At MOPS last week, one of the questions I was to 'toss out there' for all to discuss was basically( I can't remember the exact wording) "What do you feel you have lost about yourself since having kids? How can you get it back?"
I pondered that question while trying to get the women at my table to chime in.
When I got married, I felt like my relationship with Christ changed or I let it become second to my new husband. Before Matt, I knew where I stood, I knew how to find Him.
It took some time and searching, but I finally returned to His feet as Megan Knox formerly known as Megan Pratt.
When we got booted so abruptly, from ranch. I felt like Christ abandoned me. I was unable to remove the knife He put in my back, so I felt, and the knife the director also so graciously inserted. I couldn't reach them on my own. I needed help removing them but, I didn't feel like Christ wanted to remove His knife or Todd's, the director.
I thought, for the LONGEST time, "God put the knife there for a reason. I HAVE to leave it and suffer my 'punishment.'" I felt like I need to punish myself for what happened, so I in turn inserted a knife into my heart and let my body become accustomed to it. "I had to, it's what I deserved."
That all happened in October 2004.
After leaving the ranch, we ended up in Tulsa, in a studio apartment around 400-500 sq. feet. I can remember Matt found a job doing home remodeling. It didn't pay well, but God paid us 'enough.'
I couldn't find comfort in Christ, I mean for crying out loud He betrayed me!! He abandoned me! He hated me! I hated myself! So I found comfort in obsessive running, shopping with a credit card and crying; crying and crying and crying.
It wasn't until October 2005, that I started letting myself be happy again-slowly and cautiously.
When I stand in front of the mirror after getting out of the shower, the scars still remain.
There is only one though.
The one I inflicted upon myself. The one I would not let anyone remove. The one God tried to remove, but I wouldn't let Him.
Daily, I doubted my Salvation. Daily, I doubted if I had truly accepted Christ as my Savior. Daily, I thought, "Did I do 'it' wrong? Did I not get 'fully' accepted b/c I didn't raise my hand? Is my name not written b/c I didn't tell my camp counselor? Does God not know me b/c I can't remember the exact date and time like everyone else?"
Laugh you may, but I thought those thoughts daily. And daily, I'd fall on my knees in the bathroom sooo I'm pretty sure my name is written about 1,000 times; everyday we were in Tulsa. So who's more accepted now?! HUH! (joke)
All of this 'reliving' is leading to a point, I promise.
Since having kids, I have felt the need for something more. The need to 'do' something important. (I know my kids are important, I'm not talking about that.)
I have this tugging at my heart to make a difference if you will. I'm trying to find what my "Kaleo" is. What is God calling me to do?
So sitting in MOPS that day, with that question bouncing back and forth in my hollow brain- I still have no answer.
I've been reading Pioneer Woman's blog. Her husband and two daughters are in the Dominican Republic on a mission with Compassion International. Reading their stories makes me feel antsy, like a racehorse waiting on the gates to fly open. I'm waiting on a race, one that gives me a sense of purpose. The purpose I felt while in college.
I wonder? (Makes me nervous to say this all b/c 'you ask, you shall receive.)
"Please God, start slowly and gentle."