The spring of 2009 was surreal. In the midst of a high risk pregnancy and a less-than blissful honeymoon of a marriage, I was at war. I was at war with family, friends, and enemies. I deemed my husband, his mistress, and anyone who knew about his affair as the enemy. I prayed even though I didn’t believe in what I prayed. I asked God for a change not believing change could come. It took a while to realize that my husband and his mistress were not my enemy, but that Satan himself had used the two of them to tear me apart. Perhaps he got a look into my future or the future of one of my children. Perhaps he knew I was more than a conqueror. Perhaps he knew that once I committed my life to something, nothing else would shake my faith.
I’ve grown spiritually and mentally. In the Spring of 1999, I pledged a Christian sorority, but lost my faith somewhere in the process. Ten years later, in the spring of 2009 “all that I learned about life” I learned through prayer. Several nights as my husband lay in our bed texting his mistress, I would fall asleep praying on the floor of my walk-in closet.
I wish I could emulate the best Christians I see on Facebook … or even the ones who come once in a blue moon at church… or the ones who’re there until the sanctuary lights go out. I am slower than most and some may even say that I lack common sense. I tend to think of myself as one who is well educated, but not street smart at all. Somehow in the midst of my dysfunctional depression, I found one function to work regardless of my educational background – prayer. If ever I could write a tale about that summer, I’d call it “Objects in the mirror are stronger than they appear.” I learned how to pray for my friends, outside family, pastors, the less fortunate, my immediate household, my enemies…Each morning, afternoon, and sometimes at night I would read my warfare scripture, Psalm 35.
I’ve been mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically abused. Regardless of those who debate the very existence of God, Jesus, or the Holy Spirit, I know that there was a divine presence carrying me that spring and shaped me to become the woman I am now. I made mistakes that I deeply regret. I’m probably a walking joke to my enemies, but to God I became a head instead of a tail. The battle truly was not mine; the battleground was in my mind, but I did not need to fight. I only needed to stand still and see the salvation of God (2 Chronicles 20:15-17).
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