8:04a For all my starts and stops and hiccups and outright stubbornness, this will be the one that sticks. How do I know this? I don’t know. I just know.
I thought I was being reborn that day in Summer’s garden. Silly me, it was the beginning of the rebirth process – called death. I even started my period, which I recognized as significant, but I still thought it meant birth. I thought I was being set free. I was, but not in the way I thought. Often we must tear down before we can rebuild.
Truth cannot always comfort us. Sometimes it must cut us to the bone, the marrow even, before it can set us free.
“No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening. It is painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” ~Hebrews 12:11
I was entering death there. Death of the old, that the new may be reborn. It feels like so many blows coming at me all at once. Just when I think I can’t take any more, there comes another.
But I know this builds fortitude of character, and there is a promise waiting on the other side. Not only have I consented to this training, I have begged for it. The dream me is not a drinker. I will do whatever it takes to be free.
It was another night of restless sleep. Fear tried to grip me again. I fought it for hours as the white-hot ball of liquid anxiety pulsed at my core. We were in bed shortly after 11p, but it was closer to 3a before I actually slept. Then I drifted in and out, mostly in, until the alarm at seven. I have had only one good night of sleep since Sarah quit, eleven days ago.