Perfect Love Casteth out all Fear

I want to share with you a very personal experience. Not because I am proud of it . . . but because I am tired of the shame that I feel when I have experienced it, and hope that this visual can help you understand a little more about the voice in your own head, and the dark trap it can feel like.

This pregnancy has been a big struggle for me. I know I talked about it briefly a few posts back, but I want to get a little more real with you about some of the battles I have been fighting. The battle of “Am I enough?” has been a silent one for me for a long time. I have shared with all of you the times in the past when I have had to face that deamon, but I wanted to describe ways in which it still tries to show up now.

Being enough isn’t just a one-time battle, but a lifetime pursuit.

Every day we will face triggers—reminders of trauma from the past—that try to take us to our weakest points. Sometimes we will feel armed and ready for them, other times they will shake us to our core. Fear of inadequacy is not always a fight we will be prepared to win.

For the first time in months, this week I finally felt pretty good. I went out and bought maternity clothes—so I would stop trying to squeeze into my old pants and feel depressed when they didn’t fit. A few weeks back I had discovered I was low on iron and it was really messing with my emotions—and that was finally leveling out. Morning sickness had faded away, and I had stopped dry heaving every time I walked into a room. I had overcome a lot of the triggers that had come up during the early months of my pregnancy—I talked about a few posts back—I was feeling ready to embrace this changing body and just enjoy the miracle that was growing inside of me. Life was feeling pretty good.

I couldn’t wait for my doctor’s appointment—and hear that reassuring sound of the baby’s heart beat. Everything went smoothly, until my doctor stepped right onto the landmine that I had thought I had covered pretty well. She looked up from her chart and said, “My only concern is . . . you have gained a lot more weight then we want you to at this point.” I looked over at Scott with a get me out of here look on my face. I tried to hold back the tears as I listened to her remind me of the “healthy choices” I should be making.

By the time I got to my car I wasn’t really embarrassed and ashamed of my body any more—I was just pissed. Angry that a fear I had been working through for weeks now had voice again. I said a little prayer, “Heavenly Father, I see what he is trying to do. Get me all worked up about my changing body and lose my focus on the things that really matter. I know what I can do to help my body and my baby be healthy, please help me stay focused and not let this fear creep back in and make me lose track of the progress I have made in working through this truma and help me to be able to see pregnancy as the blessing that it is. A few extra pounds—I don’t care about that—I just want a healthy baby.”

The night went on. We put up all of our Christmas trees and had fun decorating the house. Morning came and I got all ready in one of my new maternity sweaters. Everything fit, and I actually felt pretty in my own skin. I walked into the kitchen where Kaleeya was sitting at the bar. She looked at me and in the sweetest little voice said, “Wow, Mom! You don’t even look pregnant in that shirt, you just look fat!” A meaningful complement I am sure, sunk deep into my heart . . . where it met the little voice that spoke even louder than it had for months, “You aren’t enough—Scott isn’t going to love you with that disgusting body.”

My soul sunk low—believing every fearful word in my head. I got the kids off to school and as I walked in my house and shut the door, I burst into tears. Every fear—all the dark memories of the past—surrounded me. I felt trapped. For a split second I was taken back to a moment when I was sitting in the bathtub almost 8 years ago.  Tytus was just a few weeks old. I had already started to feel the tension and knew that something wasn’t right. Emmett came walking into the bathroom. After weeks of wondering what was wrong whenever he was around, I had come to the conclusion he didn’t want me because of my just had a baby body. All I needed in that moment was for him to look over and tell me I was beautiful, but instead he looked into the mirror, checked himself out for a few minutes and then announced he was heading out.

The fear came back as strong as it had been that day, and in the few weeks that followed. Chaos is what followed. Murder. Truth of affairs. A life turned upside down. Somehow my little mind was just sure, it all started with a changing body—a body too fat to love.

And there it was again—this toxic feeling of wondering if I was going to be enough.

I changed my clothes, got in my car and drove to the only place I know where pure darkness cannot follow. As I sat in the chapel at the temple I opened up a set of scriptures to a random page. I looked down in the middle of the page and there was a scripture I know well.

“For perfect love casteth out all fear”. Tears filled my eyes as I was taken back to another memory—the day I had to write Emmett’s funeral. In all my anger, and fear, and shame, and guilt, and humiliation . . . that was the only scripture or quote I read that felt worthy of being on the bottom of the program. Everything else seemed like a sham—in that moment, those were the only words I could believe.

So again those words spoke to me. As I sat there I tried to picture perfect love. All I could see was the Savior. He is perfect love. He is the only one who can take it all away. The fear, the pain, the unknown, the uncomfortable, the guilt, the anger, all the ‘I am not enough’s, the grief—losing a loved one, or losing a relationship you cherish . . . He has the power to carry it away and bring peace. He has angels standing around us daily ready to go on errands, just for us. To take away the darkness we feel trapped in, and to help Him carry in the light.

With that truth, no amount of fear can take us down. We have to remember we only have one enemy, and his goal is to bring us fear—to remind us often that we are not enough—it is never from God.

We all have scars. Instead of shaming the parts of us we think make us not enough, I was reminded that—because of Him—I have the power to love me, which makes me even more capable of loving those around me. I have the gift to heal after divorce, abuse, infidelity and murder. I have a healthy body capable of creating life. I have a strong spirit and a trusting heart. Because of Him, I have the power that can help me find my truths, over and over again. I can move forward. I have the ability to let go of the pain of losing a relationship with a stepdaughter I adore. I have the chance to forgive the people who have hurt me in my life. Because of Him, I can be forgiven when I have forgotten who I am. I am capable of anything. I am worthy of fighting for.

Because of Him, we can overcome. Because of Him, we can feel light. Because of Him we can one day feel perfect love. And because of Him . . . perfect love casteth out all fear.  

Here we are 13 weeks. We will find out December 20th if it is a boy or girl. What do you think?

The hundred dollar bill that changed my life

Working on Book 3—like a boss—today. Feels kind of good to stop avoiding it. Scary. Out of my comfort zone...but good. Came to the chapter about the hundred dollar bill.  

That day in the grocery store—after the murder trial had ended—was one of the greatest gifts Heavenly Father could have given me.

Hope everyone is having a wonderful week. Looking for a few stories to highlight on the blog for the holidays coming up. Please send in your "I will stand" surviving victimhood story for a chance to be featured on here. 

Link to the story on the blog:

http://www.themomentswestand.com/2015/03/send-someone.html




Here is a video about that story as well.

I Checked Myself In

I used to think life wasn’t worth living. I thought the world would be a better place without me in it and therefore, decided to think of a way to end the life that I’ve been given.

I was diagnosed with depression a few years ago but was never given any ways to cope with it let alone how to help myself when it would strike.

For months, I walked around like a person who had a dark blanket over her head unable to see the outside world for what it really was. I couldn’t see a way past the feelings of loneliness and utter despair. I thought I was a disappointment to everyone around me, that I would never have a family of my own (let alone get married) and that I wouldn’t be able to make a difference in the world. Every girl desires to be the most beautiful woman out there but when society gets to you, it tells you that the skinny and most pretty face is what makes you beautiful. I wasn’t any of that and in turn, I wondered if I would ever measure up to someones definition of ‘beautiful’.

I couldn’t escape the negative feelings that overcame me. I would seek advice from my close friends but I wouldn’t believe what they said because I thought they were lying.

I really felt like I was alone in this battle that no one understood unless they’ve been in the same boat.

That was how I felt for 2 years. However, its different now.

April 24, 2014 will always be a day that will go down as a day that forever changed my life. I had gone in to see my counselor at school with every intention to hurt myself physically. However, after much discussion with her, my parents, and friends, the decision was made to check myself into the hospital. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. I had a good friend of mine drive me to the hospital 35 minutes away. As I walked in, I knew that it was too late to turn around but I also knew that I had to help myself and this was the way to do it.

I had gone through so many interviews as I sat in the ER waiting to hear what was going to happen. I had a nurse come in, take blood and tell me on her way out, “Everything is going to be okay.” At the time, I didn’t believe her. Then, came the interview with the counselor that would decide whether or not I was going to be admitted or not. As we finished with the interview, he said he would be back in a few minutes after he talked to his boss and their decision on what to do.

I sat in that cold room with my head against the wall wondering what the heck I was doing. I remember hearing a little boy screaming for his mom and dad and inside my head, I was screaming the same thing. The only difference in our situation was that his parents were nearby and mine were 2,000 miles away. I had tears streaming down my face because I knew deep down that being admitted to the hospital was either going to make or break me.

After 10 minutes, the counselor came in and told me I was going to be admitted. He walked out of the room and I immediately regretted the decision I made to go there. I hurried and messaged my parents, cousin, and a few friends before my phone battery died. The next thing that happened, I would never want to do again in my life. I had to ride in the back of a police car. The only thing the officer said to me was, “Life is going to get better. Just wait and see.” When he dropped me off at the Behavioral Health Center, I felt numb. I was now treated like a psych patient and the last thing I wanted was to be looked at differently.

I was brought back into this living quarter and honestly, if you were to look at it, you would think it was hell. I had to change into scrubs, get my picture taken, and all the belongings I had brought with me were taken away. I was told to sit on the couch with the rest of the patients and watch ‘Nacho Libre’. I sat down and tears started rolling down my cheeks. If I didn’t feel alone before, I sure felt alone then. At that point, the goal was to act as if things were better so I could get out faster. After day 1 of workshops and classes, that plan changed. I ended up staying in the hospital for 4 days. In the end, they were 4 days that would forever change my life.

When I was in the hospital, the nurse told me that the success stories of people who would go to the Health Center was very high. At the time, I didn’t believe it. A year later, I do.

A year ago, I lost my desire to live. I would cry myself to sleep and wonder why I had been forgotten by Heavenly Father. I had been told all my life that Christ would take away this pain that I was feeling but I didn’t feel his comfort or the strength that I had always been told about.

A year later, I’ve gained that desire to live. It didn’t happen overnight but over the course of the past year, it has grown tremendously. I no longer cry myself to sleep because I feel lonely. If anything, I cry for those that struggle with a mental illness and in no way can find a way out. There have been times where I do feel like I’ve been forgotten still by Heavenly Father but in all honesty, I think we all feel that way. When it comes to Christ, my relationship with Him and my love for Him has grown beyond measure. It is on those nights that I imagine him sitting beside me as I weep, wrapping his arms around me and crying the same tears I am. I do know without a shadow of a doubt, that he will NEVER leave me comfortless and he will NEVER leave you comfortless in your dark times.

Ironically, as I write this post, its during the time one year ago where I was in the waiting room anxiously waiting for my ride to take me to the hospital.

As I was at work today, I had a moment where I looked out the window and saw the hectic thing we like to call life. I stopped for a moment, and said a prayer of gratitude for the life that I’ve been given and for how much I’ve grown the past year. I noticed that my eyes started to well up with tears but this time, a year later, they were different tears. These tears that were now welling up, were tears of gratefulness, love, and understanding. The tears that were shed a year ago, were tears of loneliness, sadness, and weakness.

Life isn’t easy and it never will be but I know that with my different outlook, it will have a different meaning to me now. I love the life I’ve been given. I love the family and friends that I’ve been eternally blessed with and more importantly, I’m eternally grateful to my Father in Heaven who gave me this beautiful life, the beautiful moments, and the beautiful people he has placed coincidentally in my life.

April 24, 2014 was the start of a new life. It was the start of me realizing who I truly can be and who I can become.

Life has all of a sudden become a beautiful thing. Its not perfect by any means but right now, its my own kind of perfect.

My name is Kaitlyn. I am a survivor of depression. I will stand. 

This story was originally posted here: Be the change you wish to see in the world but published here with permission. 

Related Story: Stronger

Dear TRAUMA

Dear TRAUMA,

You took something from me I can never get back. You made me believe that my life was not my own. You left me paralyzed in fear. I struggled to get back up—wondering if I was enough; wishing I could know why you chose me.

It seems you had a plan; I was your victim. You chose a side, and it wasn’t mine. You didn’t wait around to help me get back on my feet; you didn’t ask if I was ok. You just made your mess, and then left me to figure out the rest, to pick up the pieces alone. 

You knew that moment would try to define me. You knew that fear would swarm the memories of the past—but even worse, you knew that it would try to hold me back in the future, unable to breath.

I was broken; my tears were immeasurable. At times I felt alone, and despair was my constant companion. I searched for something to hold onto for hope, but you had taken all of that from me. You laughed at me, as you walked away. That was the hardest sting, when I watched you not care.

You probably thought I would stay down forever—that birds with a broken wing would never fly again. You probably hoped I would give up. You probably didn’t even look back to make sure I was still down.

Turns out, even broken wings can mend. It turns out, I was a lot stronger than you thought. I bet you didn’t know I was a fighter when you chose me as your victim. I bet you didn’t realize that strength can grow from a tiny sprout of faith in God. I bet you didn’t expect to ever hear from me again—that my life would now be yours. I bet you always thought I would forever be your puppet.

Well. Today I stand—to not only tell you but—to show you that you were wrong about me. You thought you chose a victim, but it turns out . . . I am a survivor. Your puppet has cut the strings. I will no longer live in the shadow of your fear. I will no longer hate in the chains of your anger. I will be free. I will build from this ground that you threw me upon, and I will become stronger.

So maybe you saw my weaknesses as you tried to make me fall; but guess what, I saw yours too. Your weakness was thinking that you would ever bring me down without a fight. I am a warrior of my own life and of your evil plan. I am a champion who sees through the fog and clings to the light. I found hope when you told me there was none, and I will live every day unbroken. You did not break me when you dropped me on my face—you taught me how to stand.

Sincerely, 

Me

(A Reason to Stand in Ogden last October. These woman are all fighters, overcoming trauma from the past, learning to not fear the future, and living in the moments that matter the most . . . today.)

This week I have worked with a few woman who have been stuck in the chaos of their own traumas. So I thought of this letter I wrote a while back. 

That dark fog that hangs over us after a traumatic event can have lasting effects. These moments can be any failure, big or small. Getting lost at the grocery story when you were five years old, to watching your loved one pass away. Truama is real, it is haunting, and it heavy. There are moments in each of our lives that have filled us with lies about our abilities, our worthiness, our worth, and our purpose. 

We don't have to let this trauma define us. We do not have to let it run us into the ground over and over again. Go back to those moments in your mind and read your own letter to the trauma that formed. Set it free, and you will find freedom from the fears it has created inside of you. We do not have to be prisoners in our own lives. We can live life unfrozen. Life can be meaningful and happy, even after pain. 

You are the master of your destiny. Live it like it was on purpose.


For more on healing trauma please go to trauma healing and find out more. 

The need to change

For anyone who is struggling to heal from a personal addiction or the addiction of someone you love, I recommend watching these 12 videos about recovery and change. Shawn and I spent the night watching them and we both learned a lot. I could relate to something in every single video. Not to the extremes that they shared, but I have had times when I have struggled to change a weakness into a strength.

Life is about becoming better each day. Guess that means we are all are going to have to continue to grow and change. Change can be scary, but it can bring blessings we never knew were possible. Feeling motivated tonight to continue to work on some of the challenges inside of me that have been holding me back.

Keep fighting all the battles worth winning. Change is possible for us all, no matter where we have been.


12 Steps to Change

Crack the Walls

During the second week of Bostyn’s hospitalization for her eye infection, she was moved to a different floor. I began to notice that no matter what time of day or night—every time I would walk through the hall to go see her, I would hear a baby screaming in a nearby room. After a few days, I decided to go and ask the nurses if there was anything I could do for the crying baby.

At first, the nurse was very resistant to even talk about the crying child on the other side of the door, but after a few minutes of my persistence, she opened up. “You know, that poor little baby is dying. I can’t give you any details about her condition . . . but it has been the saddest thing I have ever had to watch as a nurse. Her parents are mad at God. They don’t understand why they are being punished, and since they know they are losing her, they hardly come to see her anymore. There is only so much time we can spend with her, and so she cries for her parents all day and all night.”

As I walked to Bostyn’s room, I wondered how a parent could get to that point. How could you remove yourself so far from your suffering child’s pain as to let your own emotions become more important than hers? I decided they had to be surrounded by walls or some sort of barrier that somehow prevented them from seeing their child’s needs. Somewhere along their journey, they had built an imaginary protection to shield themselves from the pain of losing her. Walls of fear or hate. Even at a time when their little baby needed them the most, they had allowed their emotions or their pride to keep them from her. It seemed that somewhere inside of themselves, they truly believed they were punishing God for their trial—but the only one suffering was their already terminally ill baby girl.

Each person who has ever lived has had a completely different experience in life. Some have found ways to trust their world, and others have been given every reason to never let anyone in. In my experiences of suffering intense pain—I have learned to build walls: walls of protection to keep myself safe, walls of hate to keep my heart from getting broken again, and walls of fear to keep all the scary parts of the world out.

People begin building walls around themselves anytime a negative experience teaches them to fear or hate the world. Our physical bodies, mental cognition, and emotional capabilities all play into the building of our “walls.” When we find ourselves in a state of crisis, our physical bodies automatically go into “fight or flight” mode. Our mental state is heightened and everything we feel or see is intensified. Every emotion is more powerful, and every pain is more excruciating. In that split second when all of the powers that make up our existence are on overload, our brains work together with our emotions to build walls of protection around us to ensure that the experience is never duplicated. Our physical bodies react to prevent us from ever again taking the same steps that led us to that pivotal moment of extreme stress.

It is during those times—when our emotional, mental, and physical selves come together to build walls to shield us from future pain—that we learn to block things out. We learn to shut things down, or run from the present to ensure the past is not duplicating itself. Our bodies prepare themselves to fight or to take flight.

And that is where our triggers come into play. If we have had an experience that has caused us to build a wall, and something happens that threatens to duplicate that past experience—triggers fire and our subconscious takes us back to the fight or flight mechanism that occurred during the original situation. Sometimes it is obvious when these walls were built, and other times, we have no clue why or when we constructed them in the first place.

As I faced the task of trying to build a new family at the same time as waiting for a murder trial, it seemed as if I was surrounded by an imaginary structure of walls. It was obvious how some of those walls were built, but I don’t know that I will ever know for sure why others were erected.

However, one thing is for sure—for every reason I found to dig my deep hole of despair and build my massive walls, my family gave me a reason to climb out of the hole and break down the walls. It seemed that on all those days our blended-family misunderstandings occurred, they caused us to build new walls. But after every dark day, we began experiencing simple moments of love and hope, and the purity of those emotions helped us break down our newly-constructed walls.

Then just when I thought I had it all figured out, it seemed as if I’d get thrown a curve ball, or learn a new fact about the criminal case that would drill a new hole inside of me and create a new pain. From where I stood . . . my life seemed complete, and yet—I did not feel whole. But despite my walls of protection, Shawn continued to pull me up on the really dark days.

One afternoon, after I had received a difficult phone call from the detectives telling me about a disturbing piece of information they’d found on Emmett’s computer, I was really struggling.  Walls of fear were shooting up all around me, and as the afternoon progressed, I could feel the darkness of the facts I’d been told surround me. Receiving new information about Emmett’s past didn’t change anything—but it still threatened my ability to move forward with faith toward the future.

Shawn came home early from work that day and told us all to load up into the car. The thought crossed my mind to just go get in bed and send everyone else with him, but I got in and buckled my seatbelt. Nobody knew where we were going. The kids laughed and joked as we drove. I was silent in the front seat, still surrounded by my gloom. I could hear the kids begging Shawn to tell them where we were headed, but he held firm and kept our destination a surprise. I remained quiet, rehearsing the past in my mind, trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong in an effort to prevent any future tragedies.  

Soon the car came to a halt as we pulled up to the most beat up bowling alley I’d ever seen. Shawn looked over at me and said, “Here we are! This is what we ALL need today.”

It didn’t look very promising, but we all piled out of the car. Shawn grabbed Ty’s car seat and I plopped Kaleeya onto my hip. Hand in hand, the big kids marched inside, and with delight, they bowled their little hearts out and laughed their heads off. The kids were so excited to be together playing as a family that it was as if that little run down bowling alley were Disneyland.

At one point, I sat on the bench and just watched. The smiles on their faces and the spirit in their giggles began to break down the wall of fear that had been building up around me all day. The earlier phone conversation began to fade from my mind as I watched my family members smile in joy. At that moment, tears rolled down my face, but they were tears of gratitude. I smiled as I saw my crew come together and laugh. I was grateful for a husband who knew how to play, even when everything around me told me to fight . . . or flee. Shawn knew how to smile and help us step away from the heavy parts of our life. He helped me see that even though I was surrounded by walls, we could break them down together.

For every hole that had been drilled into my heart, I had to find a new way to keep it beating—and sometimes the best medicine was love and laughter.

Despite my irrational internal belief that our life together couldn’t really begin until after the trial, Shawn was determined to start new traditions. I remember our first New Year’s Eve together as if it were yesterday. He had all these grand ideas of what the night would be like. He carried each child’s mattress down the stairs and pulled ours off of our bed, then positioned them around the living room floor for a “camp out.” At first, it just seemed like a ridiculous amount of work and a great big mess, but as the night went on—I began to see the wisdom in his plan. We laughed together until midnight as the New Year began.

I remember holding Shawn’s hand under our blanket and actually experiencing a glimpse of being whole. I remember kissing each child on his or her cheek that night, praying with all my heart that the New Year would bring us peace. My only New Year’s Resolution was to not have any more change. I wished for normalcy to come my way, where the only cares I had were what to make for lunch and what movie to see on date night. I hoped for a year of pure, sweet, tender moments that could remind me over and over again of what I was fighting so hard for.

And boy did I fight! I fought every day to find myself. I prayed every hour not to hate. I cried every night for the answers I still yearned to hear. But more and more, I also prayed for the ability to laugh. I yearned for the power to smile. I fought for the desire that once came naturally—to love. I begged God for the sparkle I used to have in my eye to one day shine brighter than it ever had before.  I begged every night to one day feel whole again, and to have the walls that had come to block my view crumble.

Although my fight to obtain these blessings seemed to never cease, I began to see more of the little glimmers of sunshine as they came into view. I tried hard to let the fun parts of life into my heart. I searched for reasons to smile, even when my heart was breaking.

Walls. Each of us has built them—but building them is not the hard part. The challenge comes when we must break them down. A country is built one city at a time; a city is built street by street; a street is built one house at a time; a house is built wall by wall. Just like a house is built with walls to protect what is inside, we too build walls around us: walls of protection, but also walls of fear, and walls of hate. Some of these walls are necessary for us to progress in life, and yet . . . most of them hold us back from where we really want to be.

All the days of our lives, we will either be building or breaking down these imaginary—and yet very real—barriers. It will be a constant cycle of progression. Some days, pieces of the bricks will fall, and on other days, new bricks will form.

Walls are a protective mechanism to help your soul feel safe, but they can also stop you from truly giving and receiving love. Whatever emotion has created the foundation of your walls, love can crack each brick: loving those around you, loving those who have hurt you, and most importantly loving yourself. As those walls get broken down, piece by piece, you will begin to feel the love of those who believe in you. You will begin to see your worth in this world, and you will be able to feel the love that God has for you. Every day of your life, you can have the gift to see your worth.

I have always wondered what it will be like to grow old and look back on my life. What bricks will I have willingly built around myself, and what walls will I have fought my way through? What will I wish I had done differently, and what will I be glad I didn’t forget?

If you were on your deathbed at this very moment, what would you regret? I don’t think that before dying, many people would wish they had spent more time at work. Most would probably not wish they had taken another trip or made more money to buy another car. I doubt our last words would be about not having built a bigger house or about the boat we never had.

I think most of our regrets will be about our relationships. We will remember the times we failed our loved ones, failed to teach them truth, failed to be there when they needed us, failed to show them they played a part in helping us through some of our hard times, and failed to forgive them for any pains they may have caused us. But I think even more, we will regret the times we failed—or refused—to say we were sorry. We will regret the moments others needed us, but we did not let them in, and the times when the walls we’d built around ourselves prevented us from being who we wanted to be. It’s the relationships in our lives that we will look back upon and wish we could do over—not the “stuff” we did or did not have. We will wish we would have let our loved ones in, and not pushed people away.

We build walls to keep ourselves safe. Abuse or neglect create foundations on which many people construct walls so as to never let anyone get close to them ever again. Physical pain and emotional abuse generate barriers that remain with victims as they try to find a way to survive with the shields they have erected to block out the world. With such walls surrounding us—we are not able to live life to the fullest.

Fear doesn’t have to shut you down. When you have those moments when the walls you’ve built seem to shut everyone else out—pray to your God that He can help you break them down. Ask for His hand to guide you to the freedom you seek from your past.

Forgiveness is the answer to broken hearts. Love is the power that can break down your walls of darkness. Maybe love doesn't change your son’s negative behaviors, but at least, he still knows you care. Maybe finding happiness does not mean your husband comes back to life, or leaves his mistress to come home. Maybe your mother never turns from her selfish ways that made her abandon you during a time of need. Maybe forgiveness doesn't save your marriage, but it can save your soul. Maybe hope doesn't save your baby dying in a hospital bed, but at least her last breaths were spent in your arms.

Sometimes our relationships are part of our test. The loss of a loved one, and their pain bring us times of doubt in ourselves and in God. I believe it is all part of our test—to see where our hearts belong. Is our love for God only apparent when our lives are perfect, or is our faith in Him unconditional, and not based upon what we’ve been given or where we are in life?

We don’t have to shut each other out. We don’t have to flee or fight our way out of our pain. There is a gift given to all of us that can break down those walls. Love, hope, and faith are the foundations upon which our lives can be built. Through the grace of God, all wrongs can be made right. All of our relationships can grow, and all of our walls of fear and hate can erode.

Not all days will be bright, but there is light in each one. Before you build a wall to keep the darkness out, make sure it doesn’t block you from the light. Break the bricks that are forming around you, crumble the towers that are keeping everyone out, and crack the walls of fear that stop you from smiling. Yesterday might have taught you to shut out the world, but today is the day to break through those barriers so the light can be seen.