Editing a Lie

I sat across from my friend completely paralyzed. I couldn’t breathe. On the outside I looked well enough, but inside I was a wreck. As I picked up a hot bread stick I began to unload my thoughts.

Carrying around the weight of these thoughts was exhausting and I needed support.

My birthday was coming. My daughter’s birthday was coming. These should be happy occasions, but I was in full panic mode.

No, this was not a mid-life crisis panic. This was the kind of panic you feel when you near a head on collision.

At the age of 16 I underlined these words, “Birthdays activate grief responses because each one we celebrate brings us closer to the neon number: the age a mother was when she died.” Motherless Daughters by Hope Edelman

My neon number was approaching. I could see it flashing, taunting, and illuminating my greatest fear.

You see, from the moment I held my daughter in my arms I had been counting the days.

How old will she be when I am 41?

How old will I be when she is 14?

These are my neon numbers. These are the numbers I was dreading crashing into.

I’ve been taught not to voice my greatest fears. I’ve had well-meaning individuals tell me that my enemy cannot “hear” my thoughts unless I speak them, so I should hold them in. After all, I do not want to give the enemy any new material to use against me. I’ve been told Satan can’t read my mind. Now, I don’t know if that’s true or not. What I do know is this, holding in my deepest fears was killing me.

So over a hot bread stick, I began to voice my greatest fears. I didn’t care if my enemy heard them or not, because I knew I was in the presence of an armed believer.

2 Corinthians 10:4 “For although we live in the flesh, we do not wage war according to the flesh, since the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but are powerful through God for the demolition of strongholds.”

I was in a stronghold of fear and I needed an armed believer to help me wage war.

I walked away from dinner that night emotionally lighter, albeit a little heavier due to all the bread sticks. Difficult conversations are just easier over bread sticks.

Shortly after that conversation, I let my daughter travel to Florida with a friend. I envisioned those moments as a young mother, fully convinced I could never let her go. Allowing her to get in cars with other people is one of my greatest acts of faith. (As you might have guessed, my mother died a car accident) Letting her go all the way to Florida was huge for me. I need you to understand, her first sleepover at 4 years of age, I called my Aunt at 3 a.m. because I was sitting on my back deck having a complete panic attack. I needed to hear that she was ok.

As I watched the RV pull out of the parking lot I was shocked that I felt peace. Not only did I feel peace, I was actually excited for her! Do you know why I had peace? Because that night over breadsticks, I allowed God to begin to edit the lies in my head.

This is no easy task. It does not happen automatically. You have to invite Him to edit. You have to hand Him the red pen.

The editing of the lies is a daily experience. Sometimes a minute by minute experience.

This daughter of mine gives me plenty of opportunity to hand God the pen. She is full of life and she desires to experience ALL it has to offer.

This year I hit my neon number. On June 10th, I turned 41.

For a brief couple of months I am 41 and she is 14.

What does she decide to do during these few months? Parasail.

Yep, that’s her. WAY up in the air with ONE rope.

ONE. ROPE. Do you see the size of that rope?

But look at that smile.

Oh friends, allow God to edit the lies in your head that hold you back.

There is SO much life to live and enjoy!

From my stirred heart to yours,

Erica