In my mind's eye, a little girl crouches in a dark and cluttered
hallway closet. Mountains of stuff fill this tiny room, where she
remains hidden from everyone and everything. Besides the stuff of
anger and doubt in this small space, the walls have writing on them
that names the fears, insecurities, and reasons for shielding
herself from the unfamiliar and the unknown. Many times, the little
girl tries to exit her safe place. With a mask of self-prescribed
extroversion, she determinedly leaves the four walls of her secret
domain to be good at things and people-a good student, wife, even a
mother. Hesitantly, she tells herself that hope and joy are within
reach. But after a short stay away from the security of the hallway
closet, the little girl goes back inside and continues hiding from
life.
I was that young girl. I did not want to live this way any
longer, so I cried out to God-who had been with me all along. He
knew my pain, insecurities, anger, and fear. Bigger than any wall
of self-protection I built, God would bring down these walls if I
let him. My crying out was the first step.
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