Trauma Ripples

Did you know your body holds trauma?

Even in little ones who may not have the cognitive ability to communicate it in logic or reason or sentences.

Traumatic events can leave us feeling unsafe and disrupt our assumptions and beliefs about life, the entire world around us. Your sense of control can feel shattered and the way we make sense of things can change instantaneously.

Hear me, trauma doesn’t always look violent.

Trauma is defined as a deeply disturbing or distressing experience.

My sexual trauma as a teen was traumatic.

Kawasaki disease last fall was traumatic.

Permission to reset my son’s heart at the risk of cardiac arrest was traumatic.

Repeated episodes and hospital stays of all of this, has been traumatic.

And if you learn about trauma, or live trauma — you also learn about grace, deeper still. You learn of God, nearer yet. And gratitude, eternal.

As someone who already had a history of anxiety and depression, who found GREAT freedom from these things the last three years… this year shook me to my core.

To experience anxiousness, loneliness, rage, irrational irritability, and ‘shut down’ mode again … it terrified me… especially when I couldn’t verbalize it, when it just manifested.

Was I backtracking? Did my ‘tools’ no longer work? Was something wrong with me? Would I ever be fit for this life?

Those are thoughts I’ve wrestled.

In the middle of the night, at the break of day, and when my little men are toppling over me mid-afternoon.

And over the weekend, as I wept randomly and burst into tears at unexpected times… a friend freed me into a space of healing.

‘It’s your trauma anniversary.’…

Our bodies hold trauma. And mine has carried it through repeated episodes this year. With a heck ton of strength.

People, even close, have said things like

Well I’m just thankful he’s okay

and

Aren’t you just glad he’s better?

The word just is inappropriate, and lacking compassion, for trauma.

There is no justice for it apart from our tender Father.

Instead of believing it’s a lack of faith or thankfulness, or ability on my part, this morning I looked at this little man and saw him through the Lord’s eyes.

It’s not a lack of.
It’s a full of.

I’m full of undeniable love for him, for my family. I’d go to any length, and in many ways I have. And I’d go even further. My heart will always go all in. But my body has limits, and I have to live in grace through that.

If you have experienced trauma and felt the ‘hold’ of it–in not feeling yourself, in triggers you don’t understand, in tears or anger you can’t name, or apathy you can’t beat–I encourage you to talk with someone.

You’re stronger than you know 🧡 Look at you, you’re standing so tall.

People will not always understand, but there are those that do. Keep them close.

While I held my littlest man in the hospital a year ago, I had no idea the year that was coming. All I could do was think one blink, one breath ahead. Praying him out of the hospital. Praying him into a full story, one he could tell. Rocking his labored and limp body, my precious child. Oh to know the love of God, when I thought I had at birth, but then I did fuller and brighter. Heavier too, heavier in my chest and my heart, but more importantly– heavier eternal.

I could have denied myself being fully present there. Flight or fight mode, and I fought. I fought by choosing full presence. When I settled into the depths of what surrender of my children was really like, there was both a shocking reality and a peace that felt like Christ’s tears washing over me.

He didn’t want this for Grayson, He didn’t want this for me.

He has wept beside me this year.

But it was.

Walking in and out of the hospital throughout this year is both an undeserved gift of mercy that I do not waste a breath on, and also a burden heavy laid on my human body and spirit. There can be both, eternal Love abides in both. Eternal Love knows the heaviest burden of all.

The song I pressed into, through every prick and mask and medicine and scare, was Living Hope.

I hope the words richly bless you, as they’ve held me, the last 378 days.


“How great the chasm that lay between us
How high the mountain I could not climb
In desperation, I turned to heaven
And spoke Your name into the night
Then through the darkness, Your loving-kindness
Tore through the shadows of my soul
The work is finished, the end is written
Jesus Christ, my living hope.
Who could imagine so great a mercy?
What heart could fathom such boundless grace?
The God of ages stepped down from glory
To wear my sin and bear my shame
The cross has spoken, I am forgiven
The King of kings calls me His own
Beautiful Savior, I’m Yours forever
Jesus Christ, my living hope.
Hallelujah, praise the One who set me free
Hallelujah, death has lost its grip on me
You have broken every chain
There’s salvation in Your name
Jesus Christ, my living hope
Hallelujah, praise the One who set me free
Hallelujah, death has lost its grip on me
You have broken every chain
There’s salvation in Your name
Jesus Christ, my living hope.
Then came the morning that sealed the promise
Your buried body began to breathe
Out of the silence, the Roaring Lion
Declared the grave has no claim on me
Jesus, Yours is the victory, whoa!
Hallelujah, praise the One who set me free
Hallelujah, death has lost its grip on me
You have broken every chain
There’s salvation in Your name
Jesus Christ, my living hope.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s