He didn’t know he was marrying someone with a mental illness… Mostly because we had only known each other for about five months when we got engaged. I was eighteen when he put that ring onto my finger and asked if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I didn’t even know I had a mental illness back then.

But I do now. I used to try and use language that made sure it sounded to others as though I had overcome some situational stress or anxiety.

“Oh yeah, I had anxiety. Somtimes I struggle with anxiety. I used to feel anxious sometimes.”

But I guess I am tired of being embarrassed about it. The truth is, every day that I am not anxious is a miracle. I live in a broken body just like you do. And while my brokenness affects my emotions, it doesn’t define my faith. (Say it louder for the people in the back, Becky!)

I have anxiety, and I am a Christian woman full of faith.

These are two independent facts about me.

I’ve written an entire book about it that will release September of this year. But I need to say something before it hits shelves this year.

As I sit here on the floor of my daughter’s room waiting for her to fall asleep… while my heart races about nothing at all and I search my mind for what has triggered this fleeting fear… the Holy Spirit is with me.

While I’m panicking, wanting to hide and avoid everything that must be done, while I try and intentionally calm my breathing, while I do everything I know to reduce the anxiety I am experiencing, He is reminding me that I am not my emotions. I am not my chemical imbalances or physical deficiencies. I’m not my hormonal issues. I am not my diagnosis. I am not my nutritional sensitivities or broken DNA.

I am a loved daughter. A cherished wife. An amazing mom. A good friend. And a powerful voice for hope in the midst of all seasons and situations.

I’m seen. I’m held. And I’m found in the eyes of those hwo love me and the One who lives in me… and so are you.

That’s the powerful promise of peace. He walks across relentless waves. He stands steady in the midst of the storm. We focus on Him calming and calling out for the winds and waves to obey… and they do. But peace remains steady all the while. That’s peace in us. HE’s steady even when storms are raging around us or within us. He’s with us both even now, friend. Even now.

Oh, anxious momma, your heart feels like it can only take so much. Your thoughts seem to never stop racing. You continually count your “okays.” My kids are okay. My husband is okay. My house is okay. My job is okay. My family is okay. My friends are okay. And you repeat… My kids. My husband. My house. My job. My family. My friends.

You get to the end of your list of things to worry about, and like a ride you cannot get off, your mind scoops you up and carries you back around again.

Again and again you remind yourself that you are in fact, okay. That your people are okay. That it is all going to be okay.

And you’re exhausted. You’re emotionally exhausted. And you don’t know what kind of rest revives emotional exhaustion.

Sleep doesn’t ever seem to do it.

And so this fear that you’re always going to feel this exhausted sort of creeeeeeps in with the rest of your worries.

You crave peace and seem so far from it. And now you’re not just anxious. You’re afraid… truly, deeply, afraid that your heart will never reach the peace you run toward.

Hear me.

Be kind to yourself. You are allowed to feel exactly as you do. It’s a scary world. There is so much that threatens what we love most. You just don’t know how everything is going to work out. Your love expressed through concern for those you love is normal. But…

JESUS.

Will you whisper that name with me?

JESUS.

He occupies the sound of His name. It’s why we are urged to keep it Holy. Did you know that? It’s why we are prompted in Scripture not to say His name unless we expect Him to show up. Because He does. He always comes when we say His name.

JE-SUS!

Maybe louder this time.

Like a declaration. A promise. Like everything you need is in His name even if you don’t know Him well.

He’s as close as your breath. Take a deep one. Now, let’s invite the God who commands the waves to  come and also calm the storm in our hearts and minds. He’s bigger than the fear. He’s our shelter. Our shield. Our safety. Our comforter.

Peace. He is our PEACE.

He surrounds you. Holds you. Shields you with His love.

Deep breath again. You’re not crazy. You’re not broken. You’re not alone.

He hears your fears and promises to calm them with His love. Let’s lean into His love right now.

Jesus. Our hope. Our promise. Our peace.

JESUS.

*Trigger Warning – Suicide and Mental Health

Eighteen years ago, on September 11, 2001 at 9:41:15 a.m Richard Drew captured a horrific photograph of a man falling from the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

One hour.

There was one hour between the time the plane crashed into the North Tower and the time this unknown man (likely) jumped from the burning building.

For one hour he fought through uncertainty, chaos, and absolute terror. He lived for an hour in a world very few of us will ever experience.

And then… in a situation we can only imagine… this man saw no other escape from the flames or the heat or the smoke… and he jumped.

What a tragic thing for there to be so little hope of rescue or relief that death was the only escape.

Yet this same hopelessness reaches across the world into homes, neighborhoods, business and even churches.

Sometimes, burning buildings don’t look like burning buildings. Sometimes burning buildings look like people we love.

Yesterday I got a call from my husband as I was out running errands. He asked if I had heard. He knew that if I had, I would know exactly what he was talking about.

I hadn’t heard. I didn’t yet know that a pastor friend who had been open about his fight with anxiety and depression had taken his own life.

This man was an ally in the fight against mental illness. He was a voice that championed the call to remove the stigma and shame surrounding those who suffer silently. He was a Christian who passionately loved and served the Lord, and he lost his life to the dis-ease of his mind he worked so hard to overcome.

Most of us won’t ever understand the invisible inferno that those who lose their lives to mental illness experience. We can’t see their flames. We can’t understand the chaos in their minds. We can’t see the years the building has been on fire and there doesn’t seem to be a hope of either rescue or relief.

We just don’t know. As someone who has fought anxiety most of my life, there are still some aspects of mental illness I struggle to personally understand.

But not understanding isn’t an option anymore. It just isn’t. Not for me. Not for you. Not for the Body of Christ.

Church, we have to fight to understand. There have been many in the last few years who have fought to break the stigma surrounding mental illness. But we have to go farther. We have to become those who help put out invisible fires. Because if Jesus came to heal those who are sick, He meant those who have sicknesses we cannot see as well.

How? Here is where we start.

STEP ONE:

Look for fire. We must acknowledge that people we know and love live in burning buildings. There are real fires, real pain, real desperation, and just because we can’t see it does not mean it does not exist. Ignoring mental illness doesn’t make it go away.

STEP TWO:

Don’t blame the person trapped in the burning building. Can you imagine scolding a person fighting for their life? Telling them it’s their fault? All while you stand watching rather than rescuing? No! You’d help or you would get someone who could. You’d tell the person you love that you see them! You Hear them! You’d tell them to hang on! And you wouldn’t leave them alone.

STEP THREE:

Recognize that Christians can get trapped in burning buildings, too. Christians can have faith in Jesus as Healer and Savior and at the same time suffer from a mental illness.

If you can have a broken arm that takes six weeks to heal, if you can have a chronic condition like heart disease or asthma that you never fully overcome, if you can fight through cancer and your faith not be faulted if you do not receive immediate healing, then there is ZERO room to fault the faith of a person who has a brokenness in their brain and needs time (as much as it takes) to be healed. Brains are organs, too. And Christians get cancer, asthma, burst appendix, eczema, celiac disease, and all forms of mental illness. The good news is that Jesus is STILL OUR HEALER.

STEP FOUR:

Help the person who feels trapped and hopeless, using every method available to you. Imagine your loved one standing on the other side of a window with smoke filling the room, looking at you, desperate for either a relief or a rescue. Desperate for water to put out the flames or someone to break the glass and pull them out. You would do everything in your power. Yes? You’d cry out to Jesus. You’d call on the professionals. You’d call 911. You’d scream for others to join you! This is an emergency! Right?

When we find out someone we love is suffering, we recognize that Jesus is the answer, He can heal in an instant, He can rescue in an instant, but He has sent us filled with His Spirit to be His hands and feet… and so we run into burning buildings and do everything we can to pull others out.

We bring relief by helping those we know take physical steps toward healing. We pray for supernatural intervention… for the demonic powers of fear and depression and suicide to be broken WHILE we help those we love make appointments to see doctors and counselors. We read the Word AND we see if there’s an underlying medical condition causing the illness. We pray for peace AND for healing.

We recognize that it’s not one OR the other. It’s not EITHER a physical brokenness OR a spiritual battle. It’s BOTH AND! It’s physical, spiritual, mental, and emotional. We take all the steps, trusting Jesus to show us HOW to break the glass and rescue from all sides.

STEP FIVE:

We MUST prioritize community. We MUST make room in our lives for others. We MUST let others in. Because the only way to know somebody we love’s world is on fire is for them to do the brave thing of sharing their reality without fear of judgment or shame. We have to do a better job of living life with each other. The hope of the world is Jesus… Jesus found in living rooms and safe gatherings of like-hearted believers who break bread and share life together.

There is so much work to do. There are so many we love suffering.

For one hour the falling man fought the flames. Others live in burning buildings for years, decades, or their entire lives…

What a tragic thing for there to be so little hope of rescue or relief that death was the only escape.

What a tragic thing when as the Body of Christ we have the power through Him to be both.

Let’s pray together.

God, be our rescue. Be our relief. Be our Healer, Lord. Be our strong tower and defender when we are weak. Be our peace. We pray now for those we love who are battling mental illness. We ask You to touch every process in their bodies. We ask You to bring peace and healing, mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Jesus’s blood paid the price for our healing and so we ask for it now. Send angels to war in the Heavens on our behalf. Push back the darkness. Silence the lies of the enemy. We ask in Jesus’s name, Amen.

If you or someone you know is in crisis, call 988 – the suicide and crisis lifeline.

 Have a seat. Just stop scrolling for a second. Or thirty. Please.

Here are five things someone needs to remind you this weekend.

1.) You get to the other side of this thing. God walks with you and He meets you there and that means it’s all okay in the end. It’s going to work out fine. You’ll see.

2.) God is many things, but one thing God has never been is surprised. He’s not waiting to see how this all turns out. He knows everything. So, You should ask Him what to do and then wait and do what He says. Solid advice.

3.) God gave you an imagination so you could create with Him. Don’t use it to create the worst-case scenario. Anticipation of God’s goodness and faithfulness is the opposite of anxiety of future doom. Both anticipation and anxiety cause you to look toward the future. Only one promises hope when you get there. Stop creating worlds in your mind where God doesn’t show up for you. It’s just not going to happen ever. See number 1.

4.) Big giants, mountains, and attacks do not change the size of our MUCH bigger God. While we are on that note… God and the devil aren’t equal forces on opposite sides of the battle. The devil is a fallen angel which means he’s on the same level as Michael or Gabriel. Y’all he’s babycakes compared to Jesus. Stop giving him so much credit. Jesus won. Past-tense. Let’s live like it.

5.) Ain’t nobody got any time to live like none of this matters. It matters. Either God raised your spirit to life with Jesus and now you have access to His Spirit and power all of the time or He didn’t. When you decide that He did though, your only response is to live like the supernatural is just as real as your laundry pile.

So… Don’t get distracted. Don’t get confused. Don’t let anyone pull you off course. There are high stakes and people waiting on us to live like we know all of this is true. Mkay? Go ahead and pass this on if you agree.

1. You feel kind of anxious.
2. You feel really anxious.
3. You feel overwhelmingly anxious.

That’s it.

No one needs to tell you to wait until you can’t breathe or you’re having panic attacks. Don’t wait until you are unable to perform simple tasks or you begin avoiding tasks that just seem too hard before you get help.

I believe that we all wait way too long before we tell someone that we aren’t right—that we can’t do it on our own… that we need rescuing. If you’re in the middle of a regular day, like this one, and you feel like you’re sinking, tell someone right now.

Listen, our culture praises self-help. Have you noticed this? The number of self-help books alone prove this to be true. But really, there is no reason to wait before you invite someone into your process. God’s Kingdom thrives when we are in community. This can be traced by to the first of us.

Adam was alone, and God gave him Eve. Why? Because it wasn’t good for man to be alone. It’s still not good for us to try to do it all on our own either.

Why should I get to give my thoughts on this? Well, not because I’m a counselor or a professional of any kind. I am just like you, probably. I’m a Christian woman who has had to WORK to overcome anxiety my entire life.

Here’s what anxiety does to me… it sneaks up on me. Little worries left unchecked create cracks in my heart that slowly drain my God-promised peace. They’re small—those cracks.

I can barely notice the hope seeing until I look around and I’m overwhelmed.

Anxiety is a well-trained thief of peace. It knows better than to draw too much attention to itself. It’s not loud or fast or in my face until all of a sudden I wonder what I’m so scared of—why I’m so afraid.

I feel terrified and I can’t point to a cause.
I’m out of peace. I’ve given away all of my joy. Simple tasks seem overwhelmingly hard. And I feel as though I can’t breathe.

I worry, “Wait! How did I get here? How do I get out? How did I let this happen?

And in those moments of realization, when I see how sneakily this grew undetected and unaddressed, I don’t need advice on how to get out. I won’t be able to explain how I arrived. I just need LOVE Himself to show up and remind me of His promise. Perfect LOVE casts out fear.

I need to be reminded of His promised presence, His promised provision, and His promised PEACE. And He shows up in Spirit, but He also shows up when friends and family bring His love with theirs. I NEED them to bring His love with theirs.

Should Christians ever battle anxiety when we have been set free in Christ? No. We shouldn’t battle sickness or face death either. We weren’t created for any of it. We were created for eternity when God designed us in the Garden.

But brokenness filters through every part of life here. We are broken down to our very DNA.

My brokenness is no different from yours. All of our hope hinges on the continued presence of our Savior who rescues us again and again.

God heals in many ways. Ask the guy with mud on his eyes. Listen, don’t discount prayer. Believe in the miracle. But sometimes love and healing look like professional help. If you need it, get it.

If you need to talk to a pastoral counselor, make that call. If you think you need a doctor, see one. If you just don’t know where to start, pick up your phone and text you closest friend, “I’m not okay, and I need your help.”

If you know someone battling anxiety, love them through it. Love them right back into the arms of PEACE until hope rises and they can breathe again. Tell them that they won’t always be in this position. Tell them that they’ll make it out of this funk. Tell them that it’s all going to be okay. Pray for them. Pray with them. Don’t tell them to just snap out of it. Trust me, they wish they could.

And whatever you do, don’t tell them if they had more faith they’d be fine. You wouldn’t tell a person who lacked the ability to walk the same thing. Their faith isn’t the problem. Their feelings are what’s broken.

As a person who fully knows the Lord, who has lived in seasons of complete peace, who loves Jesus and His Gospel and believes He is still the God of miracles, I still face anxious seasons. I still have to shout, “Help!” from time to time. But I’m not afraid of being afraid anymore, because love always finds me. He finds you too.

“I have been in seasons of my life when it seems like the sun will never rise, when the darkness lingers, and when the warmth of the morning light seems unreachable. There have been seasons of my life when I believed the darkness and fear boasted of its success.
But those seasons do not last forever– no matter what the darkness whispers, no matter what our circumstances say. Even when fear promises that you will always feel this way– that you are never going to be truly happy again– the darkness cannot last forever because the sun always rises.
Always.”

You can find that quote on page 64 of my book, Hope Unfolding: Grace-Filled Truth for the Momma’s Heart.

It’s a good word. It’s a God word. It’s encouragement that I didn’t think I’d personally need again. I thought I was writing for everyone else still trapped in a season of endless nights. But here I am. I find myself feeling like I’m standing in the dark, reminding myself that I have felt the warmth of the sun and I will feel it again.

About six months ago, Jared and I and our three kids left everything we knew in Oklahoma and moved to Los Angeles, CA  because the Lord called us here. He didn’t explain fully how we’d be able to afford such a crazy move. He didn’t exactly lay out the full plan and ask us to weigh our options before we carefully calculated our best choice.

With the full plan held closely to His chest, the Lord simply extended His hand and said, “Come.” And so we did. We packed up our lives and came to serve alongside friends doing incredible Kingdom work in this city.

We were beyond excited. It was a full faith adventure. My husband and I said things to each other like, “This is what the brave prophets and teachers and evangelists and patriarchs of the faith did all throughout Scripture. We are leaving our lives behind. We are following the Lord! God is good and we will not fail because He is with us. This is the adventure of a lifetime!”

Six months into this journey, I want to be 100% transparent.

The last few months have been hard. Super hard. Painfully hard. Some days, I can hardly catch my breath hard. I feel sad. I feel worried. I feel anxious about the future. And I physically mourn my old life. I miss my family, my friends, and what was familiar. I miss the confidence I had in the path I could see in front of me. I miss what I thought would always be…

I am uncertain about what is to come, and I grieve for what was left behind.

I think we often overlook these valley moments when we survey the landscape of a Spirit-led life. Or perhaps we just don’t talk about them enough. The truth is, the promise of a Spirit-led life does not mean there won’t be heartache or hardships or trials or what-are-You-doing-GOD moments. Far from it. A Spirit-led life does not mean there won’t be valleys.

The promise of a Spirit-led life is the guarantee of God’s presence in the process. It’s the promise that the Lord won’t lead us anywhere that He isn’t intending to go with us… right through every joy and sadness.

I wonder if we (as Christians) don’t rush sadness sometimes. I wonder if we feel like sadness is an obstacle we should overcome, when really even Jesus took time to weep for what was lost.

There’s an opportunity in the process of mourning to worship God and trust Him in a way that we aren’t able when everything is going well.

So, I’m not ashamed to say that I have been grieving. I’m not embarrassed to say that I have been allowing my heart to lament the loss.

But I also know that praise is my weapon against deep sorrow. It’s my weapon against fear. It’s my weapon against anxiety and worry and everything else that would try and bar my access to hope.

So, I’m going to tell you how I have felt recently.

I have felt sad.

I have felt worried.

I have felt anxious. So so so anxious. Chest crushingly anxious some days.

But deep within me… deeper than any of my feelings… there is the resounding voice of Truth echoing off the chamber walls of my heart saying again and again, “I am with you. I am for you. I am all that you need.”

And despite my feelings, my spirit continues to respond, “I will trust You. I will hold onto You. I will keep walking even when I can’t see.”

I didn’t think I’d ever be here again… Not after putting on the full armor of God and wielding my weapons and shouting, “I KNOW WHO I AM AND I KNOW WHO GOD IS AND I HAVE BEEN SET FREE FROM PANIC AND ANXIETY!”

But I can tell you this… The Lord is so close in this season just as He has been in every season like it.

I can see the face of my Jesus even as the seas swirl around me. I can see the face of the One who is stripping away every last bit of all that would keep me from fully trusting Him. I can hear His voice reminding me of the Truth I have known all along– the Truth that He is good and able.

And I can feel hope rising like the sun after a very dark night.

In case you out here with me in your own season of sorrow or loss or worry or anxiety or uncertainty… remember this with me. This is just sentence of the story that God is writing in our lives.

God will provide. He has not forgotten about us. He will supply every need… and not just the financial ones. He will supply our emotional needs — the heartache menders, the community builders, the joy in the midst of all that was lost.

Because every story He writes is one of restoration, reconciliation and relationship.

Can you see it, too? That first sign of light? The promised rays of a sun ready to rise?

I can. We’re on the cusp of dawn. And there are people waiting to hear how we made it through the night.

UPDATE:
This was written in summer of 2018. I didn’t realize that I was about to write an entire book about finding hope and healing for an anxious momma’s heart. I didn’t see that this valley, this sadness, this dark forest was exactly where I needd to stand in order to lead women toward hope. There were people waiting to hear how I made it. There are people waiting to hear how you make it too.

If you had told me six months ago that we’d be living this way, I would have giggled and shoved another powdered donut from a bag into my mouth.

I mean, I’m not the mom who reads all of the labels, chooses organic over regular, and advocates for chemical-free, preservative-free, artificial flavor-free foods. I’m too busy for all of that… or so I thought.

I was not a “crunchy” mom in any way, unless I was crumbling up some Doritos to add to the top of my casserole for texture.

Until about 8 weeks ago…

It was the end of the day, and I was standing in my kitchen wondering why I was more anxious than usual… wondering why my daughter who is a lot like me was struggling more than usual, too. She’s like a little canary that one – sensitive to things others might miss or be able to tolerate.

And like me, she seemed to be struggling.

We were easily worked up, easily agitated, harder to calm, and had a hard time focusing.

My daughter was displaying so many of the behaviors that she had when she was younger and we hadn’t yet realized that she had a severe sensitivity to food-dyes.

Moms of kids with extreme sensitivities to food-dye know exactly what I mean when I say my daughter was acting like I had given her a glass of red Kool-Aid. *YIKES* 

I wondered if it was our move across the country. Were we just stressed? Our entire lives had just changed, but it seemed too similar to what we had experienced in the past that was related to food, and this time… it wasn’t just my daughter… it was me, too.

Everything had seemed fine, until all of a sudden, it wasn’t.

That night in my kitchen, I decided to look for answer, and did what ever good mom does. I asked Google for help.

Can I just say this? Never underestimate the power of a mom with access to Google, because what I found changed our lives. And I’m not over-exaggerating.

***Before I go on, I need to stop and say this. I’m not a doctor. Yes, I have a doctor. I consult my doctor often. But here on this website, I’m just a mom sharing her experiences that should not be mistaken for medical advise.***

Backstory: I have a genetic disorder that hinders how a certain enzyme works. The MTHFR gene, short for Methylenetetrahydrofolate Reductase, is necessary for methylation, a metabolic process that switches genes on and off, repairs DNA and many other important things.

Sounds important. Right? It is.

MTHFR is often linked directly to anxiety, and is likely the root of the anxiety I experience. I knew this already.

What I learned that night in my kitchen is that methylation is responsible for is the breakdown of histamine.

Isn’t histamine good? What’s the matter with extra histamine?

You might immediately think of an allergic reaction when I mention histamine. Histamine helps keep your body safe from outside intruders. It causes your blood vessels to swell so that your white blood cells can get after the pollen or allergen causing an attack. It also acts as a neurotransmitter for your brain.

Too much histamine can cause all kinds of problems for the body – even affecting the brain and causing anxiety.

But do you want to hear something crazy?

When you’re all stressed out, your body actually releases hormones and other chemicals, including histamine!

If your body fails to break it down (like me), then it just builds and builds and you become more and more anxious. So, it becomes a cycle. Stress releases the crazy amounts of histamine in your body which causes you to feel anxious… which leads to your body being stressed.

Make it stop!

This is bad all on it’s own, but what on earth does it have to do with changing our diets and cooling it with the cool-ranch Doritos?

Listen, here’s how this all works together. Chemical ingredients like preservatives and artificial flavors and colors actually STRESS the body. Your body has to decide what to do with them because they are not natural. This stress causes the release of histamine into the bloodstream… leading to… you guessed it… anxiety.

But that’s not all!

Methylation is needed for the body to be able to break down chemical toxins in our foods. If our methylation process is broken, then these chemical ingredients cannot be broken down and this directly impacts our nervous system and overall brain health!

This was it. For us, this was the answer we had been looking for – the cause of the the chaos.

I spent the next few days going through my pantry and looking up online the names of additives and what to look for on labels.

And then, I made the decision to go all in. No more chemicals of any kind. No more preservatives. No more artificial anything.

Just real, organic (when possible) whole ingredients…

And do you know what we experienced in our home after eight weeks? Peace. Peace like we had never experienced peace before… We were no longer easily worked up, easily agitated, or hard to calm. We were able to focus.

The stress is still present as we navigate our new lives, but our bodies are not having to deal with the stress of the increased histamine and the stress of the chemical-laced foods we were eating!

For 8 weeks, we have been chemical-free, and that has meant a ton of huge changes… like no more fast food (except for Chipotle) but for us, the changes have been worth it. For us, this has been an answer to prayer.

I cannot stress enough that I’m NOT saying this lifestyle is for everyone. But I am saying that it is something worth considering if you have explored all other options.

What does it look like exactly? What do we eat? I plan to continue writing on our journey over time and sharing how this average American mom helped her family become whole.

It’s nine o’clock AM, and I am sitting outside my daughter’s first grade classroom with my laptop open and my heart a little nervous. The school, built decades ago, isn’t setup like most. The classrooms open up to a central library. And while you might think that noise or distractions would prevent little minds from being able to focus, this is one of those buildings constructed in such a way that the sound bounces and each room stays somewhat quiet. I don’t understand it either, and I’m sitting here.

From where I sit, I can see my daughter’s little back pulled up to a tiny desk, working on tracing letters. Every few minutes, she peeks over her shoulder just to make sure I haven’t left. And I won’t. I promised I would stay all day.

So why am I sitting here? Why will I sit outside my daughter’s classroom for the rest of the day? The short answer is… this is what’s best for my child.

The long answer would require me to take you back about four years. This story isn’t everything, but it is everything you need to know to understand how we both got here today.

Before I jump in though, I want you to know this. I am not writing this article to change your mind or make you believe that what I am doing is right for our family. As the parent of my child for the last six years, I know more about my daughter than I could ever hope for someone else to understand. I couldn’t condense her life enough to explain everything that brought us to this moment. So, I’m not trying to convince you that this is what is best for us. I decided that a long time ago.

I am offering our story for the parents who need it. I am sharing my story so that maybe you will be more confident in yours. I am writing this for the caregiver who needs to know they aren’t alone. You will know who you are.

All of that being said, this article is long – much longer than most of my writings. To be honest, this is nearly a book chapter in length, but for some reason… for this story… it all needs to be said.

THE BEGINNING

Four years ago, we discovered that my daughter, my second born, is allergic to peanuts. Looking for a substitute food for her older brother, who basically lived on peanut butter sandwiches at the time, we decided to try cashew butter one afternoon.

I handed him a small square of bread with less than dime sized amount of cashew butter spread thinly across it, and I turned around to walk toward the kitchen sink. I had made it two steps when he began to sneeze and choke.

I spun around. His face was bright red, and he couldn’t catch his breath. He sneezed another half dozen times as I grabbed my car keys, scooped up my daughter, and raced them both to the ER.

My son was three. My daughter was two. And this was our first experience with anaphylaxis.

That afternoon ended with the best possible outcome, considering the circumstances. My son was given epinephrine and steroids, and we were able to save him. But save him is the right choice of words, because the afternoon could have ended much, much differently.

My daughter was there for all of it, and even though she was very young, that was the day the anxiety found a door into her heart. (I have found that trauma will use any door.)

She watched her brother struggle to breathe. She watched the doctors race to save him. She heard about the shots, and she heard about the danger, and that was the day she became truly afraid of food.

You might suppose that it would make more sense for my son to become afraid. After all, it had happened to him, but I don’t suppose fear cares who it scares. Our Enemy will take any ground he can get.

That experience taught my daughter that some foods make very scary things happen. She didn’t understand which foods and she didn’t understand why, but eating became dangerous and being away from me felt very unsafe.

Over the next few years, my daughter set up boundaries to help herself function. She would let me know what she did and didn’t feel comfortable eating, and I understood that it was more than pickiness. It was self-defense.

I wish that I could say I helped her in the beginning the way that she needed me to. I wish that I could say I supported all of her boundaries, but I was always trying to help her expand her borders. I was always doing my best to help her distinguish between rational and irrational fears, and sometimes I pushed a little. But I didn’t understand then what I do now.

KINDERGARTEN

Last year, I enrolled my daughter in full day kindergarten. Lunch would be served, but I would send her only what she felt safe eating. There would be snacks served as well, but none with the allergens potentially deadly to her.

I did my best to create an environment where she could thrive. But thrive doesn’t even remotely describe what took place last year.

After the initial fear of leaving me and the tears shed at the beginning of every day, she seemed fine. Her teacher told me that she would participate and appeared generally happy all day long.

But afternoons were a different story. She would have panic attacks and uncharacteristic anger. She couldn’t calm down. She couldn’t listen. She was just so mad and easily triggered. (This was even after we had removed the artificial colors from her diet.)

We couldn’t figure it out. What were we doing wrong?

One afternoon in the middle of a fit about something that didn’t even make any sense, she collapsed into my arms and cried, “Momma, I’m just so scared all of the time!”

And I could finally see it. I realized that she was so tense all day. She was so afraid that someone would touch her after they had eaten something she was allergic to. She was afraid to be near her friends. She was afraid that just picking up the wrong crayon after another student used it would cause her to have an allergic reaction.

It was too much for her little heart to manage 20 other children and what they had and hadn’t touched all day.

She could hold it together, but home was a safe place to fall apart. As it turns out, her breakdown was actually the breakthrough we needed. We understood her behavior wasn’t defiance or typical separation anxiety or anything else. It was fear… a deeply rooted fear that this praying momma had done everything she could to overcome.

I feel like it is important that I share this. I’m a Christian woman, and I struggle (and have struggled) with anxiety for most of my life. We can trace mine back to childhood as well. Recently, I discovered that a genetic disorder and vitamin deficiency were the root cause of my anxiety. You can read more about that here if you’d like. But this story is about my daughter… and how we both ended up in first grade today.

HOMESCHOOL

The afternoon that my daugther broke down, and we realized that school was the cause of her misbehavior, I began to work to find another answer for her. Of course, from the outside she seemed like a typical kindergartener who just didn’t want mom to leave at the beginning of the day. No one saw what we experienced at home. It was hard to share my heart with those in authority, because honestly… there was so much that you couldn’t understand unless you were there.

It was hard to explain what we were going through to other parents whose children could easily do something like go to school.

I decided to meet with the her teacher and the school principal. We worked out that she would just go for a few hours a day and then come home to finish her work. But a few months later when we weren’t noticing much difference in her behavior, we made the decision to homeschool. It was a powerful moment when I realized that my daughter’s schooling didn’t have to look like everyone else’s. When I was able to let go of what I had imagined for her and allow her to experience what she needed.

Homeschooling was the best thing for her. She needed that semester and summer at home. She thrived. She expanded her boundaries on her own. She grew emotionally and in her understanding of what situations were and weren’t dangerous. She went to sleepovers at trusted friend’s houses. She went to her church class alone. She was brave again and again.

But I could tell as the summer came to a close that the idea of returning to school carried two different emotions for her. She felt safe at home, but she missed her friends and she missed learning with peers. And anyone who has ever struggled with anxiety knows that sometimes the hardest moments are those when we really wish we could be a little braver… when we wish it was as easy for us as it is for everyone else.

FIRST GRADE

School started in our district last Thursday. I woke up my kids and helped them put on their first day of school outfits. We had breakfast. We took photos on the front porch. And then we drove my son to the school. As we walked him inside, my daughter saw all of her friends. She saw former classmates. She saw our neighbor excitedly going into her new class. And I could tell that my daughter was sad.

“I wish I felt brave enough to go,” she told me on the way home.

I wished she did too.

Her first day of homeschool this year didn’t carry the same relief as it did last year. There was a bit of sadness that surrounded it. We reviewed math facts and read a few books. We went online and printed our yearly assessment tests to make sure that the books I had ordered would be the ones she needed. But something in me wondered if she would end up using those books at all. I still wonder.

As we worked through her papers, I had an idea. (One I probably should have thought through before I announced out loud.)

“Sister? What if I went to first grade, too?” I offered.

“You’d go with me all day?” she asked.

I’ll be honest, I didn’t know how this would work. I definitely didn’t have the permission of the principal to come to first grade…  But I know that students who have other educational challenges are often allowed certain help. Perhaps, my daughter would be granted a special allowance? It couldn’t hurt to ask.

Friday afternoon when we went to pick up my son from school, we ran into one of the first-grade teachers. This teacher taught my son last year, and my daughter was able to get to know her a bit as well. She asked how homeschooling was going, and I told her how I had ordered our books for the year and were just waiting for them to come in.

And then I told her how my daughter was thinking about coming back to school. The events that unfolded next don’t make a lot of sense, except to say they were a direct result of prayer.

That kind woman said that she would love to have my daughter in her class if she decided to come back. She knew her story and would help in any way she could. We asked my daughter if she wanted to look around her potential new classroom, and she agreed.

We found where her desk would be. We learned what her day would look like. And we decided that momma would come with her on Monday if she felt brave enough to start the first grade.

And, wouldn’t you know, that’s exactly what happened. This morning, my daughter walked bravely into her new class. She greeted her classmates. She has done her work. So far, she has had a wonderful day.

I don’t know how long I’ll sit here. I don’t know if it will take the rest of the week or just the next day or so. Honestly, I don’t even know if we will be back tomorrow. I won’t be able to see what the days ahead look like until they come.

But I can say this, I am not afraid of finding what works for my kid. I am not afraid of asking for help or special allowances. I am not afraid of what the other parents think of me. I’m not afraid to say tomorrow that this wasn’t the answer.

Her father and I are her only advocates. It is up to us to find what works if the boxes do not. It is up to us to help our child succeed by giving her the tools to do so, even if they don’t look like anyone else’s. Two of her best resources are parents who are not afraid to try new things and admit when certain things don’t work.

So here I sit outside of her classroom. The day is almost over. I’ve taken a few breaks from writing. (I had to go to PE and lunch and recess after all.)

But this is what I hope you take from our story.

You may not have a child who suffers from anxiety (or maybe you do). You may not have a child who needs special arrangements in school (or perhaps you do).  You may not have related to one part of what I have shared.

But this is true for all of us… We each parent very individual children – children who will grow up to be very individual adults. And you know them better than anyone else. You know their full story. You know their real story.

And the best thing you can do as a parent is boldly support them as the Lord unfolds that story, unafraid if it looks different than you imagined or different from anyone else’s.

Teachers or family or friends might not always understand. They might not always support you. They might not ever fully get it.

But bravery isn’t just an act of doing a scary thing easily.

Maybe the braver person is the one who does the scary thing even when it isn’t easy.

And being a parent is rarely easy. Friend, that means we are braver than we know.

YOU MIGHT FIND THESE ARTICLES HELPFUL

Why Many Millennial Parents Struggle With Anxiety

Christian Women & Anxiety

The Vitamin Deficiency That Caused My Anxiety

It was windy that night. I’m not sure how windy. The story doesn’t say. Scripture just says the boat was already some distance from land, battered by the waves, because the wind was against them.

You know this story. It’s the one where Jesus (and Peter) walk on water. Remember?

Jesus’s disciples are in a boat making their way to the other side of the lake when Jesus catches up to them. The guys in the boat see Him walking on the water and they’re afraid He’s a ghost.

When Jesus calls out to them, “It’s Me! Don’t be afraid,” Peter recognizes His voice and responds.

“Lord, if it’s you, command me to come to You on the water.”

Jesus replies, “Come.”

And Peter climbs out of the boat and starts walking to Jesus.

You know, I wonder why we don’t spend more time cheering that Peter was brave enough to climb out of a boat and attempt to walk on water and why we spend so much time talking about the sinking part.

But we do.

Maybe because sinking is more relatable than walking.

Maybe because big brave hard things aren’t as common as finding ourselves in a situation where we need Jesus to rescue us. Right?

Maybe it is because at some point, we all sink.

But that’s right where I want to pause with this story. Because have you ever really considered what it must have been like to be standing next to Jesus one moment and neck deep in water the next? (Maybe you feel like that now.)

Let’s imagine it. Peter begins to go down, looks up at Jesus and cries out, “Lord! Save me!”

And Scripture says that Jesus reached out and caught him.

I wish Scripture was more clear about what happened next. But here is what I guess took place. I don’t think they swam back to the boat. I don’t think Jesus walked on the water while dragging Peter through the water by his arm. Can you even imagine how ridiculous that would be!?

I think that Jesus lifted Peter up out of the water, and they walked back to the boat together.

I think Peter climbed into the boat wet… and I believe that he never forgot the importance of having someone reach down and pull you up.

Maybe you feel like Peter right now. You feel like you’re about to be in over your head and everyone you know is watching you go down. You feel like you just can’t keep up, keep your eyes on Jesus… even though you know that’s what you’re supposed to be doing.

All of the reminders that Jesus is just in front of you and to keep your eyes on Him aren’t working… and the wind and waves are very real.

You are overwhelmed… and all you can do is shout, “Lord! Save me!”

If that’s you, can I tell you some Truth right now? Sinking sucks. But there is something powerful that happens when you are pulled from the water.

… when you have the opportunity to see Jesus as One who will stand over you and pull you from the water… In that moment, you learn how to do something you wouldn’t know the true importance of otherwise.

You learn how to pull others to their feet.

Not long after that night and shortly after Jesus went to Heaven, Peter and his friend, John, were going to the Temple to pray one afternoon. As they approached the Temple, a man lame from birth was being carried in.

Peter and John looked at him intently, and Peter said, “Look at us! I don’t have any silver or gold for you. But I’ll give you what I have. In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, get up and walk!”

Then Peter took the lame man by the right hand and helped him up. And as he did, the man’s feet and ankles were instantly healed and strengthened.

He jumped up, stood on his feet, and began to walk! Then, walking, leaping, and praising God, he went into the Temple with them.

I wonder if Peter remembered the night in water as he stood over that crippled man.

I wonder if he thought of how Jesus had stood over him the same way. I wonder if he saw himself in the face of that man.

And I wonder if the moment Peter reached down and extended his arm to lift that man to his feet if he felt the the power of God moving through his hand the same way Jesus had.

Friend, I have no clue why you feel like you’re sinking. I have no idea if it’s kids or money or your marriage or your job or your health… or if it is all of it.

But I know this, someday when you’re back on your feet (because one day you will be) you’re going to need to know how to reach down and pull someone else from where you are today.

Someone is going to need to know how the Lord got you out of this.

So, to the woman who feels like she’s sinking… take notes. There are just some things you can only learn from being someone who sank.

This is an excerpt of a journal I created for you called My Real Story: One Year to Record, Reflect and Remember. You can learn more about it below.