experience God at work for the first time. I’ll never forget my first hike into the Maria Teresa ghetto. Walking down the steep steps, we stopped every so often to visit a family in their small, cobbled together home. Each time, God spoke through the families, assuring me of his presence and pulling me in even tighter. When we reached the bottom, the community who struggled to provide for themselves welcomed us like family with food and games. “Our home is your home. You are always welcome here.” Day 2 of the trip and I was changing.
Looking back I see my struggle. Without knowing God or understanding how he created me, I was never going to fit anywhere. The restlessness I felt was never going to get better because I wasn’t looking for the right things. All my life, I’ve been striving to be the best, to please people, and to be who they wanted me to be. It wasn’t always a bad thing. I have so much to be thankful for because people believed in my abilities and pushed me, but I also carry guilt and shame for the ways I disappointed myself trying to please others.
I know there are other women like me. We’re the ones on the fringe at church or just outside. Sometimes we try to be part of the group, to fully engage, but no matter how hard we try, it just doesn’t feel right. You probably won’t notice though because we’re really good at hiding who we really are.
We’re playing a part, always dreading the reality that one day we might stand out. This is how I’ve felt for the majority of my life. The older I’ve gotten and the closer I am to God, the more uncomfortable I’ve become living what feels like a lie.
Life experience tells me to protect myself, to put up walls, keep everyone out, and avoid getting hurt. Self-preservation has been my go-to in the past, but the isolation is suffocating. I need people in my life who allow me to be real and still love me. When I’m wrestling with the tension of questions and faith, wondering if I have the right answers or if the questions even matter, I need people who aren’t afraid and won’t abandon me. Working to become who God is asking me to be isn’t a solitary assignment.
What I know for sure is God didn’t make a mistake when he rolled the dice with me. (If we’re being proper, there’d be no dice game for God, but I already told you I don’t fit in.) He isn’t disappointed with who I’ve become, even with who I’ve been in the past. Believe it or not, he isn’t keeping score at all.
I wish this story could be tied up with a beautiful bow and note saying I’ve found freedom and joy in believing who God says I am. But even now, at 38 years old I struggle to be confident in who I am and what God is calling me to do. I doubt myself constantly, my mind like a playback reel of all the ways I need to be better—be calmer, don’t curse, be more patient with the kids, and forgive old wounds—just to name a few. Letting go of my own shame and disappointment is almost impossible.
I fight to believe God could ever be proud of me just the way I am. My greatest fear is that one day someone will walk up, or let’s get real—comment online, that I am a terrible writer, a heretic, and completely unworthy of working in ministry to teach and share the gospel. I live my life waiting for the shoe to drop and someone to call me out as the imposter I fear I am.
Two very different narratives compete in my life at all times—God tells me he is strong and has an amazing plan for me, while the devil is making me relive all the minute (and sometimes not minute) ways I have failed.
Jesus met me in Guatemala eight years ago and keeps showing up. Sometimes he shows up through someone’s encouragement, occasionally the Holy Spirit pushes me in a way I can’t resist, and still other times there’s unbelievable ideas I can’t shake. I wouldn’t be a writer on my own. When I started my first blog, I didn’t even tell people out of fear they’d read my posts. Going to seminary was certainly never part of my plan. But seeking, learning, writing, and serving have all led me to the place he wants me.
I am the misfit in your church, the one who doesn’t really fit.
Without a doubt, God is asking me to be honest with you about who I really am, what I believe, what I question, and how he’s using me. Friends, we need to embrace the ones on the outside because he’s working in them too. My questions are not a measure of the faith I lack. Instead, it’s the way God works in me, allowing me to question my understanding to seek deeper truth and a sincere understanding of how he wants me to be.
Without him, I wouldn’t be sharing this story with you. Nor would I be working for an orphanage or writing a book for all of us who feel slightly on the edge.
I am choosing to believe in my freedom and the purpose he has for me. Even on the days when it’s a fight not to fall into the depths of self-loathing or when someone’s words cut straight to my deepest insecurities. If my book never gets published, or if it does and is quickly forgotten, I’ll keep sharing because if for no one else, this is God’s purpose in my life. He is asking me to go forward and be honest with others who feel like misfits.
This is for the one who was afraid to be herself until she heard my story. It’s also for my girls, who I desperately want to show how to face their fears. This is my story of walking with God, wrestling with my faith, and embracing who he created me to be.
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Kelly Beckley Shank found her passion serving in Guatemala. A writer, frequent flyer to Guatemala, and wannabe world traveler, Kelly encourages women to embrace their identity in Christ, especially those on the outside. When not traveling, she enjoys farm life with her husband, 3 children, and their myriad of animals.
P.S. Want to read more stories of hope and freedom? Read the Freedom Stories of more than thirty different women here. Only a few more left before the summer!
Entering into motherhood is a huge change and adjustment in of itself. If any other major life transitions or challenges are added into the mix, it can be really overwhelming to see clearly and find your way forward. Morgan vulnerably and beautifully shares her story of a challenging time in her life, and how God led her through to healing. I love following her stories about her little boy and family, but I especially love what she shares about how God’s working in her heart. Thank you for sharing with us, Morgan!
This is Morgan’s Freedom Story.
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Our most sought after, long-awaited dream was about to come true.
We were finally expecting our first baby: a little boy who was to arrive in the Spring of our fourth year of marriage. We had prayed and waited for this miracle for as long as we could remember.
As I juggled the responsibilities of being a full time special-education teacher and wife, I spent each day with great anticipation over the miracle that was growing inside of my belly.
Despite the fact that I had been perfectly healthy my entire life, I began to develop chronic ear infections. I merely attributed them to the strange ways that pregnancy can affect a woman’s body. After countless ENT appointments, tube insertions, and a few months of significant hearing loss, I determined to persevere until our baby arrived.
Surely, I thought, everything will be back to normal after he’s born.
Six weeks after our healthy, precious boy came into our lives, I was deeply entrenched in the joys and responsibilities of being a first-time mom. The nursing difficulties, the routines, the night-time feeding sessions with heavy eyelids and a tired body; I relished it all. And yet I felt more exhausted than I had in my entire life. At this point, my ear infections had not lessened and I had multiple ENT’s stumped.
It was as if I was smiling as I walked over quicksand. I rarely let my guard down, because I knew that every new mom had something they were dealing with. Why should my difficulties be any more significant? Little did I know that God was doing a mighty work inside of me, both spiritually and physically.
At my best friend’s house, there was a small set of stairs that led from the foyer down to her front door. I distinctly remember the realization that came over me as I slowly moved down the stairs, clutching the railing in order to lessen the pain radiating through my knees and ankles.
Nothing about that was normal, as much as I’d tried to convince myself otherwise.
I was determined not to let my joints, fatigue, or pain in my sinuses keep me from enjoying being a mother. My husband took tremendous care of me, but I was stubborn. I pried myself out of bed for every feeding, collapsing back under the covers as I tried to get enough rest to make it through the next day.
I finally saw my primary care doctor, who ran a series of tests. In the weeks that I waited for answers, I felt fear and uncertainty rise to the surface. My body felt as though it was falling apart, but the miracle of motherhood kept me going.
As my disease progressed, I began to have trouble with the simplest of daily tasks like walking and getting dressed. My husband and loved ones started to pull more weight with household tasks and in taking care of our baby. When I had to have help getting out of the bathtub or with turning over in bed, I felt a mixture of deep longing and of shame.
There was nothing I could do, no instant remedy. No way of outsmarting, out-working or ‘fixing’ it on my own.
At the surface, all of the unknowns were staring me in the face and making me feel as though the mountain I was facing was insurmountable. I had a deep longing just to be a ‘normal’ mother. But deep inside of me, God made Himself known. His peace held fast within the depths of my heart, even when everything I knew seemed to crumble around me.
In the midst of the pain, I graciously did my best to savor the small moments with my little one. The tiny breathing, the smiles, and the countless hours lying with him close to me.
It wasn’t long before a rheumatologist referral, more tests, chest scans, and lots of blood work finally revealed a diagnosis. Wegener’s disease. A very rare auto-immune vasculitis that causes inflammation of blood vessels and affects the sinuses, lungs and kidneys. By the provision of God alone, I now knew the name for the odd malady that had taken over me, thanks to a smart, compassionate person whose life purpose was to save people from rheumatological diseases.
I could now begin treatment and work toward my new normal.
Through the depths of struggle that made up that time period of my life, the Lord was gentle with me. He led me to exactly the right people, places and positions at exactly the right times.
Things would get worse, for a time, and then they would get better. Much better. Today, I live life pain-free. My new normal is not without its responsibilities, or extra routines to keep me healthy. I have worked to make changes in all areas of life to ensure that I stay on the path to healing.
Though I was held captive by a physical darkness, the spiritual light that had transformed me so long ago had won the day. I learned that life is not without its obstacles. Sometimes there are roadblocks that show up along your path, and other times a whole mountain is blocking your view. We need not despair, because our loving Father will never fail to gently lift us up and carry us all the way around to the other side.
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About Morgan: I am a former teacher, staying at home with our toddler while learning to embrace my love for writing. My family is currently waiting on our next baby through domestic adoption. When I’m not at home chasing around our little one, I am most likely reading, cooking, going on a walk or spending time at the lake.
P.S. Want to read more stories of hope, healing, and freedom? Check out the other 30+ brave women of faith who have shared their Freedom Stories here.
Comparison. Insecurity. Perfectionism.
But then, Christ.
When Lyndsie became a mama, God helped Lyndsie to see just how much she was loved. Her story of coming to understand God’s unconditional love is one that I hope encourages you and meets you where you are today, especially if you struggle with insecurity or trying to measure up to an impossible standard.
This is Lyndsie’s Freedom Story.
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“You’ll never measure up to her,” I whispered to the tear-streaked face in the mirror. “You’ll never be good enough.”
I don’t know how many times this scene has repeated itself in my lifetime. The “her” was different nearly every time. She may have been a friend who had reached a new level of success that I could only hope for. She may have been a random stranger on social media who was living my dream. She may have been an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in a while that I ran into at a restaurant and realized just how beautiful she was. How could she be so skinny after four kids? I was struggling with baby weight from two!
Whoever she was, knew I would never measure up. And the thought crushed me every time.
A matter of self-esteem
I grew up in a home with one parent who was loving and caring. The other left me at a young age, and only visited and spent time with me periodically. I didn’t realize until many years later just how much that affected me.
Growing up, I had braces, glasses and frizzy hair. While I had friends, I wasn’t popular, and was often forgotten. I had good grades, but I didn’t consider myself smart. I didn’t like to be the center of attention, but I longed to be noticed and included. I was painfully shy, and people probably thought I was stuck-up. My worst fear was to be laughed at, or made to look stupid, so most of the time, I kept my thoughts and opinions to myself.
Trying to measure up
I consider myself so blessed to have been raised in a Christian home, and a wonderful church. I first realized my need for salvation when I was thirteen, and asked Jesus to save me. I knew that salvation was a free gift, and I could never earn it. What I didn’t understand was unconditional love.
So many things in my life made me believe I had to work to try to measure up. I needed to work be beautiful or accepted or smart enough. No one told me I needed to measure up, or even that I had something to measure up to. All I had were my own ideals of what I thought I should be.
Trying to measure up to the perfect women is one thing. (Although, really, what is a perfect woman?) But trying to measure up to a perfect Christian is another thing altogether. But I tried. Oh, how I tried.
The thing to realize about striving for perfection, is that you can never get there. But you keep trying and trying. I thought if I could just do better, or be better, God would love me more. But if I couldn’t do better, He would be hurt and disappointed in me.
And so I did what I thought I needed to do. Read my Bible. Check. Pray. Check. Go to church. Check. Say the words. Do the things. But if a day passed when I didn’t read my Bible or pray, I felt guilty. When my lost family members didn’t get saved, or even accept my invitations to come to church, I felt like a failure.
Inside I believed that God was disappointed in me. He expected more of me than I was giving. I couldn’t measure up to what He wanted.
A change of heart
All my life I heard that God loves us like a father loves his children. I could never understand that, of course, until I had a child of my own. As I started interacting with my son, so many things suddenly became clear to me.
I love my boys unconditionally. Nothing could make me love them more or less. When they do something good, I am so proud of them, but I don’t love them more. When they are mean or disobedient, I don’t love them any less.
I want to spend time with my boys. I love when they come to me and want to snuggle on my lap. I love to hear their little voices tell me how much they love me. If they push away from me, or don’t want to be with me, I’m not angry. But my heart is hurt.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned from my kids is how bad behavior separates us. There are times when I have something special planned for them, but when they misbehave or have bad attitudes, I can’t enjoy the special things I had planned. But I don’t love them any less.
It’s the same in my relationship with God. He loves me unconditionally, whether I do all the right things or not. When I disobey, or don’t do the things I know He wants, He is hurt, and our relationship cannot be what He wants. His desire is to spend time with me, but I can push Him away. He won’t force His way back in. But, as with my boys, when I’m ready to run to Him, He’s still there, loving me, and waiting for me. Life is so much sweeter when I make the choice to follow His will and spend time with Him.
A changed life
As I slowly began to better understand God’s love, I began to see the whole world differently. For so long I had been working to earn something that was already mine. My time with God had simply become one more thing to check off the list. I did all the things that a good Christian is supposed to do, but I didn’t do them from a heart of willingness.
When I realized that God loves me no matter what I do, I didn’t stop doing those right things I’d been doing. But they were different. My daily Bible study and prayer became a time I enjoyed. A time I spent with Someone Who loved me and would never stop. If I missed a day of my personal quiet time, instead of feeling guilty, I felt sad, because I was missing an important part of my life. And I knew that God felt the same way. He wasn’t sitting in Heaven being angry at me for not checking “pray and study” off my list. Instead, He missed spending that time with me.
John 8:32 says, “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” When I realized the truth of God’s unconditional love, I was free. I no longer felt the need to measure up to an impossible ideal of the perfect Christian. But I also found the self-esteem that I’d been missing for most of my life. I finally realized that God doesn’t compare me to someone else and expect me to be better. He only expects me to do the best with what He’s given me.
I found a new confidence in the woman God created me to be. I have tried things I never thought I’d do before. I have learned that I can do hard things, and I can succeed. When I find myself thinking that I can’t measure up, I take a minute to consider where that thought is coming from. Because it doesn’t come from God.
I mess up every single day. There are times when I feel the separation from my Heavenly Father, brought on by my own bad attitude or behavior. But now I know without a doubt that He is always there loving me. And nothing I ever do or don’t do can change that. That truth has set me free.
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Lyndsie is a wife and stay-at-home mom to two ornery boys. When she has spare time you can usually find her reading a good book, making a quilt or baking something sweet. She lives and writes on ten acres in the Low Country of South Carolina. You can find her thoughts about faith, motherhood and life in an RV at Not Just a SAHM.
P.S. Want to read more Freedom Stories of hope and encouragement? Check out 30 other stories about finding freedom through Christ and authentic community here.
In light of National Infertility Awareness Week, my friend Shawna is here to share her story. Her outlook on life and helping others through the pain she’s experienced (and even her great sense of humor!) consistently encourages women through her writing and ministry. I’m so honored to have her here. If this is part of your journey too, Shawna has a number of resources and articles you can find on her website (her link is at the bottom of this post). We pray that you know you’re not alone.
This is Shawna’s Freedom Story.
I grew up in the church. My grandfather was a deacon, my father was an usher, and my mother sang in the church choir. I don’t think I understood that some people didn’t believe in God until I was well into my teens. I was surrounded by people of faith.
I was handed my share of trials throughout my teen and young adult years, but I never questioned that God loved me. I may not have had a money tree growing in my backyard, but I had a family that loved me, a work ethic that allowed me to work my way through college, and dear friends that I still have to this day.
I never questioned God. Not until Tuesday, June 13, 2017.
I have a crazy story of infertility and loss. I have been pregnant 11 times. I am so very blessed to have two precious boys with me here, but I also have a football team in Heaven.
You see, I am a bit jacked up. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) and a Balanced Translocation. The PCOS makes it difficult for me to get pregnant, and the Balanced Translocation makes it difficult for me to stay pregnant. A double whammy of fun, unfortunately!
We got pregnant with our first little man after about a year of infertility treatments. Harlan was our first pregnancy, and although we knew the issues against us, we never truly understood what was to come. Harlan was SUCH a little blessing, and we couldn’t wait to grow our family.
Unfortunately, however, by the time we had our precious Jackson, I had miscarried FIVE times. One time was twin girls, we had already seen their heartbeats, and my husband had already started to refer to them as “his girls”. To say that took me to my knees is an understatement. Lots of tears. Lots of praying for understanding. It was a hard time.
But, the week “our girls” were supposed to be born, we discovered that we were pregnant with Jackson. It was such a blessing. He was my 7th pregnancy! And, when I held him in my arms, I knew two things:
- Our family was complete.
- All is in God’s perfect timing. If I had had my babies in the time frame that I felt was best, I never would have had Jackson’s smile and laugh in my life on a daily basis.
Life moved on with our family complete. We tried a couple more times to grow our family through infertility, but it was so obvious that that door was closing, and we needed to move on with our current blessings. It was rough to walk through that door, but we prayed our way through it.
Then 2017 happened.
On March 6, 2017, after being told for years that I would never get pregnant on my own, I got a positive pregnancy test.
My main emotion was PANIC! What the heck, God? Hadn’t you already closed this door? We already cried through BOXES of tissues over this issue, and now here we are again?
My second emotion was FEAR! My odds of miscarrying were extremely high, and I was not in the mood to revisit the heartbreak. Especially with a nine-year old and a six-year old along for the ride.
While Reid spent several weeks in bubbling excitement, I spent the time full of anxiety and knee deep in prayer.
Weeks flew by, and suddenly we made it to the second trimester with zero issues. We were pregnant with a baby girl, and she was 100% healthy! Perfect DNA, no issues. Sophie Caroline Beucler. The little sister to two VERY excited little boys. And, the perfect surprise ending to our very tumultuous journey of infertility and loss.
On June 13th, at my five-month appointment, we discovered that Sophie had died within twelve hours of my walking into my OB’s office. I had felt her kick the night before, and now she was dead. We had to break the news to our boys and hold them as they grieved. We had to donate a crib, maternity clothes, and baby gifts that we could no longer bear to see. And, we had to prepare my body to deliver our little girl.
I questioned God. No, I didn’t question God. I screamed at him. I sat on my bathroom floor, banging the ground and screamed at him. There was so much anger. So much heartbreak. Not only was He putting me through this, but now I had two young boys hysterical over the loss of their sister. Why would He even allow me to be pregnant if He was only going to allow this to happen? I questioned God. It was the beginning of the lowest point in my life.
On June 16th, I checked into Labor and Delivery along with the other very pregnant women about to meet their newest additions. Instead of a smile, my face held heartbreak as I was escorted into the room. As I was getting my epidural, I told my nurse that I was being punished. I didn’t know why, but the Lord was punishing me.
This is when the Lord knocked down my door. He had been holding my hand all week, but I wanted nothing to do with Him. I was mad at Him. Angry. But, at this moment, he knocked down the door and sat down on that couch in my L&D room. Here is how I know . . .
- My nurse had experienced a miscarriage at five-months as well. It had happened ten years ago, but she held my hand and prayed over me. She ministered to me in a way that no other nurse could have done. She was such a blessing to me.
- My friends signed up for thirty minute slots to pray for me while I was in the hospital. I could not pray, I didn’t have the words. But my friends and family became the hands and feet of Jesus and prayed for me.
- I was able to hold my baby girl before giving her back to the doctor. That is a memory I will hold with me always. I got to hold her.
Y’all, this was the hardest thing that I have ever gone through. Grief is a hard thing. Loss is a hard thing. But, let me tell you what is not a hard thing: God’s love for you. I spent weeks not speaking to friends, hiding out with my boys, and rolling my eyes at the Bible verses people were texting my on a regular basis. It took me time to heal, time to grieve. And, I didn’t knock down the door to look for God. He came looking for me. I was the one sheep that walked away, and He came to find me.
After we lost Sophie, I spent a long time asking WHY. What was the WHY in this situation. I had to share my experience to at least open up the conversation about infertility and loss. To allow people to feel the freedom of sharing their stories, and in turn, hopefully building a community of women that don’t have to feel ashamed or lonely. To allow us to heal together, to grieve together.
No matter what circumstance changed your intended life plan, we have all sat by ourselves wondering what steps to take next. It doesn’t have to be infertility. It doesn’t have to be experiencing a miscarriage. It can be anything important to you that made you stop in your tracks and take a deep breath. That moment can be lonely. That moment can make you question God.
Listen, I am a work in progress. I feel that our God can handle our anger. I was SO VERY ANGRY WITH GOD when we lost Sophie. At the time, I wasn’t worried if He could handle it. But, He can. God can handle us any way we are. Even if our heart beats with anger over a tragic heartbreak.
At one point during my journey of infertility and loss, I found a quote in a devotional that has always stayed with me: “The task ahead of us is never as great as the power behind us.” That became my mantra. Through tears, I said this quote over, and over, and over again through my decade long journey to grow my family. This sweet little quote is proof that God is with me. Sometimes it may not feel like it. But He is.
If you are currently going through a struggle of infertility or loss right now, please let someone know. Reach out to me! I would love to pray for you. I have been given the blessing of being on the other side of my grief and being free to share my story. I pray that this gives at least some of you the freedom to share yours. We are all in this together.
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Shawna is the founder of Lunchbox Babies, a lifestyle blog that is geared towards those women that are currently walking, or have walked, the road of infertility and loss. After experiencing eleven pregnancies, and nine miscarriages, Shawna felt compelled to share her story with others and help people heal through hope, humor, and faith. She has also published articles with Moms Encouraging Moms, Do Say Give, Life Abundant Blog, and Heather Lobe’s Freedom Stories. Shawna can also be heard on the popular Don’t Mom Alone and Blossoming Mommy and Baby podcasts. When not working with the Lunchbox Babies community, Shawna is a mom to two miracle boys, she runs around chasing two crazy dogs, and is blessed to share this story with a very patient and understanding husband!
You can also connect with Shawna on Instagram.
P.S. Want to read more Freedom Stories of hope and encouragement? Check out 30 other stories about finding freedom through Christ and authentic community here.
“No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us.
And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” -Romans 8:37-39 NLT
On this Good Friday, I’m honored to share with you Carly’s Freedom Story about the one thing that remains even when everything else in life is uncertain or has the potential to be removed from our lives.
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When I’d first discovered that my ex-husband was having an affair I actually thought it was going to be the thing that would catapult our hard marriage into the healing it had needed for a long time. That does happen. And it makes for a really beautiful story. A story I was hoping would be mine. But that isn’t what happened and that isn’t the story I got. When things crashed, they crashed hard and ended swiftly. I woke up one morning and the life I’d been living for the past ten years was gone. The life I’d been planning, dreaming of, and working towards crumbled in my hands, and I watched the pieces slip right through my fingers.
It was over and I wasn’t sure who I was anymore or what exactly the point of being alive was. I’d devoted my life, as I’d always wanted to, to caring for my three young children. I’d poured everything into them, and was even homeschooling them at the time. Now I was supposed to throw them into school and find some sort of a job when I’d spent those career building years building kids. I was back at square one with three mouths to feed and special needs to consider. As a mom who hadn’t spent a lot of time away from my children, I was also looking at a significant amount of time without them because of shared custody. Not only was this devastating and unfathomable to me, I knew it would be for them. And that part tore me to shreds. I was deep into an adoption ministry that I carried loads of passion for. It was my mission, my calling, the assignment God had given me. I had big plans and big dreams, ones I was sure were from him. In a blink I no longer had the capacity to manage any of it and it was gone too. I was no longer wife, no longer the good mom, and no longer living my passion for adoption.
A few months before my divorce I remember sitting in church. The pastor was talking about our identity. Who we are. And he asked a question. He said that the way we could tell where we found our identity was by asking ourselves what things, if they went away today, would make us feel like we weren’t ourselves anymore. I immediately tagged my marriage, my adoption ministry, and being a good mom. If those things went away I really wouldn’t know who I was, what my purpose was. And none of those were bad things. In fact they were all really good things to want to be successful at. I tagged those things and pondered them for a long time. It was like I’d written a quick little list in my brain and it was tacked up in the corner somewhere that I could see it, all the time. So when with one single blow each of those things vanished right before me, I knew. I knew that the God of the universe had spoken straight to me in that moment. He had been preparing me for what was to come. And when all the things that I thought mattered most, mattered to God even, dropped straight out of my life I knew there was one thing that never could, that never would. Jesus.
And I discovered that all the things, even the good ones can go away. And I’m still me because Jesus is still Jesus. He is the one and only thing that will never go away. He will never leave. Never forsake. All the things I thought I could never live through. All the things I couldn’t see a way into or a way out of. All the things I clung to, even the good, God things. They can all be taken away from me. My life and everything in it can be gone in a blink, but nothing and no one can separate me from the love of Jesus. It is who he is and it is who I am and it is the only thing I can cling to. It is all I can count on. Just him. No one and no thing can change the fact that I am loved by him. Nothing can take that away.
I’m not saying I didn’t feel the searing ache of the loss I faced in that time. I questioned. I cried. I wailed. I kicked. I screamed. I swore. I begged. But I realized that I could stop clinging to all the things in my life. The weight of doing it all right. The measuring up. The striving. The fear and anxiety that goes with trying to be all things to all people all the time. The heaviness that comes with just trying to live a life. I saw how very little control I actually had over any of it. How I could do my absolute best to do all the things and be all the things and I could still lose them all in a heartbeat. And when the dust settled and all I had left was the love of Jesus, I knew it was all I actually needed. A freedom washed over me. I’ve never felt freer than I did in that moment. When I saw that I don’t actually have to be or do anything. My pathetic efforts to be a good wife, mom, and minister just kind of blew away with the storm. I didn’t need to give Jesus a reason to love me. In fact, all my flailing around trying to find one for him was as weak the fall leaves in the winter wind. My eyes were opened and I could see just how wide, and deep, and long the love of God actually is for me. The freedom of that knowledge is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
Life has moved on from that moment, from the deep waves of grief to the constant drip of life with shared custody, caring for children with special needs, and all the other life things. I’ve remarried. I’ve learned to live with the needs of my children. I’ve learned to live with the ache that comes with periodic separation from them. I have been given so many beautiful gifts, like tiny cactus blossoms amidst the sharp spines. But the gift I hold tight to. The gift I know can’t ever be taken away. It’s the one God gave me when he met me at my emptiest. When he loved me at my most unloveable. It’s the knowledge that there is really just one thing. And his name is Jesus.
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Carly Webber is wife to Dustin and mom to four littles (by adoption and birth). Life has thrown her a few curve balls (including divorce and special needs children) and her heart is to encourage others who also feel sidelined by life’s tough blows. She believes there is life and joy right in the midst of all the hard and she wants you to believe it too. You can read her words at carlybethwebber.com and connect with her over on instagram too (@carlybethwebber).
P.S. Want to read more Freedom Stories of hope and encouragement? Check out 30 other stories about finding freedom through Christ and authentic community here. And special thanks to Photo by Ylanite Koppens from Pexels for the plant image to accompany this post.
Sometimes when you meet a friend with incredible strength and faith, it’s just a hint that they have been through something deep or hard to bring them to that place. Kathryn is a friend of mine who points to the hope and joy of Jesus in her daily life, but also beautifully tells the story of the darkness He delivered her from. Her story of postpartum depression, anxiety, and grief is one that shows the depths of pain we might experience here on earth, but also the freedom that can be found here when we walk closely with Him and allow Him to breathe life and healing into our hurts.
This is Kathryn’s Freedom Story.
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Kathryn! I’m so grateful to have you here! Before we get into your story, I want you to share some of the fun stuff! Tell us about where you’re from, what you love to do, and anything else that will give us a little slice into your life.
Well I’m Canadian gal living in a small country town surrounded by farmers’ fields and a winding river. I’m an avid reader with a tendency to mark up the books I own with underlines mixed with circles, and regularly get the stern glances of librarians because I’m almost always late at bringing the borrowed books back on time.
I’ve been married for almost ten years to a guy who saw me over the camp fire and told his friend he wanted to marry me some day. I’m a stay at home mom to four wildly wonderful kids and am a slight coffee nerd –something about a slow pour-over sends me to heaven within seconds. I love gardening but I’m still learning those green thumb ways as I’m a not-so-green thumb over here.
Most days I can be found on mission doing dishes, making snacks, trying to keep up with folding laundry or our fiery three-year-old. But my passion lays in writing about what God is teaching or growing in me with hopes to encourage women for where they are at in their life, which is where my freedom journey takes us too today.
Galatians 5:1 is a key verse for our Freedom Stories. It says “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Therefore, do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” What was the old yoke you were living under? What was that slavery like for you?
I feel like I could say my yoke that I sat thick under was postpartum depression and anxiety, yet I want woman to know that having postpartum depression, depression or anxiety is not a sin. I didn’t desire to be within it or hold it to myself. But it enslaved me for a period of time where I didn’t choose to keep my eyes out of love on God and therefore grew a brazen attitude toward Him.
While I was going to counseling sessions for PPD I learned that I had subconsciously carried out this viscous mind cycle—for every time something went wrong in my life, I’d blame God. That would then cause this hardening of anger and heavy doubt toward Him.
That was my yoke. So, having to come out from underneath that yoke took a heap of time and repetition to learn that while being angry is okay, it was what I did when I was angry that counted. By learning to break that cycle when I was upset with less than ideal circumstances and coming to God out of reverence and love with my burdens, it slowly lessened the tension and allowed for so much freedom to know that God has me taken care of regardless of life events and outcomes.
I’m so grateful it sounds like you’re walking in freedom now. But when you were in that place, what were some of the old narratives you absorbed?
The narratives were endless but the main three were:
- that I will never get better.
- that I’ll always be alone and ashamed of what I’m walking through.
- that I’m too messy and mucky to be used by God.
I resonate with all three of those. Those are hard narratives to break or change! What was the turning point? Was there a rock bottom or a point that you realized that you couldn’t live like that any longer?
When you’ve lived or live with depression, most days can feel like a rock bottom. But there were probably three separate times I remember feeling like this has to get better because I can’t do another day of life like this. I had a feeling of hope because God always met me within those moments and reminded me that this mess of me can be used. I never believed Him because I thought if He was going to use me then He would have to make me better in that moment, with a full-on miracle on the spot. Looking back, the miracle wasn’t the depression or anxiety getting taken away in those rocks bottom times, it was the fact that He always met me within that. He never abandoned me.
But before I speak on the actual rock bottom moment, I should give a background story on how I got there.
For four years I dealt with postpartum depression and anxiety attacks that stemmed from a tumultuous pregnancy and hidden grief from a baby I lost that should have been growing beside her twin sister.
While I was pregnant with them I knew for sure I had lost a baby. She never fully formed into a little body but was actually a mass of cells with no heart. Contrary to what is said about the tiny new human that grew within me, she mattered. But we were told she wouldn’t survive at all. She wasn’t compatible with life outside the womb and if I continued with the pregnancy she would put my life fully at risk. High blood pressure. Low iron. Cancer. The list went on. The word abortion was thrown at us too many times to ever count, convincing me more that those who said it probably didn’t feel the weight it presented to my own being. It was said easier than the word coffee or the question of what’s for dinner.
The choice to not go through with that came flying out of my mouth at the social worker who didn’t understand our choice. Instead we chose to take the weight of all that was before us & we put it before Jesus—relying fully, unwaveringly, undoubtedly on Him to heal whether it be here on earth or in heaven.
At 15 weeks I went for an amniocentesis and was still being forced into the corner of abortion. She had hands, feet and a heartbeat— but they never let me see her on the ultrasound. “It’ll be too painful if you lose the baby,” they said. Their opinion trumped our grief, end of story.
But God. And through no ordinary way of things —quietly behind the scenes, God healed our tiny baby. At 22 weeks they let us see her body on the screen for the first time and ironically enough, her feet were flung high up into this stretched out pose of resilience. She was born exactly 22 weeks after that which then thrust me straight into postpartum depression.
For four years I walked, dragged and breathed through it. From one postpartum period to another pregnancy and then into another postpartum period.
The day I cracked and broke wide open into a thousand tiny spinning pieces was two weeks after we had moved with four kids under five.
I woke up that morning the darkest I’ve ever felt and told my husband I couldn’t do another day—He took me to the doctors that day and I got the help I really needed and actually wanted.
That night I held the anti-depressants in my hand at the kitchen table for an hour while my husband stared at my shaking hands while holding them still. I remember asking God, why these? Would they actually help? I so badly wanted to swallow them and know that two or three weeks from then that I would feel back to normal. My heart kept on saying yes but my God kept saying, there is something more held within this to help you.
((This is not to put anyone in the corner of shame. If you need to take medication on a daily basis to help you function and feel more yourself, girl that is so incredibly courageous! Keep doing that – your daily normal doesn’t mean you believe in the One who created and sustains you any less. I admire your bravery in this, keep going!))
Thank you for that qualifier (I’m one of the ones who takes medication); but also, I loved hearing your heart for seeking His healing, no matter how that needed to look for you. What changed from that morning? What actions did you take or truths did you discover to help you find freedom?
Five months before coming out of the depression, I sat bundled in my coat on my front porch as fireworks went off in the distance at midnight of New Years. The snow swirled around me as my earnest breath etched on the bitter winds as I prayed. I remember so vividly making this decision by just saying out loud to God, “Whatever it is you do this year, whether you allow me to stay in this or come out of this, I want to do this well. I just want to praise you even when it hurts. Like Paul with the thorn in his side, your grace is enough for me too.”
That shifting of my mind followed suit toward my heart, causing my entire body to feel a change in trajectory—one filled with peace and resting which was something I hadn’t felt for a while.
As I continued on after that night, it become a more of a lean in relationship than a run away from His every whisper. Slowly under the surface it planted seed after seed, watered from His promises and presences.
A few months after that porch night moment, hundreds of raw spilling prayers and counseling sessions later, I was folding laundry while watching a movie. Something in the movie triggered me and I began to cry. Which then turned into uncontrollable, full on sobbing. I hadn’t cried like that for over three years! Through the sobs I cried out to God asking, “Why? Why do I feel this way now? I can’t stop crying!”
He answered, “Because you lost a baby. It’s time to mourn.”
Like that, He took me from this veiled darkness into the land of grief. And how you do that without being able to tell people around you a piece of you was lost four years ago and should have been born with her twin sister who is alive on earth? It was so, so beyond me.
Once I began to grieve her loss though, I no longer felt the sadness and veil of depression. Instead, the heaviness of grief took its place. Yet it was something I could finally put my hands on to work with, which gave me slow steps toward healing.
Counseling helped me immensely by being able to speak it all out loud. But I also began to dive deeply into His word, which was this desperate nourishment I’d been wanting for so long. Growing up in a Christian home, the Bible had been completely accessible to me throughout my entire life, yet once I came out of the darkness of depression it’s like everything began to click into place when I read it. I literally couldn’t get enough—drinking it to the most parched areas within. Stories I knew beforehand blew me away now because Jesus had been so real, present and near to me during the depression. Being on the other side of it felt like this fresh wind and freedom from chains that held me away from it. I knew God within the darkness but wanted to know Him more outside of it. I wanted to just keep running with this fresh breath held within my lungs!
What a beautiful and freeing image, Kathryn! What does your life of freedom look like for you now?
Every single piece to the puzzle in the way I healed was God and God alone. He saw every part within this to know that it would bring Him the glory, through every weaving way He worked within this entire story. The brokenness was necessary because in the brokenness, He never left me but met me there. I grew to know Him, leading me to cry out to Him and Him alone.
Within the mourning He became all the more evident, creating every opportunity for me to lean in with equals parts of sadness splitting into joy. I began to journal and write each thing that God was doing inside of that—showing up in the forget-me-nots out in the back garden, or the way a warm summer wind reminded me of that summer I carried the girls. But the most restorative part was knowing that He gave my child a holy collective wholeness I could have never given her here on earth. And the very fact that I know she opened her little eyes to see Jesus face way before mine— oh my, to think how badly I wanted it to be my face instead. Yet the comfort in knowing just that brings peace. She is with Him and I know she has her sister’s hair and laugh to match.
The freedom I feel spills into every part of my life in the most amazing ways! Because the darkness doesn’t weigh me down any longer, I feel the freedom to walk with Jesus and learn more about Him which leads to more root within Him. To love Him in all I do on a daily basis as a mama, through writing and in sharing my story free of shame or masking what I walked through, makes me so excited! It’s such a gift to share openly and vulnerably while continually pointing back to Jesus. Because I know that there are women out there who are going to feel less lonely in knowing that they to have a similar story but also can find a hope-filled freedom in Him.
Often times we think that freedom can’t happen to us because we might slip back toward an old pattern we once pulled out of. But what needs to be known is that if we slip back into an old pattern or way of mind, that God still will meet us there. Think about Paul (2 Corinthians 12: 7-9) and how he prayed for freedom of pain within his body three times, but God didn’t give him that. What He instead chose to do was allow Paul’s mind and heart be transformed for His purposes to learn that God’s grace is sufficient enough for him. This also means for us too—regardless of whether we are completely free (which I believe with every fiber of my being is possible) or we catch ourselves within that old way, if we lift our eyes back up to Him, He is there. He is present, and He knows all our struggles and heart.
YES! I believe that too! What about you—if you still wrestle with those old ways, what do you do on those days to fight for your freedom?
What’s so interesting about finding freedom is that you have to RE-remind yourself of the who and why. So, for me when I feel my ground shaky with anxiety or I feel the moments of darkness tugging me toward the shadows again, I remind myself of where God brought me out of. And I start to pray with grit knowing that Jesus is going to meet me still in the here and now with an abundance of grace. I also have to get to the bottom of why I might be feeling like that— possibly my own expectations, the expectations of others, lack of sleep or maybe even some areas I still need to find healing. But laying it all before Him, trusting He is going to meet me there and praying my little heart out, always puts my eyes back on Him.
Are there any key scriptures, quotes, or books that have been helpful for you on your journey into freedom?
Music was actually a really big part of my freedom and healing. I cut out all secular music and only played classical and worship music. My favourite was a Hillsong Worship Album “Let There Be Light” on repeat, which became this daily anthem for the entire year after walking out of the depression.
As for Bible verses, I came across this verse while literally fumbling through scripture for an answer on day one of this entire journey and held it on repetition as I navigated through the pregnancy and then PPD:
“Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” – Romans 15:13 (CBS)
Hope comes from God, who also gives us joy and peace within any circumstances we face, which then in turn spills hope by the power of the Holy Spirit all over us. He is so good!
And then Mark 5 —the Mark 5 gals! These were the very first verses I read while in the mourning stage and they gripped me fiercely in such a way that I ran all the way down to the basement to tell my husband who gently said “yes Kat, I know. I do know!” I thought, “Wait but I didn’t. Because now I know this Jesus too! And He touched these gals too?” I was completely blown away —it just felt like this drop it all to hallelujah healing kind of moment. Again, He is good!
The Broken Way by Ann Voskamp was so real and relatable for me. I’ve read it about five times since it came out because every time I open it, it feels like a friend reaching across the table saying, “I get it.” The really hard stuff can break us wide open, but it’s Him who allows goodness to come out of that which puts us back together.
You Are Free by Rebekah Lyons. Through her own testimony and life experiences, Rebekah beautifully points us toward the fact that our freedom is always possible in Him. That we are not alone in feeling bound and tired while trying to get there, but we will get there. We can and will be free in Him.
Wild and Free By Jess Connolly and Hayley Morgan. This book was life-changing for me to read, especially after coming out of depression. It allowed me to realize that I needed freedom in order to run wild on a mission for God and that if I was going to do that, I needed to heal inside out from my own insecurities shaking deep inside.
I love that list! Thank you for sharing those with us! Okay, because I’m a big believer that gratitude lists help us remain present and fight our battles, tell me 3 things you’re grateful for right now.
- My feet and where they take me every day, whether it be within my kitchen to cook, the laundry room to sort, or driving my kids to school. Sometimes it’s to volunteer or to rest them to read books—I love that I can choose to show up with them firmly planted in Him.
- Friends. Friends that are willing to share deeply in each other’s struggles and celebrations all while cheering one another on.
- My front porch. No matter the weather –snow or sunshine, day or night. I love being on it to watch the world from there, just praying the day out to Him.
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Kathryn is a stay at home mom to four and a to wife one ambitious entrepreneur. Reading is her love language but writing has become her passion toward a greater healing that she found within Jesus after walking through and out of postpartum depression just over two years ago.
She admits that present day struggles can make shifts within her story but don’t prescribe the cure —clinging to the hope she found within Jesus does. Her prayer is that we all yield the opportunities in sharing our story with someone else because we never knew how that will meet her. Regardless of the yesterday messy puzzle or the restless moments of today— there is rest, comfort and hope found within Him.
To connect with Kathryn and read more of her story, follow her on Instagram.
P.S. Want to read more stories of hope and freedom? Check out the other 25+ Freedom Stories here!
This Freedom Story is vulnerable. But it is also a beautiful, truthful, and desperately needed story. I am so thankful to Taryn for her willingness to tell of the healing that the Lord has brought to her life, because this is the kind of hopeful story that I needed to hear. And it may be one that you need to hear too.
If this story intersects with your own, please know that I have been praying for you all week in anticipation of posting Taryn’s story. I’m praying for grace to cover you and for healing to come. You are not alone, and you are loved, sweet friend.
This is Taryn’s Freedom Story.
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The door was closed in the little basement bathroom of my neighbor’s house. She, the pre-teen girl whose name I have long forgotten, was gently rolling up a towel and tucking it into the gap at the bottom of the door.
I found it curious, so I asked her, “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want my dad to know we’re in here,” she responded.
As the light was blocked from the bottom of the door, I felt a new emotion: shame.
At merely five years old, shame became an unwelcome companion in my life. Shame’s sister—guilt—tucked herself closely beside me, making sure I could always feel her presence.
I felt guilty almost all the time. A five-year-old girl has plenty of opportunities for misbehavior, but most of my guilt was felt simply for feeling like a flawed child. “If you’re not perfectly good, then you’re bad,” guilt told me.
This deep shame that made its home in my heart contaminated my life for many years. All good things within my reach became disfigured in my mind by the lies I believed about myself and others.
I am deeply flawed, I thought; I am not worthy of goodness and love and joy like others are. The lies I believed held me in bondage for a long time.
Facing the Truth
Aware of this memory and the effect it was having on my life and in my marriage, I knew it was time to forgive this girl who abused me. Weeping, I gave my hurt and anger to God and forgave her; I even asked him to bless her.
I didn’t realize the power of that act until a year later.
In a moment of intimacy with my husband, God decided to open the door that he had kept shut for twenty years of my life. In his goodness and grace, he didn’t fling the door wide open—he opened it up a crack—just enough for me to see the truth of who I forgave and from how much I had been cleansed.
Glimpses of memories flashed through my mind and I wept every tear in my body before falling asleep. The memories felt devastating and filled me with deep shame all over again.
But the pain was worth it.
I awoke in the morning a completely different woman than who I was when I went to bed. My swollen eyes were the only clue to the pain I had experienced the night before. I looked in the mirror and saw a beautiful, cleansed, redeemed daughter of God. There was no shame, and nothing left to resolve.
His Forgiveness is Complete
In that moment, I experienced the absolute power of radical forgiveness. Despite not knowing the details of what happened to me when I took that bold step to forgive my abuser the year earlier, I had been completely set free. God’s grace, through Jesus’ death, had covered it completely. It covered it for me, and it covered it for her. I didn’t need to forgive her again for what she had done now that I knew the details. It was done.
It was finished.
Often in our lives, we make things more complicated than they are. We over-think, over-analyze, and over-estimate.
We suffer from the annoying “yes, but” syndrome. God says, “Forgive her.” And we say, “Yes, but she did this!” God says, “You’ve been forgiven.” And we say, “I know, but what I did was so bad! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!”
The more we justify, make excuses, and place the blame, the less joy, strength, and power we have in our lives. We are weakened by the shame we hang onto and we are made ineffective by the bitterness we choose not to release.
Forgiveness is always for you. Whether it’s receiving forgiveness for your own sins or extending forgiveness for the sins of others, both release us from the prisons of our past.
You Deserve Better
If you can relate to my story in any way, I am so sorry. Abuse should not be the common thread that weaves our lives together. But, if it is, here is what I want you to know:
It was not your fault. No matter how old you were, what you did, or where you were—it is not your fault.
You are not to blame, and you don’t need to hold onto the shame for a minute longer.
You did not deserve what happened to you. You deserve better.
You deserve to be free from your past, free from shame, free from bitterness and resentment. You deserve to be free to love, free to trust, and free to hope in a better future.
If you feel stuck—like your life is defined as a before and after of your abuse—then it’s time to bring all your pain and shame to God. Yell it out or cry it out if you must—just get it out of you and into God’s hands. He can take it—he wants to take it.
Open your heart to Him and trust Him to yield both justice and mercy for your abuser.
Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen. (1 Peter 5:6-10)
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Taryn lives nestled in the beautiful mountains of the Fraser Valley, British Columbia with her husband and four kids. While most of her responsibilities revolve around those 5 people, her greatest love is Jesus. Her life was radically changed when she met Him for the first time at 19 years old. Since then, she tries to live her life by closely listening to His voice and leading others to do the same. She admits that she messes up all the time, but she trusts in the certainty that God’s love remains constant. Her passion is seeing women set free from the lies and shame that hold them captive. You can find her on Facebook, Instagram, and on her website.
P.S. Want to read more stories of hope and freedom? Find Freedom Stories from 25+ other brave and inspiring women here.
Today, I’m introducing you to an incredible woman with a unique perspective on depression. As a neuropsychologist who treated her patients in this area for years, Dr. Michelle Bengtson suddenly came face to face with her own depression. Her own battle with depression, along with the freedom she found, now informs the way that she cares for others. I cannot wait to read her book, “Hope Prevails” (and her upcoming book about anxiety). But for now, I’m so thankful for her willingness to share her story with us in this interview.
This is Dr. Michelle’s Freedom Story.
I’m so glad to have you here, Dr. Michelle! Before we get into your story, I want to know some of the fun stuff! Tell me about where you are from, what you love to do, and anything else that will give us a little slice into your life!
I grew up in what we affectionately call “The Mitten,” a.k.a. the frozen tundra of Michigan. I moved to Florida when I was a sophomore in college, and met my husband there at church. We have been married 31 years and have a son who is a sophomore in college training to be a pilot, and a son who is a sophomore in high school running cross country and track.
I’ve known since I was a little girl that I wanted to be a writer, but I took a detour from that dream and first became a Board Certified Clinical Neuropsychologist, and have spent 30 years working in the mental health field, which has served as fodder for my writing.
When I’m not at my private practice, writing, or speaking, my favorite place to be is at the beach or on a boat on the water. I used to love to cook and bake, back when I had lots of time to read cookbooks, and prepare at a leisurely pace, but motherhood and working full time has lessened that interest.
I’ve always been a dog lover. My oldest son has a Shetland sheepdog. My youngest son has a rescue Pomeranian mix that we rehabbed in order to save his life after he was hit by a car and left for dead. I have a 3-year old sweet little 4-pound Pomeranian we named Selah.
I love those facts! The beach is a favorite of mine too, and I can’t wait to hear more about your perspective on mental health. Galatians 5:1 is a key verse for our FREEDOM STORIES. It says, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Therefore, do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” What was the old yoke under which you were living? What was that slavery like for you?
There were a couple of old yokes I lived under. The first and most pronounced throughout my life was perfectionism. This only really came to light and I only really started to find freedom from that yoke about 6 years ago when I was deathly ill. At that time, God made it so clear to me that nothing I did would make Him love me less, and nothing I did would make Him love me more.
The second yoke that I lived under for significant periods of my life was depression. The most severe was about 6 years ago, when I became so physically ill. Having been in mental health for so many years, I thought I had all the answers. So I did all the things I had recommended that my patients do for over two decades (i.e. therapy, medication, diet, exercise, rest, etc.) All those things helped but they were insufficient to eradicate the depression. It was only then that God taught me that if I didn’t deal with the spiritual roots of disease, it was like putting a bandaid on an infection and hoping it would get better. Everything changed from then on.
What were some of the old narratives you absorbed?
One of the biggest ones was the idea that I believed I had to be perfect for others and for God to love me. When trials hit, I jumped into action, doing more. I kept trying to do enough to be lovable, to be found worthy.
Another one of the narratives that I believed was that I “was joy-immune.” When suffering from depression, I looked at so many others who seemed joyful and thought that could never, would never be me because I had tried everything I was taught in school and everything I recommended to patients, yet joy seemed like an intangible in a Christmas carol.
I can relate to that. It’s a really hopeless feeling, and I imagine that was so hard for you as a doctor trying to practice what you preached but not seeing results.
What was the turning point? Was there a rock bottom or a point that you realized that you could not live like that any longer?
The turning point for both the perfectionism and the depression were the same. It came when I was deathly ill, on bed-rest, and unable to do anything but sleep, read, watch sermons on line, and listen to praise and worship music 24/7. I came to the place where if that was going to be my life, I wasn’t sure I wanted to live. I thought that if I could no longer be the doctor, what worth did I have. It was during that time that I spent so immersed in the word, that God showed me He loved me regardless, and that I had been believing lies about myself that were not consistent with His word.
What changed from there? (What actions did you take, truths did you discover, or community did you connect with to help you find freedom)?
I started paying attention to my thoughts (like the idea that I was joy-immune) and checking to see if they agreed with what God said in Scripture. If they did not, then I recognized them for the lie they were and refuted them with the truth in Scripture (like the verse, “although weeping may last for the night, His joy comes in the morning”). It all began with one Scripture that I scribbled on a post-it note and hung from my home IV. And then when God gave me another truth to refute another lie, I wrote that on a post-it note and put it on my bathroom mirror. Every time I saw those post-it notes, I recited them out loud because “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” By the end, I had over 100 scriptures on post-it notes everywhere from my light switch to the dashboard of my car.
What a powerful image with all of the post-it notes. Talk about visible reminders of Truth!
Tell me about your life of freedom. What does it look like for you now?
Learning to refute the lies with God’s truth changed everything for me. It helped heal my body physically and mentally. It changed how I guide patients in my own private practice. It changed how I interacted with my children, my husband, my family and my friends. I still strive to do my best, but I don’t beat myself up when I fail. Instead, I recognize that Jesus came BECAUSE of my imperfection. If I had been perfect, I’d have no need for a perfect Savior. It allows me to extend more grace to others as well.
Do you still wrestle with those old struggles? What do you do on those days to fight for your freedom?
Sure I still struggle, because the enemy always returns to our weakest points. But I struggle much less than I used to. I have a few friends who have permission to speak truth into my life. Every once in a while, one will bring to my attention an area that they perceive I might be believing a lie, and encourage me to seek the truth.
Are there any key scriptures, quotes, or books that have been helpful for you on your journey into freedom?
My life verse is Jeremiah 29:11, and the cornerstone for my first two books (“Hope Prevails: Insights From a Doctor’s Personal Journey Through Depression” and the “Hope Prevails Bible Study”), which says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans for a future and a hope.” This verse has carried me through my husband having been diagnosed with three different kinds of cancer, through job loss, through my son going off to college, and my own cancer diagnosis. As long as He is still on His throne, #HopePrevails!
I love that hashtag– I’ll have to start using it as a reminder to myself too. I also really can’t wait to read your book! Okay, last, because I am a big believer that gratitude lists help us remain present and fight our battles, tell me three things you’re grateful for right now.
I am grateful that God sees and knows our needs even before we do, and has brought praying Christian brothers and sisters along to pray me through treatment for cancer. I am grateful that God never wastes our pain, and in fact, works all things together for our good and for His glory. I am grateful that God has given me the opportunity to speak and write about the trials I have faced and overcome with His help, in order to help others on their journey—that, to me, is beauty for ashes.
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Dr. Michelle Bengtson is an international speaker, and the author of the bestselling, award winning “Hope Prevails: Insights From A Doctor’s Personal Journey Through Depression” and the award winning companion “Hope Prevails Bible Study” and the soon to be released “Breaking Anxiety’s Grip: How to Reclaim the Peace God Promises” (Sept 2019). She has been a neuropsychologist for more than twenty years, and is now in private practice in Southlake, Texas where she evaluates, diagnoses, and treats children and adults with a variety of medical and mental health disorders. This doctor knows pain and despair firsthand and combines her professional expertise and personal experience with her faith to address her patients’ issues, both for those who suffer and the ones who care for them.
Using sound practical tools, she affirms worth and encourages faith. Dr. Bengtson offers hope as a key to unlock joy and relief—even in the middle of the storm. She and her husband of thirty years have two teenage sons and reside in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. She blogs regularly on her own site: www.DrMichelleBengtson.com.
What a gift to know this friend, and to share her words with you here. Alexis and I went to college together (I remember the sweet coffee shop she shares about well!), and her friendship has been such a blessing over the years. Alexis practices gratitude, rest, and intentional friendships so beautifully, and the freedom she’s found in these rhythms inspires me greatly in my own life and family. I wish all of you could know this sweet friend in real life, but for now, I want to introduce you to her through her gentle, gracious, life-giving words.
This is Alexis’s Freedom Story.
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I muscled my way into my twenties bound by the tyranny of the urgent. Productivity was my driver, and I’d stay up late into the night to complete projects, study for tests, pour for hours over the perfect paper, grade, etc. After the day was done, I’d often lay in bed repeating back to myself conversations I’d had or presentations I’d given, picking them apart and giving them over to a loud and nasty inner critic.
Having grown up in a family culture committed to productivity, REST had become a bad word. We never actually said it, but overarchingly we knew: to whom much is given, much is expected. Stillness, amusement, stopping to do something for the sake of pure enjoyment – was simply NOT an efficient or fruitful use of time. So we just never did it. There was always a project to be done, a mission to be on, a purpose to be served.
There is a quote I’ve come to love from one of my favorite authors, Wayne Muller, that says:
“Without rest …we miss the compass points that would show us where to go. We bypass the nourishment that would give us succor. We miss the quiet that would give us wisdom. We miss the joy and love born of effortless delight. Poisoned by this hypnotic belief that good things come only through unceasing determination and tireless effort, we can never truly rest. And for want of rest, our lives are in danger.”
Before I dive too deep here, let me say there were many incredible elements of my upbringing. So many sweet staples of life I look back on now and relish: real and raw conversations regularly around the dinner table; parents who loved each other and loved Jesus deeply; a commitment to learning and growth and knowing our own personalities well enough so as to lead well in whatever sphere we were in.
But the space and time afforded for rest, for turning off for a bit and just re-creating, was never quite granted. At least not without an awareness of what we were leaving behind.
This constant awareness of the need to do more rooted itself down deep in my wiring, and, as Timothy Keller puts it in his sermon on Work and Rest, established an eternal inner murmur that I just couldn’t shake.
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm them and do not let yourselves be burdened again by the yoke of slavery. Galatians 5:1
It wasn’t until early in my senior year of college that the Lord began to liberate me from this bondage of busyness and the tyranny of production.
Saturday morning afforded the perfect moment to escape from life as usual. No deadlines haunted my calendar for that following afternoon and rarely were any coffee dates scheduled before 2:00 on a Senior’s Saturday. As the campus had yet to wake, I would make my way silently out my dorm room doors, slide into my little blue Volvo and take the windy backroads up the Cape Ann coastline, relishing every rogue drop of rain on my windshield and the sweet stillness of life around me.
My destination was a corner table at The Bean and Leaf, a dreamy little coffee shop that sat directly on the water in Rockport. The Bean offered a delicious trifecta of space, time and the perfect vanilla latte, making it my personal sanctuary and the perfect place to get lost in reflection. And that is exactly what I’d come for. I’d pop on my headphones, spread the miniature library I’d brought with me out on the table and just … be … still.
Organically, over a period of months, this deadline-less and dreamy practice became a regular Saturday morning rhythm. It seemed to offer the ideal space in time to escape from all things urgent, to set aside all things back-lit and buzzing and allow my head and heart to strike a chord together that they just couldn’t reach during the busyness of the week. And although, at the time, I didn’t understand what it was exactly I was doing, everything in me craved this end of the week, early morning retreat away.
I didn’t realize at the time that this abandoning of normally scheduled life, this pause in creating to let the Lord re-create me, would become an enormously freeing rhythm. This coming away from the muchness and many-ness and busyness of daily life to create space for doing nothing was remaking me. This creation of a sanctuary in time for remembering and taking delight in the greater things was allowing the Lord to nourish me in a way I hadn’t experienced before, renewing me body and soul.
Late in my Senior year, as I was introduced to beautiful concept of Sabbath, these Saturday morning escapes began to make sense.
“Sabbath is a day on which we are called upon to share in what is eternal in time, to turn from the results of creating to the master of creation; from the world of creation to the creation of the world.” Abraham Joshua Heschel
This weekly, intentional, rhythmic practice of Sabbath rest showed itself to be not simply an abandonment of responsibilities, but rather space to order and make sense of them. More than simply the absence of work or a day to catch up on latest projects or errands, it became a consecrated period of time to listen to what was most deeply nourishing and true, directing my attention to the grace that sustains and orders all of life. It became a life-giving rhythm I both enjoyed and desperately needed.
Ten years out from those little coffee shop escapes in Rockport, Saturday mornings continue to carry the sweetness of Sabbath. I’ll wake slowly, light my favorite candle and prop a little stack of books I’ve wanted to dive into onto my corner of the couch. Turning the water on for coffee, I’ll open the blinds and take my time prepping the french press, giving a bit more attention than normal to the pour over process. I’ll look back over my prayer journal from the week, letting the Lord pull threads and themes I didn’t catch in the craziness. And as time and space settle, so often He will note for me things to take with me into the coming week, and the things I need to leave behind.
The setting has changed, but the premise and the promise have not. Disconnecting from the urgent, attuning my soul to the things of God, and letting him renew my hope for the future.
Rest. Remembering. Renewal.
Mark Buchanan, in His life-shaping work called The Rest of God, says:
The essence of the Sabbath Heart is paying attention. It is being fully present, wholly awake in each moment. It is the trained ability to inhabit our own existence without remainder, so that even the simplest things – the in and out of our own breathing, the coolness of times on our bare feet, the way wind sculpts clouds – gain the force of discovery and revelation.
True attentiveness burns away the layers of indifferent and ennui and distraction – and reveals what’s hidden beneath: the staggering surprise and infinite variety of every last little thing.
The space my soul’s been given through this sacred practice has done so much more than free me from the bondage of production. Though the weeks are full and the deep sense of purpose in our days is always to be cultivated, I’ve tasted such sweetness in their abandonment to recognize the giver and sustainer of all good work in the first place. The ache for rest is no longer something I long for in vain, but something I look forward to at the end of every week.
And Jesus, who IS our Sabbath rest, beautifully comes with us out of this practice and into each moment of the week, granting us His sacred presence through the spirit regardless of what day it is. However this ancient practice of taking one day out of seven that allows us to recognize His goodness and power over all things is truly transformative. The gift of unhurried wonder – the nourishing of an emergence – is a treasure to simply receive and relish.
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Alexis is a thirty something letter-lover from NY. Next to great writing and dark coffee, her life is daily energized by the things beneath the surface. She relishes moments of moving past surface level niceties to the raw and the real truths that shape our days. However beautiful, intricate and messy it all might be, nothing makes her heart happier than going there.
She’s a firm believer that knowing what you stand for and where your heart beats hardest is a fantastic way to show up in the world. For her – naming and celebrating people, moments and the gratitude-worthy details of the day to day is a calling – and her greatest joy comes in helping others make space to do the same.
Currently, she is delving deep in those moments in Birmingham, AL where she runs her leadership consulting and soul coaching business, leading others in identifying their personal mission, vision and purpose, knowing themselves to lead themselves and cultivating life-giving rhythms of work and rest.