**Read chapter one.

I stared at myself in the mirror. Heart thumping, eyes burning. My own words echoing in my own mind:

 Nothing will ever, ever be the same again. Everything is different now. Everything has changed.

I knew it was true and I hated it. I collected my thoughts and left the bathroom. I re-entered the room where hushed whispers were being spoken, white faces and teary eyes, plans being sorted. I was offered food again. I couldn't even imagine eating. My throat felt swollen. I could hardly even swallow. A plan was formed. I would be driven to my daughters’ school to pick them up early, would hug & kiss them and then hand them over to my friend who would graciously take them for an afternoon of diversion and fun. I only needed to survive 15 minutes. I had to be brave for 15 minutes.

When I ran (literally) out of my house that morning, I left with my pajama shirt on, no makeup, hair a total mess. I knew if I showed up to school looking like that my daughters would see right through me. It scared me to think that my disheveled appearance might announce fear and trouble. My eyes were heavy from crying, dark circles haunted my face. I had to pull myself together--if only for 15 minutes. I couldn't come undone. Not yet.

So I borrowed a shirt, some makeup. Pulled my hair back off my face. I felt like a white washed tomb. Painted and presentable on the outside. Inside? Death. Hollow death.

How many times since have I gone through this ritual? Why do we feel the need to mask our pain?

A question for another day I guess.

All I knew is that I couldn't come unglued in front of my daughters. I knew the time for that would come, but right now I just had to get through the day. I would unzip my pain in private that night. It would spill out and flood my bedroom. It would come. I knew the tsunami was on the horizon.

I took a deep breath as I pulled open the school door and saw my babies waiting for me, questions on their faces. I explained that something had come up and I wouldn't have been able to get them from the bus that day so M was going to take them for the afternoon. She wanted to treat them to something special--dinner out and a movie. The questions were replaced with joy and anticipation. It's funny how the darkest day in my own memory carries such a different undertone for them. They think back on that day as the day they were called out of school early to eat pizza and ice cream followed by a trip to the movie theatre.

Life is funny isn't it? Some rejoice today. Others mourn. We all just keep breathing and moving, living on this planet together in our humanity.

I don't remember anything about the next few hours. They are gone from memory. There are several pieces missing from my mental storyboard. I choose to see that as grace. God has neutralised many memories that just sting too much.

My friend had volunteered to stay with me that night so I didn't have to be alone. I brought her down some pjs and made a bed for her on the couch. The girls got home at bedtime, absolutely buzzing from a fabulous day.

Thank you Jesus for your mercy. You are protecting them in unfathomable ways right now. They have no idea their world came unglued today. They will know soon enough. Their lovely lives are about to shatter too. But not tonight. Tonight they are safe and sound, protected from the very worst pain.

I tucked them into bed and held them longer than normal. My eyes were stinging with tears as I prayed over them and closed the door. I checked on my friend, locked the doors, turned off all the lights and began climbing the stairs to my room.

I walked in and clicked on the lamp on my bedside table. I looked around my room. Everything was still as it had been that morning. Laundry basket full of clothes that needed folding. Brush and makeup on my vanity. The bed left unmade in the chaos of the morning’s shattering.

Everything was exactly the same. And everything was completely different.

I breathed in the stillness of my room. I stared at my bed. It felt tainted now.

Filthy.

Dirty.

I knew I needed to sleep and that wouldn't happen on the floor. So I pulled back my duvet and lay on the very edge of my bed. I didn't want to even touch his side of the bed. The void there was massive. He should have been there. But he wasn’t.

Everything was different. Everything had changed.

The tears that had been caught in the dam of my iron will burst forth and flooded my pillow. Grief and anguish consumed me. I surrendered to their force and I poured myself out in tears. I turned myself inside out as great sobs shook my whole frame. I don't know how long that lasted. An eternity probably.

And then my body began to melt. The tears began to dry, not because they were no longer needed but because they were used up. Gone. I had ravaged my entire supply. All was quiet and still. And that is when the enemy crept into my room and tried to violate me in ways that send a shiver up my spine.

Of course he wouldn’t want you—look at you.
This is all your fault.
You are unlovable.
You are ugly.
You failed.
You are only worthy of rejection.
You aren't enough.
And you never, ever will be.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Read Chapter 3: CHOOSE now

**Maybe you are also in a place where you feel completely hopeless? While the writing of my story is going chapter by chapter, I would like to fast forward you today to the most glorious ending. Hopelessness doesn’t have the final say when Jesus steps in to the story…