Late this summer, I had the chance to meet up for dinner with my cousin Dave and his family. Dave, is more than a cousin to me, He is the man that when I was 13 years of age broke apart the wounded child inside. He is responsible for bringing to life something hidden deep inside of me during my childhood. I have often wondered what would have happened had he not inquired, persisted, pestered, inquired more and pressed for me to release the demons that controlled me back then. The same demons that I fight everyday in a multitude of ways. And after that chance encounter he called me what seemed like a weekly chat for many years. He was the distant man, but always just a phone call away for me. He was the voice of reason, the encourager, the constant and was always available to make me laugh. As the years grew and our lives started to take shape and take us to different places, the phone calls came less, and visits even fewer. It began to feel we only saw each other when their was a death in the family. I watched him marry his wife, and begin his new life with her. She is so good for him. A woman who loves God, loves him, but will keep Dave straight.

As I sat at the dinner table with him and his family this summer, it just reminded me of all he has ever meant to me. The demons of my past that nag at my inner core that he brought to the surface of my being still exist in ways I still don’t like to recognize. I still prefer to push them deep down because life feels so much safer for me when they are there. But 27 years ago, Dave pursued the broken parts of me and brought about a change within me, and as I approach another lost year I wonder where is the girl I used to be. The girl that fought hard to survive, the girl who pushed forward despite the cliff in front of her, the girl who got pushed down, but kept fighting back up to her feet. What happened to that girl? Did I grow tired of fighting? Did I get tired of being pushed down? Or did Satan in his attacks win over the brokenness within me.

What I have learned is we all have a thorn of some sort, some of us deny them, some of us embrace them so much that they become a hinderance, still others capitalize on their thorns as if it entitles them to sulk in the pity of their pain. I have this thorn. I have had it all my life. Its the thorn that keeps me from being the girl I used to be. Its the thorn that keeps me from living a life of freedom. Its the thorn that gets embedded inside so deep that it feels impossible to get out of me. I have to choose everyday, that I have been given this thorn to fight, to embrace, to persevere through, and to remind myself that I live in an imperfect world with imperfect people and my eyes can only look to the One who looks upon me and says “I am everything you will ever need, fix your eyes on me” Every moment away from the Father is another moment for Satan to seep into the grains of the thorn that wiggles around within me and distracts me from the girl I used to be.

Dave was and still is this hero of sorts to me. He reminded me back when I was 13 and again at 39 of the girl I used to be and the girl I need to be. Though the demons inside try and attack me from multiple angles still My God is greater.

Be still and know that I am God~ Psalm 46:10

When my hearts faint lead me to the rock that is higher than I ~Psalm 61:2