Dare to Be Refreshed by a Real Friend

I’ll never forget the morning I gave birth to my first son. I felt such a sense of accomplishment as the nurse laid him on my chest and said, “It’s a boy!”

I cried and kept repeating the phrase, “I did it! I did it!”

I had been in labor for twelve hours, in excruciating pain. At one point I thought I might just die. Months before the delivery, I had decided to have a natural childbirth with no medication. It seemed like a good plan at the time, but then I was dilated to nine-and-a-half centimeters and felt the urge to push. The doctors advised me not to push until I was dilated to ten centimeters because they thought I might tear my uterus.

The pain was almost too much to bear. My body was spent. I was at the end of my reserves. I wanted it all to end. I laid on my side, holding on to the bedrail, trying to remember my breathing, striving for the life of me to remember everything I was taught in Lamaze class.

Sometimes, in the middle of the pain, you forget to breathe. You forget the truth you already know.

Love Makes a Difference

In the middle of the worst part, my mom held my hand as tears streamed down her face. She mouthed, “I love you.”

A dam broke, releasing tears that had been bottled up for hours. The look in her eyes said it all: Sweet daughter, if I could take away the pain, I would. She didn’t want me to suffer. For a moment, the pain ceased. Hope pierced through me and a new strength filled my body.

I can do this, I thought.

When my son was finally born, thankfulness filled my heart. The hard work had paid off, and the pain was over. The promise—my son—was here. Holding him close and counting his ten little toes and ten little fingers, I understood that the pain had a purpose. It was all worth it.

The pain brought forth life.

The Pain We All Know

No women can deny the pain of childbearing, but sometimes we dismiss the pain of past wounds—shrugging them off as if they don’t exist, numbing ourselves with busyness, allowing bitterness to get the best of us. Saying I’m fine rather than reaching out for help. Taking control seems much more natural than surrendering. It’s much easier to stay in survival mode and do life as maintenance than to allow someone to come alongside us and speak life into our weary souls.

We are all on a journey. Some may seem farther along than others. Some even may appear to have it all together. Yet we all experience pain along the way, and we all are in the middle of waiting for something to be birthed. See, we all face unknown chapters, vulnerable to pain we can’t describe and unexpected turns along the way. What gives us strength is knowing we are not alone, and that even though we can’t explain it, there is purpose in the pain.

I know the sting of pain and loneliness all too well. And I know some of you are experiencing a tremendous amount of pain. Questioning God. Questioning yourself, wondering if you made the right decisions along the way.

Sometimes we just need to know we are not alone.

Leaning on Friends

You are loved and cherished! You don’t have to understand the plan to trust God’s purpose. And if for a moment you would allow my brokenness to sit alongside yours, here’s what I’d say: Dare to be refreshed by friends. Real-life friends.

We spend countless hours on social media, thinking we’re connecting with others but hiding who we truly are, only revealing our highlight reels.

Here is where I hang my soul lately: relationships matter, especially in the middle of hard. Encouragement from others allows hope into what seems like a desperate circumstance. One word of truth from a trusted friend can give us the extra strength we need to continue.

I encourage you to share your unfinished story. Invite a friend to coffee or lunch and allow them to know the deep, vulnerable parts of your journey. Dare to put language to your fears and your feelings. Vocalizing can help you face them and move forward. You’ll begin to see there’s purpose in the pain and that something beautiful and exciting is about to be born.

Lea Turner is a wife and mother of five, three who grew in her belly and two in her heart through adoption. She is on a journey of resting fully in the love of the Father by letting go of striving and walking fully in her identity. She has a passion to inspire others to work from a place of rest rather then strive from a place of anxiety. Lea blogs at LeaTurner.com.