The Gift of the Valley: Learning to Heal
Most family dynamics are set before we are born. We inherit the soil before we even know what a seed is. I grew up seeing that my roots came from a woman who had a hard life, and at an early age, it felt like my responsibility to make the world easier for her.
With my father, life felt incredibly different. My parents had divorced when I was quite young, so most of my memories are of separate lives. With my dad, we would visit my grandparents who let us run on the farm, fish, play games together, and just be kids.
But a lot of my memories from the same time with my mother felt scary, chaotic, and almost never on stable ground. One memory is hiding in the floorboard of a car while the police were coming. My mother was one of ten kids, and my grandma would regularly have family dinners. Her tiny house was full of relatives and so many kids you just couldn’t get bored. There was so much going on you couldn’t possibly keep up with everyone. It was some of the best times-so many food options, so many cousins-but there was also a weight. I didn’t understand us leaving as a child, but as an adult, I realized there were many times we left because my mother was in another disagreement. Chunks of time, I wasn’t allowed to see my grandma or certain aunts and uncles. Which also meant no seeing my cousins. If ever there was an explanation, it was always the fault of the other party for the disagreement.
For part of my life, I truly believed that my mother had just had it rough. She was the victim.
It’s no secret the last few years of my life have been tumultuous with health issues. And what I am about to say next is not just writing; it is what my heart feels. I am so thankful for being given the gift of health battles. I don’t mean that in an “I loved struggling to walk” kind of way. My life suddenly became about me. First, I lost my appetite and lost over 50 pounds by simply not eating. My blood work was showing malnutrition, but not much else. The doctors suggested pills that offered hunger as a side effect. I was talking more to people who would pray for me, and yet I stayed sick.
I guess it’s always easier to see something when we look back as opposed to seeing it in the moment. But what I see now? My health issues dragged me away from a lot of people and quite literally pushed me towards others.
I was holding tightly not only to the relationship with my mother that was ill-balanced, but friendships as well. I would run myself tired trying to do what others needed before I considered if they would even cross the road to offer me a hand. It seemed like I was in the valley of lows for my health. One thing led to another without any being treated. At the time, I was on a nerve medication for my hip pain. I had been on it for close to two years. I felt like the nerve medicine helped me keep going. And although no medical professionals said so, the only thing I had yet to change was being on that medication.
Best Friend and I discussed stopping it, knowing it was standing between me and a hip replacement. But without any concrete answers, we feared I would soon be so malnourished other parts of me would fail. So without a clear answer about my eating, we decided to stop the medication, knowing it would put a hip replacement on my horizon. Because of how little I ate, surgery was not a good option.
With or without an appetite, we made eating intentional. Eggs for breakfast is my favorite agreement. Best Friend would make me an egg with his at breakfast. No fights, no fuss. I agreed to eat just the egg. Little by little we made efforts to feed my body things that would help it. No pressure to eat more. Protein was the most important thing I lacked, so we made it a priority.
What we didn’t notice at first was that I no longer had energy for those outside of my own home. We worked and came home to the boys. Soon came the surgery I could no longer avoid, but I was stronger. My orthopedic and primary doctors were confident that decreasing my pain should help with an appetite. When I had once walked 10 miles a day between work and home, I was maybe making it 3 miles. This surgery was supposed to give the active part of my life back. Instead, it was more unanswered questions. Less moving. More being just present at home.
Outside of our home? Friendships and relationships in some family dynamics were quietly slipping away. I no longer had the energy or ability to show up for others with an empty cup. Some people stayed and offered all they could while I healed. Others disappeared.
This was not an easy time. Why would God let me walk through so many hard things and separate me from my people as well? I wasn’t completely abandoned, but when so many are leaving, it’s hard to see that the cleansing is actually for our own good. I would call Roseann and cry out, “Why does it feel like I’m stuck in this season? A season when I cannot help others!”
She would listen, she would pray, and she would ask me to consider new views. Not always comfortable ones. “Is this season playing so long because you aren’t getting it? Do you think God is trying to show you how to let go of some things? Maybe you need to dig deeper, this might be an invitation to grow closer in some places and put distance in others.” But over time? She was right. I was putting efforts into people who had or were going to pull me away from the life I wanted. I craved a closer walk with God. But I was also on the run.
I never saw myself as someone who had to help, but rather I couldn’t bear to consider what it made me to make boundaries. I used “helping” as a safeguard for myself. Keeping so busy meant I ended the day exhausted, falling into bed and sleeping, which meant I was avoiding some hard hurts. Hurts that my body remembered but my memories had forgotten. In that quiet, I found that there was a lot of hurt still holding on. I had to face things that I had lived through-things that shaped parts of me. Some good, some that only came back in nightmares.
Even though I have walked through a lot, I refuse to play the victim. Instead, I would rather find a way out, change my environment, and even sit in the uncomfortable long enough to learn how not to become a product of my environment. What if my “helping” was the exact thing keeping me distanced from God?
It was only through that cleansing that I felt broken enough to find a church home. Not that I didn’t have one before, but now I needed to be elsewhere. It’s hard to understand that longing unless you’ve walked through it. Being in the right room doesn’t always mean you are in the correct one for you.
Feeling like a lost child, I allowed Best Friend to suggest finding a new church. Imagine finally finding a room that felt good-a place where you felt you were finally hearing God’s message-only to realize that your family didn’t feel like it was for them.
I didn’t stay at that church. But we will over that in another devotional.
Scripture
“Come to me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yolk upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yolk is easy and my burden is light” -Matthew 11:28-30 (ASV)
Scripture Summary
Matthew tells the story of a God who sees the weight we carry-the burdens of our past, the exhaustion of our efforts, and the masks we wear to keep others comfortable.
He reminds us that God:
Invites us into His presence exactly as we are.
Acknowledges our labor and the heaviness of our hearts.
Promises a rest that the world cannot provide.
Offers a new way to walk that isn’t driven by fear.
Shares His own heart-meek, lowly, and kind-as our example.
God does not ask us to carry it all alone; He invites us to trade our heavy chains for His unforced rhythms of grace.
Why This Matters for Us
For so long, I measured my worth by how much I could do for everyone else. I was “heavy laden” by a role I wasn’t meant to play. This matters because it gives us permission to play. It tells us that the “work” of healing starts with the “rest” found in Him.
Reflection Questions
What is the specific “burden” you are most afraid to set down?
In the quiet moments, do you feel “meek and lowly in heart,” or are you still trying to be the hero?
What would it look like to trade your current “yoke” for His today?
Rooted Reminder
Healing isn’t a task to be completed; it is a life to be lived. You were never meant to be the savior of your own story. You are invited to be the one who is held, the one who is fed, and the one who is finally at rest.
Prayer
Father,
I am tired of the labor I’ve created for myself. I am weary from pretending and heavy from the hurts I’ve tried to outrun. Today, I take You at Your word. I bring my heavy heart to You and ask for the rest You promised. Teach me to walk in Your yoke. Let me learn from Your gentleness so that my soul can finally find its home in You.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
