I was a shell of the woman I’d been.
If you’d known me ten years earlier, you wouldn’t have been able to be around me without seeing God’s hand all over me. I beamed with faith.
Even though I’d already been through several tough battles in my life, I was hope-filled and joy-filled and felt called to reach out to other women and share that sense of hope that comes from those who have battled hard and overcome.
I was quick to pray for them. Quick to comfort them. Quick to encourage them that God would never, ever, ever leave them in a bad situation. Because He loved them. They were His daughters, after all. Daughters of the King. And that was no small thing.
But years down the road, as I hit mountain after mountain in my life as a single mom, I began to wonder if those things were even true. That He was real. That He provided. That He protected. Because all I felt from Him was a gaping hole, I’d been financially destroyed, and I lived in fear that my ex would hurt me—if not worse.
And this wasn’t my first faith battle. I wasn’t a good Christian girl who grew up in the church and then one day turned around and questioned what her parents had believed. I spent several years investigating my faith before becoming a believer at the age of thirty. My faith was hard-won. But from the moment I found Jesus, I followed Him with gusto. So happy to have someone in my life that would never leave me. Because, sweet friend, I was the poster child for being left behind.
Until He left too.
Read more at The Life of a Single Mom Ministries