"I am so starved for affection... black and blue, beaten in bones and soul. I am so tired. My bed is drenched with the flood of my own tears... my eyes can't even see myself anymore... I can't even see that You're here with me. God, please help me." Psalm 6 [paraphrased]
As I reflect on the heart of David, I see how a man, anointed by the Lord to do amazing things, is still so very human.
Hopes, dreams, fears... the utter highs and lows of life. Those moments that have us singing God's praises from the rooftops and those that leave us broken, wondering where He is... all can be found, in beautifully written parallel, in the songs of the Bible.
Have you ever found yourself feeling beaten down to your very soul, as David describes? Tired of the struggle... your tears so constant that the collar of your shirt is soaked... your eyes so tired from weeping that even seeing what's right in front of you is difficult? Screaming... "God! Please, help me!"?
I have.
I have been broken.
I am still broken.
And, really... if we're being honest... aren't we all?
Many, many years ago, before I was a Christ-follower... before I was a wife or a mom... before I really believed in myself and realized that I actually had value beyond what other people told me... I was incredibly, unimaginably messed up.
We all have moments in our lives that define us... Impactful moments that change the way we feel, the way we think, the way we process. Moments that seem to reach straight to the heart of the matter and open our eyes to new beginnings or, if we're not so lucky, plant seeds of fear in the same heart that was once so resilient.
These are my moments.
These are my life-changing stories.
This is the chronicle of life events that make me who I am today.
This is the reason I always strive to be better tomorrow.
Are you ready?
Bright-eyed and beautiful... Crooked-grinned, with a giggle that would make anyone smile... and a cry that sounded like a rooster's crow. I was hard to birth, hard to please, and even harder to love. Born out of wedlock, an illegitimate child, I entered this world unaccepted. I suppose I was the definition of a child born in sin. 4 months after I was born, in an effort to give me a better life--a more fulfilled life--my parents got hitched at a court house just north of Jellico Mountain. It was an effort to provide me with family, honor, and the kind of love they knew I deserved. Even still, as they walked up the large, concrete steps, they looked into each other's eyes, and knew they were making a mistake. A mistake that, 13 years later, would turn my life upside down, inside out, and foster a fear in me that would take a decade to overcome.
Divorce is a tricky thing. It's weighty. I can't even begin to imagine the pain and heartache that parents feel when they find their world crashing down around them. But, one thing I know for sure, is that the pain that the kids feel... the anger that erupts from the deep darkness that lives within them... that's something that is far too often overlooked. It's a shadow that breeds anxiety, inconsistency, the inability to trust, the inability to fully love. It carries you away from what's good, and plants you in the midst of a life full of bandaids that never heal the wound. And, trust me, they're wounded. I was wounded.
I think there's a common misconception that kids are simple... that their minds are so underdeveloped that, when faced with a trial or complication, it's easy to adjust to those new changes without facing any real consequences. In all reality, kids are incredibly keen to what's going on in their lives. They DO react mentally, emotionally, and physically to it... BUT... a great amount of those emotions have to be supressed because they don't want to be a burden in a circumstance that is already so heavy. Of course, we all know how dangerous it is to bottle things up. Eventually, you're bound to explode, right?
Divorce happens for one of two reasons... either A.) The couple wasn't right for each other from the start and ignored the warning signs, or B.) They were too lazy to work for it.
In my parents' case, it was--hands down--a letter "A" scenario. I've come to terms with that over the years... but it was HARD. It was life-altering finding out that, not only were my parents flawed in many, many ways... they also wasted SO much time, just to appease us.
And they did.
They worked hard to do better for our family year after year... they landed themselves in a beautiful home, with beautiful furniture, and 3 children that turned out pretty amazing, despite what other people considered to be the lack of a structured lifestyle. We were GOOD kids... and now we're good adults. And we owe that to the parenting of the parents who weren't perfect.
I used to blame myself for a lot of really terrible things that happened... to myself, my brother, my sister... even my step-brothers. I'd stew over it, and eventually end up in a shadow of self-loathing, meditating on the negative. I'd think of the what-if's... scenarios of how life could have been had my parents not gotten married. SO many bullets could have been dodged had that moment never happened... and it was my fault, right? Because, had I not been born, they wouldn't have felt the need to get married. They could have just dated for a while, had fun, and went their separate ways. I'd spend so much time finding reasons why life would have been easier or better for everyone else, that it was impossible for me to fathom why my being here was any good at all. It took me YEARS to figure out, that while they were the conduit, GOD is the one that breathed my life into existence... and that life is a very, very good thing.
The time that passed from 13 to 23 was a blur. In that short 10 years, so many things happened, I would honestly have to write a book to include all the details. I lived a lot of life... but, rest-assured... it was the hardest 10 years of my life. I'm sure, over the course of the "Courtney Chronicles" you'll hear much more about it... but now is not the time.
During November, in my 23rd year of life, I hit rock bottom.
I found myself in a haze of booze and men and bad decisions. From the outside looking in, I was at my prime, but the truth is, I was empty... and I was looking for fulfillment in all the wrong places. That's how it happens though, right? That's the flesh in us, ravenous... feeding on what the world has to offer, never realizing that there's more, if we look hard enough to see it. It's not until the spirit takes hold that we find ourselves looking at the world around us with new eyes.
On my very worst days, I would visit a scenic overlook near Scaffold Cane that a lot of locals refer to as "Suicide Rock". There were tales of people taking their own lives by jumping into the abyss of green that lies below... which sounds pretty morbid... but, for some reason, I always found comfort there. Sometimes I would bring my guitar and serenade the silence... and sometimes I'd just bring myself. I'd sit, enjoying the quiet, letting the rest of the world fade away. In those moments, it was just me. No worries... no distractions... no pain.
On November 19th, 2010, I drove the winding road to Suicide Rock, got out of my car, and walked the short path to the overlook. I took deep breaths as I trudged along, trying to hold back the tears that I knew were coming. Tears from years of pain, resentment, frustration, abuse, darkness, anger, guilt, shame... every negative emotion imaginable, I was feeling in that moment. The closer I got to the rock, the more the flood began to flow, and as I climbed my way up and reached the top, 10 years of grief came out of me in the loudest scream of my entire life.
As the sound of my voice weakened with the passing of my breath, I fell to my knees, completely spent... and the only thing that I had strength left to do, was pray.
I prayed for forgiveness.
I prayed for God's presence.
I prayed for His mercy and His grace, and His loving arms to wrap around me.
I prayed to be washed of all the sin that had been dragging me down for far too long.
...and in that moment, it started raining.
It didn't take long for the water to soak through my clothes, straight to my soul. It was in that moment that I realized that God had always been with me. All the times in the past when I'd come to this place, He had been there, listening to my songs... hearing my hurts... waiting for me to take notice and accept Him. And He was there now, casting Holy water from the sky, cleansing me... making me new again... answering my prayers... welcoming me into His house... claiming me as His child... giving me the affirmation that I hadn't had since I was a child. As the sun broke through the clouds, I could hear His voice in my mind...
You are important.
You are forgiven.
You were not an accident.
You have purpose.
You are favored.
Love is real.
I love you.
Talk about being welcomed into the ONLY arms that are worthy. That... is the gift of salvation.
Years later, while Skyping with my soon-to-be husband, we'd run across this scripture together...
"God, listen to me shout, bend an ear to my prayer.
When I’m far from anywhere, down to my last gasp,
I call out, “Guide me up High Rock Mountain!”
You’ve always given me breathing room, a place to get away from it all,
A lifetime pass to your safe-house, an open invitation as your guest.
You’ve always taken me seriously, God, made me welcome among those who know and love you.
Let the days of the king add up to years and years of good rule.
Set his throne in the full light of God; post Steady Love and Good Faith as lookouts,
And I’ll be the poet who sings Your glory—and live what I sing every day."
-Psalm 61
{Full. Circle.}
I can't say that I haven't had moments of distress since my salvation. If anything, I feel like giving yourself to God makes you more vulnerable to attack from the enemy. But hell has no victory over God's glory. God's light shines within us so brightly, I honestly feel like it's even too much for Satan to handle... and as a being that was once referred to as the Angel of Light, I'd say he's pretty envious of that. While he is constantly searching for ways to mess with even the purest of hearts, we can rest assured that we have God's steady love, safe-houses, and High Rock Mountains to keep us strong. Here's Mine:
I'd like to conclude by saying that I'm not ashamed of my past. I'm not worried about what people might think of me or what they might think of my family. As a believer in God, I have grown to fully embrace the crazy of being human. When I look back on my family's history, I see a lot of broken people, in a broken world, falling short of the Glory of God... but I also see a lot of redemption. I see THREE amazing parents, who honestly, have become the very best friends and support system I could ever ask for. My relationships with my mom and dad would probably not be as strong as they are today if we'd just fast-forwarded through all the hard times... and I honestly can't imagine my life without my step-dad. I see my siblings, near and far, and the amazing lives they've created for themselves--no matter the trials... no matter the struggle... they're succeeding... and I'm so proud of all 5 of them. Every experience that each of them have had in their lives has shaped who they are right now... and we share a lot of the same... so I know it wasn't easy.
I don't want you to read this and think that I'm blaming my parents for all of my hardships for a solid 10 years. I'm not doing that at all. What I will say is that, if you're struggling with pain, it's always important to get to the heart of the matter... find the roots and dig them up! These are my roots.
I am thankful for my early childhood. The simplicity of living in a trailer and watching my parents do manual labor to provide for our family... because, despite how difficult it may have been, we were present for that.
I am thankful for my later, very charmed childhood... the sports, cheerleading, sleepovers, extravagant Christmases, and epic roadtrips. I look back now, and think about how completely undeserving we were... but the memories are unmatched, thanks to the effort that my parents put into their final years.
I am thankful for my very rough, very emotional teenage years. The many, many struggles and learning experiences that helped me mature early and prepared me to be on my own at 18 years old helped me learn about myself. Building a home of my own before entering a marriage isn't the only way to move forward... but it was the best choice for me... and I'm proud of myself for being strong enough to do that.
I am thankful for the mistakes I made in my early 20s. I learned a lot of lessons--albeit the hard way--but I also made a few friends along the way that I'll never forget. Those friendships are the prizes I'll take with me when I look back on that time now, even if they've grown distant.
Most importantly, I am thankful to have given my life to God. That transition in my life prepared me to become the woman that my husband and my children deserve, right on time.
You'll find in the coming months that I have a lot to say... but this is the most important story I will ever tell.
Thank you for listening. It's been a gift.
Love,
The Poet
Courtney Dyana Walker
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